The next morning, the carriage rocked and jolted as it set off toward London, bouncing over the uneven country roads. Stephanie, seated across from Richard and Georgiana, started out poised, holding the strap above the window with what she thought was a firm grip. But within moments, the first deep rut in the road sent her bouncing a good six inches off the bench.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, clutching the edge of the seat and dissolving into laughter. "What the hell was that?"

Georgiana, seated beside her brother, smiled softly. "Just the state of the roads. It's perfectly normal."

"Normal?" Stephanie gasped as another bump sent her flying again, her laughter bubbling uncontrollably.

Richard, seated across from her, remained composed at first, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

The carriage jolted again, and Stephanie was launched a few inches off her seat, her arms flailing as she tried—and failed—to hold herself steady. She burst into uncontrollable laughter, her voice echoing through the confined space. "This is insane!" she gasped, clutching the edge of her seat as another bump sent her bouncing again. "I can't stop! This is the wildest ride ever."

Georgiana giggled, her hand clutching the strap near the window for balance. "It does take some getting used to."

Richard, sitting across from Stephanie, leaned back with a smirk, watching her antics. "You've managed to find amusement in what most would call an ordeal, Miss Williams," he remarked dryly. "A rare talent, indeed."

"I can't help it!" Stephanie cried, her voice wobbling as the carriage lurched again. Another sharp jolt sent her bouncing hard, and she wheezed through her laughter, tears forming in her eyes.

Georgiana's soft laugh turned into a full giggle, while Richard raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he tried to contain his amusement.

"This is a popcorn machine in disguise! I'm literally being popped!" She mimicked the sound with each bounce, her head bobbing up and down.

Richard's composure finally cracked, and a rich laugh escaped him. "I must say, Miss Williams, you're quite resilient. Most people would be lamenting the discomfort, and here you are, comparing yourself to snacks."

Stephanie pointed a finger at him, still laughing. "Oh, don't pretend you're above it, Colonel. I bet even you were a kid once. I bet you'd have fought for the back seat on the school bus too."

Richard tilted his head, his grin widening. "School bus? Dare I ask what that is?"

"Oh, it's a giant metal carriage," she explained, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. "No horses, just an engine. And the back seats were the bumpiest. All the cool kids fought to sit there because it was the most fun. This is exactly like that but… well, more dangerous."

"And I assume you were one of these 'cool kids'?" Richard teased, his tone light but his eyes sparkling with humor.

"Obviously!" Stephanie shot back, bouncing so hard she nearly toppled into Georgiana. She grabbed at her seat, howling with laughter. "But this? This is next level. A whole new league of chaos."

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a wonder you're still in one piece."

Finally, Stephanie managed to sit upright, though the carriage hit another bump, setting her off again. "Okay, okay," she said, holding her side and wiping at her face. "You know what this reminds me of?"

Richard arched an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"

"Oh, absolutely," she replied, still giggling. "So there's this show in my time called Curb Your Enthusiasm. It's about this guy, Larry David, and he's, like, a walking disaster of awkward situations."

Richard leaned back slightly, as if bracing himself. "Go on."

Stephanie sucked in a deep breath, clearly working hard not to laugh again. "Okay, so in one episode, Larry buys this car, and it vibrates and bounces. A lot. Like, a ridiculous amount."

Georgiana tilted her head, curiosity lighting her eyes. "And why would a car vibrate?"

"It's not supposed to!" Stephanie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "But here's the thing—he doesn't realize the effect it's having on the women he gives rides to."

Richard's brow furrowed. "Effect?"

Stephanie grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "The vibrations hit just the right spots. These women are sitting there in the car, losing their minds, while Larry's oblivious, just rambling on about nothing."

There was a beat of silence as Georgiana's expression stayed politely confused. Richard's brow remained furrowed—until, suddenly, it clicked. His eyes widened, his face froze for half a second, and then, like a dam breaking, he burst into laughter. A full, rich, unrestrained laugh that filled the carriage.

Stephanie pointed at him, delighted. "There it is! You get it now, don't you?"

Richard tried to compose himself but failed miserably, clutching his stomach as the laughter overtook him. "Good God," he managed between breaths. "And he… had no idea?"

"None!" Stephanie crowed. "He's just sitting there, talking about baseball or whatever, while these women are basically having… well, the time of their lives."

