Chapter 164

Sitting at the Zumpe in their very comfortable room on the second floor, Georgiana felt a bit guilty. Since her seventeenth birthday, her wedding and their removal to Pemberley, Georgiana had little reason to experience any unpleasant feeling. She lived totally free of care in her brother's house and spent all her days doing the only thing she had ever wanted out of life, on a level she could only have dreamed of as little as a year ago, with the man she had never dreamed of because she had been too young to do so, but met anyway. Was her life too easy?

Right now her brother was undoubtedly under quite a bit of pressure. He was taking a stroll around the garden to let himself be talked into adding an unimaginably expensive conservatory to his already huge house. Georgiana was certain he didn't mind strolling through the garden with Elizabeth, or spending a year's income on a glass-and-cast-iron building to please his beloved, but they were in the company of the Prince of Wales, who had dropped in unannounced to listen to Georgiana's talented husband's music but meanwhile tested Fitzwilliam's patience and faith by openly admiring Elizabeth. And that was just the start of her brother's ordeal, for besides Prince George they now had aunt Catherine visiting, and she not only provoked Prince George to unsuspected hauteur with her efforts to exert control over her married daughter, but also insulted Elizabeth at every opportunity. Besides having come to tell poor Fitzwilliam whether the man he hated was in fact his brother, another reason for him to feel less than tranquil. Not to mention coming here in the company of Mr Collins, though Georgiana had taken responsibility for him since she'd let him into the house against her brother's wishes.

And now Mr Bennet had arrived in the company of Georgiana's former lady companion, and if Georgiana hadn't noticed something going on from Mr Bennet's and her brother and sister's behaviour in the drawing-room, she had not been at headquarters for five minutes before the conversation had turned to the old man making the most of a difficult situation by comforting a lady in distress whilst temporarily forgetting his own foolish wife. For Georgiana it was not amusing at all to hear this, she'd actually disliked Mrs Annesley more than a little when that good lady had still been in a position of authority towards Georgiana and was always trying to teach her pupil some useless instance of lady-like behaviour. And she liked Mr Bennet tremendously, because he had accepted his daughter's new little sister without trying to improve her. To him, Georgiana had been good enough as she was, and she resented the power Mrs Annesley now had over someone she actually liked. Or maybe Georgiana was being childish, she had been Mrs Annesley's pupil after all, and since the good lady had changed positions in their household she had treated Georgiana with unfailing respect.

Maybe it was time to grow up and start taking some responsibility? Even though the estate was Fitzwilliam's, and his only?

'You're not paying attention at all, are you my love?'

Eric had stopped playing, she was supposed to give him a little flick every time he let his left hand drag, he still had to pay attention to keeping his two smallest fingers in line. Not even Elizabeth would notice anymore, but Eric wouldn't be the best if he accepted anything less than perfection.

'I'm sorry, no. So much has happened, Fitzwilliam has so much to put up with, and now we've left aunt Catherine and Mr Collins by themselves in the drawing-room. Who knows what they are up to. I feel responsible, I think I should go back downstairs and keep them entertained, or at least from mischief.'

'Well then, my love, why didn't you say something? We can sacrifice an hour to propriety. Come, let us go.'

He got up and held out his hand to her. In this room they did not have to stick to the rigid rules of propriety and inevitably ended up in each other's arms. Likely no-one noticed, for the four other people present were as involved in each other. Frederick and Simon were studying some map, almost sitting on each other's lap but not quite, since Prince George might drop in any time, and Mr Collins also had permission to visit. Nick and Anne were merely relishing each other's presence, talking quietly, they had been riding together all morning but had to pretend to be mistress and servant in public.

When Georgiana and Eric walked away from the piano, Frederick looked up and asked lazily, 'Leaving, young love-birds?'

'I'm going to sit with my aunt and Mr Collins. She's my aunt, too, and I let Mr Collins in, I feel responsible. Who knows what they're up to?'

'Well, trust your instincts. If you have a sense that you should be there to keep an eye on them you're probably right. Want me to string along, to entertain my mother-in-law?'

'Thank you for the offer, Frederick, but we'll manage. You and Simon enjoy some time together. You know, I do feel apprehensive, as if something is up. Let's hurry, Eric.'

Checking herself just before opening the door to the drawing-room not to come storming in, Georgiana took Eric's hand and straightened her posture. For her brother's sake she wanted to make a good impression on aunt Catherine, and since she apparently looked a lot like her mother when she was young, Georgiana already had the advantage. Just be polite, she instructed herself, Eric was always polite, and aunt Catherine had plenty to say so they would most likely only have to nod and murmur assent occasionally.

