Maintaining his pose, Darcy told Dy of their meeting by chance at Pemberley in August. Brougham raised a brow at the word chance but did not interrupt his recital. “Unfortunately, a letter from home required that she return posthaste, so Georgiana was deprived of her company sooner than she wished.”

“Georgiana,” Dy echoed dubiously, “hmm.” He looked at Darcy compassionately. “It would seem that Miss Bennet is not so ill disposed toward you as you feared. What a shame that she was called away! Have you seen her since, or heard of her?”

Darcy nodded and shifted uneasily. “A little over a week ago I went down to see my friend Bingley — you remember Bingley, the Melbourne ball?” Dy nodded. “I visited him at Netherfield, the property he is thinking of purchasing in Hertfordshire. We called on the Bennets the day after my arrival. It did not go well.”

Dy shot him a questioning look. “How?”

“She scarcely looked at me, barely spoke, although we were in each other’s company several hours.”

“That seems odd!” Dy replied thoughtfully. “Do you mean to say that she refused to answer when you spoke to her, gave you the cut direct?”

“No, certainly not!” Darcy grew defensive. “She was…she was not herself and I…” He looked down at his hands. “I did not know what to think, what to say.”

“Ah, so neither of you could say much to the other,” Dy concluded. “Well, that does make it rather difficult to conduct a conversation or pursue an acquaintance of any sort. Yet you both had less difficulty when she was at Pemberley. Can you think of a reason?”

Darcy eyed his friend. “You are persistent, aren’t you?” Dy merely shrugged and smiled back at him. “Yes, there had been some family difficulties of which I was more aware than a passing acquaintance should be.”

“The letter from home!” Dy smacked the table. “Yes, it is coming together. She was embarrassed for what you knew of her family! Quite a predicament for her after she had criticized your behavior so severely.” He settled back into his chair and after a few moments had passed asked, “Did Miss Darcy truly like her?”

“Yes, she did, in what time they were together. Georgiana expressed a most sincere wish that they meet again.”

“So,” Dy probed gently, “do you desire some advice, my friend?” Darcy considered and then breathed out an assent. “Then, my advice is to have faith and wait. Your friend is admirably placed to give you reason to visit the neighborhood. Allow time to pass, and try again when the tides of discomfiture run farther from the surface. If she is worth the having, she is worth the time and effort it will take to win her. ‘For aught ever I could read,’ ” he quoted. “But I suppose you know that already!” He rose and looked down at his good friend. “I must be off! Recommend me to Miss Darcy with as much affection as you deem appropriate, and tell her I hope I shall see you both again soon.” He bowed then with a flourish and took himself to the other side of the club’s dining room and a group of younger gentlemen known for their flash and dash.

As an inquiry concerning a cockfight drifted back to him, Darcy shook his head and smiled ruefully at the life his friend had chosen or, perhaps, had had thrust upon him. Wait had been Dy’s advice, wait and hope. He could do that, painful as it might be.

For aught that ever I could read. Darcy struggled to recall the Bard’s words as he rose to leave. Could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth. He had just received his hat and walking stick from one of Boodle’s ubiquitous servants when another addressed him, thrusting under his nose a note upon a silver servier .


Darcy mounted the steps of Erewile House with barely a look at his Aunt Catherine’s traveling coach pulled up at the curb. Singular enough that she had not written of her intention to visit, but it must have been urgent indeed if she had come straight to his door. What her reason could be he could not imagine save if it were in some way connected with Anne’s health. The door opened before he reached the top step, revealing a somber-faced Witcher, who reached for his hat and walking stick.

“Where is she?” Darcy asked, stripping off his gloves as he crossed the hall.

“In the drawing room, sir.” Witcher bowed as he received the gloves. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy, but she insisted you be summoned.”

“She gave you little choice, I am sure,” Darcy assured his butler. “You did well. Has Her Ladyship been offered refreshment?”

“Yes, sir, but refused it. Perhaps now that you are here…?”

“Bring up some tea, Witcher. There’s a good man.” Darcy strode up the stairs and to the drawing room doors. Whatever it was that had occasioned this appearance of his aunt, he would soon know more than he wished, of that he had no doubt. Let it not be bad news of his cousin!