Richard leaned back against the carriage wall, wiping at his eyes. "That… might be the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, it's a masterpiece," Stephanie said, grinning. "If this carriage were anything like that car, we'd all be in serious trouble."

Georgiana glanced between them, still struggling to follow. "I confess I don't entirely understand, but it sounds… amusing?"

"It's hysterical," Stephanie said, leaning back and letting out a long, satisfied sigh. "Larry David has given us all a gift."

Richard, still chuckling, shook his head. "Miss Williams, your stories never fail to astonish me."

She smirked at him. "What can I say? Modern life is wild."

"And apparently… stimulating," Richard quipped, his laughter bubbling up again.

Stephanie burst into fresh giggles, and even Georgiana couldn't help but smile at their shared mirth as the carriage rattled along.

Richard, still chuckling, leaned back in his seat and fixed Stephanie with an amused look. "Miss Williams, I feel compelled to ask… do you have any other tales of this Larry fellow? I admit, his misadventures are strangely fascinating."

Stephanie lit up, her grin widening. "Oh, Colonel, you're in for it now. Larry David is a goldmine of cringe comedy. Let me think…" She tapped her finger to her lips, her mind racing through the endless catalog of ridiculous Larry David moments. "Okay, okay, I've got one."

Richard arched a brow, clearly intrigued. "Do tell."

"All right, so, there's this time Larry goes to a dinner party. You'd think a simple dinner would be safe, right? Wrong. It's Larry," she said, laughing already. "So, he's at the table, everything's going fine, and someone starts telling this super sad story—like a real tearjerker. And everyone at the table is getting emotional, except Larry. He's just sitting there, completely unfazed."

Georgiana tilted her head, frowning slightly. "Why wouldn't he react? Did he not have compassion?"

"Oh, he had compassion," Stephanie said, smirking. "But he's also got a compulsive need to question everything. So, mid-story, he interrupts and says, 'Wait, wait, wait—this doesn't add up. Why didn't you just call the police?'"

Richard laughed, shaking his head. "He cannot resist, can he?"

"Not even a little," Stephanie said, her laughter growing. "And the person is like, 'What do you mean, call the police? That's not the point of the story!' But Larry won't let it go. He's all, 'No, really, if you'd just called the police, none of this would've happened.' And it just ruins the whole mood."

Georgiana gasped, covering her mouth. "How dreadful! Did they throw him out?"

"Oh, it gets better," Stephanie said, grinning wickedly. "The host tries to diffuse the situation by changing the subject, but Larry circles back to it later—at dessert! He starts asking for details about the story, trying to poke holes in it, like it's some sort of courtroom drama. Everyone's furious, and the host finally says, 'Larry, if you don't shut up, you're never coming back to this house.' And Larry, being Larry, says, 'Good. Your soufflé was terrible.'"

Richard burst out laughing, unable to contain himself. "The man has no shame."

"None whatsoever," Stephanie said, giggling so hard she had to wipe her eyes. "But it's what makes him so funny. He's just so… unapologetically himself, even when it's wildly inappropriate."

Georgiana, who was also laughing now, shook her head. "I cannot imagine someone behaving like that in our society. He would be utterly ostracized."

"Oh, he is!" Stephanie said. "And he doesn't care. He just keeps doubling down, making it worse and worse. It's like watching a train wreck, but you can't look away."

Richard leaned forward slightly, his amusement clear. "I must admit, Miss Williams, I never expected to find myself entertained by tales of a modern-day fool, but your recounting is… captivating."

"Captivating?" Stephanie teased, her grin widening. "Colonel, are you becoming a fan?"

Richard smirked, his tone dry but warm. "I wouldn't go that far. But I wouldn't object to hearing another tale."

Stephanie gasped suddenly, her eyes lighting up as she sat forward in her seat. "Oh my God, forget Larry David for a second—I have to tell you about Keeping Up Appearances!"

Richard tilted his head, a bemused smirk tugging at his lips. "Another of your modern tales?"

"Oh, this one is a gem," Stephanie said, her voice full of energy. "It's about this woman named Hyacinth Bucket—except she insists it's pronounced 'Bouquet,' because she's desperate to seem posh. She's constantly putting on airs, trying to impress people, and acting like she's royalty or something."

Georgiana leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "Why does she want to appear wealthy?"

"Because she's insecure and hilariously over the top about it," Stephanie explained. "She throws these fancy candlelit suppers, name-drops people she's never even met, and is terrified of anyone finding out her family is, well… less posh than she pretends to be."

