Chapter 138

Mrs Reynolds, or rather Mrs Eliot, her temporary replacement, must have hired extra staff to clean the entire second floor, for whichever room Georgiana and Eric explored, they were all specklessly clean. Bare, certainly, the old fashioned oak-panelled walls looked dreary without the occasional picture or some other form of decoration, and the windows were like gaping holes without even the simplest of hangings. But there was potential here, Fitzwilliam had excellent taste in decorating but somehow it was all so modern. This floor practically breathed history, and Georgiana couldn't wait to hunt for fabrics and decorations as well as suitable furniture. Not from the same period as the rooms themselves, that would be depressing, the few chairs and tables remaining and those cabinets too heavy to move out were solid chunks of massive wood, making the gloom even more oppressive.

No, they'd find lighter chairs and tables, not so much in colour as in build. She didn't mind the dark wood, it had a nice old feel, but she wanted the furniture to be a lot more elegant. It didn't matter whether it was older or more recent than the rooms themselves, she knew what she liked and she'd choose that. Hopefully there would be some really flimsy fabrics for curtains, to make the whole a bit less solid. It would take a lot of work to make the rooms habitable, but it would be fun. Already she felt the strain of the last weeks slipping away, and judging by Eric's demeanour it wasn't much different for him. It was a perfect moment to take a little break from exploring, or rather, to explore something different. Eric seemed to have had the same idea for he took his brand-new wife in his arms, and they kissed passionately. There was no opportunity to take things further but they went as far as they could, counting on being disturbed sooner or later.

And of course they were, not by servants but by their party of friends, a welcome sight to Georgiana for now they could actually choose which rooms to use.

'It's just as I remembered, terribly gloomy. The panelling must have cost a fortune in oak and walnut, but it's gloomy nonetheless. Did you find anything remotely suitable?'

Simon was totally at home here and as familiar as he'd ever been whenever they were in private, but poor Fowler seemed very much impressed by Pemberley's magnificence.

'I think we did, quite a few, actually. They are large, and some have a door connecting them, like our apartment in town. And we won't have to strip a room for the piano, they're totally bare now.'

Of course Eric mainly cared about his piano. Their piano, for it had been as much Georgiana's present, and she planned to play it a lot.

They now continued their explorations together, and finally found a room large enough to serve as their headquarters, where they would plan their journey and teach and learn. Like all the other rooms on this floor it had a relatively low ceiling, and the naturally dark wood panelling reached from floor to ceiling, where these days it was more common to have panelling to waist height, painted in a neutral colour, with decorated wall paper above it.

The room was very clean and this time it wasn't completely bare, a huge rectangular table stood right in the middle of it, with ten matching chairs. It was perfect for poring over maps, however had it gotten there? It was solid and fit the room really well, but somehow Georgiana was convinced it was not contemporary with the room itself, it was much too elegant for that. And what would its original use have been? Then it struck her: Fitzwilliam had ordered it made for them! But he couldn't have, the time was too short. So he'd probably sent someone to the local craftspeople to find a table like this already made, and this was what that person came up with. It was magnificent, and just what they needed.

'Your brother has outdone himself, dear Georgiana. Just look at that magnificent table, if that isn't brand new I'm very much mistaken. How does he do it, arrange things on such short notice? I cannot wait to spend our evenings sitting at that table. And what about our bedrooms, shall we choose them close to this room? Simon and I would like to have adjoining rooms with one of those doors between them.'

Georgiana supposed no-one would think anything of that, but if Anne and Nick were to do that the cleaning maids might talk. Though Anne could leave the key on her own side.

'Let's take a look at what rooms are available on this side of the second floor. I'm certain we'll find the right ones.'

