Chapter Two

London

February, 1774

"Helen!"

"Anne, I am so pleased you are here. Why, I do not know half these people! Grandmama -- " Helen turned to the small, round, elderly person at her side -- "Grandmama, this is Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, I think you know her?"

"Oh yes," said Mrs Darcy, a smile crinkled up her face, "Lord Holbrook's daughter, I remember. Your grandfather was very charming. He had the most wonderful eyes I ever saw, why all the young ladies were quite mad for him! I only had eyes for my Francis, of course. I hear from my granddaughter that you two have become fast friends?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Anne, much more pleased to be interrogated by her.

"Excellent . . . excellent. In confidence, Helen could use a good friend, a real one, not one of those dreadful painted creatures who are forever trying to catch George. Speaking of George, where has my grandson gotten to? Helen?"

"I do not know, Grandmother," said Helen; "he does what he will and listens to nobody."

"Ah well. Do you know him, Lady Anne?"

"I have not had that honour." Anne bit her lip. "I am glad to see you so recovered, Mrs Darcy. Miss Darcy has been fretting."

"Well, she is a worrier. Are you not, Helen? Always fussing. I may be old but I am not on my deathbed, young lady. She did not think I was up to attending this little soirée." Anne choked; this little soirée was one of the grandest events of the season. Helen had confessed that she had no desire to attend but did not dare offend the Duchess by remaining absent.

"I am sure her motives were entirely altruistic," Anne said, with a sideways glance at her friend. Mrs Darcy laughed.

"You understand her perfectly, then?"

"Oh!" Anne shook her head carefully; the latest styles did not exactly promote any sort of rapid movement. She was certain the elaborate coiffure was about to unravel at any moment. "I do not think so, ma'am. We can never perfectly understand another person, can we?"

Mrs Darcy's eyes grew sharp. "You are a clever, thinking sort of girl, aren't you? Nothing like these namby-pamby creatures -- " she waved her fan at the ball's attendees. "Good, good. I hope to see more of you, Lady Anne."

Anne smiled. "And I you, Mrs Darcy. Why, if Helen tries to evade any more balls by your indisposition, it will be quite inevitable, I fear. They are trying enough when there is at least one person I can depend on for good company, but without her?" She shook her head. "Next time I shall play truant with you, Helen."

The others laughed.

"Helen, there he is. Fighting off the young ladies, you see."

Helen stood on tiptoe. "Wha -- ah, I see him now; poor George, he looks quite pained. Oh, Anne -- I never introduced you to my brother, did I? And I promised I would."

"No, you did not," Anne protested, "I do not mind, really."

Helen laughed. "You think badly enough of him as it is, when you know him only by reputation; now you can think badly of him with a clear conscience. I insist! Come -- " The other girl pulled her along with a surprisingly strong grip for one so small. She did not have to beg anyone's pardon or slip past; a path simply opened before her. Anne envied her the supreme self-confidence that provoked such behaviour in others, but had hardly a moment to think on it before Mr Darcy himself was in front of her.

He was as handsome as gossip painted him -- fair like his sister, but slender and nearly Lord Holbrook's height. His smile was exactly Helen's, down to the dimple creasing his left cheek and the flash of good teeth. Anne braced herself against some deliberate charming, as his clear eyes briefly met her own before flicking back to his sister.

"Helen, there you are; I was looking for you."

"You seemed quite desperate in your search for me, brother," Helen said dryly. "Come, I want to introduce you to my friend." The three walked away from his retinue and towards a quieter area. Mr Darcy's eyes were icy as he looked once more at her, although his smile did not waver in the slightest.

"Anne," said Helen, "this is my brother, Mr Darcy; George, my friend, Lady Anne Fitzwilliam." Casually, Helen added, "She did not want to meet you, but I insisted."

"Helen!" Anne blushed a vivid red, but Mr Darcy's demeanour instantly warmed.

"It is a pleasure, Lady Anne. The last I heard, you two were sworn enemies. What happened?"

"We became women," said Anne, "and put away childish things."

Mr Darcy's smile altered into something a little more genuine, amusement crinkling his blue eyes. "I see. Well, I am pleased to see that your taste in friends is improving, Helen."

"George!" She flushed. "You must forgive my brother's impertinence, Anne, he thinks himself amusing, and quite forgets the . . . intellectual peculiarities of his usual companions."

"Touché, Helen. My sister, your ladyship, thinks it her life's duty to keep my vanity under good regulation."