Richard raised a brow. "And how does this… farce play out?"

Stephanie nearly doubled over with laughter. "It's a disaster! Her family is a mess. She has a sister, Daisy, who's married to this guy Onslow—a total slob who spends all day in a dirty tank top watching TV and betting on horses. Then there's her other sister, Rose, who's… let's just say overly enthusiastic about chasing men."

Richard chuckled despite himself. "This sounds… colorful."

"Oh, it gets better," Stephanie continued, waving her hands. "Every time Hyacinth's family shows up, she loses it. She's constantly scheming to hide them from her posh neighbors or anyone important.

Stephanie perked up mid-laugh, pointing a finger in the air like she'd just remembered the best part. "Oh! Oh my God, I almost forgot! Hyacinth has a son—Sheridan."

Georgiana tilted her head, intrigued. "And what is so remarkable about him?"

Stephanie grinned mischievously, her laughter already bubbling up. "Sheridan's gay. And I mean, like, textbook flamboyant. He's off at university, and he's constantly calling Hyacinth with stereotypical gay stories. And mind you this show is from the 1990s, when it was still considered maybe I don't know embarrassing to have a gay son. Anyway, he's always asking for money for 'art supplies' or something for his roommate, who is very obviously his boyfriend."

Richard's brow furrowed slightly, his lips twitching with amusement. "And how does this Hyacinth respond to such… revelations?"

"She's in complete denial," Stephanie said, throwing her hands up. "She insists he's just 'sensitive' and 'artistic.' It's hilarious because everyone else can see what's going on, but she's so focused on maintaining her perfect image that she pretends not to notice."

Georgiana giggled, clearly delighted. "What sorts of things does he say to her?"

Stephanie leaned forward, mimicking a posh accent. "'Mummy, I simply must have more money. Tarquin's performance art project requires silk scarves and glitter, and we've run out of funds!'" She broke down laughing.

Georgiana clapped her hands, laughing along. "That's ridiculous!"

"Oh, it gets better," Stephanie said, barely able to catch her breath. "Hyacinth will be hosting one of her fancy candlelit suppers, and Sheridan will call at the worst possible moment. She'll pick up the phone all prim and proper, and then you just hear, 'Mummy, Tarquin and I are experimenting with watercolors, and we need funds for a weekend retreat!' And she's there, smiling through gritted teeth, trying to act like everything is fine."

Richard, who had been listening intently, finally let out a deep, rich laugh. "This does sound amusing?"

"Amusing?" Stephanie said, grinning. "It's hysterical! Hyacinth is trying so hard to climb the social ladder, and meanwhile, her son is out there living his best life and blowing all her pretenses to smithereens."

Georgiana was nearly in tears from laughter. "I must admit, this does sound delightful."

Stephanie leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "See? I told you. Hyacinth Bucket—or Bouquet—is a national treasure. And Sheridan? Iconic."

Richard shook his head, still chuckling. "Your world seems to have a flair for absurdity."

"Oh, you have no idea." Stephanie straightened up and mimicked Hyacinth's posh indignation. "'Sheridan, darling, Mummy is entertaining very important guests. Can this wait?' Meanwhile, she's doing this forced smile, pretending nothing's wrong, while everyone at the table can clearly hear him on the other end."

Stephanie leaned back, pointing at him. "You're laughing because you know someone exactly like Hyacinth. Admit it."

Richard gave a helpless shrug, his laughter spilling over as Stephanie's exaggerated accent continued. "'Mummy, Tarquin needs another cape for his interpretive dance competition!'

Georgiana wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "And you say this is British?"

Stephanie grinned triumphantly. "Exactly! Your people. You invented this kind of ridiculousness."

Mummy, Tarquin and I can't possibly go to the Riviera without matching espadrilles!' And Hyacinth is doing this whole fake smile while everyone at the table hears every word."

Georgiana clapped her hands, her eyes wide with delight. "He says all this in front of guests?"

Stephanie leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye as she fixed her gaze on Richard and Georgiana. "Okay, okay, imagine this: Darcy's the one getting those calls. Picture him hosting some ridiculously posh dinner party, right? Lady Catherine is there, probably lecturing about something, and all of a sudden, the butler comes in and says, 'Mr. Darcy, a call for you. It's your son.'"

