A little milestone passed. Thank you for making Cinder Lizzy one of my most successful stories to date, with a record number of followers.

Don't forget to read Go Down Red Roses. It will be taken down when it reaches 500,000 reviews or there is no review for a month. Not as many people have read GDRR as my usual stories, perhaps it was a little gothic. Interestingly it had more favourites per reader than any of my other stories. So the people who did read it, liked it.

Suggestions for the title of chapter 35 were:

"Onward and Upward" by Kaohing,

"Journeying North" by FatPatricia515,

"Jaunting North to Pemberley" by Julyza,

"Pemberley they were to go",

"The Long and Winding Road",

"Great Expectations" by suddenlysingle,

"there she goes again" by nandamesser,

"Descent Into Magnificence" by Deanna27,

"Crossing the Rubicon' or again use your phrase 'Welcome to Pemberley' by ilex-ferox,

"Homecoming", "Handsome prospects" by guest,

"Please stay with me" by guest,

"Downhill from here" by guest,

"On to Pemberley" by guest

I decided to go with "The reluctant tourist", inspired by FatPatricia515's entry, the first on this theme.

Chapter 36 Stuck in the middle

After general introductions, the guests were invited inside while the servants dealt with the luggage.

Matching its Palladian* appearance, the layout of the house was very much in the grand style, with the ground floor devoted to servants and deliveries. After mounting the steps to the first floor, the travellers found themselves in a double-height vestibule surmounted by a dome pierced with windows. A grand staircase wound round the curved walls to an elliptical gallery on the second floor.

A neatly dressed, diminutive old woman in a cap approached them. Despite her stature, a watch pinned to her waistband marked her as the most important of servants—the housekeeper.

"Would the visitors like to take tea before retiring to their rooms, Mr Darcy?" she asked. "Or would they prefer a tray delivered to their chambers?"

"Very good, Mrs Reynolds," said Darcy, before looking at Freddy enquiringly. "Lord Mickleham?"

"Thank you, I have just taken tea in Lambton with the Gardiners' relatives, so I am fine until dinner, but perhaps the ladies or Mr Gardiner would like some refreshment?"

The ladies replied they were also fine, while an uncharacteristically overawed Mr Gardiner concurred with a nod of his head.

"Dinner is usually at eight o'clock at this time of year," said Darcy. "But Mrs Reynolds assures me that she can bring it forward today, if needed."

"Eight is fine with me," offered Freddy, looking at his companions again for their opinions.

There was general agreement.

"Excellent," said Darcy. "You will be reminded by the dressing gong an half-hour before dinner. We will assemble in the vestibule tonight so that you may be shown the way, but thereafter we shall meet in the dining room. If you will come this way, I will show you to your chambers."

He turned to lead the way up the stairs.

Mr Gardiner exchanged a surprised glance with his wife at Mr Darcy's condescension. He had expected the housekeeper to take charge of them.

Although the visitors had thus far conducted themselves during their journey upon the most equal of terms, something about Pemberley or its host now made them most conscious of protocol. They all turned to Freddy to lead the way as a peer of the realm.

Indicating to Miss Darcy that she should accompany her brother, Freddy offered his arm to Elizabeth, then followed his fiancée up the stairs. The Gardiners trailed behind, with Mrs Reynolds bringing up the rear. They circumnavigated a quarter of the gallery to the left.

Oversized family portraits and landscapes graced the walls in gilt frames. No racehorses or hunters were memorialised—the only dog Elizabeth saw was a pet in a grouping of children. Clearly the Darcys were not sporting mad, as were so many of the fashionable families she had visited in London. The decoration—chairs, bureaux and vases—was more opulent than the Darcy townhouse, yet it was refined. There was nothing of the showy baroque tendencies of Rosings. Finally, they arrived at a long hall that stretched into the distance.

"This is the guest wing," said Darcy, stopping at the entrance of the hall. "I will leave you now in the capable hands of Mrs Reynolds, to show you your rooms. Rest well and I will see you at dinner."

He gave a perfunctory bow, before taking himself off around the gallery to descend the stairs briskly.

Mrs Reynolds immediately showed Freddy to the first room on the left with a curtsy.

Freddy's valet, who was coming from the far end of the hall with Freddy's dressing case, directed two footmen carrying the trunks from Lizzy's chaise to take the smaller one through the open door.

