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  “Lydia,” said her uncle, his tone brooking no disagreement.

  “Oh, do not concern yourself for me,” replied Lydia, turning more of her attention to her uncle. “I have no desire to speak again to Mr. Darcy.”

  “Then you will oblige me.”

  With a huff, Lydia said: “I have said I would, have I not?”

  Though her uncle’s gaze rested on her, he said nothing further. The Bennet sisters were soon on the way back to Longbourn, following the road which led to the estate. Her uncle, after calling for his carriage to journey to the estate and wait for him there, escorted them, as if they were small children in need of a minder. Lydia Bennet was a young woman, only sixteen, but she considered herself mature, and not in need of coddling. She had always loved her uncles, but there were times it seemed they smothered their nieces in thick, cotton blankets.

  “Lydia!” hissed Kitty as they were walking. “What did you think you were doing, baiting Mr. Darcy in that fashion?”

  “Nothing but a bit of fun, Kitty,” replied Lydia. When her sister looked at her with disbelief, Lydia exclaimed: “It was nothing.”

  “It seemed to me as if you were attempting to flirt with him,” muttered Kitty.

  “And if I was?” asked Lydia, daring her sister to protest. “What is it to anyone if I have a little fun with that gentleman?”

  “You almost provoked a brawl!” hissed Kitty.

  “Uncle and Mr. Darcy would not have come to blows,” said Lydia.

  “You know how protective Uncle is of us,” reminded Kitty.

  “Well, I did not know he was there.” It was nothing more than the truth, though it did not appease her sister. “Very well, then! Though I have already assured my uncle, I shall do the same with you—I shall not speak to Mr. Darcy again. There, are you happy?”

  It was clear that Kitty still did not believe her. But she nodded, her gesture seeming to promise she would ensure Lydia kept her word. Lydia did not think it was an issue, to be honest. It had been nothing more than a little harmless flirting. Who cared if the Darcys did not like the Bennets? Should Lydia wish to tease the man, she was determined to do it where her sisters—or overprotective uncles—could not witness.

  Chapter X

  Returning to Pemberley in the company of his siblings was nothing like the lighthearted journey to the town had been. The shock of the sudden confrontation with the Bennet family had rendered Darcy silent, requiring most of their ride back to the estate to consider it. Then contemplation gave way to anger, and Darcy seethed the rest of the way about his brother’s stupidity. The events in the bookshop had been benign compared to that between Alexander and Mr. Gardiner.

  They were riding down the long drive toward the house, Darcy still wrapped in his thoughts, when his brother’s casual indifference to the situation made itself known. “Well, that was almost a spot of trouble, was it not?”

  Head whirling to the side to gaze at his brother in astonishment, Darcy fixed him with a fierce glare. “Almost a spot of trouble? A spot of trouble you provoked with your imprudent actions and unthinking words.”

  “The girl is one of the most brazen chits I have ever met!” exclaimed Alexander, as if that was a valid defense.

  “I care not if she was the very Queen of the Night herself!” rejoined Darcy. “It may have escaped your notice, but she is the daughter of a baron and a member of a family with whom the Darcys do not share good relations. In the past, if you look back thirty or forty years, this was a more active feud. There were times when arguments would turn into open fights, and on one occasion two servants engaged in a fight which almost ended in tragedy. I have no desire to return to those days!”

  Unable to stomach his brother’s further protests, Darcy kicked his horse forward, leaving his siblings behind. This business of calling Alexander back to Pemberley was a mistake—if he did not provoke a man connected to the Bennets to call him out it would be a miracle.

  Throwing his reins to a waiting groom, Darcy stalked into the house to make his sentiments known to his father. It was fortunate the man in question was at that very moment walking through the entrance hall.

  “This is a mistake, Father,” growled Darcy when he caught sight of his sire.

  “What is a mistake?” asked his father, mystified as to Darcy’s meaning.