Richard, already grinning, leaned back in his seat. "This can only end in disaster."

"Oh, you have no idea," Stephanie said, barely able to contain her laughter. She straightened her posture, adopting the stiff, dignified air of Darcy. "He'd be like, 'Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I must take this important call.' He'd stride out, all serious and brooding."

Georgiana giggled, already covering her mouth.

Stephanie raised an imaginary phone to her ear, her voice shifting to an overly dramatic posh drawl. "'Father, it's Sheridan. Tarquin and I require funds immediately.'"

Richard chuckled, but Stephanie wasn't done.

"Darcy would be all, 'Funds? For what purpose, my boy?' And then Sheridan would say"—she broke into a high-pitched, breathless tone—"'We've run out of silk! The scarf workshop simply cannot go on without more supplies!'"

Georgiana burst out laughing, and Richard's shoulders were already shaking, but Stephanie kept going.

"And Darcy," she said, now imitating his measured, gruff tones, "'Sheridan, this is hardly the time. I have guests.' But Sheridan's not backing down. 'Father, if Tarquin and I don't have matching outfits for the Riviera by Tuesday, it'll be social suicide!'"

Richard let out a loud bark of laughter, his hand clutching his stomach. "Social suicide?"

"Oh, absolutely," Stephanie said, nodding as though it were the most serious thing in the world. "And then Darcy's trying to keep it together because Lady Catherine's glaring at him from across the room. He'd cover the phone and mutter, 'Excuse me, it's… urgent.' But Sheridan's still going! 'Father, we're also in dire need of funds for the interpretive dance gala. Tarquin insists on imported velvet capes, and I simply must agree.'"

Richard doubled over, his laughter echoing through the carriage. Georgiana was gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face.

Stephanie grinned triumphantly, leaning in for the final blow. "And the best part? Darcy gets off the phone, goes back to the table, and Lady Catherine just gives him the look. And he's like"—she dropped her voice into a low, guilty tone—"'It appears Sheridan and Tarquin have, uh… encountered another creative emergency.' And then he takes a massive sip of wine."

Richard was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, tears glistening in his eyes. "Miss Williams," he managed between gasps, "you are… positively wicked."

Stephanie leaned back, catching her breath, her sides aching from laughter. "Okay, okay, Richard. Your turn. I dare you to do Darcy as Sheridan's dad. Bet you can't top me."

Richard raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly smug. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

Georgiana sat up straighter, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Oh, do it, Richard. Please!"

Richard sighed, leaning back into the carriage seat. "Very well," he said, adopting an air of stoic gravity, his tone dropping into a pitch-perfect Darcy impression. His brows furrowed as he crossed his arms tightly, exuding a perfect mix of authority and exasperation.

"Sheridan," Richard began in a clipped, icy tone, "I have received your latest correspondence. You wrote to request fifty pounds for… what did you call it? 'A silk dressing gown of unparalleled radiance'? What does that even mean, Sheridan? And why, pray tell, do you need it urgently delivered to Brighton?"

Georgiana immediately dissolved into laughter, while Stephanie slapped her knee. "Oh my God, yes! He'd be livid."

Richard carried on, his mock Darcy voice growing increasingly agitated. "And as if that were not humiliating enough, Sheridan, you also casually mentioned that the esteemed Earl of Bradford caught you modeling this supposed garment for Lord Worthington in the library of his ancestral home. Sheridan, what were you thinking?"

Stephanie was nearly doubled over. "Modeling! I'm crying!"

Georgiana wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as Richard continued, his face still the picture of stoic irritation.

"Do you know how difficult it was to restore our family's reputation after your last escapade at Almack's?" Richard said, narrowing his eyes as though speaking directly to Sheridan. "Sheridan, you cannot challenge another gentleman to a duel over a disagreement about cravats. It is not done."

Stephanie was howling with laughter now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh my God, this is killing me. Richard, you're too good at this."

Richard's faux Darcy only grew more severe. "And now I find myself in the unfortunate position of needing to send fifty pounds again to settle yet another scandal involving you and Lord Worthington. Sheridan, this is the third time you've embroiled yourself with his valet. Must I remind you that the Worthingtons control half the seats in Parliament?"

Georgiana buried her face in her hands, shaking with silent laughter, while Stephanie gasped, "He'd lose his mind! The valet?!"

