Maxton was happy. Maxton was happy because Helena was happy. Bouncing in her seat, really, so much so that he wouldn't be surprised if the carriage came to a halt yet continued to rock. Helena, as vibrant and sincere of a girl as she was, tended towards intensity in all that she did and felt. It was a trait that, in the past, had made it difficult for her to keep friends for a long period of time.

In the months that had passed since Miss Mary Benent's departure from Town, Helena's spirits had been dampened greatly. While the other women of society seemed to be pleased at her eccentric behaviour's decay, Maxton and his mother were simply concerned. Every now and then, yes, they had wanted her to be more demure, but the fact of the matter was that her uncaged nature was the core of her personality. Without it, she was not herself.

So, when his mother suggested securing an invitation for Helena with some distant family member, Maxton could not object; at least, he could not completely object. "Mother, I believe it would be best to secure a house. It would not do well to leave Helena in the care of family members who know little of her demeanour," he said, to her during one such conversation.

"Well, she has little demeanour at all as of now! And, certainly you cannot think that Helena should live on her own! It is not right."

"Well," he hadn't ever intended to send her on her own, "I would go with her. You have handled the estate business before, and you handle the house even now, for the most part."

His mother huffed. "And what shall you have to do in Derbyshire?"

"Well, I might catch up on my reading. Allow myself a bit of relaxation, perhaps, before we return to Somerset for the summer?" His mother begrudgingly agreed, dismayed at the thought of being without either of her children for so long.

Indeed, he had just finished sorting a large amount of business and felt her deserved a break, although it was not his only person in wanting to see Derbyshire along side his sister. In truth, he had an unearthly and unreasonable need to see Miss Bennet, pressing his chest and constraining his heart. So, he set out to find a place near enough to Pemberley and was pleased to find one just 9 miles from the edge of the property whose owners hoped to retreat to Bath for the winter (though the duke himself could not fathom why).

And now, as he stepped out of the carriage, Helena having already leaped out at its stop, the pressure in his chest grew in intensity as if anticipating its relief. His eyes followed Helena as she ran to the front of Pemberley and embraced her friend. He moved towards them. The pressure mounted more still.

He greeted the Darcys politely, and they welcomed him as their new (temporary) neighbours. All the while, he watched the girls from the corner of his vision. His sister let go of Miss Bennet, and his chest let go of its ache.

Mary's chest felt as if it would burst. She curtsied. He bowed. "Miss Bennet" he greeted her politely.

Elizabeth laughed. "It is so funny to me that Mary is now the true Miss Bennet, as Jane and I have both married. Since Jane and I married at the same, I never got my turn at being the proper Miss Bennet. You must represent us very well, Mary, as I am sure you will, for you have always been the best behaved of us."

Elizabeth was surprised by the blush that spread across the rounds of Mary's cheeks, but she said nothing. Instead, she invited their guests into their home. Georgiana, Helena, and Mary sat together on a window seat in the drawing room. Helena talked animatedly, mostly to Mary but certain to include Georgiana when she remembered. Georgiana, for her part, was content to watch the girls, making her opinion known only when appropriate.

Her time with Elizabeth had taught her what joys could be found in the art of observation and silently watched Mary's spirits lift as she was reunited with her friend. Eventually, she moved across the room to where Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam, and his grace to take up observation of that group, as she saw Elizabeth also doing.

His grace was extremely polite and surprisingly of a lax personality. His eyes darted across the room to where Lady Elingston and Mary sat, now whispering to one another in the most girlish glee anyone had ever seen Mary display. Fitzwilliam asked a question thrice before his grace returned his attentions back to the conversation. "I'm sorry, Darcy, what were you saying?"

Fitzwilliam smiled as he often did in good company. "You needn't worry about your sister with Mary. She has no ill will in her."

At this, his grace laughed. "Oh, no! I would not suspect Miss Bennet of any malice at all. I am sorry if it seemed so. I was just wondering what the two of them were conspiring about, is all." He hadn't been. He had been watching the blush floating from Mary's cheeks to her neck and disappearing below her dress. He had been watching how cheeks dimpled when she smiled. He had been watching how small pieces of her hair loosely fell from their proper place and touched her face. He had been watching how her delicate fingers pressed her spectacles up her nose and he watched as they slipped back down.

Elizabeth smiled. "I believe they had agreed upon a novel to read at the same time so to have something to discus upon your arrival." A nervous servant had, upon changing the sheets on Mary's bed, found The Monk hidden below the pillow and approached Elizabeth with knowledge. She just laughed, told the servant not to mention it, and then laughed some more. The idea of Mary actually reading such a novel was such a picture. Elizabeth imagined the girl scowling at every turn of page.

She was not wrong, however. Mary gently admonished Helena for even knowing that such a book existed. "But you did read it?" Helena asked, the smile of someone who has successfully drawn someone into a secret. Mary blushed still more and nodded. Helena erupted into another fit of giggles, attempting to smother the sound with a hand to her mouth.

Elizabeth and Georgiana excused themselves to the gardens for a ramble, sensing that their only option for actual conversation was to form their own group as the men and other ladies had. And so the afternoon was spent, content in their separate bubbles. At a point Mary had even forgotten that Mr Elingston - his Grace, she tried to correct herself but Helena's informal introduction seemed to stay fixed in her heart - was even there. Her heart beat steadied.

"O! Mary, I know I have already said it, but you do not know how I have missed you," Helena grasped her friends hands and smiled.

"And I, you," Mary said.

"You know," Helena shifted in her seat and returned to their previous conversation, happy that her sentiments had been reaffirmed. "I overheard some servants in the kitchen talking about that book when I was sneaking about the kitchens for a snack. 'Scandalous' they said! 'Worse than Byron' they said! So naturally later I found one of them alone and gave her the money to get our two copies."

Mary scowled, "Did you ever think that perhaps a book you cannot purchase yourself is not a book you should be reading?"

"O, posh!"

And with that, Mary let the conversation return to discussion of the novel itself, for she felt if she did not talk about it her guilt would somehow manifest physically and a simple glance at her would tell the world what she did. So they talked more and blushed more and giggled more.

And Maxton Elingston never let Mary Bennet slip from his peripheral vision.