  “Alexander’s presence in Derbyshire,” grated Darcy. “If he does not provoke a renewal of active hostility with the Bennets I shall be very surprised. If you do not wish to send him to London again, it would be best if he made his way to Thorndell to manage his own affairs. Anywhere but here would be preferable.”

  “Has something happened?” asked Mr. Darcy, his countenance darkening.

  “What has your eldest son in a tizzy is the incident today in Lambton,” said Alexander as he stepped into the hall, Georgiana trailing him in wide-eyed astonishment. “I spoke without thinking, Father. The fault is mine.”

  Though Alexander’s words surprised Darcy, for he might have thought his brother would attempt to minimize what had happened, his father scowled and beckoned them all to follow him. They did so, not taking the time to change after their ride, and after they had entered the sitting-room, Mr. Darcy calling for tea, he turned to his progeny, his arched eyebrow demanding an explanation.

  “The Bennet sisters were all in town today,” said Darcy, “along with Bingley and some cousin I do not know. The true problem was Alexander’s behavior with the youngest Bennet sisters and their uncle’s appearance.”

  There was no need to specify which uncle Darcy referenced, for his father understood his meaning at once and scowled in response. Again, however, Alexander spoke up and accepted responsibility.

  “Do not blame Mr. Gardiner, Father, for it was my unthinking words which created the problem.”

  “It would be best if you inform me what happened,” said Mr. Darcy.

  The brother shared the task of relating the account of the events in Lambton, Georgiana remaining silent for the most part. Darcy informed his father of their parting when they arrived in town, glossing over everything that had occurred before coming upon the scene in Lambton’s streets. When he had finished his account and spoke of the confrontation between Alexander and Mr. Gardiner, Alexander made his communication, and to Darcy’s surprise, it was candid. The explanations offered, Mr. Darcy sat back to consider the matter and the potential consequences of what had happened.

  Darcy, while his father was thinking, shot his brother a sidelong look. “I am surprised your account was so forthright, Brother.”

  “I am able to take responsibility for my own actions, William.”

  Though the reply was not in any way facile, it still provoked Darcy’s ire. “That is interesting, Alexander, for, by my account, you have rarely accepted the blame for what you have done.”

  “That is enough,” interrupted their father, looking between them, his tone brooking no disagreement. “There is no call to rehash the past—I am much more interested in dealing with the here and now.”

  Darcy nodded, as did his brother, though Alexander’s was an echo of his old indifference. Having their agreement, the elder Darcy directed a chiding look at his son.

  “That was very poorly done, Alexander. Not only should you not have spoken to the Bennet sisters at all, but to say what you did about the girl, and to the uncle who is close to the family, no less! It would be best if you stayed away from the Bennets altogether.”

  “That is a fact,” said Darcy, vinegar and salt in equal measures in his tone. “Nothing good can come from any continued attention paid to the youngest Bennets and you should not be drawing attention to yourself—not after what happened last year. Given how the youngest girls have acted, I have little faith in the good behavior of any of them—they seem quite an improper family to me.”

  “It is a fine thing when you tarnish an entire family based on the actions of one or two,” said Alexander.

  “The elder sisters were lovely,” said Georgiana,
though in her usual diffident manner.

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes found his daughter. “Did something happen before William entered the bookshop? As I recall, you have said little during this account.”

  “Miss Elizabeth bumped into me,” replied Georgiana. “Then she apologized to me at once, and induced Mr. Bingley to introduce us all to one another.” Georgiana paused and an unmistakable expression of distaste came over her. “Miss Bingley found me soon after I parted from William and Alexander, and after meeting the Bennets, she tried to usher me out, with some unkind words directed at the Miss Bennets.”

  While Darcy exchanged looks with his sister and father, Alexander burst out laughing. “That woman is utterly senseless! Can I assume one of the Miss Bennets put her in her place?”

  “Miss Elizabeth,” confirmed Georgiana. “She was not amused and let Miss Bingley know in a way that could not be misunderstood. They were very kind to me, insisting our families’ animosity should not induce us to incivility. Should I ever have the opportunity, I should like to come to know her better.”