'Here goes,' and she was inside. Where aunt Catherine and Mr Collins were sitting at the round table playing cards with a young woman Georgiana knew she should recognise. She was pretty and dressed to flaunt her natural assets, though within the boundaries of respectability. Where had she seen this woman, a girl almost, with dark blonde hair carelessly put up, her air self-assured and her face lighted up with a broad, good-natured smile?

'I win this round, Mr Collins, now it's Lady Catherine's turn.'

Mr Collins looked up at the sound of the door closing, Eric had done that a little louder on purpose, to let the card players know someone had entered. Will's face was a study in anxiety but when he discerned the newcomers that changed to relief.

'Mrs Fielding, Mr Fielding, you could not have come at a more fortunate time! We have been spending our time quite pleasantly, Mrs Wickham has been teaching us a new card game. It's called speculation, do you know it?'

Mrs Wickham? Oh my God, this was Elizabeth's sister Lydia! Who could not have come at a worse time, or a worse moment, with everyone out of the room except aunt Catherine and Mr Collins! No wonder Georgiana had felt the icy hand of premonition taking a hold of her!

'Why Mrs Wickham, such a pleasure to see you again! You look fabulous, did you come from Newcastle this morning?'

Lydia jumped up and almost ran to embrace Georgiana familiarly, she was not a bad girl, just very impulsive and thoughtless. She did look very healthy, with a sweet blush on both cheeks, and in a much better mood than at dear Jane's wedding. Hadn't Elizabeth told them she was with child once again, after tragically losing her first baby boy?

'Mrs Fielding, thank you so much for complimenting me! I know my dress is years out of date and I just cannot seem to get all the wrinkles out, and you look like you've just stepped out of the fashion pages of the newspaper. You're so tall and your hair is so blonde and straight! And how do you keep your skin so fair? Mine is always getting tanned, even in winter!'

Well, sitting at a piano all day practising might have something to do with straight hair and white skin.

'Mrs Wickham, you look just fine. I'm very certain Elizabeth will sort out your dresses, didn't she promise you a shopping spree when you visited? There is not much shopping to be done here but we have an excellent seamstress. You know my hair curls like a sheep's fleece as soon as a drop of rain strikes it? Fanny insists on combing it straight every morning, and since I'm mostly inside playing the piano it doesn't get the chance to turn sheep on me.'

Could that smile grow even broader? It most certainly could, as Lydia gushed her reply.

'And I like to chat with my friends at the watering place, I suppose that is where I get the tan as well, though I do wear my bonnet, of course.'

'Well, Mrs Wickham, I suppose I'm also naturally light-skinned, I burn quickly and I dare admit to you that if I were to sit in the sun, even in winter, I'd freckle. But please don't tell anyone or they'll make fun of me.'

'It'll be our little secret. Wickham and I left Newcastle this morning, we're on our way to his new assignment in Kent. He is staying with an old friend in a village nearby, a really old man who used to be huntmaster here. I didn't want to go south without seeing Lizzy again, she has been such a good help when I needed her. Isn't this a grand place? Wickham did say it was the largest house I'd ever see but I couldn't believe it. I do now. My room is as big as our whole house in Newcastle, and the housekeeper is like a lady herself. I didn't think she'd let me in, but when I said my name she knew I was Mrs Darcy's sister and she led me to that room and let me wash and change my dress and then she asked a man in a beautiful uniform to take me here.'

By now, Eric had sat himself down by aunt Catherine's side and was talking to her, Georgiana could not hear them but her aunt looked interested, so that was good enough. Mr Collins seemed torn between their conversation and being polite towards Mr Darcy's sister, and Lydia soon brought him into their conversation.

'The housekeeper told me Lady Catherine was here and Mr Collins and no-one else and I asked whether I might not better wait in my room until Lizzy was returned, but she said I was family and as welcome to her mistress as any grand lady. Do you suppose Lizzy told her to say that? I thought it was kind of her to say that and I told her so, and then I went in. And Mr Collins was very nice to me, I used to think he was quite a bore, but since Mr Blaze helped me when I was desperate over losing my poor baby boy I have gained quite a lot of respect for ministers and I no longer find going to church boring. I'll miss him in Kent, Mr Blaze, and all my friends. And they say Wickham will be away most of the time, sent to France to fight. I wish he didn't have to, but at least he'll have a green coat instead of a red one, and a rifle instead of a musket. Wickham says they almost never misfire and he always hits his target. Though I suppose those French soldiers have wives, too, and babies. I wish there didn't have to be a war.'

