When Darcy and his party entered the church and took their seats in the Rosings' pew, his heart leapt as he noticed that Miss Bennet was sitting right behind him. The sound of her voice singing the hymns was like a siren song to him, drawing him away from the words on the page and causing him to imagine a life where he heard her melodious voice every day. He double checked the small jar of peppermint oil was in his pocket, his fingers brushing against its smooth surface as he remembered their earlier conversation.

In his distraction, he nearly missed the signal to sit back down, only recalling himself when Anne elbowed him in the side. She seemed to know what he was about, for whenever he would begin to lose his focus and begin to attend more to the rustles of skirts behind him or Elizabeth whispering something to Miss Lucas or Mrs. Collins, Anne would raise her eyebrows and smile.

Darcy mentally defended himself by reasoning that it was not his fault the sermon was so dull. Mr. Collins spoke in a monotonous, low hum, never changing his pitch. Good Friday's service generally had content that was intriguing, at least in the churches Darcy had attended, but unfortunately, even the most captivating of topics became tedious in Hunsford. It was a great relief when the church service concluded.

As they lingered while Lady Catherine's carriage was being prepared, Darcy presented Elizabeth with the peppermint oil that he had collected from the still room for her. She smiled warmly and thanked him.

"It is my pleasure to serve," said Darcy with a slight bow. "You shall no longer need to be rescued from yellow flying insects."

Elizabeth blushed, although he could not imagine why. Perhaps she was embarrassed at being afraid of bees and wasps, but it was a common enough fear. Mrs. Collins was studying her friend, her gaze occasionally shifting to him as they conversed further.

They were interrupted by Richard calling Darcy to the carriage, and he reluctantly left. Elizabeth and the other inmates of the parsonage remained longer, it being the duty of the clergyman to ensure everything was put to rights in the church before leaving.


The next morning, Darcy woke early and read another of his letters. He had decided that he should read at least one a day, and that the morning was best, so he had all day to think on what his mother had to say.

Dearest Fitzwilliam,

Happy Seventeenth Birthday, my dear son. I cannot imagine you at seventeen. You must be so very tall and handsome. I imagine that either this year or next, that you will begin attending a few balls and parties when you are home from school. Perhaps you have already attended a few of the more informal gatherings, but soon you will be expected to attend many more. I know nothing of the male view on such things, except what I have been told. However, I beg you to remember that you have the power to make a young lady's evening wonderful or terrible.

Gentlemen have the power to do the asking and women only the power of refusal. We actually have even less power than that, for a lady must dance with whoever asks, unless we wish to sit out for the rest of the evening. Therefore, if a lady seems as if she does not wish to dance with you, it would be prudent first to attempt to speak to her on mundane matters and see how she responds. If she makes excuses to leave the conversation, you should then let her alone and not ruin her evening by making her either dance with you or sit out.

On the other hand, sometimes there will be young ladies who wish very much to dance with you. First, I beg you to remember not to raise expectations that you do not intend to fulfil. You are quite young, my son, therefore you should only dance once with any young lady. When you are older and are ready to court, perhaps you might dance twice on occasion with a young lady if you have an interest in courting her. Never dance three times. That is quite nearly a betrothal announcement, and her father or brother would be within his rights to expect a visit the next morning to ask for her hand. I am sure your father will tell you this, but I find it bears repeating.

Now, be prudent with the type of ladies you dance with. While some ladies will have many dance partners and simper and smile at them all, these are not the ladies you ought to pay attention to. It would be much better for you to find a young lady who is sitting down and ask her to dance instead of vying for a spot on a nearly filled dance card. You may be reluctant to follow these instructions, as perhaps you think that a young lady sitting down is slighted by other gentlemen for a reason. Yet, let me just say that your Aunt Elinor was often a wallflower, while your Aunt Catherine was highly sought after. Do with that information what you will. I was typically in the middle, as my dowry and connexions meant I was never sat down the whole evening, but I was often made to sit down for several dances if there were a lack of gentlemen. I did not shine like some do, and therefore, I was not typically a gentleman's first choice.

I know you shall do well and that your father will help you with other aspects of the social graces, as will your Aunt Elinor. Just try not to be like your father and scowl at others to deter them from introductions. He can be fierce at times without meaning to be so.

I love you, my dear son. I hope you are happy and have a good time as you join society.