  “The rancor should be lessened between us,” said their father. “But we must dismiss this notion of friendship without a second thought, however, for Darcys do not associate with Bennets.”

  “It seems to me, Father,” said Alexander, “we must forget old prejudices if this ill will between our families is ever to recede.”

  “That may be true,” replied Mr. Darcy, “but there is nothing we can do at present, particularly given the situation with Mr. Gardiner.”

  “You need not speak on the matter further,” said Alexander, interrupting his father’s next words. “I know William believes it would be best if I should go to Thorndell, but I am enjoying my time here with you far too much. Aunt Catherine and Cousin Anne are to come, as is Fitzwilliam. You need have no concern for me, for I shall stay away from all Bennets and endeavor to avoid Mr. Gardiner.”

  Though Darcy was uncertain this was for the best, his father eyed his second son for a moment before giving his assent. “Very well. To be honest, I was loath to give up your company so soon after getting it. If you do as you say, I believe that will be enough.”

  “It shall be, Father,” replied Alexander.

  The matter was thus settled, and the three siblings excused themselves to go to their rooms and change into more suitable clothing. Darcy’s mind was not on the conversation which had just taken place, for he knew he could not control his brother’s actions, nor could he insist his father send him away again. Instead, he considered Georgiana’s testimony of the Miss Bennets, comparing it with what he knew of them. And, in particular, he thought of Miss Elizabeth, could imagine the fire in her eyes as she faced down Miss Bingley. What a sight to see that must have been!

  The recitation of the day’s events to her parents at Longbourn went about how Elizabeth might have predicted it. With Mr. Collins and Uncle Gardiner with them, there was never any question of informing their father, not that any of them would have kept it from him, regardless. Lord Arundel listened to their account in silence, and when her uncle had finished saying his piece, their father turned to Lydia.

  “What passed between you, Lydia? Was the younger Darcy improper or in any way threatening?”

  “No, Papa,” said Lydia, Kitty nodding by her side. “If anything, I believe I might have provoked him, for I teased him.”

  Lord Arundel’s countenance darkened. “You teased him?”

  “I did,” replied Lydia. Elizabeth could not be more surprised, for her sister did not often confess to misbehavior. “Perhaps I was imprudent, but the man deserved it, with his impertinent greeting.”

  “It seems to me,” said Uncle Gardiner, “it would be best to avoid speaking to members of the Darcy family.”

  “You are correct, Uncle. I was not thinking when we met Mr. Darcy. It shall not happen again.”

  As Lord Arundel knew his youngest daughter was headstrong, he watched her for a moment, his gaze searching, before he nodded, albeit slowly. “Very well, as long as you have learned your lesson.” Then her father’s eyes found Elizabeth herself. “I suppose there was little you could do in the bookshop. It is not as if you could foresee bumping into the girl.”

  “No, I could not,” replied Elizabeth. “And Miss Darcy is not a girl who would seek to cause trouble, regardless. It was clear within two minutes of meeting her that she is shy.”

  “Be that as it may, I believe it is best to practice simple avoidance.”

  “Of course, Papa,” replied Elizabeth.

  “It has come to my mind,” interjected Mr. Collins, “that this business between you and the Darcy family is a matter which should not persist. Mr. Darcy, when he entered the shop, struck me as a most gentlemanly man, and given my association with his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I can say her ladyship is not a woman who would endure a ruffian in the intimacy of her family.

  “Furthermore,” said Mr. Collins, his manner now sounding pompous, “This contention must be of the devil. I would urge you, in the strongest manner possible, to take steps to effect a reconciliation between your houses, for who knows what evil this animosity will provoke.”

  “Yes, I had forgotten of your connection to the Darcys’ relation,” said Lord Arundel. “You were her parson before inheriting Brownlee, were you not?”

  Mr. Collins confirmed her father’s memory, prompting Lord Arundel to continue to speak. “I have met Lady Catherine myself. Is she still the same dictatorial woman she was when she was young?”