Well, that was easy to understand. Poor Lydia. And dear Mrs Reynolds, aunt Catherine certainly hadn't made herself agreeable there.

'I'm glad you found your way to the Lord, my dear cousin, will you tell me about Mr Blaze and how he helped you? It must be a difficult task to be shepherd of a camp full of soldiers, I've heard they are often very rough men.'

'Oh, yes, Mr Collins, they are. Privates are the worst, some are criminals sent to the army instead of the gallows. They use bad language and some are dangerous, but the sergeants make sure they cannot harm anyone. You know, most really don't look that bad, and Wickham says they may have only stolen a loaf of bread, but it's better to be safe than sorry and to stay away from them. His men all love him, and his sergeants almost never have to whip the privates, he says they're not much use in battle if they're only willing to fight because they're more afraid of the sergeants than of the enemy. He wants them to be proud of being a King's soldier, and if they love him they will fight even if a sergeant is killed on the field.'

'And Mr Blaze, do they love him?'

Mr Collins sounded different somehow, he should dismiss Lydia as a foolish woman but he was seriously interested.

'Oh, yes, they all do. He started as a private, you see, came up through the ranks. Then he was hurt really badly and when he recovered he'd had a calling. Somehow the colonel believed him and helped him take orders, and now Mr Blaze helps everyone, private or captain, and wives and children. My friends say even the worst murderers confide in Mr Blaze and respect him, because he has seen action as a private.'

'And how did Mr Blaze help you, Mrs Wickham?'

Lydia's face showed she wasn't over her loss yet, but Georgiana couldn't fault Mr Collins for asking her, he was truly concerned and talking about her loss might even help her. Who knew whether she'd find a new minister to confide in in Kent? Elizabeth's sister told Mr Collins the whole story and since Georgiana had only heard parts of it from Elizabeth she listened in, whilst Eric took aunt Catherine to the piano and played her a few songs, childhood favourites probably since they didn't sound familiar to Georgiana.

After a heart-rending story of loss and undeserved blame Lydia concluded, 'And so Lizzy convinced me to see Mr Blaze, and he explained to me that my baby hadn't been taken from me as a punishment, that the good Lord didn't work that way. And he did so much good for me that after a few weeks Wickham agreed to come to church as well. He says Mr Blaze is one of the good ones. It made me very happy, as if the baby is safer now. But I know Mr Blaze would say it still doesn't work that way. We should be the best person we can, and I know Wickham is a good man at heart, his men love him and his captain trusts him, and if our new minister is not one Wickham likes I hope God understands that doesn't make him a bad man. He plays cards sometimes with the other officers but everybody does, even Lady Catherine played cards just now.'

'It's not the playing that offends our Lord, Mrs Wickham,' Mr Collins remarked calmly, 'it's laying stakes on the outcome of the game. The gambling, if you prefer the common term. And I assure you that plenty of gentlemen like playing high, even in Lady Catherine's circles. Temptation is everywhere, and I am rather certain your husband knows his own weaknesses better than anyone.'

'I think he does, Mr Collins, and he often talks about our little baby as if he is looking forward to having a baby this time.'

Mr Collins' expression became positively soft, a strange sight on his broad, full-moon face, he was obviously thinking of the little boy he'd had to leave with his wife to pay a visit to a household where he knew he wasn't welcome.

'You know, Mrs Wickham, I have recently become a father, and it was so much more profound than I ever expected. A new life sprang from my dear Charlotte and myself, a tiny bundle of perfection with everything he needs to lead a commendable life already in place, a better proof of the bounty of God was never before me.'

Was that a sensible thing to say to a mother who had just told him how she had lost her baby, her imperfect baby? But there was no stopping Will Collins.

'The first thing I did was count his wee little fingers and toes, and they were all there, complete with tiny little fingernails and tiny little toenails. I knew then I was a blessed man. I suppose your midwife may have been right in one thing, Mrs Wickham, that your poor baby was better off returned to his saviour in Heaven, instead of having to live in an imperfect world he wasn't equipped to cope with. I will pray for your next baby to be as perfect as our little William Collins.'

To Georgiana, this heartfelt speech seemed downright cruel, Lydia had lost her baby and now Will Collins was telling her it was for the best because her baby hadn't been perfect, whereas his own boy was. But Lydia didn't appear to feel it the way Georgiana did. She was affected, yes, but she seemed to find some comfort in her cousin's words, empty as they sounded to Georgiana.

