It is not the object of this work to give a description of the travels of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and their niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, through Derbyshire which ultimately led them to attend at the Great House at Pemberley where they applied to the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, for a tour of the public rooms on a day when they thought, wrongly as it turned out, that the master of the estate, Mr. Darcy, would not be at home.

As it happens, the coach carrying Mr. Darcy, his sister, and her companion, arrived at the main doors of the Great House, about the same time Mrs. Reynolds was leading the tourists towards the picture-gallery.

Alighting from his coach and seeing a strange coach, a hire-coach by the look of it, in the drive Mr. Darcy asked his butler, Charlesworth, who had welcomed him home, if there were visitors.

"Yes, a Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, from London, …"

'Gardiner, Gardiner,' the name rang a tiny bell in Mr. Darcy's mind – wasn't 'Gardiner' the name of the Bennets' relatives in Cheapside?

"… and their niece, Miss Bennet, from …"

The bell pealed in Mr. Darcy's mind. He interrupted Charlesworth "What did she look like?" When he did not get an immediate answer from his bemused butler, Mr. Darcy pressed him "How tall was she? What colour was her hair? Was she wearing spectacles? Did she cough? Was she loud?" Although he did not do it, Mr. Darcy looked as if he wanted to grab Charlesworth by his shoulders and shake him. "Quickly, man! Answer me!"

Charlesworth's imperturbability cracked. "She … ah …" He looked over his agitated master's shoulder and saw Miss Darcy staring open mouthed at her brother. "… she's about the height of Miss Darcy." He spoke quickly, tripping over his words. "Brownish hair. No spectacles. She didn't cough, didn't say anything …"

"It's her!" Mr. Darcy said, more to himself than anyone else. He turned to his sister. "She's here!" He ran up the stairs and disappeared into the house.

Her? Miss Bennet? The bells in Miss Darcy's mind chimed. In his letters from Netherfield Will had mentioned a Miss Bennet. Often. She hitched up her skirt to chase after her brother. She was arrested by a hand on her arm.

"Walk, sedately" said her companion, Mrs. Annesley, "Nothing is on fire."

Miss Darcy nodded her acknowledgment, not her agreement – after all, her brother appeared to be on fire – and proceeded to follow him as quickly as the term 'sedately,' a word universally hated by the denizens of seminaries for the education of young ladies, stretched to its absolute limit, would allow.

As he watched Miss Darcy and her new companion, to whom he had not been properly introduced (that would have to be quickly remedied), enter the house, Charlesworth regained his composure. He looked around, there must have been at least a dozen of footmen, coachmen, grooms, gardeners, and the like, slack-jawed the lot of them, who had seen whatever it was that had just transpired. He looked up at the windows of the house; doubtless another dozen of maids had as well. He was tempted to admonish them all 'Not a word, not a word to anyone' but who was he fooling. By the time he was back in the house, the whole staff would know; by dinner word would have spread to Kympton and Lambton; by tomorrow to Matlock and Derby; by the next day London itself would know – Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley, had gone mad over a young lady, a Miss Bennet. He shook his head. About time, really.

Charlesworth entered the house. The door closed behind him.