  Mr. Collins paused, considering how he might best answer. Elizabeth had heard him speak in warm tones concerning his previous patroness, though she knew he was observant enough to know when others, even those he respected, did not display perfect behavior. His diplomatic words proved Elizabeth’s supposition.

  “Lady Catherine is rather dictatorial,” allowed Mr. Collins. “Though I was only her parson for a short time, she displayed a distressing tendency to meddle in the parsonage’s business, and far too much inclination to direct when she should encourage. But she is a good woman for all that, for she cares for others. It is only that she believes she knows best in any situation, whether or not she knows anything of the subject.”

  “Yes, that is the Lady Catherine I have met,” was Lord Arundel’s sardonic reply. “It may be as you say, Cousin—perhaps it would be best to end the dispute between us. That may only be accomplished, however, if the Darcys wish it, and at present, I cannot say if they do. For now, the best strategy is avoidance.” Lord Arundel’s eyes found his youngest daughter. “I hope I have made myself clear?”

  “You have,” said Lydia, speaking for them all.

  And thus, they dropped the subject by mutual consent. During the next few days, Elizabeth found her thoughts returning to the Darcy family with great frequency. These were days where there was little occurring in the neighborhood, which meant the Bennets stayed peacefully at home, though Elizabeth engaged in her favorite pastimes of riding and walking. Though she saw none of the Darcys, she looked about as if expecting to see them, wondering what would happen if she should meet them again. Miss Darcy, she thought, would be reticent, yet friendly, though she could not say how the brothers might act. Elizabeth had no notion of disobeying her father, so it did not signify that she did not encounter them. And so matters continued, until one day when an event occurred which proved to be of great import to Elizabeth’s future.

  On that occasion, Elizabeth rode out on Midnight, taking in the sights and sounds of the waning winter, noting the onset of spring with gratitude, for she had never liked the colder weather. Whether fate or some unconscious impulse led her she could not understand, but after a time, she found herself on the northern border of Longbourn, leading Midnight up the gentle slope of the hill. When she arrived there, she looked down the valley, though she could not say if she hoped to see anyone. When there was no one in evidence, she sat down under the oak and pulled out her book. Soon she was engrossed in its pages, Midnight grazing nearb
y on a few hardy shoots which had already poked through the hardened soil.

  A few minutes later, Elizabeth looked up to see a rider approaching from the far side of the fence. Given his mount and stature, Elizabeth knew his identity long before he was close enough to make out his features. Rising, Elizabeth thought to go to Midnight and depart.

  “Good day, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy as he pulled his horse near to the fence. He looked at her for a moment, his eyebrows narrowed in curiosity. “It seems to me you enjoy reading, for this is the second time I have seen you with a book when out of doors. Most people prefer to do their reading when they are inside, and at this time of year, before a roaring fire.”

  Elizabeth’s instinct was to give the gentleman a polite reply to his greeting and excuse herself as her father had instructed. Why she did not, Elizabeth could never determine. Could it have been that fate led them to this spot, led her to the place where Mr. Darcy might come across her? The thought crossed her mind that a meeting at this far-flung location was an unlikely event. She did not know, but something prompted her response, allowing no thought of resisting.

  “Before a crackling fire is a place I love to read best, Mr. Darcy. As I am also a lover of nature, however, I occasionally enjoy combining reading and the outdoors.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded, saying: “Then we are alike in our love of nature, Miss Elizabeth, though I rarely take a book with me when I ride. It occurs to me to wonder if we read the same material.”

  Amusement welled up within Elizabeth’s breast, though she supposed she might as soon have felt insulted by his words. “Do you suppose I read Fanny Burney at all hours of the day and night?”

  Mr. Darcy appeared to accept the challenge, for he said: “Not when I have already seen you with a collection of Blake in your hand. What are you reading today?”

  “A collection of Cowper, actually,” said Elizabeth, holding up the small book she held so he could see the spine. “I will own that I do not always read poetry, for I find I must be in the correct mood to enjoy it. Today is such a beautiful day that I could not resist returning to an old friend.”