"And here, Mrs and Mrs Gardiner," said Mrs Reynolds. "I have two adjoining rooms on the right for you. They have a lovely view of the back garden."

"Is Elizabeth in the Yellow Room, Mrs Reynolds?" asked Georgie.

This was answered in the affirmative by the housekeeper.

"I will show you to your chamber," said Georgie to Elizabeth.

"Thank you, my dear," said Mrs Reynolds, and she entered the Gardiners' suite to show them around.

Georgie skipped along the passage to the second door on the right, to usher Elizabeth into her room. As suggested, the chamber was decorated in a cheery yellow, much to Elizabeth's taste. She moved to the window to look outside while Madeleine directed the disposal of the luggage by the footmen. The chamber was not adjoined by a dressing room, containing instead a massive oak closet.

Pulling the curtain aside, Lizzy gazed upon the serene waters of the lake. She had always felt privileged by the view of the wilderness and the fields beyond from her bedchamber window at Longbourn, but the view from Pemberley... it was something altogether superior.

The footmen departed and Madeleine hesitated near the trunk.

"Would you like some privacy, ma'am?" the maid asked Elizabeth. "I could come back in half an hour..."

"Why don't you come over to my rooms to refresh yourself, Elizabeth?" asked Georgie. "I was wanting to show you anyway."

Smiling, Elizabeth acquiesced. "Shall I pull the curtain open wider before I leave, Madeleine?"

"Yes, please, ma'am," the maid replied. "Then I can see better what I am about."

Walking hand-in-hand, Georgie escorted Elizabeth round to the other side of the gallery. Glancing down into the vestibule, Lizzy saw Darcy had stopped to talk to a footman at the foot of the stairs. Although she could not discern his words, Darcy's voice echoed incoherently in the upper reaches of the vestibule in a deep bass rumble that reminded Lizzy somewhat of a cat purring. It was strange how it stirred something inside her. Then he disappeared through some double doors and Lizzy returned her attention to his sister.

"...I was so annoyed when Fitzwilliam said it wasn't appropriate for you to stay in the family wing, in the room formerly occupied by my companion," huffed Georgie. "He is so stuffy! 'Why not?' says I, 'I stayed in the family wing at Mickleham House—Elizabeth and I even shared a bed.' Then he just looks at me with that sleepy look of his—you know the one, with his eyelids half-closed."

Strangely enough, Elizabeth did know that expression—she had often seen it directed at herself at Rosings. She now believed she understood it, in a way that Georgie did not.

"Here we are!" declared Georgie, arriving at the opposite hall. "Mine is the third door on the left, and this one," she said, turning the knob on the first door on the left, "I wanted to be yours!"

The delightful room, decorated in green, seemed very grand for a companion. It reminded Lizzy a little of her chamber at Mickleham House, though the chinoiserie wallpaper seemed a more restful choice than the stripes that graced Freddy's former room.

"What is even worse," complained Georgie, "is that Brother has invited my most recent companion, Mrs Annesley, to stay here for the next two months. He implied that he was just being charitable to her, by giving her a place to stay for the summer—but I think he just wants her to keep an eye on me and Freddy. But Freddy is not like that, is he?"

Elizabeth hardly knew what to respond. She did not think Freddy was made of stone.

But no reply was necessary, for Georgie plunged on:

"Do not worry, Mrs Annesley is not here yet. She arrives tomorrow afternoon. But why couldn't she stay in the guest wing?—that is what I would like to know! I'm sure she could watch Freddy like a hawk from over there!"

A smile broke out on Elizabeth's face. "I expect your old companion will be more comfortable in her former room," she said cajolingly.

"Oh, no!" protested Georgie. "She never stayed in this room! She was only with us for a short time in London. This room was originally refurbished for Mrs Younge!"

For reasons not immediately apparent, Georgie blushed deeply. Elizabeth recollected Georgie's discomposure when they had first met, over the incident in the previous summer—George Wickham and Ramsgate. She wondered if Mrs Younge had been Georgie's companion at the time, and possibly lost her position over it.

"Look at me, gabbling on!" apologised Georgie, trying valiantly to regain her equanimity. "The convenience is in the dressing room over there!" she said, pointing to a door on one side of the room. "And when you are ready, you can come through here," she added, opening a door that led to a beautiful sitting room. "We can sit and have a comfortable coze, and I can show you my bedchamber."

