"I did no such thing."
"Relax, Cousin," Richard laughed, dropping onto the sofa Darcy had so carefully positioned. "We are here to help. We shall handle the conversation. You just focus on breathing and not looking like a gargoyle."
Darcy looked at his watch. Eleven o'clock. One hour left. He looked at the roses. Then, at the lemon biscuits Mrs Crauford had just placed on a silver salver. Then, at his family.
He was doomed.
The hour between eleven and twelve passed in a blur of nervous pacing (Darcy), smug commentary (Robert), and actual helpfulness (Richard and Georgiana). Mrs Annesley, Georgiana's companion—a gentle, sensible woman who was used to the eccentricities of the aristocracy—sat quietly in the corner, ready to offer support.
Then, the clock struck twelve. And precisely three minutes later, Mostyn announced: "Mrs Gardiner. Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Darcy stopped breathing.
They entered. Mrs Gardiner led the way, looking elegant in a walking dress of dark green. Miss Bennet followed, breathless in blue, her eyes widening as she took in the sheer volume of flora in the room.
And then Miss Elizabeth.
She wore a pelisse of brown velvet, simple and becoming. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes bright and—Darcy noted with a sinking heart—guarded. She looked at the room, at the roses, at the assembly of Fitzwilliams, and finally at him.
She offered a small, polite curtsy. "Mr Darcy."
"Miss Elizabeth," he bowed. "Mrs Gardiner. Miss Bennet. You are welcome."
Georgiana stepped forward. This was her moment. She was the hostess. Her hands were trembling slightly, but sheheld her head high.
"We are so pleased you could come," she said, her voice soft but clear. "Please, do sit down. We... we have tea."
"And a botanical garden, apparently," Elizabeth said, a small smile touching her lips as she looked at a massive vase of pink roses.
"Those are Robert's fault," Georgiana said quickly.
"I accept full responsibility," Robert declared, stepping forward to bow over Miss Bennet's hand. "I merely thought that such beauty required a proper setting. Though I fear even nature's finest efforts pale in comparison to the guest of honour."
Miss Bennet blushed a deep, becoming rose. "My Lord, you are... exorbitant."
"I am merely accurate." He offered his arm. "Come, Miss Bennet. Let me show you this particular bloom. It reminded me of your..."
He led her away towards the window. The dynamic of the room settled instantly, as if arranged by a choreographer.
Robert clamped onto Miss Bennet, creating a private world of murmurs and smiles by the window.
Richard, sensing his duty, immediately engaged Mrs Gardiner and Georgiana. "Mrs Gardiner, you are from Lambton, therefore you must settle a bet. Robert claims the inn there serves the best mutton in Derbyshire, but I maintain it is the..."
Georgiana, relieved to have a buffer, joined in eagerly, and Mrs Annesley offered quiet, supportive comments.
Which left Darcy and Miss Elizabeth.
Alone. In the middle of the rug.
He watched her take off her gloves. He watched her gaze drift around the room, taking in the grandeur of his London home. It was a beautiful room—high ceilings, fine art, heavy silk drapes. But with her standing in it, everything else seemed to fade into the background.
She looked at him. Her expression was expectant. She was waiting for him to be the host. To be the gentleman.
"I..." he started, then cleared his throat. "I trust the drive from Cheapside was agreeable?"
"It was short," she replied. "And without incident. We did not stumble into any Viscounts today."
"That is fortunate."
