This action brought a muffled giggle from her and a most unladylike grunt from her cousin, who immediately sat straight up in a state of bewilderment. Lizzy, hoping Holly would not realize what had brought her out of such a sound sleep, quickly spoke.

“I am so happy to see you up and bright-eyed. We can ready ourselves to go down to breakfast and have a nice talk while we do it!”

Holly, who was normally slow to wake, felt anything but bright-eyed. She turned a confused face to her cousin, blinked and tried to figure out where she was exactly.

“Yes... talk.... breakfast....” Holly mumbled and sat there staring at the wall as Lizzy threw the covers off the both of them and got out of bed. Holly shivered and pulled the blankets back over herself as she fell back onto her pillow, tucking them up under her chin, closing her eyes tightly. However, she opened them again when she heard her cousin make what sounded like a groan.

“Hmmm? What is it, Lizzy?”

“Rain! And there is so much of it that I do not know how I managed to not hear it falling. My thoughts were elsewhere I suppose,” she softly sighed. “And it does not look as if it will stop anytime soon.”

“And you find rain somehow surprising, Lizzy?” she yawned, as she watched her turn reluctantly from the window. “Do not be disheartened. It may look like it will never end, but it will. Eventually. The afternoon may even bring the sun along with it.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “but the afternoon will be too late.” While washing her face she conceded that there was nothing she could do about the weather, but she would very much miss him this morning.

After much poking and prodding, Holly eventually followed suit when her turn came at the basin, the cold water bringing her a little closer to coherence. She picked up a brush and started on her hair.

“You know, Lizzy, a talk would be nice. It seems that most mornings we do not see anything of each other at all. I begin to wonder if the only reason you came to Scotland was to admire the outdoors – you spend so much of your time rambling alone about the countryside.” She tucked some stray hair back with a pin and sighed.

Lizzy, busy putting on her dress, hid her look of frustration behind it. After all, it was not the first time Holly had made a comment about her walking out alone and exaggerated the number of times it occurred. There simply had not been that many since her aunt had put a stop to them because her little adventure on horseback had been observed. If only she were allowed such freedom. The way things were at the moment, the only time she had to herself was when she stole out of the house before anyone else was up. If it was not her aunt making sure of it, then it was her cousin or Monsieur Vian who inadvertently or purposefully did. However her expression quickly changed to one of guilt, for she knew it certainly was not Holly’s fault, nor did her cousin know why she would even wish time away from them at all. She thought to make light of Holly’s remark, for actually, there was no other alternative unless she wished an argument, or at the very least, a disgruntled cousin.

“You know, Holly, I would not want to make you so sick of my constant company that I would force you to suffer through it for every minute of every day,” she said cheerfully and added slyly, “But since you mention it, yes, I am here only for the countryside. In fact, I care nothing for your good company whatsoever! And besides, you only wish to spend your time with books and dust, so you cannot berate me for my few absences.” She grinned and made sure her cousin saw it.

Holly smiled back. “Well, dust and books most certainly have a broader appeal than you might think, at least they do when their owner chooses to not be present. I swear he pretends to be only innocently reading while he is really there to verify my progress. I much prefer them to the alternative, you know. You always wander too far in your morning walks, quite tiring me out for the rest of the day!”

Lizzy wiped her forehead dramatically. “Finally, the truth is revealed, dear Holly. You pretend to complain that I take them alone as a way to disguise your relief that I do not drag you along with me, when in fact you heartily dislike the activity. You should have held your tongue just now and let me continue to feel the guilt you have worked so diligently to assign me,” she teased. “You obviously are not very quick witted when you are unexpectedly awoken by someone hitting you on the head when she stretched too enthusiastically while lying in bed beside you.”

Holly turned to her with narrowly squinted eyes, hiding the humour that was evident in them. “Obviously not…”

They continued their banter until they were both presentable and ready to go down to breakfast, where they were soon joined by her aunt and Monsieur Vian.

Drops of rain disturbed Darcy’s sleep and the monotonous sound filled him with chill and melancholy. Autumn was on Scotland’s threshold and his carefree summer encounters with Elizabeth were slowly coming to an end. He pulled the coverlet higher under his chin and allowed his thoughts to once again escape to their spot by the river.