And they all did, Anne and Frederick choosing adjoining rooms, with their partners on the other side. Georgiana had to admit that Anne had made the right choice, Nick was turning out an excellent companion. Though they had seen little of either him and Anne during their four days of travel, when they did all get together for dinner in some quaint little inn it was obvious they had used the long hours of transportation well, for his accent was much reduced and he used hardly any coarse expressions at all anymore. Maybe he did not have the natural sensibility Eric had, Georgiana was convinced her beloved husband would have grown up a gentleman even in the backstreets of London, though that probably just proved how much she loved him, at least Nick was polite and kind, and she was certain he'd get over his servility if they all treated him fairly.

He and Simon had a very practical view on how to get the necessary furniture down from the attics in time for them to get settled before nightfall, and their little group of six was as close and as comfortable as it had been with five.

But then it was time to have lunch, and it was obvious Nick was not feeling comfortable at all with his role between servant and partner to a lady.

'Come, Nick, it's time you get to know the Pemberley staff, notably Mrs Reynolds. Though Mr Hugo is also quite a character, I'm afraid you won't recognise him once he's back, he's very much in charge here. Of course we're visiting staff, they have no say over us, I'm looking forward very much to making use of that privilege.'

Simon's easy way of speaking helped Nick immensely, and his face cleared altogether. Georgiana had heard what had happened to him in the Blackwood household, and she could imagine he'd feel much safer with Simon to introduce him to a lot of strangers.

'You're not lunching with us?' Anne asked, disappointed.

Now her man showed his true spirit, taking her in his arms gently, kissing her throat and face with so much love.

'I'm sorry, Anne, but that was never an option. We're staff, we're not supposed to mingle with the genteel folk. Mr Darcy is very kind to let us stay on this side of the house at all. But Simon and I will have each other, just like you and Frederick will be together. Don't worry, I'll be fine.'

And he would be, probably more so than he would be dining with the family. Georgiana would be very much surprised if a man like Nick had any table manners. Though he would have to learn them if they wanted Simon and him to be true gentlemen abroad. Oh well, that was what Fitzwilliam's huge present was for. They could dine up here sometimes, they could even have a few people over, like Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, and maybe Mr Bennet, who according to Elizabeth knew a lot more than he let them believe.

It was so good to be back! Of course there were the usual pleasantries to be exchanged with those of the staff that were present to receive them, but that was as it should be, they were not on their way through this time, they were going to stay. Mrs Reynolds was looking much better, though the elderly Mrs Eliot was still present to perform most of the housekeeper's duties. Fortunately the weather was relatively fine, it would do Mrs Reynolds good, and it would enable them to start rambling and riding immediately.

Georgiana and Eric had disappeared right after their arrival, and the others had soon followed, but not before Frederick had charmed Mrs Reynolds, of course.

'You seem very pleased to have returned, Mrs Darcy, and yet you were so much admired in London.'

'You have no idea, Mrs Reynolds,' Fitzwilliam observed smugly, 'she even had the Prince of Wales at her feet.'

And he told the ladies about her visit to Carlton House, leaving Prince George's improper proposal out of the conversation of course. Elizabeth was glad to hear him proud of her instead of keeping a hurt silence about it. But now she wanted to see her new horse, and then maybe spend some time in their private rooms. Travelling with friends was entertaining, but they had had so little private time for months, she was really planning to catch up as much as possible.

'We didn't read anything about your visit in the papers, Mrs Darcy,' Mrs Eliot dared suggest.

Did that mean they doubted it had really happened? Imagining what an article would have said had a reporter seen her being returned by the Prince himself in his private phaeton, way past midnight, Elizabeth could not but smile in relief.

'I suppose a few hours' visit in the afternoon to a private occasion they couldn't attend doesn't rate an article, Mrs Eliot. Besides, we used Mr Manners' team and he is out and about all the time, maybe they didn't realise it was us going to Carlton House.'

After a short description of Carlton House and the Heir Presumptive himself and the fabulous sweets he served his guests they took their leave and went straight to the stables, it was of little use to wash before petting a horse after all.