“Darcy! At last, you are here!” Lady Catherine stood in command of the room, her posture as straight and stiff as the silver-tipped walking stick she held before her. “Come!” She held out her hand to him urgently. He quickly took it and, giving her the support of his arm, led her to a seat.

“My dear aunt!” he exclaimed at her worn countenance as she sank onto the settee. “What can be the matter!”

“Never, never in my life have I been subject to the sort of ill usage and ingratitude I have encountered today. I cannot think to what the world is coming!” Her Ladyship pronounced these words forcefully. “I was never put to such pains and trouble only to be so insulted!”

“Aunt!” Darcy looked down at her with a mixture of relief and consternation. If it was not news of Anne, what could have set her off so and then sent her here?

She fixed her gaze upon him. “It was on your behalf, Nephew, that I exhausted myself. Yes,” she replied to his expression of surprise. “And on behalf of the entire family! Someone must see to these things before it is too late, and as I have always been attentive to the demands of propriety and decorum, the disagreeable task fell to me. If all of the family stands together, we may yet contrive to stop this vicious and scandalous falsehood from spreading further.”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting for the moment his aunt’s astonishing charge. At Darcy’s call to enter, Witcher and a footman walked into the room with the tea. As it was being laid out, Darcy rose from his seat to escape his aunt’s sharp eye and afford himself an opportunity to think. A scandalous falsehood? His thoughts had immediately gone to Georgiana at the words, but then his aunt had laid it at his door. Could it be something to do with the business at Norwycke or Lady Monmouth? It seemed improbable, but what else was there?

Their tasks completed, the servants withdrew, and Darcy turned back to his aunt. “I do not take your meaning, Ma’am. What falsehood is this?”

“You have not heard it?” A small smile escaped Lady Catherine’s pursed lips and then was briskly packed away. “But then, it is too incredible for anyone of sense to repeat.” She leveled a censorious countenance upon him. “Nevertheless, Nephew, it must be vigorously denied, especially on your part, and its originator proved a fraud.”

Never one to leap at his aunt’s willful commands, Darcy felt his patience with her odd reluctance to come to the point vanish. “Perhaps, Ma’am, I could more easily put this and your mind to rest if I knew what it is that has excited your apprehension.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes widened disapprovingly at his tone, but he could see she was not checked. Rather, she appeared on the verge of apoplexy. “That young person…toward whom I extended my interest last spring…the friend of my rector’s new wife —”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Darcy was incredulous. Good Lord, had his assistance on behalf of Lydia Bennet been made public?

“The same! She has shown herself to be in every way undeserving of the notice she received from me. That woman has industriously set about the rumor that she is shortly to become Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy!” At the last, Lady Catherine pounded the tip of her walking stick on the floor and sat back, her eyes trained upon his face.

The shock of her words could in nowise excuse the need to maintain the utmost self-control, Darcy knew, as his heart jumped faster, blood and ice running crazily through his veins. “I see,” he managed to reply in an even tone and quickly turned away to the settee across the low table from the one his aunt occupied. He sat down.

“Do you, indeed, Darcy? The tale is already spread in Hertfordshire and came to me in Kent not three days ago. I acted upon it immediately, of course, and have done what could be done.” What had his aunt done? Elizabeth…oh, he was wild to know! Yet if he hoped to wrest all he needed from his aunt’s iron grasp on these events, he must disguise his own emotions and play upon her prejudices with care.

“What I see,” he enlightened her, “is that you are quite overset by a report concerning Miss Elizabeth Bennet. From whence has it come? Is the source reliable?”

His aunt relaxed her grip on her walking stick and then set it aside. “Upon two counts, it is from the best authority. My rector, Mr. Collins, brought it to my attention, and besides being my clergyman, he is related to the woman. Also, she is his wife’s intimate friend. There can be no mistake, Nephew.”

“Perhaps.” Darcy drew out the word as he leaned forward to avail himself of the shield of a cup of tea. From Collins, was it? In truth, it must have been from his wife. A letter from Elizabeth? Or from Lucas Lodge? “In what form did the report arrive, Ma’am?”