Mr. Darcy and Mr. Corbyn freely conversed when Elizabeth returned to the sunroom. An easiness in Mr. Darcy's smile and open expression warmed her troubled soul, and Mr. Corbyn's reciprocated amiability reassured her that Mary would not be unwelcomed by all of Mr. Brook's family.

She bravely stepped forward and remembered Mr. Darcy was just a man. "Mr. Corbyn, how do you find the party?" Standing next to Mr. Darcy as naturally as possible, she tried to lose herself in the aura of the gentleman. Nagging responsibility and reality anchored the resistance to the dream she dearly desired.

"Charmingly simple. I tire of large groups, and my aunt tries to introduce me to as many young ladies as possible. Do not hate me, Miss Bennet, but I can not remember the name of every lady she acquaints me with."

She laughed, relating all too well. "You are not alone, sir, in forgetting names. My mother is equally meddlesome."

"But not nearly so as your aunt."

"Aunt Phillips is the definition of meddlesome." Elizabeth laughed again. "I am glad you find relief in Meryton. Will you be joining the Regiment soon?"

"Yes." He thrust his chest out. "I look forward to it. My father and grandfather served, and so I must uphold the tradition."

"An only son?" An heir and spare, and if the lady were unfortunate, each child presented the opportunity to die.

He bowed his head. "Unfortunately." His voice broke and recovered just as quickly. "My father perished shortly after our mother birthed Harriet and I. My aunt raised us." He nodded to Mrs. Brook. Elizabeth imagined they must have been a handful, remembering Kitty and Lydia tearing up the cleaned house in a matter of minutes. Her, Jane, and Mary weren't better – they simply moved to different social groups quicker than Kitty or Lydia.

Not liking the train of thought and worrying that Lydia did something foolish to not be in current attendance, she collected herself and presented a proper cheerful front. "Mr. Darcy, Mr. Corbyn, would you care for tea?" She asked.

"Do you remember how I prefer it?" Mr. Darcy said in a distinctly softer tone.

Her heart skipped. "Mr. Darcy," She pressed her palm to her chest. "My memory of names may be spotty occasionally, but I'd like to believe I remember how to prepare your tea after sharing the same roof as you for a fortnight."

Staying out of the squabble, Mr. Corbyn enjoyed the playful exchange.

Advancing toward a table with the tea tray and tea pot filled with freshly hot water, she glanced over the milk and honey.

"Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy shifted to her side, abandoning Mr. Corbyn without proper excusal. "I meant no offense."

She would have relaxed and laughed at him had Mrs. Brook not stared them down. She allowed herself to smile. "You are neglecting Mr. Corbyn, Mr. Darcy."

An anxious Mr. Darcy anchored at her side. "I do not wish to offend you, Miss Bennet."

She sighed happily. "You did not offend me. To be honest, I am a loose bundle of nerves with Mr. Hawthorne and company." Firm hands dropped tea shavings into the cup and then poured in the hot water.

His face twitched sympathetically. "They are gentlemen."

Noting his lowered voice, she nodded. Mrs. Brook and Miss Corbyn panned the room and inevitably returned to them because they were closest. "Your tea needs to steep." She answered and brushed him away. Catching Mrs. Brook's gaze, she cocked a brow in question. The woman turned away, and Miss Corbyn chattered about weather and Meryton, the one-sided conversation turning two-sided after Miss Long and Miss King were mentioned. Delivering the tea to Mr. Darcy she faced Mr. Corbyn again ready to ask about John Brook when Mr. Hawthorne and company entered the room.

A familiar set of faces appeared in the mix of unfamiliar gentlemen, and Elizabeth relaxed. Perhaps now Mrs. Brook will direct her judgment elsewhere. Lydia's head appeared in the back, and Mr. Darcy stepped in front of Elizabeth, effectively hiding her from direct view.

"And embarrassment starts." Elizabeth muttered under her breath. "Heavens help us."

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy turned to her. "Would you care for a walk?"

Her bones ached and she did not want to face the fresh air. "To where, Mr. Darcy?" She joked. "The weather does not bode well, and I am required to guard over Kitty and Mary. Lydia will be encouraged by Mama and Papa may not even make an appearance. I am obligated."

He accepted his tea. "A brave mission."

She glowed. "Indeed, sir, but more so Lydia will be traveling with Miss Lancolm. I must assess the character quality of the gentlemen she will be near." Foolish, foolish Lydia.

"The tea is perfect."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy." Containing the satisfaction to a mere outward appearance of happiness, she noticed Mrs. Brook side eyeing her. "Mr. Darcy, what do you know about the parson's mother? She appears to hate us Bennets."

Multiple conversations battered her ears, and she wished the room less crowded. It felt like London in the sunroom, and she preferred an empty road to this. A lady with a mission demanded she stay here and face the demons head on. Her heart wished for nothing more than a quiet walk with Mr. Darcy and an escort, and her head…she did not know where to look. Mary and Kitty welcomed the attentions of their gentlemen, and Lydia hadn't embarrassed herself…yet. She wanted to speak with Miss Corbyn but Mrs. Brook looked ready to cleave her head from her shoulders.

He studied the small invading party. "Mr. Brook is the heiress of a small, now depleted fortune. She lost a son on the colonies soil and Mr. Brook is the only male to continue the bloodline." He answered without hesitation.

"May I ask how you know this?" She reminded herself that Mr. Darcy was a gentleman first, immortal second. Intelligent enough to use his head and not his rash anger and ego, Mr. Darcy presented well to every lady. A small part of her celebrated his sense of agency.

He cleared his throat. "Research. Naturally."