'Thank you so much, Mr Collins, you give me real hope for my new baby. I'm glad your little boy is doing so well, and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before, when you visited mama and our father before we all got married. I thought you were merely a great bore, and you know, not very handsome. I suppose I was still a girl then, though at the time I thought myself very much grown up.'

Georgiana thought Lydia was still very much a girl, maybe even more so than Georgiana herself, at least Georgiana knew not to insult people left and right. Though Lydia's different circumstances meant she probably knew how to manage a household by now, something Georgiana didn't have to. But if the need ever arose, she'd manage really well, especially the finances. Fitzwilliam and Frederick had taught her a lot, as well as Mrs Annesley and Simon, and Mr Brewer. She'd learned enough to have invested her own fortune, something Lydia would never get the opportunity to do, even if she'd had any money George Wickham would never let such a flighty girl keep it. He'd never let any girl keep her money, Georgiana still thought he'd spend it all. Poor Lydia, to be stuck with such a worthless fellow, though she had made her own choice and still adored her useless husband.

'You were indeed a shallow kind of girl, Mrs Wickham, and you still have a lot to learn in this world. But you have been through a lot and you seem much the wiser for it. I'm certain you will be properly humble and thankful once your little baby is born, and I hope your husband will get the chance to enjoy the delights of fatherhood before he is sent abroad to fend off the French hordes. It is such a noble profession, though I've never regretted taking orders myself.'

It was difficult not to laugh at both people involved in this conversation, they both undoubtedly meant well, but they had absolutely no idea of how to deal with other people. Time to pick up the cards and resume their game, there would be plenty of time left for them to talk when Georgiana was somewhere she wouldn't have to hear it.

Wickham, Darcy's brother? On his way to the library, Mr Bennet could not get his mind around it, a gentleman siring a bastard son on his steward's wife? From what he'd heard, the elder Mr Darcy had been a very mild, benevolent man, how could such a man lower himself to having an affair with a servant? Of course Mrs Annesley worked for a living as well, but she had been raised a lady and most certainly had the dignity and poise of one. Through a similar fault as his own, an unwise marriage, she had lost her right to the genteel life she had grown up to expect her future to hold, and been thrown back on her own strength of character to drag herself out of a life of drudgery into a subservient but at the same time distinguished profession. To educate genteel children was a worthy task and she had acquitted herself more than a little. But what did a steward's wife do? Tell her maid to clean and her cook to make dinner?

And what was he doing, entertaining such thoughts? Was he a snob, to rate affairs according to the usefulness of the woman one broke one's vows for? And what about the woman one cheated on? Darcy's mother had been a perfectly genteel woman, educated, kind, beautiful and of high birth. Was he trying to justify his own infidelity by comparing it to Darcy's father's offence?

No, that wasn't the reason he was so put out. If Wickham was indeed Darcy's brother, he'd start entertaining expectations of a better life all over again. When he'd just accepted reality, the reality of having to work for a living but most importantly, the reality of never having had a chance at Lizzy because they were both poor. Mr Bennet knew Lizzy had once preferred Wickham since she had shown it rather unwisely where all with any power of observation could see it. It had not gone far enough for him to caution his daughter, but someone had, possibly Jane, possibly Mrs Gardiner, possibly Lizzy's own common sense, since quite suddenly she had become more guarded towards her favourite. Fact was, Wickham had never shown any real attachment to her at all, not until she had made the unexpected match to Darcy. George Wickham might have liked Lizzy and distinguished her somewhat, he had not loved her, him fancying himself in love had only happened after Lizzy's marriage, Wickham wanted her because he wanted whatever Darcy had. He had always wanted to hurt Darcy and probably still did, despite all Darcy had done for the man he rightfully hated.

And Wickham still could come between Darcy and Lizzy, if he was allowed into the family once more. Lizzy didn't care about him, had never formed real designs on him because she knew they could never marry, but Darcy might not believe that. George Wickham had to be kept away from Pemberley at all cost, whatever his true descent. Better try to get the earliest information of the knowledge Lady de Bourgh had come to impart, and if necessary urge Darcy to keep the truth from Wickham. If needed, Mr Bennet would describe the scene in Wickham's apartment in Newcastle as he'd heard about it from Wickham. It would bring a world of trouble, but it would avoid worse. Breaking Wickham's trust would be bad, but Mr Bennet wouldn't hesitate an instant to avoid worse.