Crossing the front lawn, her beloved took her arm in his and kissed her right behind her ear. A shiver ran through her, she knew what he wanted and she couldn't wait herself. But first she'd meet his magnificent present and maybe say hello to Peter and the rest of the stable-boys.

'Did you mind my mentioning your visit to the Prince and his liking you so much?'

'Actually, I'm glad you feel it exactly for what it was: a fun visit to a beautiful house and kind people. Nothing more and nothing less. I'm glad you're not jealous.'

'I was, very much so, when you didn't return.'

'Not towards me, you weren't, my love. Nor to the Prince. When I came back you were merely very happy.'

'I had to use Bob's advice when he talked to you like that, I imagined riding my favourite horse, that always seems to make me very mellow.'

'It was something to be proud of anyway, my love. You've shown admirable restraint, even to Wickham, and he is not a powerful man, you need not fear angering him.'

'I still hate him, though. I hope we'll never have to see him again. Though I'm not in any way jealous of him, not anymore. I know you feel nothing for him but kind concern.'

Was this the right moment? When Fitzwilliam had just confirmed he truly hated Wickham? Elizabeth was looking forward to solving the mystery of Wickham's parentage, and though she feared Fitzwilliam's reaction it was not because she was afraid of him, she was merely afraid to make him unhappy. But Frederick was right, she could not keep a secret from her beloved, he'd notice she was keeping things to herself and imagine the worst.

'Fitzwilliam? There is something about Wickham I have been meaning to talk to you about.'

His reactions was not hopeful. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her with concern and even a little apprehension.

'I could sense you'd had some kind of row, but then you were nice to him. Not too nice, exactly right for your relationship as brother and sister.'

'There is no love lost between Wickham and myself, he cannot seem to stop trying to impose on my feelings. Well, actually he used to, I've settled him for good. But that is not the point, it's something that goes way back, before we even met, before I was even born.'

'You mean to say you weren't but that I had been? It happened in the years that we were good friends, Wickham and I?'

'You're not that much older than I am. No, this happened when you were a little boy.'

Nothing for it but to blurt it out, there was no way to bring this diplomatically.

'Your uncle Spencer and I agree that Wickham may be your illegitimate half-brother. I'd like to try to find out whether there was anything more than a steady friendship between your father and his mother.'

Fitzwilliam's expression of pain, shock and disgust exceeded anything she had expected. If she had known he'd take it so badly she would probably have refrained from mentioning it. She did not want to hurt her idol, her beloved! She did not want to risk losing his respect!

After a long, long, painful silence he took her in his arms and rested his head on hers in defeat.

'Damned useless jackass!'

What had she done? Her calm, collected beloved reduced to venting his feelings in terms they had been trying to wean Nick away from?

'All my life he has been dodging my steps, envying everything I shared with him and would have shared with him, trying to steal my father away from me, and my sister and even my wife! And still I have had to bear him in my life, exert myself to further his career when I'd just as soon see him drop dead or at least disappear from my notice forever. And now you tell me he may be my half-brother? And uncle Spencer supports your belief? Does he know? Does Wickham know?'

So it was possible to feel a twinge of fear for the person one loved more than oneself. Fitzwilliam was no longer beat, but intensely angry and he was frightening. Towering over her he held her so firmly it almost hurt, and his usually cold and detached anger seemed to burn instead, making it all the more real. But Elizabeth was not going to let her own foolishness ruin their bond, and she forced herself to look at him and reply calmly and with a steady voice.

'I don't think he does, no. And your uncle told me your mother had her suspicions.'

'No, indeed, he doesn't know, or he would have tried to use his knowledge against me long before now.'

The anger was gone, just like that, and his head was back against hers, his grip loosened.

'My poor mother. And I never had a clue, I worshipped my father.'

He took her face in both his large hands, but very gently, very tenderly. Then he kissed her softly on her lips.

