“Perhaps you should ask the aforementioned miffed matron. Were she a male I am sure she would be a boorish, boring boar. Now, here is where it becomes interesting. We learn the identities of the eligible bachelors and beautiful maidens. ‘The ball’s two hosting families have, indeed, secured enviable brides and a bridegroom to add to their already illustrious bloodlines. A wealthy young landowner from northern Derbyshire has used his time wisely and won the hand of the eldest daughter of an eminent family from that same county; that young lady’s handsome elder brother, heir to their vast estates, has become betrothed to a Hertfordshire beauty; and that woman’s lovely sister is engaged to a dashing Colonel, the second son of an Earl.

As was hinted by one of the hosts during the ball, perhaps there was something potent in last night’s wine; and that must also be the reason the evening concluded in such a shocking manner. No mere outmoded minuet was danced last night at Immorality Manor; instead many couples, both married and, more alarmingly, single, dared to defy propriety by embracing in public for the wicked waltz. The patronesses of Almack’s are scandalized as are many of the haut ton who had not been invited to the controversial ball. Imagine! A dance in which members of the opposite sex face one another and the man places his hand on the lady’s waist. Shocking! Had not the majority of Polite Society been in attendance, one might wonder at such debauchery.’”

The family started to speak all at once until silenced by an announcement that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to call on their fiancées. Both gentlemen were welcomed warmly, much to the Colonel’s relief; and they were invited to join the Bennets while they finished breakfast. The visitors gratefully tucked into a fresh batch of currant scones and washed them down with fragrant coffee while Mr. Bennet continued to read articles from the newspaper.

“Well, it is a coincidence we are enjoying these scrumptious scones. Here is a story about a landlady, Mrs. Lottie Lyes, who had a couple of struggling poets for tenants. The poor fellows got behind in their rent; and when the landlady was unable to have them evicted, she decided to do away with the purse-pinched versifiers. The awful woman baked a large scone laced with arsenic, invited the rhymesters down to her parlour, and served each chap a cup of tea and half a scone. The poison worked as advertised; but, of course, crime does not pay. Mrs. Lyes was soon afterward arrested, and at the trial she pled innocent to the charge of killing two bards with one scone.”

Mrs. Bennet gently chided her husband. “My dear, I never quite know whether or not to believe half the things you read aloud. Colonel, I assure you the scones you are now eyeing rather suspiciously are quite safe. Mr. Darcy, I hope you will not change your mind about marrying Lizzy; yet I feel it is my duty to warn you she does take after her father. And Robert, darling, why are you now diligently picking the currants out of your scone?”

“I think these are arse-nits, Mama.”

“Oh, Robert! Eew!” Disgusted and disgruntled, Catherine Bennet threw her half-eaten scone back onto her plate.

Mrs. Bennet smiled apologetically at her guests and said, “Poppet, you can stop nit-picking. These scones do not have any arsenic. Perhaps you should eat your Jam Roly-Poly now instead, dear. Mr. Bennet, please kindly refrain from reading such thought-provoking news whilst we are eating a meal.”

Catherine asked to be excused, as she had suddenly lost her appetite. Her father, who had just taken a mouthful of his own Jam Roly-Poly, agreed with her and said, “That is one way of pudding it, Kitty.” Of course, he who talks with his mouth full is speaking in-gest.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, who wanted to be alone with nubile Jane, prodded his cousin, who was seated across the table, by kicking him on the shin. When that did not have the desired effect, he caught Darcy’s eye and winked at him for a considerable time, without making any impression. The other gentleman was preoccupied with thoughts of stealing a kiss from nubile Elizabeth. When at last Darcy did observe his cousin, he very innocently asked, “What is the matter with your eye, Fitz? For what purpose do you keep winking at me? What am I to do?”

“Nothing, Darce, nothing at all. And I most certainly did not wink at you. Why would I wink at my oblivious and obtuse male cousin?” He then sat still five minutes longer; but, unable to waste such a precious occasion, the Colonel suddenly proposed their walking out. Mr. Bennet had paperwork to attend, Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit of walking, and Mary reluctantly could never spare time from her studies; however, the others agreed an outing to the nearby public garden would be quite a pleasant way to spend the morning after the night before.

Mrs. Bennet rang for Alice and Miss Edwards to accompany the children; and her husband also ordered Baines, one of the footmen, to go with the party. I was your age once, young men; and I would be foolish to trust you alone with my precious daughters before they actually become your wives. Three children, a governess, a nursery maid, and one footman should be sufficient chaperones to keep the four of you out of mischief.

The ten-person entourage that set off for the park was of a far greater size, by about six people, than Colonel Fitzwilliam had envisioned; however, he decided to make the best of it and gallantly offered his arm to his fiancée. The smitten couple whispered, lagged behind, and tried to allow the others to outstrip them; yet one of the servants always waited patiently. The officer and his lady then increased their pace and attempted to outdistance the rest of the group. In vain had they hastened, for Baines, the long-legged footman, with his gangly, ungainly gait, made a gain upon them in the lane and proved to be the bane of Jane.

She hissed, “Fitz, I insist we persist. I have missed being kissed and shall enlist my sis to assist with our tryst.”

The Colonel caressed her gloved hand as he spoke in an undertone. “Baines will not be dismissed, but a well-placed fist might make him desist. Thunder and turf! What you have done to this soldier, my dear? It is obvious I am quite violently in love!”

“Richard, that expression, ‘violently in love’, is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings that arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance as to a real, strong attachment.”

He stopped, turned to face her, and gazed passionately into her eyes. “My lovely Miss Bennet, if we ever manage to evade our chaperones, you will be kissed with such a real, strong attachment it will leave very little doubt about the undeniable violence of my love.”