With a little clap of her hands, Georgie departed and Elizabeth sought out the convenience. She was a little puzzled at first, because the dressing room contained only closets and what looked like a chest of drawers. But she soon discovered the chest was a piece of metamorphic furniture*, concealing a basin, ewer and chamberpot. Lizzy rang the bell for the chambermaid as she left, not wishing to leave any surprises for Mrs Annesley on her arrival.

The sitting room was a gorgeous confection of mirrors and gilt furniture upholstered in blue silk brocade. A piano graced one corner near a window.

"Do you like it?" enquired Georgie, clasping her hands to her heart. "It was my first attempt at designing an interior. It is based on a room in my aunt Matlock's house at Richmond, which was inspired by one of the French queen's at Versailles."

"It is very beautiful, Georgie," replied Elizabeth, "and definitely in keeping with the house. Freddy and I were quite awestruck on coming down the hill. It reminded me of a print I had seen of Versailles."

"A few people say that. Aunt says Versailles is much larger but she thinks Pemberley's exterior more beautiful in a petite way. Of course, she says nothing could compete with the interiors of Versailles—like the hall of mirrors.*"

"Yes," replied Elizabeth. "I expect no print could ever do that justice."

"Everything is blue in my rooms here," confided Georgie, "which is why I decided on pink in London—just for a change."

Elizabeth drifted toward the piano. "Another Broadwood grand. Is it new?"

"Brother bought it when he first had the idea to refurbish these rooms for me when I graduated from the schoolroom. I occupied the nursery, you see, and just had one of the square keyboards with five octaves in there. There was some music I could only play on the larger piano in the drawing room downstairs."

"What a thoughtful brother!" teased Elizabeth.

"Yes, he is rather nice when he is not being odious," admitted Georgie reluctantly. "But I think it was more that the drawing room is separated only from his study by the vestibule—and the sound has a tendency to echo around in there."

Elizabeth could only smile. She was beginning to wonder whether Mr Darcy liked to hide his generosity with these little cutting remarks. She could just imagine him saying it.

The bedchamber next door was much in the same style, with a large gilt four poster bed, certainly grand, but without being uncomfortable.

"Would you like to lie down?" asked Georgie. "I expect you are weary after all that travelling."

Much to her surprise, Elizabeth realised she was rather tired. The excitement of seeing Pemberley had masked the long journey and social tax of meeting distant relatives for the first time.

Georgie offered to loosen her stays and they both lay down on the bed to continue talking. At what point Lizzy fell asleep, she was later unable to remember. She could certainly not recall anything afterwards beyond lying her head on the pillow.

Elizabeth woke with a start to find Georgie asleep beside her. A polite knock at the door made Elizabeth realise that it had likely been preceded by another. She sat up in time to see Celestine open the door but could not see the applicant because the door opened towards the bed.

"Eet is your maid, ma'am," said Celestine. "Ze dinner bell went five minutes ago."

"Heavens!" said Elizabeth, scrambling out of bed. "Tell Madeleine I will be with her momentarily."

Elizabeth picked up her gown, which she had carefully laid over the back of a chair, but before she could put it on, Georgie sat up and took charge.

"Celestine, my mother's golden banyan! I think it is in the far right corner of the dressing cabinet!"

In the time it took Elizabeth to push her feet into her kid slippers, the maid had retrieved the garment with lightning speed. It was a beautiful silk wrap with trailing sleeves—the hem painted in a contrasting blue and adorned with embroidered pink flowers. Elizabeth felt there was no time to protest, instead thanking Georgie gratefully as she allowed Celestine to slip it onto her shoulders. She tied the belt and gathered her day gown over her arm.

"Your 'air, ma'am," said Celestine, plucking some pins from the back and presenting them to Elizabeth in her open palm.

Elizabeth felt her curls tumble onto the back of her neck but was grateful the maid had not let her walk out the door untidy.

"See you at dinner," she said to Georgie as Celestine opened the door to the hall for her.

Lizzy hurried down the hall of the family wing to the gallery, but before she had reached the threshold, the inevitable happened—Mr Darcy walked in from the other end.