'I'm sorry, my love, I frightened you, didn't I? Hurt you even? I love you more than anyone, I shouldn't let the very mention of George Wickham make me fly in a rage like that. And taking it out on you is downright despicable. I asked you to tell me everything you had on your mind, and that is what you did. I should be grateful to you for respecting my wishes. Please forgive me.'

And Elizabeth was glad he felt that way, she had been frightened for a few seconds, she loved him so much that to see him beside himself was absolutely terrifying. But to admit that would only make him feel even more guilty, so she gripped his neck instead and pulled his face down towards her to be able to kiss him and whisper in his ear, 'Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You have every right to hate Wickham, and he need never know you two may be related by blood. And you may very well not be, apparently his father kept Mrs Wickham away from the master of the house.'

'No, my dearest Elizabeth, I'm afraid my uncle isn't like his big sister at all, he does not tell anything but the absolute truth. If he says my mother told him she knew my father cheated on her, and that she suspected he had sired his steward's wife's child, I believe him. My father may even have known, hiding it to protect his name and his estate. He always loved George more than he loved me, I knew that, and in time I started to resent George for it. Which young man wouldn't have?'

'And yet you were good friends for quite a long time?'

'We were, and I could understand why my father loved him, he was much more likeable than I ever was. I loved George, too. Until he started to show signs of his moral weakness and lack of restraint, and hid them from my father. Again, I'm sorry for my reaction, my love, you couldn't help it at all. I need a little time to come to terms with this, what to do with it.'

'I don't think your mother really knew, she merely suspected. It's still merely a suspicion and any proof has most likely been lost. You can easily forget about it, my love.'

'And I may decide to do that. So you're not angry with me? I couldn't stand to fall out with you over bloody Wickham!'

She looked up at him with surprise at his language, and he laughed and hugged her so tightly she nearly squealed. But she was glad to find him back to reason, and relieved to have told him. Frederick had been right, this was the right thing to do, if it hurt Fitzwilliam so much to know that the man he detested might have been his father's son as well as his favourite, they should not attempt to clear up the case. It wouldn't change anything, Fitzwilliam was the elder, and illegitimate sons did not inherit. Even Mr Richard Darcy hadn't wanted his legal heir to miss out, though he had not known how badly his terrible example had led the younger astray. If Wickham was indeed his son, Elizabeth still doubted, Fitzwilliam did overrate his uncle's surety. But at least he was back to a good humour.

'Come, let's find your new horse, and maybe listen to Peter gushing over it, and over his missus, and his son. Maybe we should take some time soon to explore the attics of the barns, where we keep the hay. Who knows when we'll make ourselves a baby, and I'd like him or her to grow up a sensible person, with an eye for those depending on him. Having been conceived in a haystack should give our child a suitable start in life, much better than a hardwood bed covered with satin and down.'

Shaking her head, Elizabeth took his offered hand and followed her beloved husband across the large stable yard, ending up in a brand-new set of paddocks behind the large stables that housed the carriages.

'What do you think? I was so impressed with Mr Miller's paddocks I wanted some myself, watching the thoroughbreds frisking and grooming I just knew they needed that as much as we need to touch and be with our own kind. My steward has been a very busy man, arranging the construction of these and preparing a little welcome surprise for Georgiana and the other explorers.'

'The paddocks are beautiful, just look at the horses being together like that. You had them built after we came back from Newcastle? And you got Georgiana a present? That is what changed my feelings towards you, my love, hearing from Mrs Reynolds how good a brother you were to her.'

'Imagine Mrs Reynolds saving my life without even realising it.'

He kissed her, not caring which stable hand might see them.

'It's not just for Georgiana, I had Nathan find a huge table with plenty of chairs for the lot of them to use to pore over maps and maybe dine together sometimes. You know they may yet succeed in civilising Fowler, but a gentleman is not solely a well-dressed man who uses the King's English.'

'You like him! Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes! But you know, Mr Hurst doesn't have the best table-manners either.'

