“Well, we are certainly in agreement, sir, that such a distorted display of still-life art is not at all moving.”

Darcy realized he had never before enjoyed an art exposition as much as that afternoon. In fact, scarcely had he enjoyed any afternoon half as much. He had allowed himself to openly have fun in a public setting and relaxed some of his emotional guardedness … all because of this quirky, incomparable woman. Elizabeth Bennet, you might not live up to my unreasonably high standards, and you are definitely not the sort of woman I thought I wanted, but my expectation of perfection has thus far resulted in disappointment. I never thought I would find such a paragon in one so lively and lovely. But perhaps …

Their sisters waved to them from across the way, and it was fairly obvious Georgiana and Anna wished to be rescued from Miss Bingley’s peckish attention. Darcy and Elizabeth reluctantly joined their siblings and the other two young women. The expanded group wandered the gallery together, admiring or criticizing everything they saw, and some of the party even looked at the paintings on the walls. Miss Bingley ignored the works of art and especially turned a blind eye to the Bennet sisters. When she did condescend to speak, it was merely to insult or offend them. Although the Darcy siblings took great interest in the exhibit, they were preoccupied with attempts to diffuse Caroline’s snide jibes and bitter barbs ruthlessly aimed directly at Elizabeth.

Inwardly, Caroline Bingley seethed with curiosity, jealousy, and pique. Who are these countrified Bennet hoydens who scamper off to Pemberley, visit a servant, and end up consorting with Darcy and his sisters? He certainly seems to look in the direction of the dark-haired dairymaid a great deal, and Miss Eliza is obviously using her ample armoury of arts and allurements to draw him in. How despicable for a woman to be such a flagrant social-climbing fortune hunter.

Jane Bennet paid scant attention to either the displays of art or bad manners. She was far too busy stealing glimpses of and glances at the attractive, self-assured man across the room. Where in the world have I encountered him before? I am positive we are somehow and somewhat acquainted, yet I cannot recall where … Oh! Jane suddenly coloured and immediately wondered whether her sister’s perfect recall might be hereditary because an unforgettable image insistently clung and would not relent. It was at Pemberley. On the lawn. I met him that sultry and steamy hot summer afternoon.

Darcy was in no humour to give much consequence to anyone or anything other than the beautiful brunette Bennet by his side. He was quite distracted by her proximity, by an infernal internal impulse, and by protecting Miss Elizabeth from Caroline Bingley’s snotty snootiness.

Elizabeth’s attention was equally divided between the beautiful works of art on the walls and the statuesque one walking beside her. She took advantage of an opportunity to gaze up at him as she said, “Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy, that artists are colourful people who draw on their emotions and pigments of their imagination?” She was a smidgen disappointed when the gentleman merely nodded and agreed with the comment, apparently deep in thought and unaware of her wordplay.

The object of Jane’s study finally spotted their party, and his secret admirer secretly admired the power and masculinity he exuded as he flashed a knee-weakening smile and strode in her direction. Gone was the wild, green-tinged raffish ruffian from Pemberley; although he was more decently attired, there was still considerable evidence of well-toned muscles beneath his tight-fitting maroon coat and embarrassingly impressive bunchage beneath his inexpressible fawn breeches. Miss Bennet’s breathing became more rapid as his polished black boots brought him closer with every step.

Darcy: “Fitz!”

Georgiana: “Richard!”

Anna: “Cousin!”

Elizabeth: “Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

Jane began to hyperventilate.

Caroline: “Oh. It is you.”

Miss Sarah Dalrymple sighed, giggled, and sighed again. Hell-o, Colonel Stud-Muffin!

“Well, well, what a pleasant surprise, Darcy … and all these lovely ladies. Oh, and hello to you, too, Miss Bingley.”

Bows and curtsies were exchanged, and Miss Jane Bennet blushed anew. The gallant officer was not dressed in regimentals; still, he was dashing and extremely handsome, and the lady was very much affected by his male beauty.

The Colonel glanced around and asked, “Is Charles Bingley not here with you?” He looked pointedly at Miss Bennet and assumed her charming blush was brought on by mention of the other man’s name.

Caroline, who was obviously not affected by so much male beauty, sniffed, and said, “No, my brother is not here; and I might ask what brings you to such an exhibit. I have never thought of you as a connoisseur, Colonel.”

“One does not have to be an authority, madam, to appreciate fine art. Otherwise, you would not be here either.”

“Well, in the past, you did not appear to recognize beauty when it was right in front of you. Have you improved in the interim? Have you deigned to add ought of civility to your ordinary style? I dare not hope you have improved in essentials.”

“Oh, absolutely not, Miss Bingley. In essentials, I believe, I am very much what I ever was.”

“How sad.”

“I beg to disagree … ”

While the two continued to exchange derision, there was something in their countenances that made the others listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention; but Darcy disliked arguments and wanted to silence theirs, so he finally spoke up. “Miss Bingley and Fitz, your argument is too much like a dispute; so if you will both defer yours until you are alone, we shall all be very thankful.”

“Well, cousin, I am afraid the argument shall have to be shelved indefinitely then, because I fervently hope I shall never find myself in such an unfortunate situation with Miss Bingley as you have just suggested.”

Caroline Bingley retorted, “On that, at least, Colonel, we are surprisingly in complete agreement.”

When George Darcy and Lady Anne returned from their mission in Kent, they accepted the invitation to dine with the Bennets; and it was settled between the two families the dinner would take place on Friday evening.

Mrs. Bennet was an excellent hostess; the lady, her housekeeper, the cook, and all the household’s servants carried out the preparations for the engagement in a calm and competent manner. The rooms were spotless, the menu superb, and the goblets sparkled. Arrangements of dried and freshly cut flowers, strategically located, added a floral scent to the air; and brand-new candles were set into polished brass holders in the dining and drawing rooms. As she inspected the table settings one last time, Mrs. Bennet was surprised when her husband snuck up behind her and placed a gentle kiss on her neck.