A/N: Lots of requests to continue with Red while the momentum is going, and since Green has already been on hiatus for 12 chapters, I decided to just finish Red, so strap yourself in. There are 4 chapters left in Red.

Wade


RED

"Mr. Darcy, what are you doing here?"

The question might have sounded abrupt or nosy in most situations, but in the three weeks since what they called the Spanish Wine Incident, Darcy had come by the shop more often than previously. While their newfound friendship was still somewhat tense, and Mrs. Price was still very guarded when sober, their meetings had become more of a regular event. Amanda seemed to expect nothing from the gentleman save his friendship, and he gave every indication of thinking similarly.

Darcy smiled, enjoying the rather abrupt but unpretentious question, and replied, "The same as you, I would imagine."

"I think not! I am here for business and the occasional good works."

"How so?" Darcy asked, genuinely curious about what possible type of business could be performed in that setting.

"Who is the best hunter, Mr. Darcy? Is it the one who takes his hounds, traps and guns out actively seeking his prey; or the one who dumps a bit of bait on the ground, and sits down waiting and see if one wanders by?"

Darcy chuckled. "You and your analogies! All right, I will bite and believe you are here to drum up business in some way I am unaware of."

"Correct. Shall I walk you through it?"

Amanda swept her hand around to indicate the room at large, saying, "It is obvious, sir. Bored men can think of any number of things, but books are one of those. Get them thinking about reading, and some will come in for a purchase, especially if you can describe a story with some excitement without giving it away. Can you imagine any place in the world with a higher density of bored men than an assembly hall? All those fathers, uncles and brothers who would much rather be anywhere other than protecting their daughters, nieces and sisters."

Darcy had to chuckle. "When you put it that way, I cannot but agree, Mrs. Price. I will admit to having done my duty with my sister, and I can see merit in your argument because it was sometimes tedious beyond belief. Fortunately, she is well married now, so it will be some years before I must take up the yoke again."

His laugh turned rueful, and then almost to a frown. "I first encountered my late wife in an assembly hall much like this. It was in a small town in Hertfordshire. I was in a bad humor and acted even worse. I slighted her before I had even been introduced."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "I suggest you discontinue that practice."

"I learned my lesson. I abandoned it years ago."

Amanda seemed thoughtful herself. "I used to love assemblies when I was younger. I still enjoy the occasional dance, but they are not magical like they once were. I imagine they are not the drudgery you seem to feel they are, but not wonderful either."

Darcy nodded. "You said you are here for business and good works?"

"Yes, let me finish my tale of business. I also wander about the hall, and if I see a bit of lace, a sleeve or something else I find interesting, I might mention I have seen similar in a fashion magazine. I get a few matrons and maidens the following week. Not much profit in that I admit, but they enjoy the process so much I feel honor bound to guide them towards their guilty pleasure."

Darcy laughed. "Guilty pleasure, indeed."

Amanda just shrugged and smiled.

"Tell me about these good works if you are of a mind to do so. I have found doing good works to be one of my greatest pleasures in life, and I now dedicate a significant portion of my time and income to it."

Amanda looked around as if disclosing a deep dark secret that she did not want to be overheard. "It is nothing, really. You see, there are certain types of young men who would like to ask a young lady to dance, but they lack the fortitude. I am certain you can jump a six-foot hedgerow, but I assume you must have started with a half‑foot high log, and worked your way up?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"For some young men, they have their mother and sisters, maybe occasionally a dance instructor or cousin to practice on. Unfortunately, unless they are very brave, the gap between that and a girl you might actually like can seem insurmountable, herculean even. That is where I come in. I am well known as a widow of middling age, thoroughly uninterested in matrimony. To such a young man, I would seem as safe as his grandmother, but much closer in age and beauty to the one he is actually interested in. I can act as a steppingstone, someone safe to practice with. I get a dance with a nice young man with no expectations, and he gets to see what it is like dancing with someone who is not a relative. I might even suggest topics of conversation he might employ or avoid. Everybody benefits."

Darcy just stared at her, wondering if this was a common occurrence among women or if Mrs. Price had invented the practice. He had to admit that it all made sense, and if it was common, he would not have ever been made aware of it. In his analogy, being the heir to Pemberley, he was naturally expected to go from the fallen log to the hedgerow in a single dance. Everything was loaded with meaning in a dance in his earlier life. Every request for a set, or a smile or even just a conversation felt like it was being dissected for meaning and matrimonial intent before the first dozen words were spoken. He had found it exhausting, while others, like Richard or Bingley rode the beast with hardly a second thought.