'And he is from a respectable family at least. I've known a lot of gentlemen who were less-than-true gentlemen in more ways than one. Ladies, too, I'm afraid. Maybe Fowler is an improvement on Mr Hurst, he makes a lot more sense, anyway, and so does Simon. As does Nathan, who managed to find this unique present within a week. I'm sure you'll get to see it before the day is done. But now I cannot wait to show you your new hunter, according to Mrs Norman he is the sweetest horse ever. Come!'

And he practically pulled her over to one of the paddocks, where three sturdy horses immediately gathered to greet them. A fourth held back, and Elizabeth was a bit overwhelmed to see that horse look so much like Colonel Drummond's Bucephalus that they might have been brothers. Except for their attitude, which Elizabeth guessed might be the reason Fitzwilliam even dared suggest she trust her life to this one, for there was no doubt in her mind that the stunning light bay horse too shy to push himself forward to get his share of the attention was her very own hunter.

He was elegant, much more so than any horse she'd ever seen besides said Bucephalus and their own thoroughbreds. He was slightly smaller than the three he shared a paddock with, and Elizabeth guessed he was not that much taller than Daisy. His legs were long and slim, his midnight black mane and tail long but not particularly full, his forehead significantly broader than the rest of his face, which was rather narrow from the front and slightly concave in profile, a marked difference from his feisty copy Bucephalus' nose. He was a beautiful horse, and though his muscular body promised speed and stamina, his dark eyes were soft and gentle.

'He looks just like Bucephalus, Fitzwilliam. Are you certain he is not too much to handle for me? Bucephalus tested even your riding skills.'

'He looks a lot like him, I admit, and he is as sensitive, but he lacks Bucephalus' strong will. A stallion wants to be master of everything, this gelding will mind you as easily as Daisy ever did. He may be slightly less stolid, but he is certainly not fearful. Mrs Norman suspects there is quite a bit of Arabian blood in this one, he is hardier than most of the other horses she has ridden and she is used to the best hunters. The concave nose and the way he carries his head and tail seem to support that theory. Arabians are often smaller and slimmer than English horses, and they are sensitive to people but not so much to their environment, they don't shy easily if they trust their rider. I suspect his breeder made a mistake putting too much Arabian blood in his line, causing this horse to stay smaller and slimmer than an English gentleman likes to see his hunters. But his loss is your gain, my love, if you manage to win his trust he will give you everything he has, and he has a lot. Let's go in and make our acquaintance, I haven't handled him either.'

They closed the gate behind them, the other horses soon accepting they were not the centre of attention today. Once they were back to minding their own business, the new horse approached the two of them and carefully examined their offered hands and even their clothes.

As soon as Elizabeth thought it was all right to touch him, she could feel his soft nose and smell the typical scent of a horse, a smell she had gotten used to quickly once she and Fitzwilliam had come to an agreement. He still smelled slightly of horse most of the time, though she supposed she did, too, despite regular washing. They generally rode together, after all, and Fitzwilliam was as fastidious as she was with changing riding breeches and coats after exercising their horses.

'Does he have a name?' she asked, suspecting he hadn't or she would have heard it by now. Though Fitzwilliam never named his horses, he had no problem calling them by name when an animal already had one.

'No, he didn't. And we have more than one bay in our stables, so I guess you'll need to name him. But I suppose you'd do that anyway. I'm starting to see the sense in that, if you want to create a bond with an animal you rely on to keep you safe, you should think of him as a kind of person, not a thing.'

'I'll think of something once I get to know him better. Or maybe he already has a name after all, you say Mrs Norman has worked with him a lot, she must call him something. I liked the name of that beautiful black stallion, Cavort. It seemed so fitting.'

By now, her new horse had lost most of his initial shyness and was nudging her to gain her attention. He was so beautiful, she could hardly believe she could ride such a dainty creature, he looked as if he could fly.

'I think he is the most beautiful horse I ever saw, my love,' she said to her beloved, 'thank you for such a princely gift. I cannot wait to ride him, though I suppose I will be afraid at first.'