So much had changed since his arrival in Scotland, and so much more would change in the future, but today he did not feel like planning and projecting. Today he wished for something simple. The warmth of her fingers caressing his face. Her eyes smiling at his. His lips tasting the softness of hers, muffling her giggles and mingling them with whispers of awakening. Her supple locks tickling his chin, as she would cosily snuggle close in his arms. If he could only have her in his bed right now he would never wish the lazy morning to end.

But as it was he listened to the rhythm of the raindrops with growing disappointment. It was still early. Maybe the weather would change in an hour or two…

He finally decided to abandon his bed and prepare himself to leave in the hope of still being able to meet her.

Breakfast with Brougham was a quiet affair. It seemed that the rain outside dulled their appetite as well as their wit. Brougham soon gave himself over to reading and Darcy tried to do the same, but his restlessness too often lured him back to the window where the sound of the rain mingled with the few impatient sighs that escaped him every time he looked out. Some time later the rain changed to a drizzle, but then that did not cease until well past noon, long after his morning plans already lay in ruins.

Brougham observed his friend with the kind of unabashed lazy interest that is not as much prompted by mystery as it is by a lack of any other occupation. When the rain finally stopped, and his friend curiously did not show any inclination to do anything of substance, Brougham decided to end the relentless saunter across his library and drag his friend outside.

The sky was grey but the humid air refreshing, and the two friends abandoned their distant thoughts and gave themselves up to casual conversation until their horses neared the Caledonian Thistle.

“Brougham,” Darcy looked in the direction of the inn and back to his friend, “I need to speak to my men. Why do you not go ahead and I shall meet you somewhere on the high street?”

“Very well, unless you think that we might both perhaps stop for a pint of ale.”

“Considering the current weather, a pint of ale might have a remarkably ill effect on our humours.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Brougham smiled and with a nod to his friend headed towards the village.”

Nichols had been in Darcy’s employment for the better part of his life. Long enough to understand that his well-being was directly dependant on that of his master’s, and that his own position was secure as long as he showed his loyalty and respect. The task was made all the easier since the master himself appeared thoughtful, liberal and generous on many occasions, and one could always count on his understanding as long as his patience was not tried.

Nichols accompanied his master during his college years at Cambridge, and when the old Mr. Darcy died and old Pratt retired as well, he was the one the new master of Pemberley chose for the position of head coachman. Nichols knew his job well, and having the good health of his master under his care, he also took pride in the fact that he had still more – Mr. Darcy’s confidence. He knew enough to gather that a sad affair had occurred between Miss Darcy and Wickham, a lad he well remembered from his master’s youthful years, and so Mr. Darcy’s recent request for him to speak about that cad only in terms of his old friend might seem strange, if not for the fact that Nichols had been with Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire and Kent as well, and remembered the lady who had recently accompanied him at the fair. He would never dare share his observations with Mr. Darcy, or let the younger coachman or the post boys loosen their tongues on the matter, but as long as his master’s interest lay in that quarter he knew how to protect the well-being of everyone involved.

Since his last conversation with Mr. Darcy, he had known exactly how to act. Being the oldest of the employees present, his authority and knowledge about the Pemberley family was an indicator to the rest on how to behave and what to think. It would not do to let the boys forget their place under their present idleness, and he always made sure the conduct of none of them would bring censure upon the illustrious family they worked for. Now, however, his cautiousness was sharpened and directed not only at those who were under his responsibility but also at the one particular gentleman who was bothering Mr. Darcy and his friends.

Being quartered at the inn himself, he soon turned the circumstance to his advantage and learnt that, indeed, Mr. Tidwell’s name was not on the innkeeper’s credit list. On the contrary, it seemed that the innkeeper was in favour of the gentleman and the free drinks, and his unusual indulgence towards the man’s frequent ill behaviour were only an indication of that. As the inn appeared uncommonly prosperous it was unlikely that the innkeeper had any kind of monetary debt towards Tidwell. It must be something else.

It was fortunate then, that Mr. Darcy chose to meet with him again so soon and he could apprise him of this intelligence.

Darcy heard the account in silence, and after taking some time to ponder the various possibilities that gathered in his mind, he asked, “Which of the boys can you trust the most?”

“The young Pratt, Sir. His father taught him well. He is clever, but quiet, and minds his job and place.”

“Very well. I want him to follow the innkeeper, and you – Mr. Tidwell. I want to know what they do and whether they meet. If there is something illegal they are up to, I need proof.”

