The next half-hour was spent in pleasant but mostly forgettable conversation. Georgiana and Margaret took it upon themselves to tell the story of the past few days, while Lizzy tried her best to keep them from exaggerating the tale too egregiously. She even occasionally succeeded, but it was not her most successful endeavor.

During the discussion, various footmen and maids came in to ask Elizabeth for guidance or brought notes for her. Most of those were of a minor nature, so she simply gave the orders for resolution and turned back to the conversation.

Naturally, it turned soon to discussions of Mr. Darcy. Everyone in the circle except Mr. Breton seemed aware that Elizabeth was somewhat brittle about the subject, and they tried their best to avoid any confluence of matrimony or even relationships, with Mr. Darcy in the same speech. However, Breton was either unaware, or more likely just felt like poking the bear. He quit innocently turned to Lady Matlock and said.

"Aunt, do you remember I have been saving money so I can afford a wife."

"Yes, I do. Harebrained scheme if I ever heard one. Darcy has been begging you to take an increase in salary for years. You should already be married."

"Well, perhaps we are having a stubbornness contest. At the moment, I am in the lead."

"We shall see, Robert."

"On this subject, I am victorious. I finally saved the amount I wanted, and can you imagine what happened next?"

Lady Matlock laughed, and said, "All right, Robert. I shall take the bait."

"Well, I asked Darcy to keep an eye out for a suitable bride, and he found one within four hours! It is the most astounding thing I have ever heard of in my life."

Elizabeth gasped, and with her tongue running ahead of her head gasped in shock, "You would take romantic advice from Mr. Darcy… Mr. Darcy!"

Everyone else stared at her, wondering exactly what her qualms on the subject might entail. The Wythes knew of course, but they thought it was Elizabeth's tale to tell.

Breton looked at her carefully, wondering what was happening, and continued.

"Yes, Miss Bennet, I would. He has a knack for it. I probably should not spread such tales, but he has introduced a half ‑dozen couples that I know of… all of them still quite happy. He only does it among the working class though. Entanglements in the gentry are too complicated for him."

Elizabeth snorted, but everyone pretended to ignore her.

Breton continued, "He has also occasionally suggested to a couple that they think about it seriously, and they sometimes demur. Sometimes they end up together anyway, and sometimes they do not, but most of the time, they are eventually happy they took a moment to think things through. He will never do anything besides an introduction or a suggestion that a couple take a bit of time, though. Perhaps he might venture a slightly stronger opinion for someone he knows well, but I do not think it likely."

Elizabeth just stared at him in consternation, and said, "I know for a fact that he gets it wrong occasionally, Mr. Breton."

Everyone just stared at her in astonishment, and Lady Matlock leaned ahead and asked her, "Do you care to elaborate, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth just shook her head, and said, "No, I will not. I am however curious, Mr. Breton, how he separates couples. What arts and allurements does he use?"

Breton scratched his head, and said, "He has told me every time he does it, and all he does is suggest if a man is coming close to creating expectations, that he should be sure of what he is about before proceeding. It is unfair and even cruel to raise expectations that will not be fulfilled."

Lady Matlock was finding the whole subject fascinating, so she leaned forward and asked, "When was the last time he did that, Robert?"

"Last winter, around the start of December, with a man named Bingley."

Elizabeth asked, "And that is all he would say. He would not take credit for breaking the union."

Breton looked shocked, and said, "Never! He would champion caution, but no more. If such a story is floating about, I cannot account for it, unless he felt particularly strongly about a specific couple."

Lady Matlock sighed, and said, "I probably can."

Elizabeth looked at her carefully, as the lady replied, "You know my son, Richard. He is a good man, and a good friend, but he tends to exaggerate. Might I suggest you may have heard the story from him? You had a reaction to seeing his bust at my home."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Yes, you have caught me out, Lady Matlock. The intelligence was from the Colonel."

Breton leaned forward, and said, "You need to take anything he says and cut it in half, Miss Bennet. He never outright lies, but he does like a good story if he sees no harm in it."

Elizabeth said, "There was harm in the story, but it was minor, I suppose. I will ask you this just once, Mr. Breton. Would Mr. Darcy actively try to separate a couple form each other for any reason other than lack of affection?"

"Absolutely not. He detests match‑making and match‑breaking. He also is seriously concerned about ladies' reputations, as you would expect with a young ward. When men are making expectations that are not serious, he becomes quite displeased. Ladies' reputations are fragile, and he hates to see them damaged. He is also, understandably concerned with fortune hunters, but claims no particular skill at rooting them out. If he thought a friend was vulnerable to one, he would suggest caution but nothing more."

Elizabeth sat in thought for a moment, wondering if it was possible. Could the Colonel's tendency to exaggerate, coupled with Mr. Bingley's inconstancy, leave Mr. Darcy mostly faultless in Jane's heartbreak, especially when he was apparently being as careful as he possibly could to be certain Elizabeth herself did not have unrealistic expectations? It was a proven fact that Mrs. Bennet was mercenary, so if he urged caution to Bingley, and that man took it upon himself to trust his sister to take leave, was that Mr. Darcy's fault? Those questions were likely to plague her for some time, but she wanted to get the conversation onto another topic.