'At least you can ride him astride, my love, I'm sure that will feel much safer. Do you want to try tomorrow? I've arranged for Mrs Norman to be there, she knows him best and she may be even better at instructing than Peter. She taught him, after all.'

'Didn't she say he was the sweetest horse she ever rode? I believe it, just look at his face, his big brown eyes, and doesn't he have tiny ears?'

Elizabeth was falling in love rapidly, and actually looked forward to the next day and those to follow. But now, she wanted half an hour with her beloved before it was time for lunch. As if he knew, the bay horse whuffed her hand one last time, then walked away to join the others. He didn't seem very shy anymore, and it was obvious this was the way to keep horses, even if it was still too early in the year to let them loose in the large meadows beyond the landscaped garden.

Planning to join his sister and the rest on the second floor, Darcy was pleasantly surprised to find himself led to their own bedroom on the first floor instead. Of course Elizabeth wanted to fresh up a little, and change into a more suitable dress, she had been wearing a travelling dress for four days in a row after having been dressed up to within an inch of her life for months on end. Though to him it looked fine, he knew Georgiana didn't like wearing a wrinkly dress either, somehow it bothered the ladies.

But when they entered their own bedroom she did not walk straight to the dressing table but rather to the bed, where she removed his coat quickly and efficiently, it was a hunting coat and not too tight, and subsequently pushed him to the bed. Then she sat on his face, road dust, wrinkly dress, horse smell and all, and lifted her skirts, still wearing her sturdy boots and stockings!

After a few moments of confusion at her unexpected behaviour, his excitement went into overdrive, and he availed himself of the opportunity offered with energy, even greed. It was as good as ever, and somehow those boots and her skirts draped all over him heightened the sensation.

He no longer felt angry towards Wickham, if the wretch really was his brother he was even more a victim of circumstance than Darcy. Instead of feeling jealousy, he merely felt love and admiration for his young wife, who had the London scene at her feet and didn't care a bit. Not even about catching the Prince of Wales' attention.

Then she turned around, still giving him access to her most intimate parts, hidden under her skirts but not in the sturdy drawers he supposed all men wore to be able to bear the chafing of their tight pantaloons. And when she expertly opened the front of those pantaloons and made use of the stretchy wool of his underwear to access his tackle he stopped thinking altogether. Well, except for a short moment to berate himself for again using coarse language, be it just in thoughts. It just wouldn't do for a gentleman to form such habits!

When her ministrations caused his excitement to grow too quickly and too high, he gently righted himself and disengaged, sending her a loving look to excuse himself for his lack of control. She did not speak, but acknowledged him by kissing him ardently, apparently not minding her own taste on his tongue.

Slowly they undressed each other, starting with the boots, after which he took his time savouring her taste and rising excitement. Soon their lust was almost on a par, moaning and breathing quickly, and after another shuddering release his beloved pushed him back to the bed and mounted him, riding his frantic movements with an expression of ardour. Then she laughed, not slowing down at all.

'Oh, I'm going to be very stiff for a few days when I pick up riding astride, I can feel that riding side-saddle uses different muscles. No, don't stop, it's good!'

But he didn't want her to be in pain before she even got on the horse. So he flipped her over easily, not even slowing down, then speeded up until she was panting and clutching his arms, totally overcome with heat.

When they finally lay back he was exhausted and his stomach hurt with the effort, but his mind was back to its usual calm and he felt wonderful. His beloved in his arms, smelling slightly of horse, his present well-received, what more could a man want?

'I suppose a real bed with down covers does have its charms, my love. Can't we just teach our children respect instead of trying to have those excellent traits born into them? Do you believe children can be influenced by their mother's mindset?'