"Someone must do it, and it is not as if anyone else has the inclination." Helen turned to Anne. "My brother is quite spoilt by the world's good opinion, you see. Is he as dreadful as you feared?"

Anne met Darcy's gaze challengingly, and said, "I am still reserving judgment."

"I need not fear being spoilt by yours, I see," he replied with a smile. "Perhaps you will honour me with your hand for the next set, and enjoy further opportunity to ponder the imperfections of my character?"

She was very surprised at the offer, and all clever remarks flew out of her mind. She glanced at Helen, who -- though equally astonished -- seemed very pleased, and inclined her head. "Thank you for the kind offer, sir."

One eyebrow arched. "Is that an acceptance or refusal, Lady Anne?"

She smiled. "An acceptance, sir." His smile, genuine this time, lit up his face.

"Thank you, then." She could feel the wonder and suspicion of all her friends, but ignored it for the moment. She meant to enjoy herself, and it was only a dance.

---

It was halfway through the evening and Anne was enjoying comparative solitude, when someone cleared his throat near her. Anne started.

"Mr Darcy!"

He bowed. "Lady Anne. I was hoping you would favour me with one more dance?"

Her dark brows drew together. "Mr Darcy, people are already wondering about one dance between us."

"Oh, surely you do not pay such inane talk any mind, your ladyship."

"You are a man, sir," she said sharply, "you can afford to ignore it, but I am a lady, and I will be subjected to innuendo and gossip, if you show such unguarded partiality without intending anything by it."

His gaze grew sharper and more intent. "And if I do mean something by it?"

Colour flooded her cheeks. "Mr Darcy, we are hardly even acquaintances. You have only just met me, and I am your sister's friend. For Helen's sake, if not mine, devote your attentions to another young lady, or several, for all I care, but do not expect me to be the next in your line of conquests."

"I see," he said, his mouth twitching, "that Helen was not joking about your poor opinion of me."

"Not of you in particular," she said, her chin held high, "I hardly know you. But I do not think highly of any man who toys with ladies' affections. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to reassure Miss Napier that I befriended Helen because I like her, and I remain as uninterested in you as I have ever been." With only the slightest inclination of her head, she pivoted and walked rapidly away, not daring to look back.

---

Helen laughed, looking around her with only a hint of apprehension. She possessed the unassailable self-command that came from absolute confidence in the general superiority of herself and her kin to the rest of humanity; in some ways it was impossible to disentangle the two sides of her that were Helen and Miss Darcy of Pemberley.

"No, I am not angry in the least," she assured Anne. "Why, I think you are the first woman who has not practically fallen at his feet. Well, he is very good-looking." Anne allowed this. "But I think it is good for him. Of course, he is undeterred."

"What?" Anne looked up, dismayed. "Helen, cannot you persuade him?"

"It is the challenge," Helen explained. "My explaining your antipathy more fully would only make him more determined to win your good opinion, not less. He is as vain as any young lady. And I think he really admires you."

"What for?"

"Your intelligence and loyalty -- and face and figure." Anne coloured and Helen laughed. "He is not blind, Anne."

"Oh, my face is handsome enough," Anne replied frankly. "I have always been pretty. But my aunt and my sister always said that no man would admire my figure. I am far too thin. Even the servants are always trying to fatten me up, as if I were some sort of cattle."

"George does not think you are," Helen said. "He told me that you were the first friend of mine he has ever approved of."

"Please, Helen. I do not mean to fall in love with your brother, or anyone at all. I -- I do not think I can." Anne's fingers curled around her skirt, then relaxed as the parlourmaid bustled in. "Nora, pour Miss Darcy some more tea."

"Yes, your ladyship." Nora, like most of the servants imported directly from Milton, obeyed quickly and efficiently before vanishing.

"You mean -- because of -- your parents?" Helen blushed. "I do not mean to pry, but I have heard rumours from some of the tabbies."

Anne laughed, a little nervously. "Yes. Oh, my parents are happy, but the talk is just awful. It is much worse in the country, actually. They chew over old affairs for decades, I think." She shivered. "I know the whole story now, they wanted me to be prepared. I love my mother dearly, but I cannot help thinking of Catherine's mother, and what she must have endured, knowing that her husband was in love with another woman, and her own cousin at that. No." She shuddered. "I think love must be a terrible thing to cause so many people so much unhappiness. I would rather do without."

"It is not always like that, Anne. Most lovers' stories are very dull."

"On the surface, perhaps. But you never know what lies beneath those pictures of respectability, do you?"

