Jane blushed but continued to look him in the eye. “Sir, I do admire your single-mindedness, constancy, and uniformity.”

“Aha! So it was, indeed, my uniform that initially attracted you.”

“Not at all, Colonel. I have this clinging memory you were not, in fact, wearing your red coat when we first met.”

“How then did it begin? I can comprehend your going on charmingly when you had once made a beginning, but what could set you off in the first place?”

Jane lowered her gaze to his chest, and the flush spread to her own. “I … I dare not make such a confession. Pray, do not ask me.”

“Hmm. So shy, demure Jane has suddenly returned, I see. Miss Bennet, I am a military man who has ways to make people give up their confidences. Be forewarned, I am determined to solve this enigma; however, I will not force the issue now. But this deep, dark secret of yours shall be revealed in time. Perhaps I shall have to kiss it out of you. Good God, you were correct. I do, indeed, have an idée fixe.”

“Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir; and that fixation is one of the many, many things I admire and love about you.”

The happiness which her reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do while being chaperoned by his cousin, three of his fiancée’s sisters, a three-year-old boy, a governess, a nursery maid, and a gangly footman.

The public garden near the Bennet townhouse was neither as large nor popular as Hyde Park; still, it was a favourite promenade for the fashionable people in the neighbourhood. Its ornate wrought-iron fence and gated entrance surrounded lush lawns, massive hardwoods, coniferous and fruit trees, shrubs, flowerbeds, vegetable plots, fountains, and statues. There was a large pond in the middle of the park with a bridge leading to a small island, upon which sat a music pavilion. Carriages were not permitted, and the garden provided a tranquil atmosphere amidst the bustle of the city. As the group of ten entered the park, the children hurried to the designated play lawn, which they knew had an excellent area especially marked for playing marbles.

In another part of town, a visitor who had already lost most of her marbles paid a call at Matlock Manor. The Earl was informed his unexpected guest was waiting in the sitting room. The nobleman took a deep, steadying breath and said a silent little prayer before he entered to greet his ignoble, ignorant, and ignominious sister.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the elder of the three Fitzwilliam siblings; and, to the detriment of her considerable vanity, it showed. The Earl of Matlock and Lady Anne Darcy were still quite handsome despite their mid-life status; however, their older sister had not aged as gracefully. Catherine had always been a self-righteous, conceited woman; and she loathed the crows’ feet and other wrinkles that seemed to multiply daily on her hollow-cheeked face.

She had been as blonde as her sister, Anne, as a child; but to Catherine’s disgust, her hair had become quite lacklustre and mousy when she reached adolescence. This affront crimped her style, and an unfortunate maid tried to help by giving her a fashionable cut; but hell hath no fury as a woman shorn. Not someone to tangle with, Lady Catherine gave her servant the brush off; and the two parted ways. Although she at first hated the new short style, it soon grew on her. Lady Catherine had then attempted to lighten her locks by drenching them with a harsh solution of potassium lye, which she learned Parisian ladies had been doing. Years later, when the first strands of grey had the audacity to appear, Lady Catherine thought she would dye. Instead, she got to the root of the problem; and the offensive items were immediately plucked from her head. Initially she worried about going bald; yet, for every one painfully pulled, three more colourless, wiry ones seemed to sprout. Therefore, she stopped pulling her hair out. The colour, she proclaimed, was thereafter to be referred to as ‘platinum;’ and woe betide the poor soul who dared call it grey.

Although she was quite spry, Lady Catherine walked with an elaborately carved cane. The item was useful as a weapon with which to poke and prod people, and she brandished it expertly. The woman was nearly as tall as her brother but had a more bony build, which she continued to clothe in black bombazine despite the fact Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been dead more than ten years. Always a bit touched in the upper works, the death of Lady Catherine’s husband intensified her peculiar outlook on life; and so she continued to willingly wear the widow’s willow. Her only concessions to fashion were the outlandish lifeless birds, freakish feathers, and peculiar plumes her bizarre bonnets oft-times flaunted.

“Good afternoon, sister dear. What brings you to London? Surely you have not come all the way from Kent simply for a friendly visit. In fact, I do not believe you have ever done such a civil thing in your life as pay someone that sort of courtesy.”

“Where is my daughter, Henry?”

“I was not aware you had a daughter by the name of Henry. Surely, you are not addressing me in such a familiar manner.”

“Oh, get stuffed, brother! And stop calling me Shirley. Where is Anne?”

“Which Anne? If you mean our lovely sister, I imagine she is at her home. I have not seen her since the ball.”

“A ball do you call it? By all accounts, you should more accurately describe last night’s event as a disgusting and distasteful den of debauchery, deviance, dissipation, degeneracy, and depravity. Why was I not invited? If I find out, however, that my Anne was in attendance at such an orgy, there will be the devil to pay. Heaven and earth, Henry! Of what were you thinking?”

“Just now I was thinking you, madam, are demented, deranged, and disturbed.”

“I am most decidedly disturbed, distressed, distraught, and dismayed by all this corruption. I demand you tell me at once! Where is my daughter?”

“You may ask questions which I shall choose not to answer, and that was one of them.”

“This is not to be borne, you egregious earl! You cannot keep me from my own flesh and blood. Nevertheless, that is not the sole reason for my visit. I insist on being satisfied, and you can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey hither. A report of a most alarming nature reached me via the newspaper this morning. I learned, in addition to having the gall to introduce the wicked waltz last night, it was announced your son, our nephew, and our niece are all engaged to be married. I know the rumours must be scandalous falsehoods, yet I instantly resolved on setting off to Town to insist upon having these reports universally contradicted and retracted in the papers.”