'I cannot truthfully say I ever gave the matter any thought, dearest Elizabeth. Though I suppose children mostly resemble their parents, both from birth and from being raised by them. Look at George Wickham, raised by our steward, the most dependable man I ever knew, and yet his behaviour was as bad as his mother's and my father's combined. '

'But he was indulged by your father, and I suppose his mother. His poor father couldn't have made up for that, not even if Wickham had had a share of his father's righteousness. And your father wasn't all bad, I heard plenty of praise sung to him when we were visiting Lambton.'

'True, my love, he was a good man, with a rough edge, well hidden. Not at all like our brother-in-law, who was mostly bad news. And even he has turned out an excellent officer, I heard nothing but praise. Well, my love, as much as I'd like to forget all about him, I cannot. It feels wrong to not pursue this, so I guess we will have a mystery to occupy our time during our stay here: find proof of George's parentage, either written or directly from a witness. We'll find the truth, and if we don't, we'll forget all about him after all. Come, let's dress for lunch, we have enough of a reputation for lechery as it is.'

Good, he had impressed his little wife, being able to face the horrific Wickham as his potential half-brother. Hard work done, the fun could begin, searching the house for treasures and proof.

'Nathan will let us look through any old stuff left in the attic of their cottage, you know Wickham's family lived there until his father passed away. Though Mrs Brewer looks like a very neat woman, she may have thrown out all the old dusty stuff.'

After lunch, the others were keen to return to their new quarters to make them habitable as soon as possible, though Darcy had had rooms prepared for all of them to use until their explorer's haunt was ready. He guessed that might take awhile, since they all wanted to choose their beds and other furniture from the attic, which would then have to be brought down the stairs, cleaned and possibly repaired. It might take a week to have those rooms readied, and since it was supposed to be entertainment they'd better take the time to enjoy the process instead of rushing.

'These rooms are just beautiful! It's as if we've gone back in time about fifty years!'

Hopefully, Elizabeth wouldn't want to move upstairs as well, after all the trouble he'd taken to decorate the lower two floors to all the modern standards.

'Isn't it just?' Georgiana gushed, 'let's go upstairs right away, I can't wait to see the attics.'

'Shall I take Nick downstairs to get a set of lamps? I cannot imagine the attics here being much less dark than those in town.'

Simon was bright enough proposing to do a servant's work yet again, but Manners and Anne obviously objected. Couldn't they understand that Simon would feel embarrassed to see his former colleagues working while he stood by watching? When he knew exactly where the lamps were and whom to tell he'd taken them?

'If you please, Simon,' Elizabeth offered. 'We cannot do it ourselves, and to ring for someone would make people think, and not in a good way. In return I'll watch the lamps so you can explore with Georgiana. Did they treat you well during lunch, Nick?'

'I have no complaints, Mrs Darcy. I felt very welcome and the fare was excellent. You were all so right to tell me to watch my language, thank you so much, some do have an accent but a totally different one, and I didn't hear one inappropriate word, not even from the cook. You should have heard Mr Blackwood's cook when things got busy. Or maybe not. Anyway, the two elderly housekeepers are so dignified they're almost ladies themselves!'

Darcy couldn't suppress a laugh and observed, 'They are from very good families, Fowler, but without the independence to live as ladies. There are more of those than you'd think. Some choose to live with relatives, some marry well, and some find an occupation. A bit like my cousin Colonel Compton, who is a second son and has had to pursue a career in His Majesty's service. Although ladies are not allowed to become officers, they often serve as housekeepers or governesses in other families.'

Fowler nodded as if he understood, and his polite remark proved he did.

'Your kind explanation makes me glad that Miss Sophie and Miss Angelina had their own fortunes. They were not raised to support themselves. And now I also understand why Mr Blackwood said he'd find them husbands if they weren't married at the age twenty one. It was his way to protect them from want.'

Taking a quick look at Elizabeth, Darcy could see her expression serious, hopefully Fowler wouldn't think she disapproved of his participating in their conversation.