“If we find something of greater importance…”

“Seek me out at once. I would rather not speak about it here again.”

The Rosefarm household spent the greater part of the day cooped up together in the parlour, everyone appearing industriously occupied. Vian turned the pages of a book at regular intervals, yet his eyes wandered constantly to where Elizabeth sat, stealing glances which she studiously ignored as she pulled the needle repeatedly through the pattern of her embroidery. However, the mistakes she made were so numerous that she had to remove the thread and begin again so many times that she finally resorted to leaving the errors in so that Holly would stop looking at her suspiciously from across the table where she was drawing, making sketches that did not seem to become any more complete than they were when she had begun, her rubber getting as much use as the pencil.

Only one occupant of the room actually accomplished anything. The stacks of completed correspondence next to Mrs. Tournier were proof that she, at least, had powers of concentration that the others did not possess. Thankfully, her aunt’s preoccupation with her own task meant that she did not notice how the others spent their time while impatiently waiting for the rain to cease, saving them from the curiosity and comments she would have surely sent their way. In fact, only Lizzy noticed it all. She could hardly miss it since she herself seemed to be the object of the others’ attention. Although Holly’s mind did seem to wander somewhere else from time to time, her eyes always came back to rest soundly on Lizzy, as did Vian’s.

When the rain finally stopped, her aunt, eager to have her morning’s work posted, pushed the silent trio out of the door on that errand. Lizzy, her letter to Jane in hand, was thankful that their forward motion had removed the opportunity for a repeat of the same glances that had been sent her way earlier, and for the fact that, since Holly was with them, she did not have to endure the awkward company of Monsieur Vian alone. The silence had accompanied them out of the door as well and had lingered with them for some time until Holly sent it promptly on its way, along with the little peace Lizzy had found in the mere act of walking quietly.

“Monsieur Vian, I have been pondering your proposal,” Holly said in a light voice, “and while I will not yet relieve you of the suffering you must rightly feel just yet, I have been thinking of the possibilities. However, I have stumbled onto a problem I thought I might share with you. Perhaps you might help me think it through and find a solution?”

He glanced over in the ladies’ direction, his eyes more on Miss Bennet than on Miss Tournier, trying to gauge the effect the unfamiliar and most surprising topic might be having on her. He was not disappointed. The confusion was clearly written on her face.

He was not sure how he felt about what she might be thinking at the moment, but he knew he wished she would be jealous about his asking another so soon, or even that he would ask another at all. More than likely she was panicking for the sake of her cousin. Still, he felt slightly vindicated that at least Miss Bennet would feel something regarding him.

He smiled pleasantly to his cousin. “By all means, Miss Tournier. I would be happy to help you in your dilemma.”

“Well, if I did choose Lord Brougham, solely due to his proximity to home and hearth, mind you, thereby freeing you to become my papa, I now realize that it would then defeat my purpose, for you would immediately take maman away to France. She essentially is home to me, not necessarily the location, and staying near her would be the reason for such a choice to begin with. Do you see my problem?”

“I do indeed, but perhaps your problem will simply not exist. Mrs. Tournier may also turn down my offer. It would not be the first time that a man was rejected by more than one woman in a row.”

“Oh, but I know she will not! She finds you charming, intelligent, handsome, and most importantly, you are indulgent of her whims. She could not resist the offer.”

“Would that all women felt the same,” he said almost wistfully, and could not resist glancing at Miss Bennet, who now looked both confused and embarrassed and carefully avoided meeting his gaze.

“Well,” Holly breathed, “luckily I have a solution. You will simply not make the offer to maman and make it instead to Miss Bennet! She is adventurous and likes travelling, and since you are family, I will be assured of seeing her at least as often as I do now. It is perfect! What say you?”

“Whatever are you talking of, Holly?” Elizabeth broke in, clearly flustered. “You are in the business of matchmaking now?”

Holly could not help but giggle at Lizzy’s response and had some trouble composing an answer for a moment, a time during which, unnoticed by her, both Lizzy and Vian looked uncomfortably at everything but each other.

Finally Holly composed herself long enough to explain to her cousin about the mock proposals made at yesterday’s tea.

“So you see how brilliant I am, Lizzy, to come up with the solution I did? I would have everything my way, including securing your future as well.”

