His sister laughed softly — a fragile sound at first, but one that strengthened in the quiet sanctuary of the library. “Then I need not dread the assembly as much as I did this afternoon. With you and Anne beside me, perhaps I may even survive it.”
“You shall do more than survive,” Darcy said, rising to offer his arm as they left the room together. “You shall endure it with grace, and I shall endure it with restrained patience. And between us, Lady Catherine may find her plans somewhat less inevitable than she imagines. After all, if there is an assembly, you should enjoy at least part of it; Providence has surely more ideas than Lady Catherine ever admits into her perspective.”
Georgiana smiled at his words and gently bowed in understanding and respect.
And with that, they walked into the corridor where the last of the evening lamplight flickered, their steps measured, united, and prepared — as much as any Darcy could be — for the formidable lady of Rosings Park.
Three
The carriage rattled slightly as its wheels struck a rut in the road, the sound of iron-bound rims muffled beneath the weight of weeks-long travel. Outside, hedgerows stood dry and sun-worn beneath the August heat, while beyond them, the soft rise and fall of distant hills broke the flatness of Kentish farmland.
Elias Bennet shifted the curtain aside and glanced out—then let it fall again with a thoughtful hum. “We passed Littlebourne a few minutes ago,” he said. “If I am not mistaken, there are three or four miles left.”
James gave a noncommittal grunt, though his boots tapped faintly against the carriage floor—an unconscious rhythm that betrayed some inner restlessness.
With a sidelong glance at his brother, Elias noted the familiar sign of unease and remarked quietly, “You have worn that same expression since we crossed Blackheath.”
James let out a slow breath through his nose. “It is not every day one is invited to a great Assembly where the presumed purpose is to parade before the niece of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“Parade?” Elias echoed, arching a brow in gentle amusement. “A strong word, considering we were neither ordered to wear livery nor carry calling cards etched in gold.”
The dry retort came low and swift from James: “Yet I can feel the auction block beneath my feet, brother.”
A faint smile curved Elias’s lips as he regarded his brother with fond tolerance. “Your imagination is as dramatic as Mother’s when the post is late.”
“I suspect you exaggerate,” James muttered, settling back against the leather squabs with a resigned sigh that drew a soft chuckle from Elias.
“Not nearly enough,” he replied, his tone light yet sympathetic, “though I confess the prospect does carry its own peculiar weight.”
James’s reply came dry and low: “Miss Darcy—if she is anything like the description our cousin so reverently scrawled—must be a terrifying creature. Accomplished, modest, faultless, and no doubt blessed with a jaw tight enough to sharpen a pencil.”
Elias snorted, his eyes sparkling with quiet humour as he shook his head. “You forgot rich.”
“Yes, I did. Thank you. Add to that: wealthy, well-connected, and probably under the impression that any gentleman from Hertfordshire still keeps chickens in the parlour.”
A pause, then Elias asked, more mildly, “And do you truly believe she will be so dreadful as all that?”
James tilted his head, as if willing himself into fairness. “I believe she is likely to be everything her aunt admires. And Lady Catherine’s admiration does not extend to warmth or whimsy. Therefore, I expect the niece to be cold, particular, overly correct, and—” his mouth quirked, “—probably plain.”
His brother looked amused. “Do you include that last solely for your own protection?”
“I include it because it follows, logically. A handsome woman might still be endured if she is warm, or clever, or kind. But ifshe is merely accomplished and frigid in manner, then surely her beauty is the sort to freeze a room.” He shifted again. “No, Elias. I do not fear Miss Darcy. I merely resent the assumption that a fortune must be matched to an heir—as if we were specimens in some moral museum. Cousin Collins might have good intentions, but—”
“I doubt you are alone in that sentiment,” Elias murmured. “But I suspect you are being premature. There will be other young ladies present. An Assembly hosted by Lady Catherine is not likely to include only her niece. And besides—” He hesitated.
James gave him a pointed look. “Yes?”
Elias spoke more slowly. “It is not only the dancing that matters. A gathering such as this means influence. Connections. Half the solicitors in Kent bow to the Darcys and de Bourghs, and I would wager one or two of their family counsel may attend.”
James understood at once. “You think it might lead to something. Probably to a job position for you, brother. Keep dreaming.”
“I think,” Elias said, “that a man of moderate income, good reputation, and useful experience might make a favourable impression, if he keeps his head. And perhaps that man—if he makes himself known—might be remembered when the next junior partner is needed.”
“You are speaking of yourself, of course, Elias.”
“I am. Uncle Phillips has been generous, and I value what I have learned. But if I am to advance beyond property settlements and quarterly rents, I must eventually attach myself to a more substantial practice. Canterbury, perhaps. London, if I am bold.”
James regarded him for a moment. “So, Elias, you do not mind this little expedition into society so long as it leads you to the right study lined with ledgers and arguments.”
