To general applause, the happy couple walked down the aisle, Bingley in his best blue suit and Jane in a store-bought dress ordered direct from St. Louis. Behind them was a slightly less joyous couple: maid of honor Beth Bennet and best man William Darcy.

The newlyweds, their family, and friends proceeded by foot to the only place in Rosings large enough for a reception, Younge’s Saloon. Sally Younge, proprietor and madam of the place, promised that her “working girls” would be gone from the premises for the duration of the festivities, to the relief of the Bennets and the despair of some of the male townsfolk.

True to her word to her sister, Beth had said not a single disparaging word to her escort, although she dearly wished to. She was uncomfortable, and not just because of the words spoken to her a month ago by the man now walking beside her. They still stung, and Beth was loath to either forgive or forget. But what made matters worse was how downright handsome the man was. Darcy was impeccable in his suit, not a hair was out of place— and his smell! A subtle yet wondrous aroma filled her nostrils whenever he stood near, a far finer smell than the eau de cologne favored by George Whitehead. Beth tried valiantly not to look into his face, for a man with his blue eyes was far too dangerous.

Darcy, too, was in turmoil. To his dismay he realized the tomboy to whom he had been so short was the Bennet girl he was obligated to stand with at Charles’s wedding. She was quite simply the fairest girl he had ever seen. True, Jane Bennet—now Mrs. Bingley—was as lovely as Charles had claimed, but Darcy’s eye would not leave the woman beside him. All the Bennet girls were pretty in their own right, but Darcy was enchanted by the fire in Beth Bennet’s eyes. A man could get lost there, he knew, and he vowed not to allow himself to be tempted.

The party soon reached their destination, and the place was quickly filled, for in as small a town as Rosings, one could not have a wedding and not invite the entire population. The piano player took his seat, and Charles and Jane waltzed for the first time as a married couple. Darcy and Beth watched, in admiration on his part and apprehension on hers, for the last duty of their joint office was to dance the second dance.

Darcy decided to make conversation. “Your sister looks very happy, Miss Beth.”

Beth resolutely stared at the couple dancing. “Yes. When we moved here, I’m sure we had no thought that Jane would meet so agreeable a person as Dr. Bingley.”

“She’s very fortunate. Charles is a good man.”

Beth was glad at his statement, for the implied suggestion that Jane was a husband hunter gave her a reason to let loose her animosity towards Darcy. “Indeed? I’m glad you think so. I know my family feels the same. However, knowing Jane as I do, it is my decided opinion that Charles is getting the best of the bargain. There’s no one so good as my sister.”

Before Darcy could respond, the music ended, and he was occupied applauding the couple. He then reached out for Beth’s hand, and the two of them joined the Bingleys and the Bennets for a dance. Another waltz began, and Darcy took Beth’s left hand in his right, placed his left on her waist, and whispered, “Just follow my lead, Miss Bennet, if you’re unsure of the steps.”

Beth was forced to bite her tongue, for it would not do to make a scene at Jane’s wedding, no matter how insufferable this tall, handsome, pompous ass could be. Not trusting herself, she refused to talk to him during the whole of the dance. She glanced at him occasionally, and for the first time noticed a faint scar on his forehead. Darcy took her silence as evidence of her nervousness and did not press her for conversation. The assembled watched two people perform the figures of the waltz flawlessly, as if they were a machine.

Not too soon for either, the dance ended, and Beth would have made her escape after the requisite bow had not her partner refused to release her hand. He instead deposited it upon his arm, and she was forced to suffer his escort back to her parents.

Darcy bowed slightly to the Bennets. “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, my congratulations again on your daughter’s marriage.” The Bennets civilly thanked him for his courtesy. Darcy straightened up and made a gesture at a couple nearby. “May I present my sister to you? This is Miss Gabrielle Darcy, and this is the foreman of Pemberley Ranch, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam. Gabrielle, Fitz, this is Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their daughter, Miss Beth Bennet.”

Miss Darcy, a black-haired girl dressed in the latest fashion, shyly greeted them. “I’m happy to meet you. I’ve met Miss Jane, now Mrs. Bingley, last week, and I’m glad to make the acquaintance of her family.”

She was tall for her age and had a well-formed figure. She owned the same olive skin tone as her brother, but her eyes were of the deepest black. She had a faint exotic air about her, in spite of the awkwardness common in a girl too old to be a child and too young to be an adult. Beth pitied her, as she well recognized the condition. It had bedeviled both her and Mary, and Kathy was suffering it even now. Only Jane and Lily, the beauties of the Bennet girls, seemed to escape the gawkiness that most women experienced.

“As am I,” Fitz added with a grin. “Always happy to meet two such lovely ladies!” A slim man in his late twenties of middling height, Richard Fitzwilliam had a ruddy complexion and fair hair. His suit was not nearly as fine as his employer’s, but his greeting was all that it should be in sincerity and friendliness. Beth could not but like him at once.

Mrs. Bennet giggled at his flattery, and her husband was amused. “Is that so, sir? Shall I need to call you out in defense of my wife’s honor?”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet—how you go on!” cried his wife. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. And you, too, Miss Darcy. What a lovely girl you are and such a fine figure to go with such a pretty dress! I am sure you got that in St. Louis. My brother, you see, owns a shop in St. Louis, and the dresses—oh my! Nothing but the best from Gardiner’s—but I’m sure you know about that. How old are you, my dear?”

Beth was mortified at her mother’s monologue, and her embarrassment grew at Darcy’s dark look. Miss Darcy took a half-step back in response to the outburst but answered, “Sixteen, ma’am.”

“Sixteen! My, my—you’re of an age with my Lily! You must meet her and my other daughters! Here’s Mary, but where’s Lily and Kathy? Oh, Tom, do you see them?”

“Umm, perhaps another time, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy coldly said as he took Gaby’s elbow. He quickly made their farewells and strode off, his sister’s arm still grasped in his hand. Fitz watched in some confusion, quickly bowed, and followed. Mrs. Bennet, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention, was insensitive to their abrupt departure, but the action fueled Beth’s displeasure with Darcy. Her father was more sanguine.

“So, that is our neighbor. Tall sort of fellow, isn’t he?”

“All the better to look down his nose at others,” added his daughter spitefully, in a low voice.

He gave her an unreadable look. “Do you think so? Hmm.”

Beth had no opportunity to ask his meaning, as she was happily met by her friend, Charlotte Lucas.

Darcy made his escape from the ridiculous Mrs. Bennet, but he was at a loss to know what to do. Deciding to forward the acquaintance between Gaby and the new Mrs. Bingley, the pair found themselves in the newlyweds’ company, Fitz having deserted his employer to wet his whistle at the bar. He correctly surmised that the exceedingly kind Jane would bring Gaby out of her shyness. It was just a moment’s work to have the two talking together like old friends.

“I want to thank you again, Will, for everything you’ve done,” Charles said earnestly.

Darcy blanched, his eyes darting about. He took Bingley by the arm and moved to an unoccupied wall. “Say nothing of it, Charles. Consider it a wedding present.”

“Ha! More like a present to my father-in-law! He doesn’t know that he’s only payin’ a fraction of what this soirée is costing, thanks to you. From what Younge’s charging, there’s no way he could’ve afforded it.”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Darcy said irritably.

“Why? Jane knows.” At Darcy’s horrified expression, he added, “She’s agreed to keep it a secret. But why? Why don’t you want Mr. Bennet to know of your generosity?”