He finally said, "That may be the nicest thing I have ever heard."

She laughed. "Thank you for the complement, thought its veracity may be in question."

Darcy chuckled along with her, and they both looked around as they heard the musicians warming up for dancing.

She said, "We have established that our purposes are not the same, unless of course you are here scratching for customers for your estate's wool, so I do believe you have not answered my original question. What are you doing here, if it is not too impertinent ask?"

Darcy chuckled. "Following your instructions, of course."

Amanda, thoroughly confused asked, "Which instructions are those?"

Darcy retrieved a small parchment from his vest. "Here it is, I wrote it down."

He held the note in front of him and read. "Step 1 – Go to a ball. Step 2 – Dance with a woman. Step 3 – Converse with said woman. Step 4 –"

Amanda cut him off with. "I believe I may have been overly influenced by the wine that night, Mr. Darcy. Your marital status is none of my business, and you hardly need instruction."

Darcy grinned somewhat evilly and asked, "Are you implying this is a bad plan? I hope not. I wrote the steps down immediately – well, almost. I wrote them down as soon as I got out of bed. Correction, after I arose from my bed and drank a vile concoction my valet produced. It was far worse than my old valet's. Bates had something that kicked like a mule, but left you feeling better. My new man's concoction is nowhere near as good. Where was I? Oh yes, I wrote them down as soon as I arose, drank the concoction, cut my own throat, had my man sew it back together, took a bath, drank four cups of coffee and then wrote it down. I am quite certain it is accurate."

Amanda had a tough time failing to fall into a fit of giggles, but she managed to keep them down to a manageable level.

When they were done laughing, she said, "Let me see this list, Mr. Darcy."

He handed it over. She examined it. "The list is good, but this is just an outline. You are supposed to fill in the details, sir. For example, when I said, 'ball', I meant 'ball', not 'public assembly'. I am quite literal, you know."

Darcy looked around. "Are you saying there are no eligible women here?"

"Not at all! There may be a few, but the hunting would be much better at a private ball."

Darcy pouted a bit. "Noted – but since I am here, I believe I will proceed with Step 2."

Amanda glanced, and saw that was 'Dance with a woman', so she said, "That at least will be good practice, I suppose. Who is to be your first victim?"

"You, of course."

"Me?" Amanda yelled, gasping, and coughing in surprise.

"Yes, you! Who else?"

"Who else indeed? You know perfectly well that 'dance with a woman', means, 'dance with a marriageable woman'. That is why I suggested a private ball. If you are following those suggestions, then you need to dance with women of your own station."

"I am a gentleman; You are a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal."

"True. I am a gentleman's daughter, but in case you had not noticed, I was a gentlewoman. Now I am a tradeswoman, two entire social classes below you, and that does not even count the fact that I am a woman doing a man's work. Not to mention that I would not bring any real dowry, or a single worthwhile connection – except Miriam of course."

"Bah! I once thought on terms like that, and it did nothing but poison my soul. You are my equal, if not my superior."

Darcy wondered why it was so blasted hard to get women he liked to dance with him, while women he did not like clambered for his attention. He remembered he had asked Elizabeth for a dance three or four times before she acquiesced at the Netherfield ball. Even then, he later learned, she did it only because she did not want to give up dancing for the rest of the evening. That, however, was not a topic he felt like exploring further.

Undaunted, Amanda ignored his reply. "Perhaps, I did not adequately explain to you the details of my 'remain a widow' plan, Mr. Darcy."

"Meaning?" Darcy asked somewhat exasperatedly.

"Meaning, sir, that I am not indifferent to the idea of matrimony. Marriage is not something that I could take or leave. I am actively opposed to it. I do not want to remarry."

Darcy snapped back. "You said you might wed again some time –" but then paused in confusion.

Sorry that the whole conversation was going so badly, Amanda said, "Mr. Darcy. I apologize if I was unclear, so let me be explicit. I do not want to marry again anytime soon, and if I ever did …"

She paused, unsure of herself, and Darcy noticed what seemed a vulnerability he had never noticed. Mrs. Amanda Price mostly seemed as tough as old shoe leather, but something about this conversation was paining her to the point where he noticed her gripping her two hands together tight enough to draw blood to keep them from shaking. Darcy kicked himself, wondering if he would ever in his life get an important conversation with a woman he liked right. So far, his success rate was dismal.