Lizzy calmed herself and found the ability to speak coherently by the time Holly had finished.

“Except I see a flaw in your thinking that you have missed, Holly. You would argue with your own chosen husband so often that you would end up spending most of your time at your mother’s home anyway. You might as well not marry Lord Brougham at all in that case, negating the need for Monsieur Vian to offer to any but your mother or yourself. Either one of you would do, as long as you both move to France with him. I am sure he would not object to it, since he was willing to have either of you to begin with. He would then have the best of both worlds.”

Holly looked disappointed at her response.

“Perhaps you are right, Lizzy, and perhaps not. But I am disheartened that my own cousin has so little faith in my ability to get along with someone when it is desirable.”

Vian, having had quite enough of the conversation of offers being made and declined, was happy to find another topic.

“Miss Bennet, I think perhaps I see an opportunity for Miss Tournier to disprove your supposition about her inability to get along with Lord Brougham. There he is now.”

Her own relief obvious, Lizzy took up the suggestion and offered, “Yes, Holly, shall we approach him and see how you might fare when you put your mind to it? In fact, I think I shall invite him to tea and give you a proper test.” Besides, she thought longingly, it would give her a chance to see Mr. Darcy.

Holly was abashed by the implication that a test of her conduct would even be required, but even more so that her past behaviour had been so generally noted. Of course she could behave herself!

“I am more certain now than ever that the two of you belong together! You are both devils in disguise! You each have no trouble abusing me to each other and to the world it would seem.” Holly smiled to soften her words, which had come out more harshly that she had intended.

Lizzy, stunned by her cousin’s continuous pairing of herself and Mr. Vian, nonetheless replied as if nothing was amiss, especially since she could plainly see that Holly had taken their teasing more seriously than it had been intended.

“Oh, dear, sweet Holly! Prove us wrong and we shall both apologise immediately. Let us see if you can perform amiably more than twice in a row. The third time is the charm I have heard say, and if you can abstain from arguing with him this very moment, and at the tea I shall invite them to this afternoon, then we shall both be very ashamed of our words and take them back.”

“Indeed, Miss Bennet is correct. I shall be most contrite and repentant this evening if you can achieve such a feat. If not… Well, I shall be gentle and tell you how lovely you look and not speak any further on the matter.”

His grin was impish and contagious, and Holly, at first slightly vexed by the both of them, suddenly grinned herself.

“Very well. I shall take up your challenge and be most gratified when you both must eat your words.”

They made their way along the high street until their path met Lord Brougham’s in front of the post. He patted his coat pocket as if checking for something, and then tipped his hat as they approached.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet, Miss Tournier,” he nodded, presenting a pleasant smile in greeting, “Monsieur Vian. How pleasant to meet up with all of you. I see Mr. Darcy and I were not the only ones who wished to leave the confines of home and hearth once the weather cleared enough to allow for it.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Brougham,” Holly said shyly, conscious that her companions were watching her closely and noting every word and expression.

Both Lizzy and Vian smiled and gave a greeting to him as well. As the others continued to exchange pleasantries, Lizzy took the opportunity to look carefully around, her thoughts on where Mr. Darcy might be at the moment. Not seeing him anywhere, she spoke at the first lull in the conversation.

“We were hoping we might entice you and Mr. Darcy to tea at Rosefarm, Sir, if you are so inclined to accept an impromptu invitation.”

“What a very kind offer, and a most tempting one, yet I fear I must decline for the both of us. We have an engagement this evening at Sir Tristan Torence’s you see, and I am afraid there might not be adequate time between the two events to properly prepare for the dinner. Perhaps another time?”

“Certainly. Please consider the invitation an open one. You must come at your convenience,” she responded, a little curious that Mr. Darcy had not mentioned it to her yesterday. Not that he had needed to, but it seemed something he would have told her about, since social opportunities here were relatively scarce and therefore a subject for discussion. Perhaps it had simply slipped his mind.

Brougham gave her a piercing look. “I assume you have heard of the Torences during your stay? Such a lovely family.”

Holly’s pleasant smile changed to a look of barely disguised irritation. “Miss Bennet has not had that opportunity, Sir,” she breathed quietly and with forced patience.

