First came the Viscount, Robert Fitzwilliam. He was resplendent in a bottle-green coat that cost more than the Gardiners' entire house, carrying a cane and wearing a smile that could charm the paint off the walls. His eyes found Jane instantly, and stayed there.
Next was a stranger—a man in a red military coat, tall and jovial, with a face that looked ready to laugh at a moment's notice. This must be the Colonel.
Then Miss Darcy, looking terrified but resolute in a pale blue walking dress, clutching her muff as if it contained state secrets.
And finally, bringing up the rear like a prisoner of war, was Mr Darcy.
He looked miserable. He looked stiff. He looked around the modest, comfortable drawing room not with disdain, but with the desperate air of a man who expects a trapdoor to open beneath his feet.
"Mrs Gardiner," the Viscount stepped forward, bowing over her hand with easy grace. "Forgive the intrusion. We warned you yesterday that we were charmed, but I fear we failed to warn you that we are also impatient."
"Lord Keathley," Mrs Gardiner replied, curtsying with a dignity that matched his own. "You are welcome. Please, allow me to introduce my nieces properly."
Introductions were made. The Colonel—Richard Fitzwilliam—bowed to Elizabeth with a twinkle in his eye.
"So this is the famous Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice low. "Robert has described you vividly. I am delighted to see he did not exaggerate about the eyes."
"And I am delighted to see that the Fitzwilliam family travels in a pack, Colonel," Elizabeth replied sweetly. "Is it for safety, or simply intimidation?"
He laughed, a loud, booming sound. "A bit of both, Miss Elizabeth. A bit of both."
Meanwhile, the Viscount had gravitated towards Jane like a moth to a very beautiful flame.
"Miss Bennet," he said, ignoring the chair offered to him in favour of standing near her sofa. "I trust you have recovered from the hazards of Piccadilly? I spent a sleepless night worrying that the pavement might have done you lasting damage."
"I am quite well, my Lord," Jane said, blushing. "You are too solicitous."
"Not at all," he declared. "I am merely observant."
Elizabeth watched them, narrowing her eyes. The Viscount was flirting. Aggressively. And he was doing it with a complete lack of regard for the fact that Jane was supposedly heartbroken over his cousin's friend. In fact, he seemed to be actively trying to make her forget Mr Bingley existed.
Interesting,Elizabeth thought.Very interesting.
The seating arrangements settled into a tense geometry. Lord Keathley and Jane were an island of flirtation on the sofa. The Colonel had pulled a chair close to Elizabeth, clearly intending to be entertained. Miss Darcy sat near Mrs Gardiner, looking shy.
And Mr Darcy sat on a chair by the window, as far from everyone as physically possible without leaving the room. He was staring at the carpet pattern with intense fascination.
"So," the Colonel said, accepting a cup of tea from Mrs Gardiner. "We find ourselves in Gracechurch Street. I must confess, Mrs Gardiner, your home is far more inviting than I had been led to believe."
"By whom?" Elizabeth asked sharply. "By those who believe elegance cannot exist east of Temple Bar?"
"Precisely," he grinned. "My mother, the Countess, thinks City is inhabited entirely by chimney sweeps and fog."
"My Aunt," Mr Darcy spoke up suddenly, his voice rusty, "has strong opinions on many subjects. They are not always accurate."
Everyone looked at him. He flushed.
"Indeed," Mrs Gardiner smiled, turning her attention to the silent giant in the corner. "It is often the case with those who have not travelled. Derbyshire, for instance, is often misunderstood by Londoners as being wild and uncivilized, yet I have always found it to be the most beautiful county in England."
Mr Darcy's head snapped up. "You know Derbyshire, ma'am?"
"I was born there," Mrs Gardiner said quietly. "In Lambton. My father was a solicitor there for thirty years. I grew up running over the hills that border Pemberley."
The silence that followed this announcement was profound.
Mr Darcy stared at her. "Lambton? You are the daughter of Mr Nash?"
"I am," she nodded. "Did you know him?"
