"We must return to our own box, my dear," the Countess said, tapping his arm. "The second act is about to begin, and you know how the Duchess of Richmond glares if one enters late."
"The Duchess of Richmond is a harpy," the Earl grumbled, but he straightened up. He turned to Mr Gardiner. "Gardiner, this has been illuminating. Truly."
"The pleasure was mine, my Lord," Mr Gardiner bowed.
The Earl looked at the group. He took on his son, who was looking at Jane as if she were the sun and he was a planet caught in her orbit. Then he glanced at Darcy, who was standing beside Elizabeth like a sentinel.
"Well," the Earl huffed. "Can't leave it at this. Too much to discuss."
His wife caught the meaning at once, and stepped forward, commanding the room with a rustle of velvet.
"Indeed," she said. Her voice was clear, authoritative, and broke no argument. "It seems foolish to interrupt such spirited conversations."
She turned her gaze on Mrs Gardiner, then encompassed the Bennets.
"We are holding a dinner on Christmas Eve," she announced. "At Matlock House. It will be a small affair. Family only."
She paused, letting the wordsFamily onlyhang in the air like a decree.
"We should be delighted if you would all join us," she continued, looking directly at Miss Elizabeth. "Mr and MrsGardiner, and the Misses Bennet. And Georgiana and Fitzwilliam, of course, assuming they can tear themselves away from their own preparations."
Robert looked as if he had just been handed the keys to the kingdom. "Mother, that is a splendid idea."
"I know," she said coolly. "I have them occasionally."
"We..." Mrs Gardiner looked at her husband, then at her nieces. She saw the hope on Jane's face and the stunned surprise on Elizabeth's. "We would be honoured, Lady Matlock."
"Excellent. Seven o'clock. Do not be late. The Earl gets cranky if the soup is cold."
With a final, regal nod, she swept out of the box.
The Earl lingered for a second. He pointed a finger at Robert. "Bring the boy," he said, gesturing to Darcy. "And don't be late."
He winked at Mr Gardiner. "We'll finish that brandy discussion then."
And he was gone.
Silence descended on the box. The music from the pit began to swell. Robert let out a long, ragged exhale and collapsed into his chair. "Good God. I think I need a drink. She invited you. She invited you to the family dinner."
"Is that significant?" Miss Bennet asked.
"Significant?" Robert laughed, a giddy, hysterical sound. "My dear Miss Bennet, my mother hasn't invited anyone outside the peerage to Christmas Eve dinner since 1792. And I believe that was a mistake involving a mere vicar."
Darcy turned to Miss Elizabeth. He looked shell-shocked.
"ChristmasEve," he murmured.
"It seems," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face, "that your family is full of surprises, Mr Darcy."
"You have no idea," he whispered. "You have absolutely no idea."
As the curtain rose on the second act, Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the darkness, and realized that this was it. He had been given a chance at happiness, and it was up to him to make the most of it.
Chapter Nine: The Rake in Repose (Panic)
Robert Fitzwilliam, Viscount Keathley, heir to an earldom, was currently staring at his reflection in the mirror of his dressing room at Matlock House and coming to a horrifying realization: he was turning into his cousin.
It was Christmas Eve. He was tying his cravat for the fourth time, after dismissing his valet for over-fussing. He was sweating. And he was worrying about whether the flower arrangement in the hall was too ostentatious for a dinner party that included a warehouse owner.