"I will take you at your word, Mr. Breton. Please continue your story."

Everyone else at the table stared at her, and she repeated, "I am finished with this topic! Perhaps I should find something productive to do."

Quite to her surprise, Mr. Breton left his chair and sat down on a footstool in front of her, where he could see her eye to eye, and asked, "Have I hurt you in some way, Miss Bennet? If so, please allow me to correct it if I may."

Somewhat confused, Elizabeth said, "On the contrary, Mr. Breton. I believe you may have solved a bit of a mystery for me, but I will need some time to myself to work it through."

"How can I reduce your discomfort, ma'am. I feel like the apothecary who has given you a foul-tasting concoction, rooting around hopelessly in my bag for a candy to make it taste better."

Elizabeth laughed quite loudly at that, and said, "Tell me about your wife, Mr. Breton."

Laughing, he jumped up and returned to his original, more decorous seat, and said, "She is not my wife. She is simply a woman who sounds very interesting."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "But you said Mr. Darcy is never wrong when he predicts successful romance. Lady Matlock, can you give Mr. Breton two pounds. I am certain he will need to buy a common license the very same day he meets Mr. Darcy's chosen bride."

Everyone laughed uproariously at that, and Elizabeth said, "Pray continue, Mr. Breton."

Breton laughed along with everyone else, and said, "Well, it all came about rather oddly. Darcy got dragged off to a ball one night about six weeks ago."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Was he bribed or blackmailed."

Georgiana laughed, and said, "You seem to know my brother better than you have asserted, Lizzy."

Elizabeth just smiled and nodded at Breton to continue.

"Well, at that point it gets confusing. Darcy never writes real names of ladies in his letters to me. He is afraid for their reputations if the letter goes astray, and he knows I will never know the ladies anyway so their names would be pointless. At any rate, there were two sisters who he apparently got on the bad side of somehow. It is of course, not all that surprising, since we are talking about Darcy, whose social ineptness is legendary. The elder of the two was at this ball and scheduled to dance with one of Darcy's friends. Said friend sprained his ankle and asked the lady if he could offer a substitute."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Was he honoring this lady or punishing her?"

Georgiana laughed, and said, "William is an awful dancer, or at least he must be because he never‑ever dances with a lady unless he is required to by politeness."

Elizabeth, sighed, and sad, "Your supposition is incorrect, Georgie. Your brother is an extremely good dancer, even if the lady he is dancing with is on the vicious side."

Everyone stared at her, begging her to continue, and she said, "That is all I have to say. Mr. Breton, do you plan to finish your story before supper?"

Everyone laughed, and Breton continued.

"Well, this elder of the two sisters seemed to be frightfully angry with him. It was all a muddle, because the substitution was enacted, but as soon as the elder sister saw him, she turned around without a word, practically ran from the ballroom, got in a hack and went home. She did not say a single word or look back even once."

Elizabeth gasped at the insinuation but did not want to say anything.

Breton continued, "Well, Darcy wanted badly to apologize to this lady for whatever offense he may have committed, so he went to her uncle's house, somewhere in London the next day. It turned out the lady decided to return to her father's house early that very morning. Darcy still wanted to make things right, so he rode there. I spoke to him just before he left to find her, and I left for Pemberley."

Elizabeth said, "I see. He had offended the lady, so naturally he decided to chase her halfway across England when she did not want to talk to him?"

"Apparently. Darcy is nothing if not stubborn."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Please continue, Sir."

"On the way, he found the uncle's coach with a broken axle, and set about… well, how did he put it… groveling like a worm was the plan, and I believe he executed it. In the process, he met the woman he wants to introduce me to. She was a maid of all work, and injured slightly in the accident, but she stood up to him like a giant. She was apparently not intimidated by his high-and-mightiness at all. Apparently, she even taught him something about being a proper man, but I must confess, the paragraphs about that interaction were a bit muddled. There was something about his mother and some horsewomen, but I could not make any sense out of it."

Breton gave a chuckle, and everyone around joined in, except Elizabeth who just sat there staring.

"Go on!"

"Well, he made his apologies, apparently at length and in detail, and the sister apparently forgave him entirely. She even thanked him in the end. It appears that she decided she wanted a fully‑grown man instead of a wet behind the ears pup like Bingley, who could be swayed by a few words of caution and that polecat of a sister of his…"

Breton blushed, and said, "Pardon me… my language."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Which language was that, Mr. Breton. I have no idea what a polecat is, but if it is a nasty creature, then it was an apt analogy."

Everyone chuckled, and Breton continued.

"Well, apparently the elder sister was by then thick as thieves with Darcy's cousin Anne de Bourgh, so all is well. They will be doing the season together. The maid has been promoted to a lady's maid for Miss de Bourgh, and Darcy is trying to figure out where the first sister is, so he can try to make things right with her as well."

Elizabeth gasped in surprise, though why she should be surprised that Fortuna was playing with her life was quite beyond her at that point.