'That bad, wasn't it?'

Mrs Annesley? She'd been waiting for him in the library? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? And what did she mean?

'You look like someone has given you a hard time, and you're the most independent character I know, nothing rattles you. Mr Darcy must have been livid to shake your nerves.'

But...that wasn't true at all, Darcy hadn't even seemed to care that much!

'No, Mrs Annesley, no! Your position is safe, Darcy seemed more worried about Mr Annesley doing so badly. I suppose I was a bit put out just now but not over our...situation. Let me tell you what has me rattled, I think you need to know. Is there a place to sit in this maze? Maybe we can get lost together?'

'Oh, Mr Bennet, you're incorrigible. But I find I cannot face the time to come without knowing you're out there somewhere, thinking of me. Follow me, I'll walk us lost to a delightful seat in a forgotten corner. There is no fire, though, it will get cold after a while.'

'What Darcy just told me is enough to have given me the chills already, I may need a little warming.'

That was brazen but he had to know, were they still close? If so, she would berate him gently with words, but send him a fond smile to show him her real feelings. She liked his impertinence, as Darcy liked Lizzy's, except Mrs Annesley preferred he not say such things in public whereas Darcy seemed almost proud of Lizzy's outrageous remarks. If, however, all was lost, Mrs Annesley would merely look her disapproval, for then she no longer had the right to berate him, she'd be his inferior and behave as such.

'I thought you might, so I came prepared. I've my best woollen shawl with me.'

What did that mean? She didn't berate him, and he couldn't read her smile at all! If anything, it was a little superior.

'You're sweet when you're in doubt. It's something one doesn't see very often. We can share the shawl, if you promise to be very careful with it, it's a work of art though it's mostly very warm.'

At least all was not lost, but how close were they exactly when she didn't try to correct him?

He soon found out. They walked past bookcase upon bookcase, all filled to the full height of a great house's ground-floor ceiling with volumes of all kinds. Mrs Annesley turned to the right, then went ahead the length of about five bookcases, then turned to the left and straight to the right. Just before Mr Bennet started to become dizzy she took pity on him and went straight ahead for as much as ten yards, until they reached a solid oak stairs. Up they went, and again to the right, then to the left, and right again. This library really was a maze, but...'We could have gone straight ahead, couldn't we?'

Now she smiled her best, a dazzling, happy smile that exposed delightful dimples in both her cheeks.

'We could, but this was way more fun, wasn't it? And look, our destiny. Isn't it a hidden treasure?'

It was. A large window had a broad sill which had been turned into a seat with a thick cushion and a dark-cherry velvet curtain partially hiding it from view from the inside. The window looked out over the slope behind the house, a lawn turning into a magnificent forest, with a Roman style temple about halfway up the slope.

The little nook was large enough for two, but it would be cosy. It was just perfect, especially with Mrs Annesley's shawl, for the window did make the air even colder than in the rest of the library.

They climbed in and made themselves comfortable, indeed under the beautifully woven shawl of soft wool in rusts and browns, forcing them to sit really close together because it was barely large enough for two.

'Now tell me what happened. And why you looked as if something bad was going to happen.'

And Mr Bennet told her everything Darcy had told him, about his father's ongoing affair, the letters, and Elizabeth's conviction that Lieutenant Wickham might be Darcy's younger half-brother.

'Lady de Bourgh will show them the most pertinent letter right after their conference with Prince George, but from what his aunt has said so far Darcy thinks it's a foregone conclusion: he thinks it's all true. Especially since his uncle has had his suspicions for years, after Darcy's mother told him about the affair her husband had with his steward's wife.'

Mrs Annesley had listened without interruptions, and now she observed dryly, 'I suppose I should be shocked, hearing such allegations against the late Mr Darcy. One would think he was a saint, the way people talk of him in the Darcy household. But that is here at Pemberley, for at his London house the staff knew better. The old staff, I mean, the butler and senior maid who'd known Mr Darcy's father well. Whenever they'd had a little punch they'd be eager to tell how old Mr Darcy used to stay out nights in a row, and how he and George Wickham, or he and Mrs Wickham, would take a cab instead of the carriage to go to unspeakable parts of town, and came back intoxicated and in a state of thorough disarray. They actually claimed he had the affair with Victoria Wickham before she married the steward, said she'd been a lady of sin before old Mr Darcy brought her into his London household as nurse for his ailing wife, then introduced her to his steward to have her close to him all the time. I doubt the last, since apparently he spent more time in London himself than at Pemberley, and he apparently entertained himself well whilst in town, never in danger of pining away for his wife and mistress in Derbyshire. I would say he wanted his mistress removed from her London life, and with what you've told me I wonder whether that was because she was already with child. He would have taken responsibility for a child of his born out of wedlock, you know, he did pay for young Wickham's education and offered him a chance at independence.'