Love,

Mamma

Darcy felt slightly embarrassed. He knew, based on the letter, that his mother would not be proud of him. He might have apologised to Elizabeth for the slight, but never had he considered that he might have caused pain to any of the other ladies by not dancing. He always did his duty to his hosts and members of his own party, but he rarely danced with anyone else.

Sometimes if there was a jewel of the season, he might dance with her once or twice, just to see if she would be a suitable wife for someone of his station. Now that he thought of it, those ladies all did remind him rather a lot of Lady Catherine. They were demanding and entitled, believing that because they were pretty and rich, that gentlemen owed them attention.

Rarely had he danced with a wallflower, but the last time he had, it had been pleasant. The lady was the sister of his host and rather plain. Yet, they had discussed books and had found they had many common favourites among the recent releases.

He smiled without meaning to, remembering how he had tried to bring up books during his dance with Elizabeth and how she had immediately rejected the notion. Her mind was too full of other things in a ballroom, she claimed. He had enjoyed the dance, even if she had wished to discuss Wickham when he would rather have not.

Darcy drew his fob watch from his pocket and checked the time. It was around the time that Elizabeth would go for her morning walk. He quickly put his letters away and summoned his valet. He requested Mr. Witting ready him in haste, as he did not want to be too late to be able to see Elizabeth. He felt a strong attraction to her, but he had yet to decide if he wanted to pursue her.

Within a half hour, he was standing outside, his anticipation palpable as he waited for Miss Elizabeth on the path by the stream. He nervously ran his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth, wondering if she had decided against walking out that morning. He was about to go back to Rosings to wait for more acceptable calling hours, when he smelt a hint of peppermint, and spun around. He smiled and his heart was filled with warmth as Elizabeth came into view.

He quickly schooled his expression to appear nonchalant, not wanting her to see his excitement at seeing her. He greeted her with a bow of politeness and asked after the other inhabitants of the parsonage. She responded in kind, saying that none other than she were yet below stairs, but she assumed them to be well.

Offering his arm, they began to take a walk down the path, sweetly serenaded by the birds singing a beautiful morning melody.

"I understand that my aunt has extended an invitation for you and the others at the parsonage to have dinner with us at Rosings tomorrow evening," Darcy said after they had walked for some distance.

"I was unaware. It is remarkable that Mr Collins did not speak of it." Elizabeth gave him a sidelong glance with an amused smirk.

"Indeed, I cannot imagine why he did not bring it up. He is usually so apt to share any details of my aunt's condescension." Darcy shared her amusement.

"Oh, yes. Have you heard of the shelves in the closets?" asked Elizabeth with a laugh.

"I have." Darcy grinned. "I wonder if your friend likes the shelves so well. It cannot be so easy on women's clothing."

"I believe she managed to convince Lady Catherine that not all of the closets need shelves and, therefore, Mr. Collins agreed. Tell no one, but I took the shelves out of my closet so I could hang my gowns," Elizabeth said conspiratorially.

A loud laugh escaped Darcy's lips. Several birds flew away from the bushes with a flurry of wings, startled by the sudden sound. "Mr. Collins has been quite fortunate in his choice of wife," he said a few moments later.

"Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am uncertain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

"It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."

"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield, and she blushed. "I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys — and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance."

Darcy turned to her, an unreadable look on his face. "You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn."

Elizabeth was surprised. "I have not. I have been often to London and my uncle has often taken me on trips with him and his wife when they travel for business."

Darcy was grateful Elizabeth had not fully understood what he had been asking. He had been unguarded in his speech, and he knew that any other woman would have been ordering her wedding clothes at such words.

He was thankful when she asked about his travels. He had not been able to go on a grand tour as many men do because of the war, but he had travelled through most counties in England and Ireland, although his favourite would always be Derbyshire.

"One must always favour their home," said Elizabeth. "I am certain Derbyshire is beautiful from the drawings I have seen, but I shall always be partial to Hertfordshire, regardless of where else I might live."

Darcy wanted to say something about her eventually coming to love Derbyshire, but restrained himself. Before he knew it, it was nearing time for breakfast. He left Elizabeth before coming into view of the parsonage, declining the invitation to break his fast with their party. He knew he needed to get away from her, else he would end up doing something he would later regret.