---

"Anne my love, I have just heard the most remark -- " the Countess of Holbrook blinked twice, then her look instantly shifted to a perfect balance of warmth and good breeding. "I beg your pardon, I had no idea you had a caller."

"Mama," said Anne, "may I introduce my dear friend Miss Darcy to you?"

Lady Holbrook's eyes widened slightly, and then her look warmed slightly. "Miss Darcy, what an unexpected pleasure!" she cried. "Anne mentioned that you had become friends. I was so delighted to hear of it. I simply loathe quarrels, and family ones most of all. Why, that must be the reason -- well, Carstairs told me that you had danced with Mr Darcy, Anne, and everyone was talking of it."

"Everyone?" Anne said sceptically.

"The Napiers and Calverleys and Mirfields, at least. I was quite befuddled because I had no idea you were at all partial."

"It was only one dance, Mama."

"But I quite forgot that you were such friends with Miss Darcy. I am certain you only accepted for her sake. Is that not so, Miss Darcy?"

Helen, whatever her own thoughts, maintained her composure admirably and said, "I am sure it is, your ladyship."

"That is exactly what I thought. Although, my dear, we could not be happier if . . . well, never mind that. I shall not impose any more, doubtless young ladies like yourselves would rather talk freely by yourselves."

"Oh no, we are not -- " Helen began, to no avail. Lady Holbrook took her leave and drifted away.

"Mama likes novelty, so she is always trying on new roles," Anne explained. "She is pretending to be a sort of flighty frivolous society lady at present. It has been nearly six weeks, so I imagine she quite enjoys it."

Helen's blue eyes opened wide. "How unusual," was all she said, but Anne laughed ruefully.

"Nothing is ever dull here. I think," she added, "I should very much like to live a nice, boring, prosaic life."

"You would run mad," said Helen.

"Perhaps."

Helen hesitated a moment. "What did your mother mean, that she, or 'they,' could not be happier if -- "

Anne blushed. "Pay it no mind. Mother is very practical and pragmatic underneath all her playacting. She wants me to marry well."

"Oh, I see. Someone like my brother?"

Anne shrugged. "I suppose. Not a new family, at least. Her family and ours are so recent they haven't had the opportunity to gather any dust. It smarts, sometimes, that the old respectable families will still often have nothing to do with us. That is why Catherine married Sir Lewis, of course. He is old and plain and was never thought sensible, but the de Bourghs are very old and respectable, and his . . . ductility of temper suits her very well."

"I see," Helen said. "I had never thought of it, I confess. We have never worried about that."

"You do not have to. Your family is even older and more respectable than Sir Lewis'. Oh, I do not mean anything -- it is not your fault. It is just how things are."

"I remember when my grandfather was offered a title," Helen said dreamily. "I was just a little girl, perhaps five or six, but he was so offended, he stalked around and told anyone who would listen that he was a Darcy, and that was all the title he needed. And he had some very creative suggestions as to what the King could do with his offer. I really was almost afraid -- he was usually very merry -- but then Grandmama laughed him out of his ill humour and it was never spoken of again." She smiled. "We have always been very proud of our heritage at Pemberley."

"Your mother seems prouder than your brother," Anne said, then flushed. "Oh! I did not mean -- "

"I understand how it must seem," Helen replied seriously, "but George has his pride, too. We all do, in our ways. Mother is autocratic but George, he . . . well, he has never minced words. He expects me to make a great marriage, they all do." She looked down at her clasped hands. "Nothing less than an earl, I daresay."

"You should fall in love with a gentleman of three thousand a-year, bury yourself in the country, and spite them all. You are not afraid of love."

"I could not. I owe my family -- " She shrugged. "You know how it is. I could never be so selfish as to think only of myself and my own preferences."

Anne thought of Mr Darcy, his vibrant eyes intent on her own, asking her to dance a second time. And if I do mean something by it? She felt herself growing cold and pale, or rather, his warmth and vitality throwing her coldness and pallor into sharp relief. What would Catherine say? Anne, do not be a fool. The chance will never come again. It is your duty to encourage him, do your best to catch him, marry him if -- no, when (provided you have done your part adequately) he asks. Her father, her mother? Oh, they would be kinder, gentler. They would tell her that of course she must not marry anyone she could not like. They would name the advantages, but add that she was young and there would be other opportunities. Beneath it all, though, they would mean the same thing. And Edward? Edward, stop burying yourself in the country. I need you. Tell me what to do. And all this, from only a little flirtation, an invitation to dance a second time at a large ball.

"Anne?"

Anne blinked, then laughed a little shakily. "Oh, yes," she said fervently. "I know how it is."