He stopped dead upon perceiving her, then took a step back towards the wall to let her pass.

"I beg your pardon," apologised Elizabeth, feeling the warmth mount briefly to her cheeks before being quickly suppressed. "Georgie and I fell asleep."

Darcy's eyes were at half-mast again but his pupils seemed fixed on some point over her left shoulder. "It is a tiring journey," he murmured, twisting his right shoulder back in an odd way, as if it were paining him.

Elizabeth nodded and then hurried past, ruing the fact she had not taken the time to put her gown on. Once she got round the corner, she checked the front of the wrap was not gaping, but it was all in order, perfectly respectable. Nonetheless, she felt hot and bothered, and wished she had not encountered Mr Darcy while dishabille in his hallway.

Madeline had laid out an orange silk gown with a cherry pink gauze overdress. Lizzy was eased into it with remarkable efficiency in a matter of minutes, leaving Madeleine one quarter of an hour to deal with Lizzy's coiffure.

When Lizzy stepped into the hall soon after, she found Freddy and the Gardiners waiting for her, and assured herself that donning the wrapper had been the right thing to do in the circumstances.

Dinner at Pemberley provided one new experience for Elizabeth—she tasted venison for the first time. But on the whole she found it a strangely unsatisfactory experience. There was nothing wrong with the food—the cook had prepared an exemplary meal with all of her usual favourites. But when Mr Darcy sat Mr and Mrs Gardiner on either side of him at table—on the pretext that he had yet to properly make their acquaintance, Elizabeth knew that his resentment over her refusal at Hunsford was undiminished. She was relegated to her uncle's other side, with Georgie beside her, while Freddy was sat next to her aunt.

Mrs Gardiner did a wonderful job of talking sensibly and amiably with the master of Pemberley, and after five minutes of uncharacteristic silence, Mr Gardiner joined in, demonstrating that a tradesman who had not attended university, but was nonetheless well read, was a worthy dinner companion. Elizabeth was proud of her mercantile relatives who had ably demonstrated themselves unworthy of the disdain heaped upon them at Netherfield by the Bingley sisters. But if she hoped for some acknowledgement of his mistake from Mr Darcy, she was disappointed. He made no eye contact with her throughout dinner.

Freddy took his relegation to the lower end of the board with remarkably good cheer, replying graciously when Mr Darcy had given his lack of acquaintance with the Gardiners as his excuse for the table arrangement and 'humbly' begged Lord Mickleham's pardon. Freddy and Georgie soon struck up a conversation on Freddy's journey, leaving Elizabeth to add her mite occasionally while listening in to the more erudite conversation on her left.

It was decided to take dessert in the drawing room, so the ladies withdrew as the port was sat on the table.

Georgie went straight to the pianoforte while Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner took tea and listened politely, engaging in conversation with their hostess only when Georgie was searching through sheet music for her next piece. The gentlemen spent a good three quarters of an hour over their port, causing even Mrs Gardiner to wonder what they might be talking of. But eventually they came in, a dessert of syllabub* was served and they talked in a desultory fashion until Mrs Gardiner barely stifled a yawn.

Thereupon, Darcy suggested they all retire, as the Gardiners were no doubt weary from the journey.

Darcy escorted his guests as far as the stairs to bid them good night. But he declined to immediately mount the steps, saying he had some business to attend to before retiring. As Elizabeth accompanied Georgie upstairs, she saw him disappear through the same double doors he had entered that afternoon and asked Georgie if his study lay beyond.

"Oh, yes!" replied Georgie with a roll of her eyes. "He spends far too much time in that room!"

Elizabeth had a little trouble falling asleep that night. Her afternoon nap was probably partly responsible, but she knew she was disappointed by her reception at Pemberley. She had hoped that her invitation had meant she was forgiven—that something like the friendship she and Mr Darcy had enjoyed before Hunsford might be resumed. But tonight's events had not augured well.

Elizabeth woke in the morning to birdsong and realised then and there how much she missed life in the country. It set her immediately into a melancholy mood, wondering what life held for her. As much as she liked her aunt's company, Lizzy realised she did not much like London. From Hertfordshire, it had seemed bustling and exciting, but within her first year of residence, the lure of the city had palled. But then she realised that Jane's babe would be born in the autumn and perked up, beginning to plan a visit to her sister.