Richard's lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he stayed in character. "Sheridan," he said, his voice deep with righteous indignation, "if I hear one more word about your 'poetic evening' involving a footman, a harpsichord, and a scandalous amount of champagne, I swear, you will never again step foot in Pemberley."

Stephanie slid to the edge of her seat, clutching Georgiana. "I'm done! I'm done! A harpsichord?!"

Richard finally allowed himself to break, his deep laughter rolling through the carriage. "It seems Sheridan has made quite the impression."

"Sheridan is the best thing ever," Stephanie wheezed, struggling to catch her breath. "Seriously, I'm imagining Darcy just… shutting down completely."

Georgiana, still laughing, pointed at Richard. "You're too good at this. Fitzwilliam would never forgive you if he knew."

Richard leaned back, smirking. "Fortunately, he isn't here. Let us hope Sheridan's escapades remain purely hypothetical."

The three of them laughed until they could barely breathe, the shared hilarity a perfect balm for the bumps and jolts of the road ahead.

The carriage came to a jolting stop in front of the grand facade of Darcy House. Stephanie, Richard, and Georgiana were already a mess, barely keeping it together after an hour of riffing on Sheridan's increasingly absurd antics. Stephanie, still clutching her stomach from laughing so hard, peeked out the window and saw Darcy standing at the top of the stairs, his usual composed and utterly serious demeanor on full display.

"Oh no," Stephanie whispered, her voice still trembling with giggles. "Look at him. He looks so… unimpressed."

Georgiana tried to straighten her bonnet, but her laughter betrayed her. "He's probably wondering why we're late."

"Late? Darcy probably timed it to the second," Richard muttered, a rare, amused glint in his eye. He opened the door and helped Georgiana down with as much dignity as he could muster, though his lips twitched dangerously.

Stephanie followed, still trying to stifle her laughter, her cheeks flushed. As soon as she locked eyes with Darcy—his perfectly arched brow raised in judgment—it was over. The tension of trying to stay serious cracked, and she burst out laughing again, clutching Georgiana's arm for support. "Oh my God," she gasped, gesturing between herself, Georgiana, and Richard. "We are Sheridan right now!"

That did it. Richard doubled over, his usually composed self absolutely losing it, while Georgiana's laughter bubbled over uncontrollably. Stephanie pointed at Darcy, barely able to get the words out. "You're… you're just standing there, all broody and judging us—like you just found out about the harpsichord!"

Richard howled, bending over as he tried to regain control, his deep laughter echoing against the elegant facade of Darcy House. Georgiana leaned against Stephanie, tears running down her cheeks.

Darcy, for his part, stood stock-still, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression an infuriating mix of confusion and disapproval. "I presume there is some explanation for this… display?"

Stephanie, gasping for air, waved her hand. "It's… it's Sheridan!" she managed, still laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "We've been imagining… if you had a son like that. It's too much."

Darcy's frown deepened. "Sheridan?"

Richard straightened up, though he was still grinning. "A… hypothetical son, Fitzwilliam. Don't concern yourself. It's entirely nonsensical."

Darcy's gaze swept over them, clearly unimpressed. "I see. And this nonsense has incapacitated you all?"

"Darcy," Stephanie said, stepping forward, still laughing. "You would lose your mind if you had a Sheridan. Absolutely lose it."

"I already feel as though I am," Darcy muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. His exasperation only made them laugh harder, and Stephanie leaned on Georgiana, shaking her head.

"Oh my God," Stephanie wheezed. "We are so Sheridan right now. Look at us. Chaos. Complete chaos."

Richard's shoulders shook with restrained laughter, and Georgiana collapsed into a fit of giggles again, while Darcy simply turned and walked inside, muttering, "I despair for this generation."

His unamused retreat only made them laugh harder, their shared silliness echoing through the streets as they stumbled into Darcy House, leaving their dignified host thoroughly perplexed.

As the hilarity subsided, the group finally made their way inside Darcy House, their faces still flushed from laughter. Darcy led the way, his back impossibly straight and his movements brisk, his evident annoyance cutting through the lingering mirth. Stephanie and Georgiana exchanged amused glances but kept their composure as they followed, though it took effort not to burst into laughter again when they caught sight of Darcy's disapproving expression.

Once inside, Darcy turned sharply to Richard, his gaze cool and pointed. "A word, Colonel," he said curtly, gesturing toward his study.

Richard, still suppressing the last of his chuckles, straightened his jacket and nodded. "Of course."