“William and I never would have married, mother,” Anne de Bourgh whispered.

Lady Catherine rounded on her daughter. “I beg your pardon, young lady. You would have married Fitzwilliam had I ordered it!”

Anne flinched but continued, “We did not love each other that way, Mama, and William needs a strong woman. Not a sickly girl as I.”

Lady Catherine airily waved her hand. “Love! What nonsense it that, Anne? Marriage for love is acceptable for the common man, the peasants who have no true responsibilities, but not for upper classes. Fitzwilliam appreciates this and would have performed his duty if she had not bewitched him. She probably threw herself at him, compromising him, and trapping him into marriage! Women of her class are capable of anything. Anne, why are you giggling as an imbecile?”

“Mother, how could you not recognize it? Mrs. Darcy is correct. You do not understand William at all.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“How often had we refused to discuss your wild plan to marry us, Mama? Neither of us wished it, nor would have allowed it. As for Miss Bennet, it was so obvious how he felt about her. I could see it, and so could Mrs. Collins. Even cousin Richard noticed how William stared at her and was flustered when she was about. It was also clear that she did not reciprocate his affections.” Anne frowned. “I could never understand that. William is the best of men.” She shrugged and looked at her mother, who was staring at her daughter in stunned amazement. “I believe she loves him now, based on what the entire family says, but he pursued her, Mama.”

Before Lady Catherine could respond, a footman announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Matlock. Greetings were brief and strained, Lady Matlock smoothly extraditing Anne for a walk in the garden so that her husband could freely talk to his sister.

Lord Matlock wasted no time on pleasantries. “Catherine, you cannot be confused as to why I am here. I am aware of your barbaric violation of Darcy House and the outrageous aggression toward our pregnant niece.”

“Malcolm!”

“I am beyond appealing to your intelligence and decency. You have frankly exhausted my patience and stamina. Instead, I am exerting my authority as Patriarch of this family. If love and humanity cannot sway you, then perhaps honor, duty, and protocol shall. I am the Earl of Matlock and as such I far outrank you, Catherine. Therefore, you will hearken to me and obey.

“Your feelings on the subject of Fitzwilliam's marriage are inconsequential. He is the Master of Pemberley, a grown man, and his choice is his. Elizabeth happens to be a delightful woman, perfect for William, and they are devoted to each other. Even so, this too is insignificant.” He stepped closer to his sister, voice calm and gaze steely as he spoke, “I expect you to remember who you are, Catherine. The daughter of an Earl does not conduct herself as a crass tormentor of the innocent, nor does she violate her proper authority by endeavoring to dominate a man. I have primarily kept silent, rightfully permitting William to handle this as is his prerogative. However, you have crossed a line, and as William is away, it is my place to protect Elizabeth.

“I am ordering you to hereafter be civil, to formally apologize to Mrs. Darcy, to restrain your acerbic tongue, and to do whatever is required to heal the breach in this family. I cannot promise that William will ever forgive you for what you have done. The blame is entirely on your shoulders, Catherine. Any future relationship you have with the Darcys will solely depend on your attitude and humility. I suggest you prepare to beg. On behalf of the entire Fitzwilliam house, we stand firmly behind William and Elizabeth. If you chose to ignore my demands and persevere in your harassment, then you will be choosing divorcement.”

Daily, a letter arrived from Darcy. Amongst the teeming endearments and lyrical phrases of love and yearning were lines recounting his daily activities. In vivid detail he described the environment of Suffolk, the Grafton horses, the business arrangements, the leisure pastimes partook of, the food he ate, and anything else that entered his mind as he wrote. Darcy and Lizzy had grown so accustomed to sharing the specific happenings of their hours apart that it was natural for him to pour the same into a letter. He discovered the action of writing to her each evening to be cathartic, easing his aching heart and permitting him to slip into a relaxing sleep.

In London, Lizzy determined the same. She wrote each morning upon rising when refreshed and alone in their chamber. It gave her strength to face the day's agenda. Aside from the horrible fiasco of Lady Catherine, the week passed swiftly and rather pleasantly. Darcy's well-laid plans to distract his wife from her loneliness partially succeeded. She shopped, attended several teas where her natural gregariousness garnered her new friends, attended the theater twice with Colonel Fitzwilliam as guardian and various friends surrounding her both for added amusement and to offset any inappropriate rumors, and dined at a different house each night. Lizzy could not deny that she was having a marvelous time, but knew that it all would have been exponentially improved with Darcy by her side. Additionally, no matter how delightful the entertainment, she eventually returned to her lonely bed and heartache and fitful slumber.

As the week wound to its anticipatory end, two incidents of import transpired in London. The first was the halting, stilted, surprising, yet seemingly genuine letter of apology from Lady Catherine. Lizzy knew of Lord Matlock's confrontation with his sister, although not the details of what was said. She had decided not to enlighten Darcy, knowing that he would immediately return if she did so, but also because she simply knew not how to convey it all in a letter. Lizzy discussed the apology with Lady Matlock, decided to accept it in the vein it was offered by replying with an equally brief missive, but refused to engage in further discourse until her husband returned and was apprised of the situation.

The second interesting episode involved Mary. One afternoon, Lizzy and her sisters, along with Amelia Lathrop, shared tea and cakes in the Darcy House parlor. Mary, under the gentle persuasion of Georgiana, had taken to wearing lightly patterned dresses which greatly enhanced her fair features. Today she was especially lovely in a stylish yet simple gown of canary yellow with green striping as she sat with Georgiana at the piano learning a new piece by Beethoven. Mr. Travers interrupted to announce a Mr. Joshua Daniels, the son and partner of Darcy's solicitor.

Mr. Daniels the younger was revealed to be young indeed; in his early twenties, sandy-haired with a ruddy complexion, quite handsome with hazel eyes, slender, and just under six feet in height. He bowed politely as Lizzy rose, eyes sweeping the room as he nodded to each occupant, alighting briefly then moving on until he came to Mary. Lizzy had never witnessed such a blatant spark of interest in all her days. Even Darcy's initial jarring contact with her eyes at the Meryton Assembly had been unobtrusive compared to this. Mr. Daniels's head snapped about, his eyes widened and mouth fell open while Mary flushed, yet boldly met his stare for at least fifteen seconds.

Lizzy's brows shot up and she turned to Amelia, who was pressing her lips tightly to avoid laughing. The moment stretched and may have continued indefinitely if Lizzy had not purposely cleared her throat. Mr. Daniels started, reddened, and tore his gaze from Mary's face. All befuddled, he hedged for several seconds as he collected his thoughts, aided primarily by careful study of the envelope in his hands.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he finally managed, “I, of course, am aware that Mr. Darcy is out of Town. However, my father instructed me to deliver these documents when they were completed so that Mr. Darcy would have immediate access to them upon his return. I trust you will know the safest place to store them in the interval.”

“Thank you, Mr. Daniels. I will ensure he receives them.” Throughout the entire short speech, Mr. Daniels's peripheral glances touched on Mary, and Lizzy was amazed he ably articulated. “Mr. Daniels, allow me to introduce you to my family. This is my dear friend Mrs. Lathrop. My sister-in-law, Miss Darcy. Miss Kitty Bennet, my sister, and this is Miss Mary Bennet, also my sister.”

Mr. Daniels bowed to all, properly greeting with impeccable manners, lingering in his greeting to Mary. “Miss Bennet,” he asked, “do you and Miss Darcy play the pianoforte?”