When an enquiry to Madeleine, who had slept on a trundle bed nearby, yielded the information that breakfast was available from eight, Lizzy got up and allowed her maid to array her for the day in a less hurried fashion than before last night's dinner.

Her aunt and uncle came out as soon as Elizabeth opened the hall door, but a knock on Freddy's door yielded the information from his valet that his master was still shaving and would join them downstairs.

When the visitors were ushered into the sunlit breakfast room at quarter past eight, they found themselves alone—Georgie had not yet come down and the master, they were informed, was yet to return from his morning ride. Mrs Reynolds looked slightly worried as she divulged this and Elizabeth could only conclude that Darcy was generally very punctual. They decided to take coffee and wait for their host before breaking their fast.

The visitors were not left hungry very long. The sound of steady hoof beats heralded an arrival and although they never caught sight of a horse, the striking of a pair of boots on flagstones preceded Darcy's eruption into the breakfast room. He looked harried.

"Was there a problem, sir?" asked Mrs Reynolds, handing him a cup of coffee.

Darcy saw that his visitors had preceded him and visibly struggled to adjust his countenance into its customary mask.

"No," he replied dismissively. "I merely stopped to talk to one of the tenants."

They were enjoying an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs when Freddy joined them. On discovering that Mr Gardiner was an avid fisherman on the previous evening, Darcy had arranged to take his guest to fish in the Derwent, which ran through the estate. Freddy was entreated once more to join them, but he begged off, citing a need to write a letter regarding his side trip to Manchester.

Upon finishing his meal, Darcy stood up, agreeing to meet with Mr Gardiner in the vestibule in a quarter of an hour before walking down to the river together. After their host walked out, Mrs Gardiner petitioned her husband to allow her to join them. She was a little annoyed that Mr Gardiner had not already done so on her behalf, for it had been their custom when they were courting to go fishing together.

"I am very sorry, my dear," Mr Gardiner apologised. "I was so chuffed to be invited by the great man at all that it simply didn't occur to me. I'm sure there can be no objection."

Mrs Gardiner rolled her eyes privately at Elizabeth, who smiled in return.

Elizabeth was a little surprised at her uncle being overawed by Mr Darcy's condescension as she had always viewed Mr Darcy as an equal. Her world tilted a little. Despite her annoyance at being dismissed as 'a country squire's daughter' by the inhabitants of Netherfield, she suddenly became aware of the gulf between her family and their host. And like a bolt from heaven, she also realised why Mr Pickering had chosen to elevate her into society as his heir—she had never accepted her place in society among the lower gentry, had always considered herself part of the upper ten thousand while living comfortably in Hertfordshire.

But this, she thought as she admired the view from the breakfast room, is how the upper ten thousand really live!

"A penny for your thoughts," said Freddy.

"I was just admiring the view," replied Elizabeth.

"Yes, it is certainly a view!" said Freddy, sighing.

"You are not regretting coming?" asked Elizabeth, astonished to see him so despondent.

"No," said Freddy. "But Miss Darcy might regret leaving."

"I do not think she is particularly attached to the country," said Elizabeth. "She wanted to stay in Richmond so that she might visit you."

"This place must have cost fifty thousand pounds to build! Have you seen the house at Mickleham Park? It is not a patch on this!"

"Stop being common, Freddy," scolded Elizabeth. "Georgie likes to live in London and has only ever expressed admiration for Mickleham House."

When familiar steps in the hallway announced the arrival of the heiress herself, the conversation was quickly terminated.

"Oh!" said Georgie, yawning as she came into the room. "I shall never get used to country hours!"

The friends continued to converse while Georgie ate her breakfast, the topic soon turning to how they should entertain themselves that day.

"When in the country, I typically practise on the pianoforte for two hours after breakfast in place of my lesson with Signor Pastroni. But I am happy to go for a walk with you—the gardens are very extensive."

"I would be content to sit by you while you practice, Miss Darcy," said Freddy. "Perhaps we could walk in the garden afterwards?"

Georgie was very pleased by this offer, but Elizabeth rather fancied getting some sun immediately. She also thought the two young lovers would be better alone, especially since Georgie's companion would soon be thrust upon them.

Accordingly, Elizabeth begged leave to explore the garden and possibly eventually find her way to her relatives by the river. She ran upstairs to retrieve her bonnet.

