“Just who are you, then? Who are your people?” Catherine snapped open her fan and worked it vigorously. “By what counterfeit means have you gained entrance into my home?” Her eyes flashed with indignation. Quietly, Jamison and two footmen entered the room.

“My name is Bingley, Lady Catherine. Caroline Bingley.”

“Bingley? Bingley? I have never heard of such an odd name. Are you quite sure?”

Unaware how to answer that question, Caroline opened and then closed her mouth. “Of course I am quite sure! It is my name, madam! How would I confuse it?”

“ Bingley?! No, no, no, that’s too absurd. Are you having fun with me, missy? ‘Bamming me,’ as the young and uncouth would say? I must caution you, it is well known that I do not approve of merriment in any manner, very bad for the humors. Merciful heavens, Bingley indeed! How you can sit there and presume… I believe that is a variety of produce, anyway. No, no, no, you must be mistaken.” With that final proclamation, Catherine proceeded to flatten out the pleats on her skirt and closed her fan.

Caroline was as bright red in her face as in her hair. “I assure you, Lady Catherine, my name is Bingley! Bingley!” If steam could truly be produced by the human body, it would by this time be escaping through Caroline’s ears.

Lady Catherine turned toward Elizabeth. “Is this person actually known to you, or is she merely aspiring to an association with her betters?”

Elizabeth could hardly speak. She cleared her throat. “Yes, actually, I do know her, Aunt Catherine.” Not wishing to expose her enjoyment, Elizabeth tried to enunciate from behind her teacup. “My sister Jane Bingley is married to her brother, Charles. Charles Bingley.” Adding the name Bingley again so often had not been necessary, but it had been fun, so Elizabeth couldn’t resist throwing it out there once again. “They have just had a daughter, Marianne Louise Bingley.”

“Good Lord, more Bingleys?!” Aunt Catherine’s eyes were ablaze. “Madam, I must tell you that I have a total of ten greenhouses on this estate alone and have no need of your fruits and vegetables. You will fail miserably in this business if you are as sloppy with your research as this indicates.”

“Your ladyship!” Caroline screamed. “We are not fruit vendors! Or street merchants! And we are also not common snipes like your niece here and her ragamuffin family!”

The quiet that followed was dreadful. Truly dreadful. Lady Catherine arose slowly, all color absent from her face. She loudly slammed the business end of her walking stick onto the floor.

“My good woman, you are speaking of my niece! A member of my family. Married to my nephew. Her father is a gentleman, who has just left this house having been my guest for two weeks.”

Caroline sat back and stared at Lady Catherine in mute shock.

“I believe I can speak for myself and for both Mrs. Darcy and my daughter, that we are no longer interested in your produce, or whatever it is you have come to sell. Take your samples and good day to you, madam! I say good day to you, and I mean it most heartily!”

Turning aside, she motioned to her butler. “Jamison, please show Mrs. Bagley out. Through the service door, Jamison! Not the front!”

Jamison had taken Caroline’s elbow and was leading her, when Lady Catherine clarified her orders. He quickly switched directions, toward the service entrance, and Caroline was gone.

***

It was very quiet for several seconds, when suddenly Anne blew her nose and sniffled. Lady Catherine patted down some stray hairs on the side of her coiffure as she turned to Lizzy. “Well, that was rather enjoyable, wasn’t it?”

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped.

Catherine began to rise from her seat. “You know, dear, I don’t believe we should wait dinner for Darcy. It looks like the rain may be delaying his return from your father’s. I do believe he would be very vexed with me if you postponed your dinner too long.”

Just then Fitzwilliam came running into the room.

“I came as quickly as I could. Is everything all right?” He stole a worried glance at Elizabeth.

She looked like the cat that had gotten into the cream. “Oh, yes, everything is quite splendid, thank you.” Elizabeth reached for his proffered hand. With the proper momentum and one or two false starts, she was even able to rise from her chair. “I am famished!”

***

Darcy had indeed delayed leaving Mr. Bennet’s house to return to Rosings after a light drizzle had churned the roads and slowed their journey. Mr. Bennet found he was not looking forward to an evening alone and begged Darcy to stay for early dinner, a favor which Darcy could hardly refuse. Kitty and Mary had been in London with their aunt and uncle Gardiner and were due to return later that week.