"He is remarkably similar in appearance to Mr. Corbyn." She followed Mr. Corbyn's path to the party and listened to the string of introductions and Lydia's giggling. Mrs. Lancolm broke away from the gaggle and introduced herself to Mrs. Brook, the elders instantly disregarding Miss Corbyn.

Mr. Darcy placed the empty cup back on the tray. A servant shuffled around the gentlemen with a tray of small sandwiches. "His father was an identical twin."

"Poor Mary."

"Twins in the Bennet family." Mr. Darcy teased. "The reputation will never recover."

She couldn't help but laugh. Envisioning dark haired toddlers tearing through Longbourn wearing matching outfits with Mary shouting their full names, she could only think of Mr. Brook observing it coolly over the top of his bible or desk. They made a perfect pair.

"Mr. Barnett is of lower rank and his family is happily situated. Their futures appear bright." He whispered. "Miss Catherine is a perfect match for him."

"If it yields fruit, Mr. Darcy, if." She warned. "Not all gentlemen are Mr. Bingley."

They fell silent and claimed the settee before the rest of the party wisened. Mary attached herself to Elizabeth to avoid Miss Lancolm and Lydia, and Mr. Brook dropped onto a chair moved away from the window. Both snuck sneaky glances at each other while listening to the new chatter explode around them.

"Lizzy, do you want a cup of tea?" Mary asked nervously.

"Yes." Elizabeth answered. Aware of Miss Lancolm and Mrs. Brook spying on them, she prayed that her mother distracted the women. Only then would Mr. Darcy be truly at ease.

Mary busied herself and perfectly ignored the women, an enviable talent Elizabeth lacked at the minute.

Their mother mercifully saved them a moment later. "Mrs. Lancolm! I thought you would never arrive! Come! I have the drawing room ready, and we need to talk of Lydia's wardrobe." Elizabeth pitied the family's expected loss of income over a child's 'need' for new dresses.

Mrs. Lancolm met Mrs. Bennet halfway across the room. "Mrs. Brook, we require your opinion your have traveled more than us."

Mary grimaced, slyly watching the three.

Mrs. Bennet looped arms with Mrs. Lancolm, the pair already neck deep in scheming. Mrs. Brook snapped her fingers at Miss Corbyn. The lady followed in absolute misery ignored by everyone.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth breathed. The cold anger left the room with Mrs. Brook. "I have a bonnet for Jane. Could you please return it to her?"

"I can."

Mr. Brook said nothing, easing back into his chair and noting the shifting of gentlemen. Mr. Barnett and Kitty conversed with them freely. Spreading throughout the room and quickly emptying the tea pot and coffee, a servant resupplied them with more a few minutes later.

Elizabeth summoned the courage to speak. "Mr. Brook, might I inquire about Mr. Huxley?" She tried to pick out the gentleman she thought to be Mr. Huxley, but no one repeated the name and they all appeared equally capable of being the betrothed man. Muscular and well dressed and with a scar each, she wondered at how they earned the markings and if their profession was incredibly dangerous.

Of course, it was! It made sense why Lydia preferred them – the adventure and thrill seeking that Lydia preferred, always speaking about marrying an officer and irritating their father when he didn't poke at her idiocy.

Mary delivered two cups of tea – one to Elizabeth and one to Mr. Brook. Lydia and Miss Lancolm attempted to pull Mr. Barnett from Kitty, foiled by Mr. Barnett gushing over Kitty's pretty smile and tinkling laughter. A dirty look bypassed Kitty completely as she blushed and played coy. Elizabeth wanted to repeat Charlotte's advice about securing a gentleman's attentions and caught herself.

Was she willing to support the absurd advice? That a lady should enforce the belief her heart was captured by the gentleman regardless of personal feelings. For someone not her, perhaps she ought to.

"A perfectly respectable gentleman who investigates the supernatural." Mr. Brook answered.

Quelling her disappointment, she nodded. "And his comrades?"

Sensing a plot, Mr. Brook held up a hand. "I can not speak for the gentlemen, but they are here." He smiled at her, his answer a persuasive, firm no with all the resolve of parson and none of the vicious bite his mother's eyes promised.

She acknowledged the put down and quietly sipped her tea while it was warm. Absorbing the flooding of newfound information without putting effort into collecting it, she found herself escaping into the conversation about sermon making and Mary's possible future at the parsonage. Her ears perked up and Mary's faced reddened on cue, and Mr. Darcy cleared his throat deeply before a hopeful Mr. Brook tried to subtly hint at his interests.

"Mr. Darcy, would you care to join me in the corridor? I dare not go outside or the drawing room and I can scarcely breathe in here." Elizabeth lied.

Not needing another nudged, they excused themselves from the sunroom and exited the noisy chamber. Lydia's loud laughter bellowed over the constant soft mist of voices, and Elizabeth reminded herself the party was a temporary event, and no one thought well of the twit.

"Miss Bennet, if I am correct in what I have witnessed, it may soon be two sisters married." Mr. Darcy said, an infectious happiness seeped from him and she soaked it up willingly. She adored him, more than he'd ever know. The depth of her devotion surprised even her! "I may visit him tomorrow at the parsonage and convince him to offer to sooner rather than later."

She lost herself in the dream of bliss. "I think, sir, that she prefers the courtship to extend a little longer. It gives her power over Lydia, and Mama can not mock her for it. Mr. Brook is respectable and quite handsome." She laughed at herself and checked her own admiration. Mr. Brook admired Mary, not her, and she preferred Mr. Darcy.

He nodded. "I will suggest a timeframe within a fortnight?" He asked permission.

The power in her hands, she agreed with a fortnight and prayed Mary said yes.