After being given directions by the housekeeper to some beauty spots within the garden, Elizabeth set off alone, well content to do some exploring. About half an hour later, having found the folly, explored the yew hedges, and toured the rose garden, she wound up next to the fountain. This was not the piece of classical sculpture she had imagined it, but an artificial cascade built into a hillock in a mostly successful attempt at natural beauty. She was standing next to it, watching the sun play on the rippling water when she was surprised by the sudden appearance of Mr Darcy. The roaring sound of the cascade had masked his advent.

He stopped short on finding her there, tipped his hat, turned, and made every appearance of taking himself off.

"Wait!" called Elizabeth, taking several steps after him. "I have been wanting to talk to you!"

Darcy stopped and turned. "Of what?"

"I wanted to thank you for the trouble you took on behalf of my sister, Mary," said Elizabeth, closing the gap between them. "I am very grateful for all your efforts. I believe you have saved my sister's marriage."

Darcy's mouth turned down at the corners. "Your gratitude is unnecessary. I know my aunt is a difficult person to deal with on a daily basis and I merely did my duty."

His reply was like a slap in the face. Anger flickered briefly in Elizabeth's heart and then sputtered into the smoke of disappointment. The additional words of praise that she had been formulating in her mind dispersed. Why did he seem to oscillate between cordiality and cold civility?

"Why have you been ignoring me?" she asked frankly.

"If a lady says she does not wish to be bothered, one does not bother her," Darcy replied in a clipped voice

Elizabeth frowned. "But then why invite me at all?"

"For Georgie's sake. You are my sister's friend."

"I thought that you and I were also friends before going to Kent? Can we not once more find some common ground?"

"Oh, no!" replied Darcy. "You had my admiration before that, but we were never friends. Friends are of more long-standing."

"What a silly male notion!" scoffed Elizabeth. "Must I have gone to school or university with you to count as a friend? Why, I knew Georgie and I would be friends as soon as she accepted my help to walk Bear back to the townhouse. We had not known each other half an hour!"

"It is different," he stated baldly.

"I regret that I have lost your friendship," said Elizabeth earnestly. "You are a person I greatly admire."

"But not enough to marry me," Darcy pointed out.

Elizabeth was exasperated. "Can you not understand? It is not about you. It is about me."

"No I cannot. Every moment of my adult life, I have been hounded by ladies wishing to marry a fortune. One can almost see the avarice in their eyes as their heads turn as one walks into a room. Then I think I find a lady who is different—who is not continually fluttering her eyelids at me, and walks three miles to visit her sick sister. Of course, she would turn out to be the one lady who would not accept me!"

"You have answered your own question," replied Elizabeth. "It is not that I am disinterested in you. The whole concept of matrimony has never appealed to me. To become someone's property, to lose one's identity, to be continually ridiculed for sport. Is this something to aspire to?"

"You have a very negative view of the wedded state."

"I suppose so, but I only ever wanted to be the favourite aunt of Jane's children. And then, when Mr Pickering made me his heir, well, it was so marvellously freeing. It removed all the uncertainty in my life. Now I can visit Jane as often as I want but not be a burden on her."

"So you intend to set up as a bluestocking in London? Or perhaps spend your life touring Europe? Or riding upon elephants in India?"

"Now you are making fun of me," said Elizabeth reproachfully, "which I have a particular aversion to. Why should I not do any of those things? Gentlemen do so without incurring any opprobrium."

"I beg your pardon," said Darcy contritely.

"Perhaps I could contemplate getting married," mused Elizabeth. "I do not know."

"What would it take to persuade you?" asked Darcy.

"To me, marriage involves trust. Perhaps that is my worst defect—unlike Jane, I find it hard to trust people. I could not trust someone without knowing them better, which is why," she said, stepping closer and reaching out to him in supplication, "I have asked you to be friends."

"Can you not understand?" Darcy said fiercely, grabbing her wrist as if to stay its progress towards him. "Every moment I spend with you is torture, knowing I cannot have you. I knew it would be worse here, but I could not deny Georgie, engaged as she is to your cousin."

Elizabeth was rather startled by his sudden vehemence and would have tried to detach herself, but at that moment she heard footsteps, closely followed by Georgie's voice:

"The cascade is through here; perhaps she is there."