'I was one of those girls with marriage as my only career option, Nick. I didn't have a fortune, nor the formal education to be a governess, and no rich relatives to need a housekeeper. My father's estate was entailed on his closest male relative, his brother's son, because he only had five daughters, no son to inherit the property. Fortunately I never realised our predicament before both my eldest sister and I made an advantageous marriage.'

'But so many men admire you, Mrs Darcy, if you hadn't met Mr Darcy you could have picked any other gentleman!'

So Elizabeth had made another conquest, and one Darcy didn't regret in the least: if Fowler liked her, she would be safe wherever he was. He was faithful, brave and very observant. Darcy saw Elizabeth's expression soften, and considered thinking of her riding her new, as yet unnamed horse, astride, wearing her split skirts, her hair escaping the pins and streaming behind her...but no. He was not going there, Elizabeth was admired wherever she went, Fowler was no longer a philanderer but a man devoted to another woman, who was just as admirable as Elizabeth and who loved him. There was no reason to be jealous of his beloved being kind to another man. She was allowed to have friends.

Still, under the influence of Elizabeth's ravishing smile even the former womaniser melted, as she replied frankly, 'Thank you, Nick, such a genteel compliment! But I lived in the country, you know, I would never have met even one rich, educated gentleman if I hadn't married Fitzwilliam. Those gentlemen would have admired some other lady, almost certainly one of which the London ladies approved more.'

That provoked Manners, who bluntly observed, 'I have noticed that fashionable ladies rarely approve of other ladies who catch more attention of rich men than they do themselves. They didn't need an actual reason to dislike you, Elizabeth. In fact, I think they liked you better than they would have any other Mrs Darcy.

But Mrs Darcy is entirely right in stating she would never have gained her spot in the London scene without her husband, Nick, because she would not have been in a place where they could have met her.'

Nick bowed before this shocking news, though in a dignified way, not as if he were berated. More as if he was glad to understand the world he lived in just a little bit better. It would do him a world of good to know that most housekeepers had been spoiled gentlemen's daughters at one time, at least those of the older and most respected houses.

'I'm very confused, almost shocked to hear that a genteel lady could be so unfortunate as to have no fortune, nor any skills to make a living. I thought those above me always led safe, sheltered lives, and had no reason at all to worry. At least the Colonel always knew he would have to support himself, and had time and, from what he told me, his family's help to build a career of his own.'

So cousin Fitzwilliam had talked seriously with Fowler? That was quite unique, he didn't used to do that with servants.

'Generally, it is more accepted for a young lady to live off some relatives' charity than for a man, which is why second and third sons are always prepared for their future. But you are right, Nick, not all young ladies would do well as a dependant in a large household, it would be better for young ladies with few prospects to be prepared in advance for what the future might hold.'

That certainly struck a chord with Elizabeth, who observed, 'I guess it never really occurred to us that we might be in trouble, though my mother often lamented over the entail, mostly for herself but also for us. I suppose I expected to just get married, although not necessarily with a rich man. At the very least I expected my eldest sister to make an advantageous marriage and support the rest of us, though in hindsight even Jane's considerable attractions might have paled by a mother and four sisters depending on her. It would certainly have been better to have been prepared. My younger sisters couldn't have aspired to a position like Mrs Annesley's anyway, but Jane and I could have. Though you can imagine I would not have been the perfect candidate for a position as a dependant, Nick.'

Elizabeth had so little trouble relating to the fellow, it was as if to her he was one of them already, not a servant from a totally different walk of life. And yet, she generally had no trouble at all keeping a sensible distance to the staff, she was never overly familiar and they all respected her, even Simon. Why did Fowler seem to know exactly where he stood with Elizabeth, showing her every civility but answering her questions and even addressing her remarks freely, when he seemed ready to bow or bolt whenever Darcy himself said something?

'I most humbly admit I can, Mrs Darcy. It would have been a sad day indeed when a lady like you would have had to bow before others of less worth.'

Could it be that Fowler was more comfortable with ladies than with gentlemen, because he had known so many? Intimately?