“Oh.” His right eyebrow rose up a short distance as his eyes slowly moved from Miss Tournier to her cousin again. “Knowing Mr. Darcy as well as you do, Miss Bennet, you must be aware of how fastidious his tastes are. I hardly ever have the pleasure of introducing him to ladies whose accomplishments would meet with his highest approval. Miss Torence and Miss Patience, however, both are so very talented, bright and beautiful, that upon making further enquiries about them, he insisted on being introduced at the earliest opportunity. His anticipation today is all the greater, as I have again received an invitation from Sir Tristan to witness their performances on the harp and piano, each of which is truly unmatched by anything I have ever experienced before. Would you not agree, Miss Tournier?”

As Lizzy attended to Lord Brougham’s words, she wondered whether he meant that Mr. Darcy had already met the ladies or if this evening would be the first time.

Holly, who had been slowly counting to ten as he continued speaking and was only at number eight when Lord Brougham had addressed her, forced a smile and made an effort to not clench her teeth as she answered him.

“I have not had the pleasure of hearing one of their performances, but I have been told that their duets are an extraordinary experience, Sir, and having seen them both, I can attest to their beauty. I have heard, however, that Miss Torence is easily outshone by her sister in both music and conversation.”

He smiled and gave a polite nod. “That is true to an extent, but it is not because Miss Torence could ever earn any censure, but only because Miss Patience has such a lively disposition, intelligent conversation, natural talent, and captivating beauty that every lady would lose her shine in comparison. In fact I am exceedingly jealous already, since Mr. Darcy was so charmed that, in his eagerness to seek out her company and acquaint himself with her more intimately, he has claimed his place at her side for dinner in advance. I am sure you can understand why we would not wish to risk being late. I never willingly disappoint my guests.”

“I am sure that is so, and we would not dream of detaining either of you from it for a simple little tea at Rosefarm, Lord Brougham,” she uttered, her resolve to remain civil wilting away as her temper rose.

The conversation moved on to another topic, and thankfully there was nothing said that Lizzy was required to respond to. She only needed to smile politely as a listener while enduring careful and probing looks from Monsieur Vian’s direction. Curiously enough, she felt Lord Brougham glance at her quite frequently as well, although she was sure she must only be imagining it based on how her feelings were now so muddled by what she had heard. The most she could manage, besides trying to attend to the current conversation, was to wonder why Mr. Darcy had not mentioned the dinner to her yesterday. Yet she held on to the thought that when she saw him next it would all be made clear.

Wishing for a moment alone, she quietly excused herself and went inside to complete their errand. But she found that the solitude did nothing to help settle her mind as she had hoped. If anything, it made things worse. For without something else to focus on she could not stop herself from wondering if any woman were really that talented… and knowledgeable… and witty… and beautiful… all in one package.

Darcy immediately discerned Elizabeth’s presence among those gathered. His smile faltered, however, as soon as he saw Vian move to stand even closer to her as he himself made his approach. He dismounted from his horse and offered greetings that were as bereft of warmth as the day was of the sun. His eyes fleetingly alighted on Elizabeth, who saw that they were full of scorn and devoid of any pleasure, and then moved to linger on the gentleman at her side.

“Mr. Darcy!” Vian smiled. “Your ears must have been ringing, for we have just been discussing you.”

Darcy looked at Brougham, who only smiled in return.

“His Lordship has been telling us about your appreciation for fine musical performances and explaining how seldom your praise is earned.”

Darcy looked confused, assuming that his admiration for Elizabeth’s talents could not possibly have been discussed in this company. Finally, thinking at last that the talk must have related to his sister, he answered in a way that would compliment them both.

“Indeed. There is little that brings me greater pleasure than a performance given by a lady who possesses both true talent and natural charm.”

“That is exactly what I said, Darcy,” Brougham added agreeably.

“Well then,” Vian continued, “since you naturally admire beautiful and spirited women, one can see why you would seek out their company.” His gaze stayed on Darcy, never wavering.

Darcy, wary of the Frenchman’s proximity to Elizabeth, locked eyes with Vian, the scene reminiscent of the duel, and he replied coolly, “I would never fail to admire such a lady.”

Holly, still thinking of her obligation to prove she could be pleasant to Lord Brougham, reluctantly assuming it also extended to his friend, made an effort to address him.

“Lord Brougham has made us aware of your plans for this evening, Mr. Darcy. I am sure you will find plenty to admire at Sir Tristan’s.”