That didn't make Mr Bennet any more confident of a good ending to the drama soon to enfold somewhere else in the huge house.

'They were just rumours, Mr Bennet, let us wait until you find out the truth before worrying. I do wonder why this has you so upset, all the people involved are dead, and a second son never inherits much beyond an education and a position in either the army or the church. Lieutenant Wickham has had all the chances a second son could expect, and if rumour is right, quite a lot more. You never worry about anything, why now?'

She was so sweet, and he dared kiss her before explaining. It was so good just to talk things through, to not have to worry about these little nagging problems by himself until they died of old age, as even problems did when one did nothing but think about them. Of course Mr Bennet had perfected just putting them out of his mind, just forgetting about them, he did not like spoiling his life with things he couldn't do anything about anyway, but this was different, this needed interference.

'If Wickham thinks he has a claim on Darcy he will demand a share of his father's wealth. Darcy will feel guilty and let him have something, admittance to the family at the very least, and Wickham will use that to try to take more from him. Everything Darcy has, Wickham craves. Most likely he'd go for Lizzy. Lizzy doesn't want Wickham, and I suppose Wickham knows that by now, but Darcy is jealous, he cannot help himself, he would let Wickham come between him and Lizzy and that would spoil everything. If Wickham is indeed Darcy's brother, I have to stop Darcy from telling him. Whatever it takes, Wickham has to be kept from this house and my daughter's circle. Whatever happens, Mrs Annesley, Lizzy and Jane have to be provided for and happy. They will take care of the others.'

Mrs Annesley now looked positively worried, and took his hand in both hers.

'I've never seen you like this, Mr Bennet, this must be very important to you for you to react so strongly. You do realise your daughter and especially Mr Darcy are adults, don't you? They may not appreciate you sticking your nose into their affairs. I have come to know Mr Darcy as a very private man, though I suppose as his father-in-law you have some right to patronise him.'

'You think I'm overreacting?'

'Well, maybe just a little, yes. I know Lieutenant Wickham is a bit of an embarrassment because of his past behaviour, but he is a model soldier now, isn't he?'

Mr Bennet then told her her of Wickham's attempt at Lizzy's honour, and related the failed elopement with Miss Darcy that Darcy had accidentally mentioned during their earlier conversation.

Mrs Annesley grew quite silent, almost grave.

'Mr Bennet, I think I have come to know my master quite well in the time I have worked for him. I plead you to not ever tell him about Lieutenant Wickham's despicable behaviour towards Mrs Darcy, it can only end in grief, very likely even in blood. He is not like you, he can be resentful, he will want satisfaction. Your daughter was wise not to tell him, she did not keep quiet for nothing. One cannot win a duel against an officer of the King's Rifles. Even if the lieutenant manages to sow dissent, they can still talk with each other to regain their trust, there is so much love between them. But if Mr Darcy flies into a rage and gets himself killed, all will be lost.'

Was she right? Would Darcy go as far as to challenge Wickham to a duel of honour? When he could use his new connection to the Prince of Wales to have his brother-in-law brought down to nothing? Likely, Darcy wouldn't even stop to think.

'Come now, Mr Bennet, let's not borrow trouble before it actually strikes. We have so little time together, a few days at the most and we have to be very discreet with your nephew in the house. And Mrs Reynolds warned me of a Miss Bergman, Lady de Bourgh's maid. I don't really remember her from my few visits to Rosings, but according to Mrs Reynolds she likes to snoop.'

'And her mistress seems to have taken a liking to me, though I behaved scandalously in her presence. I'll try to keep that up, put her off.'

'Then I'm glad to not have to sit in the drawing-room with you. I'd die of shame, and give us away in the process.'

'We cannot have her send her maid to spy or convey messages. I'll do whatever is needed to have you with me for a few days.'

'Mrs Reynolds also told me that Miss Bergman is absolutely terrified of Fowler, that should make it slightly safer.

Will you hold me now? I've had quite a shock, and I will have to face Mr and Mrs Darcy later, to discuss the centrepiece.'

And her smile didn't leave a doubt that the coming days, and nights, would be as pleasurable as he had imagined them.