"… I appreciate the honor of your brief consideration, Mr. Darcy! I really do! I hope this will not affect our friendship, but you must understand something."

She took a deep breath, and finally said, "I am afraid, sir, that I will never marry a man of your standing. If I marry, it will be to someone of minor means, who needs me as much as I need him. You do not need me, Mr. Darcy, and never will. I daresay you are flirting with the idea of perhaps wanting me, but you will never need me. I cannot put myself under the control of such a powerful man, Mr. Darcy – never again. It is just something I cannot do."

Darcy wondered who the bounder was who had made Mrs. Price so very reticent. One thing was obvious. He was a high‑status individual, who was at least as bad a husband as Darcy himself had been. He might even be someone the gentleman knew. It could easily have been a friend or acquaintance. He had never been the most social fellow in the ton, and there was no telling how many minor acquaintances had been jettisoned by his mind during his bout with Typhus. Of course, he could have been a rich banker or tradesman just as well as a gentleman, so it was all speculation. Either way, Mrs. Price seemed to have an unbreakable aversion to high‑status men, which was either unfortunate or challenging.

He asked very gently. "Did he hurt you badly, Mrs. Price? Do I pain you by speaking this way?"

She sighed, looked at him intently for a moment, then slumped her shoulders. "Circumstances hurt me, Mr. Darcy. I will say no more about my husband – now or ever. That is a barrier that I will not allow to be crossed."

Darcy bowed. "I will respect the boundary, Amanda."

Neither noticed that he had slipped and called her by her given name, and it is uncertain what either would have thought about it if they had. They both stood silent, frowning ferociously, without any idea where to look after the altercation.

Darcy finally smiled in what he thought was a nonthreatening way. "Mrs. Price, if I promise not to court you, would you allow me the privilege of a dance? Think of the advantages of our respective widowhood. We could sit in this corner and talk all night, and nobody would bat an eye. We could dance three sets, go out on the balcony alone, I could escort you home. We are unconstrained in our freedom. We should take maximal advantage of it."

Amanda laughed, glad to see that the gentleman had taken her rejection well. In fact, it was not really a 'rejection', more of a 'correction', but still it could have gone much worse. If he had been entertaining ideas, it must have stung at least a little.

"I suppose if I will dance with a boy without a single hair on his chin, I can manage one with you."

Darcy laughed. "I assure you madam that I could grow an absolutely ferocious beard if necessary."

With a laugh, she marked him for a set on her dance card. Ever the greedy boy, he asked for another, to which she reluctantly agreed under the provision that he dance several sets with other ladies during the night. She reckoned that he needed the practice.

With the dances organized, she took the man around the room to introduce him to some people she thought might be useful to him.

As they approached a Mr. Lymington, Darcy casually mentioned. "I was considering investing in his business but have not finished my investigations."

Mrs. Price dragged him to a stop and said sharply, "Please do not! He has a reputation of almost making the next big something or other, but I do not believe he ever delivers. He is very clever at stringing investors along like a trout on a hook, though."

Darcy smiled. "I thank you for the advice. Perhaps, you might comment on the other investments I am considering?"

"Of course, bring them to the shop" she said, just before they were interrupted by a young man who had asked for the next set.

Darcy watched her go, and then sought out a young lady he had asked for a set after Mrs. Price introduced them. She was a good dancer, and an engaging conversationist. Darcy thought, not for the first time, that there was a knack to these things, and he had mostly wasted the first decade of his adulthood looking over his shoulder and being afraid. The young lady was not someone who harbored aspirations towards being the Mistress of Pemberley. In fact, she gladly (although probably incorrectly) asserted that she could not place Derbyshire within fifty miles on an unmarked map.

When his set with Mrs. Price came, they had both seemingly recovered from their earlier disagreement, and went to the floor quite happily.

The dance was, by pure coincidence, one extremely familiar to him, etched in his memory forever. For just a few minutes, in the middle of a quadrille, he found himself almost stepping out of his own body to look at it from another angle. Whether it was the song, the dance, Amanda and Elizabeth's obvious similarity in appearance, her light and pleasing dancing style, or the assembly hall he could not say – but for a half a minute, he felt like he was all alone in the room with his partner, dancing to their own music, unfazed by their companions; and it was absolutely sublime.