Everyone’s eyes focused on Darcy, who hesitantly looked at Elizabeth before turning to Brougham and stating emphatically, “I did not realise that our evening plans were discussed.”

“Ah, yes, Darcy,” Brougham smiled cordially, “I was just explaining to Miss Bennet why her invitation to tea had to be declined.”

Darcy’s eyes searched for Elizabeth’s but she had already turned away, seemingly looking at something on the other side of the street.

Vian took one last look at Darcy before saying, “We should be going, Mesdemoiselles. We would not want our tea to get cold.” He then offered his arm to Miss Bennet, who automatically took it, and then reached out with his other arm to Miss Tournier.

“Indeed, Monsieur,” Holly agreed merrily. “Good afternoon, Lord Brougham, Mr. Darcy.”

“Good afternoon,” Lizzy added, returning from her distant thoughts and sending a wide smile to the gentlemen, who now stood watching the departing threesome, each with completely different thoughts running through their mind.

The moment Miss Bennet realised that she held on to his arm, she released it and moved away slightly. Vian accepted the gesture with no little regret, and decided a conversation would help cover the awkwardness between them.

“Ma chere Cousine, you do not seem to like the Misses Torence.”

“No one likes being looked down upon, Sir.”

“Did they mistreated you in any way?”

“On the contrary. They do not treat me any way at all. We see them only in church, and I am sure they never notice our presence there, nor would they notice the lack thereof.”

“I see,” Vian gave a consolatory smile. “Are they really as beautiful as Lord Brougham suggested?”

“Yes, they are.” Her voice went down a notch when she admitted it.

“What do they look like then?”

“It is difficult to describe someone’s looks with words.”

“I am certain that such an astute artist as yourself would find a way to give a general picture.”

“Hmm.” Holly wrinkled her nose. “Impeccable.”

“Impeccable?” Vian was intrigued.

“Yes. Impeccable.” Holly thought for a minute about how to better explain what she meant. “Take Lord Brougham and Mr. Darcy for example. They are both always very well dressed and one can judge their wealth just by looking at their attire. But while one could easily spot some loose thread or a wrinkle on Lord Brougham’s clothing, Mr. Darcy always looks impeccable. As if rain, mud or dust could never touch him. He appears intimidating to the point that it is difficult to tell him one’s thoughts or to refuse him anything, even though one might not approve of him at all. The same might be said about the Misses Torence. One almost does not know if one could approach them, they look as if they are cut from a different cloth than we are.”

Vian smiled, intrigued by her description. “And what do I look like to you?”

“I could not be objective, Monsieur. You are family. But I think somewhere between Lord Brougham and Mr. Darcy. Your clothing is flawless, but your figure is lighter than either gentleman’s, so you do not appear as stately as Mr. Darcy does. Yet it is not so much that that makes it so, but rather your manner of conducting yourself. You are an open doorway, surrounded with foliage and sunlight, inviting one in, while he is a closed door, harshly lit, with a large, iron lion’s head knocker positioned front and centre.”

She hesitated, and then added, “I must agree with Lord Brougham though. Mr. Darcy and Miss Patience would present a very pretty couple together. At least from the outside.”

“You think so?” Vian was surprised, thinking that the gentleman’s interest in Elizabeth was something entirely different, but then maybe his cousin did not know about that at all, or, more likely, maybe she was right and it was not something the gentleman would like others to know.

“Well, I cannot imagine anyone else, really. Perhaps he might find another woman to his liking, but I do not think he would willingly make a public appearance with any lady who might earn his scorn.”

“Interesting.”

Looking over at Miss Bennet, he realised that this particular conversation, while it might have covered their personal awkwardness and taken his own mind from it, had done nothing to soothe her at all. If anything, it had enhanced the confusion and doubt that he knew she was trying to hide. Having made a study of her every look and expression since he had met her, he felt he knew her face as well as he knew his own and could so clearly read what was written there.

She was hurt and he keenly felt it. Regardless of what had happened between them, he was not unaffected by her, as hard as he tried not to be. Even if what currently troubled her was necessary to her finally coming around to him, it did not mean that he was untouched by seeing her suffer or her spurning the support of his arm. On the one hand he wished to take her to his chest and comfort her, on the other he desired to put her over his knee and give her a spanking. Yet at times he was filled more with a deep longing and with regrets for his own mistimed actions.