In her moment of distraction, Elizabeth found herself almost pulled from her shoes as Darcy jerked her suddenly away from the voices. Thinking he was intending to give the young lovers some space, she followed readily enough. He brushed aside some ivy, stepped through a gap, and pulled her down some narrow steps. But instead of finding herself in another courtyard, as she had expected, Lizzy found herself almost crouching in a narrow space between a rock face and a curtain of water. Sunlight bathed the area in shimmering patterns.

"Where are we?" she asked in amazement.

"Behind the cascade," whispered Darcy, going down on one knee. "Shh! They may be able to hear our voices."

Two figures stopped directly in front of them, their shapes pulled and twisted by the water.

"No, she is not here either!" came Georgie's voice, in exasperation.

"What a beautiful cascade," said Freddy. "Would you like a rose?"

"Oh, Freddy! You did not pluck that? The gardener, Mr Feathersett, is quite particular about cutting them himself!"

"It fell off in my hand when I touched it," apologised Freddy.

"How romantic!" said Georgie. "Will you kiss me?"

Darcy jerked forward, as if he contemplated bursting through the surface of the water like a vengeful Poseidon, but Lizzy grabbed his coat to stay him.

Beyond the water, the two heads came together briefly. Elizabeth could only think how wonderfully matched in height Freddy and Georgie were—well perhaps Georgie was a little taller.

"That was a peck—like my aunt!" complained Georgie. "Give me a proper kiss!"

"A proper kiss, Miss Darcy?" said Freddy very formally. "What do you know of proper kisses?"

Georgie did not answer but threw her arms around Freddy's neck.

Beside her, Darcy looked on the verge of an apoplexy, so Lizzy stroked the sleeve of his tailcoat.

"Satisfactory?" asked Freddy as the two figures parted.

"Oh, yes!" giggled Georgie. "Maybe, Lizzy is on the other side of the yew hedge!"

Something like a growl escaped from Darcy as the figures departed.

"Come now," Lizzy cajoled. "They are engaged! What a convenient little place to spy upon them!"

"My intention was not to spy, but merely to remain undisturbed so that we could finish our conversation," said Darcy indignantly. "I used to hide here when I was a child. Suddenly it seems so much smaller."

"What a naughty boy! No doubt, you were sitting here, grinning, while your tutor ran through the gardens yelling for you," teased Lizzy.

"Something like that," muttered Darcy.

Lizzy flashed him a mischievous grin. They were very close now and Elizabeth could see into the depths of his eyes. Something hurt lurked there. Darcy's lips twitched. She knew he was thinking of kissing her, as they had just witnessed, but he did not bridge the gap.

Throwing caution to the wind, Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck, intending to give him not a peck, but a respectable kiss—whatever that was. But as soon as her lips touched his, she was drawn into a vortex of sensations. His lips were hot and firm but strangely pliant. The kiss was urgent and seemed to go on forever, til she felt breathless and dizzy. She felt herself collapse into his arms. He smelt so good.

She drew her head back and looked at him. The sleepy look was there again, but behind the half-closed lids his eyes seemed to blaze. She realised she had unleashed the dragon.

"Friends?" she asked tentatively.

Darcy groaned. "Friends," he repeated.

Footnotes

Palladian—relating to or denoting the neoclassical style of Andrea Palladio, in particular with reference to the phase of English architecture from c.1715, when there was a revival of interest in Palladio and his English follower, Inigo Jones, and a reaction against the baroque, Oxford Dictionary

metamorphic furniture—similar in concept to modern convertible furniture, Regency metamorphic furniture was generally more elegant—form was equally important to function. Often the second function was hidden. Common examples were Pembroke tables—sidetables that could be converted to larger tables for dining or cards.

Hall of Mirrors—(French: Grande Galerie or Galerie des Glaces) is the central gallery of the Palace of Versailles in Versailles, France.

As the principal and most remarkable feature of King Louis XIV of France's third building campaign of the Palace of Versailles (1678–1684), the hall has seventeen mirror-clad arches that reflect the seventeen arcaded windows that overlook the gardens. Each arch contains twenty-one mirrors with a total complement of 357 used in the decoration. Wikipedia

syllabub—a dessert of whipped cream, often flavoured with port or sherry