Although eager to return to Elizabeth, he was glad that the last two weeks had given him the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with her father, and wanted to continue in the man’s good graces. They had surprisingly much in common—a love of books, an interest in horticulture, and a mutual devotion and respect for a certain young lady.

When the light dinner was served in his library and a fire made to warm the room, Mr. Bennet began to show his son-in-law some of his most favored manuscripts and drawings. Dusty books were dragged out from under piles of writings, and original sketches from a variety of well-known artists were thrown in stacks next to new plantings being readied for his experimental garden.

“Sir, you have a treasure trove here. Have you ever catalogued these items?” Darcy lounged in Mr. Bennet’s desk chair, looking over a very rare handwritten Bible, whose pages were beginning to crumble from exposure.

“There is never enough time, William, never the right occasion. And I confess that I am not very well organized. Lizzy helped me often, but I’ve let it all go bad again.”

“Well, I would be glad to send someone over to help you. Let me see about procuring a librarian for you, initially, every day for as long as it takes, and eventually, perhaps once or twice a month for upkeep. These are much too rare and valuable not to be protected.”

Mr. Bennet was overcome with gratitude. Lizzy’s husband was indeed a very excellent fellow.

Chapter 20

It was late when Darcy reentered his coach and was off again for Rosings. He was exhausted and aggravated with himself for delaying his departure for so long. It will be well after midnight by the time we return now. He parted the carriage curtains to look out. I pray she won’t be too worried. He urged his driver to go as quickly as the wet roads would allow and then settled back for the long ride home.

Lately, his concern for Lizzy had become obsessive, all encompassing. She loved him deeply, and her emotions were so erratic that he feared causing her stress of any kind. Hopefully, she will have reasoned that I stayed a while due to the rain and to comfort her father. He watched anxiously as the terrain flew by the window. “Please try to go a little faster, Henry. Thank you,” he called up to the driver.

They finally pulled into the great stone-encased portico of Rosings at just after midnight. Darcy thanked his driver, tipping him extravagantly for the speed and care he had taken, and then entered into one of the side halls. It was eerily quiet. Few lamps were lit in the foyer, and it seemed that only the night butler was awake in the great house. Walking quickly through the downstairs, he handed over his greatcoat then stood at the foot of the grand staircase.

He was always taken aback at the oppressive quiet that could chill a manor house this size. It was positively tomblike with the endless marble floors and soaring ceilings. Huge statues cast ominous shadows in the diffused light. The smallest sounds were magnified tenfold, and his footfalls had been echoing loudly in the halls as he walked. He cursed himself for a fool, he should not have stayed so very long at Mr. Bennet’s. Hopefully, Lizzy was asleep upstairs and not in a frenzy of worry.

He heard a faint sound in the distance, up in the higher reaches of the house, somewhere in the dark. He waited.

It was Lizzy’s voice far off in the stillness, coming from upstairs, possibly from the small sitting room in their bedroom suite. He could discern nothing of what she said, but he began quickly to climb the staircase, making it his heart’s destination. After a moment, he recognized the deeper timbre of his cousin Fitzwilliam’s voice.

Their voices grew in strength and distinction. He had just approached his sitting-room doorway when Lizzy burst into giggles at something Fitzwilliam had said, and then they both began laughing. It was in that attitude which he found them, vastly amused with each other, laughing so heartily, in fact, that they never heard the door open or Darcy walk slowly in behind them.

The room was stiflingly warm, the candles softly illuminating the two merrymakers as they sat side by side, their backs to the door. Both of their chairs were pulled up companionably before the fireplace, both sets of feet up on footstools, shoes off, coffee cups and biscuit remains on the small table between them. What struck Darcy was how tightly they held each other’s hands across this brief expanse, their fingers interlaced. Fitzwilliam brought her hand up to his lips to kiss as they laughed once again.

It was really quite a cozy, heartwarming domestic scene—that is, if it hadn’t been his wife and his cousin.