Yet it was for the best that she finally realized, once and for all, that Darcy was not the man she had somehow convinced herself he was. He briefly caught her eye before she quickly turned her head away again, and the look was unmistakably one of embarrassment. The kindest thing he could do for her now would be to keep her cousin occupied so she would not need to explain her silence to Miss Tournier, who would notice it sooner or later if she had nothing else to concentrate on, and so he engaged her cousin in a game of words, challenging her to give one that she felt described each person he had met since he had arrived.

Brougham noticed that Darcy seemed out of sorts all day long. Their outing had not seemed to help the matter either, or rather it had only made things worse. It must have been Darcy’s reaction to seeing Miss Bennet together with Vian. If only he could stop pining over the woman and look around!

“Darcy,” Brougham finally addressed his friend who was looking absentmindedly out of the window of the carriage. “I hope you will not forget your manners this evening. Sir Tristan and his family are really a very nice party. Please, do not let your ill-humour get the better of you.”

Darcy glared at his friend but did not answer. The supposition that his manners might be inadequate for Brougham’s acquaintances did not warrant any reply at all from the gentleman’s perspective. Instead, he returned to the view outside and his previous musings.

He had wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth, and he regretted the lost opportunity. He also wondered how she had taken it when her invitation was turned down. He knew it was nothing important, at short notice and all, but she had wished to spend the afternoon with him and he did not like to refuse her anything, and especially not his attention.

His thoughts just as frequently drifted to Vian. It was one thing to know about the man’s presence in her company, and completely another to witness it. Darcy did not like what he had seen. The Frenchman had stood entirely too close to her, and the man’s gesture of offering her his arm (which she had accepted), seemed to Darcy devoid of any causality. On the contrary. It felt as if the touch was stolen from him. She had told him that Vian would stay away, but surely nothing Darcy saw today could be called distant enough. Nothing except herself.

She was distant and quiet. He yearned to see tenderness in her eyes, but he saw none of it if he had even chanced to catch her looking at him at all. He did not expect any display of affection, but it was so different from what he usually knew of her that he could not help but feel disappointment. If it rained again tomorrow he would have to go to Rosefarm as soon as possible.

Sir Tristan was all politeness, his wife agreeable and his daughters eager to be pleased. As was agreed, Brougham led Miss Torence to the table, and Darcy spent the dinner talking to Miss Patience. His friend was not mistaken, she was lively, and her conversation both intelligent and spirited. Exactly what was needed to break down Darcy’s usual reserve. He wondered at the seldom sojourns of the family in the area, as her knowledge of their surroundings seemed vast and her interest in Scottish culture sincere. They discussed the influence of Ossian on Goethe and Scott’s writings and, after Darcy admitted to having the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the latter, their conversation evolved into examining the connection between legends and poetry. Their views differed as to authenticity of the retellings, where Miss Patience defended Macpherson’s claim, either because of her being convinced by Blair’s Dissertation or she had simply found the romantic perspective appealing, while Darcy held Johnson’s point of view. Yet the difference of opinions did nothing to make the conversation less agreeable to either of them, and Brougham watched his friend from across the table, thinking that he had not seen Darcy so animated for a very long time.

The gentlemen discussed the fruits of the past harvest over brandy and cigars, and when they rose to join the ladies they felt more than ready for the promised entertainment. During the musical performance Miss Patience had captured the attention of both of her guests, as Brougham’s eyes were so drawn both to her lovely bosom, pleasantly exposed by the décolletage of her evening gown, and the muslin of her dress delicately wrapped over her thighs as she held her instrument between her knees, that he had completely forgotten to observe his friend. He was therefore very pleased when he heard Darcy offer his genuine compliments when the last notes of music faded out in the parlour. Later, after a couple of hands of whist that Darcy had played remarkably ill, the gentlemen thanked the family for the enjoyable evening and departed.

Once in the carriage, Darcy became silent again, however, his quietness had nothing of the previous tension in it, but instead appeared rather as calm reflection, and so it was with a confident smile that Brougham congratulated himself on his excellent plan. During the dinner he had mentioned to Lady Torence that his friend seemed uncommonly animated in the presence of her daughter, and patiently answered all of her questions about crucial details referring to Darcy’s wealth and independence. Indeed, he was convinced they would soon receive another invitation.

“So what do you think of Miss Patience, Darcy?” Brougham finally let his curiosity reign.