Not quite hearing her gasp, Breton continued, "Last I heard from him, he was staying with the elder sister's family, along with his cousin Anne, somewhere in Hertfordshire. Apparently, the worm maneuver was successful. I believe you know Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet. Darcy will bring my potential bride, Mary Taylor, next time he comes to Pemberley."

Elizabeth thought that it was now fully confirmed. Apparently, the world had gone utterly and completely mad. If Mr. Breton's information was correct, Fitzwilliam Darcy was now sleeping in the guest room most recently occupied by Mr. Collins, which was apparently reserved for gentlemen whose proposals she rejected; while she was sleeping in a chamber somewhere in the family wing of Pemberley. It could not be any odder.

Somewhat timidly, she asked, "The first sister, Mr. Breton… the younger. What offense was he trying to make up for?"

Breton looked at her, shook his head, and replied, "He would not say it explicitly, Miss Bennet. He just said he had dug himself a hole the size of Pemberley and hoped he could eventually dig himself out. I have to say, he sounded determined, but not very optimistic for a speedy resolution. He anticipated months or years of work."

Lady Matlock leaned forward curiously, and said, "You never told me how you know Darcy, Elizabeth. Is it possible you know these sisters? Perhaps we can help my nephew together. He trusts you implicitly, so I am surprised he is not here asking for your help."

Starting to shake, Elizabeth whispered, "He does not know I am here. He does not have the vaguest idea where I am right now."

She glanced over at the Wythes, all of whom were studiously NOT giving any clues to their thoughts, nor adding anything to the conversation without her permission.

Everyone in the room was staring at Elizabeth, and she found herself more nervous than she had been when Georgiana appointed her as temporary Mistress of Pemberley… more nervous by a wide margin.

Everyone seemed to be patiently waiting for her to say something. Why wouldn't they – she was the Mistress.

Finally, Elizabeth took a deep breath, blew it out and spoke.

"I imagine you have all probably worked it out by now. I am the First Sister. He is apparently now sleeping down the hall from my room at my father's estate in Hertfordshire, and Anne de Bourgh is sleeping in my bed. I can explain that hole you described, Mr. Breton, if you are curious."

"Pins and needles, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth blew out a big breath and tried to see if she could get through it neither tears nor rage, which seemed unlikely.

"Mr. Darcy proposed to me in Hunsford six weeks ago. At the time, I quite despised him in general, for various reasons, not all of which turned out to be true. He made a truly dreadfully awful proposal! It was my second truly dreadfully awful proposal in five months. He apparently learned at Eaton or Cambridge that the fashion was to insult and disparage your intended to show your steadiness. He did this just three hours after your son, Lady Matlock, boasted, quite arrogantly I might add, that Mr. Darcy separated Mr. Bingley from a fortune hunter, and claimed it as… what did he call it… 'the honour of my cousin's triumph'."

Everyone gasped, so she continued, "Said fortune hunter was, as you have no doubt surmised, the elder sister, my sister, Jane."

Everyone except the Wythes gasped again.

Elizabeth continued woodenly.

"My mother tried to force me to accept the first god-awful proposal. The man was my father's heir, but the most ridiculous man alive…, well, maybe second most at any rate."

She paused, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes before continuing.

"Only my father's support saved me, and his ability to withstand an assault from Mr. Darcy is suspect at best. I… I… Well… I panicked! I ran from the room without a single word, went to Hunsford Village and took the first coach that left with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have been running ever since. I was running from him, running from myself, running from my mercenary mother, running from the calendar, running from everything. I turn one and twenty in three days, and I will not be forced into anything by anybody."

Nobody said anything for the longest time, as everyone pieced the story together, with growing feelings of horror and confusion.

Finally, Georgiana screwed up her courage, and tried to crack the silence.

"If you are hiding from my brother Lizzy, you might not have picked the best place to do it", and the room exploded with tension relieving laughter for a moment.

Lady Matlock moved over and sat down beside Elizabeth, reached her arm around the younger lady's shoulders, and pulled her into an embrace. She noticed the young lady was shaking, and very close to tears, but reckoned it might just as likely be confusion or rage.

"You have been through a difficult time, Elizabeth. That is quite a story."

Mr. Wythe spoke up, and said, "She told us about a week ago, Lady Matlock. She has been trying to understand your nephew for some time."

Elizabeth, feeling some comfort from the sympathy of the elder woman. She felt at the moment as if she might be the luckiest woman in the world. She had demonstrated her competence by acting as mistress of an estate she had never stepped foot in, but she had also demonstrated that she was just plain lucky. Entirely by chance she had found the Wythes, Lady Matlock and Mr. Breton. She might even be willing to help Mr. Darcy fill in that hole he seemed to be in, as his sins did not seem so awfully terrible at the moment.

With a deep sigh, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, until Mr. Breton handed her a handkerchief.

Sitting back up, she said, "Thank you… thank you all of you."

Everyone smiled, nodded, and demurred any need for thanks.

Feeling quite bold, and still in Lady Matlock's embrace, she reached up to kiss the lady on the cheek, then sat up straight and spoke.

"So! Lady Matlock, Georgiana, Mr. Breton – please tell me about Mr. Darcy."