“I think she must be very like one of her paternal grandparents.”

“Do you?” Brougham said in surprise. It was far from any answer he had expected. “And which one of them would it be, I wonder?”

“Undoubtedly it was the one who had named her father.” Darcy smiled enigmatically and turned back to the darkness outside the window. *

Lizzy stood at the window of the parlour staring blindly out into the night. She wondered if he was enjoying his dinner this evening, and she worked hard to not imagine how events might be progressing for him. She was ashamed of the thoughts that had been running through her mind. It was not like her to begrudge a pleasant time to someone she loved, yet she found herself doing so now, and she did not like herself for it very much at all.

Logically, she knew that she should not be thinking anything special about what had occurred. What had actually been said today after all? The fact that Mr. Darcy had not mentioned the dinner to her meant nothing really. He could have simply forgotten it or thought it unimportant, which it actually was when one considered all of the other things they had talked of yesterday. After all, what was a dinner invitation other than a request for company? It meant nothing on its own.

And therein lay the problem, because it was not on its own. Lord Brougham had made it clear that Mr. Darcy had expressed a wish to meet such wonderful ladies, and particularly the most talented and esteemed one of the sisters. And what was worse, he had stated a preference that he would sit with her during the meal and become better acquainted. In fact he might have already met her and his eagerness was a desire for more. However, even his voiced intentions could be explained away if she thought long and hard about it, although with some difficulty. He did appreciate fine music, for example, and good conversation, and there was nothing wrong in that, even if it was with another woman…

But for Lord Brougham to express his friend’s intimate wishes so openly had been strange. His knowing of his friend’s feelings for her made it even odder that he would say such things at all in her presence – unless he assumed that Mr. Darcy was over her now and interested in finding someone else. She really had no idea how much Lord Brougham had been told, only that he knew something of Mr. Darcy’s feelings for her. Perhaps Lord Brougham thought her uninterested in his friend, since Mr. Darcy himself was in doubt about it himself for some time. That might explain it. He had seemed to look directly at her more than he had the others. Was it her imagination or had he been judging her feelings to make sure he was not overstepping any bounds? There was no way for her to know.

She almost moaned aloud when her tormented thoughts brought another possibility for Lord Brougham’s behaviour to the forefront. She really did not know Mr. Darcy as well as she might. Not yet. She had no idea how he normally behaved around women. Her only experience thus far had been what she had naturally come to accept as fact. She had assumed he was not the sort of man who showed any special interest in women in general, other than what was politely expected. He had been mostly reserved around them in the past, with the exception of herself, and she realised what a comfort that assumption had been. What if it was not normally the way of it but was instead the exception to the rule? Since he had won the object of the pursuit that had occupied his mind during most of the time she had known him, what behaviour could she expect from him regarding other women once things settled back to normal for him? Lord Brougham knew him much better in that regard. His open discussion of Mr. Darcy’s preferences and wishes for the coming evening might only be a reflection of his knowledge of the habits of his friend.

All of this, coupled with both Mr. Darcy’s look to her upon arrival, which had been so cold, and his curt manner when he had discovered she had learnt about the dinner, made it very difficult to know how to feel about what she had heard. She knew he loved her! If he did not he would have given up long ago and certainly would not have proposed once again. There had to be reasonable answers for all of it. She only needed to speak to him to discover what they were. Still, while she was certain her emotions should not be so affected, she could do nothing presently to change the fact that they were. Against her will, and all logic be damned, she could not help herself – and she felt all the more stupid and awkward because of it.

From her chair situated cosily by the fire, Mrs. Tournier carefully peered over the top of her book in order to observe her niece without her knowledge. It was not that she meant to spy exactly, but she did not want Lizzy’s behaviour to be tainted by any mask she might slip on for another’s benefit. She could plainly see that the girl looked positively lost. Lizzy had not seemed her normal self for quite some time, but she had been particularly quiet since returning home that afternoon. Something was afoot, she thought, and it was high time she herself became informed of exactly what it was.

“Holly,” she called out to her daughter who was just entering the parlour. “Come sit by your mother and entertain me with the details of your walk today. Leave nothing out, my dear, for I find even mundane things to be of interest tonight.”

* Sir Tristan was named for Tristan of “Tristan and Isolde”.

This story is written by Laura and Sylwia, and they own full © copyrights to it.

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