"They are there," Darcy assured him. "Pull yourself together. We are about to make an impression."
"A frozen impression."
They dismounted in the courtyard. A stable boy ran out, his eyes widening as he recognized Darcy, and then widening further as he took in the crest on Robert's saddle.
Hill, the housekeeper, opened the door before they even knocked. She looked at Darcy, then at the stranger beside him.
"Mr Darcy!" she exclaimed. "We were not expecting you, Sir. The mistress is in the parlour."
"Thank you, madam." Darcy stepped into the warmth of the hall, Robert stumbling in behind him and immediately gravitating towards the nearest fireplace.
The sound of voices drifted from the parlour. Loud voices. Specifically, Mrs Bennet's voice.
"...and I told Mrs Long that her lace was positively yellow, and she had the gall to say—"
The door opened and Darcy stepped in.
The room went silent. Mrs Bennet, who was reclining on a sofa with a plate of mince pies on her lap, froze. Miss Mary was at the piano, and Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were trimming a bonnet.
"Mr Darcy!" Mrs Bennet shrieked, scrambling to sit up. She patted her hair frantically. "Good heavens! We thought you were in London! With the... with everyone else!"
"Good morning, Mrs Bennet," Darcy bowed. He stepped aside to reveal his companion, who was currently trying to defrost his eyebrows. "May I present my cousin. Lord Keathley."
The effect was instantaneous. Mrs Bennet stopped breathing. Her eyes bulged.
"Lord Keathley?" she squeaked. "A... a Lord?"
"A Viscount, Madam," Robert said, stepping forward and summoning a charm that defied his core temperature. He bowed low over Mrs Bennet's hand. "Forgive the intrusion. We are impulsive creatures. But my cousin spoke so highly of your hospitality that I could not resist."
"A Viscount!" Mrs Bennet breathed, looking as if she might faint from pure ecstasy. "Oh! Oh, my! Girls! Stand up! It is a Viscount! In our parlour! Mary, stop playing that dreary tune! Kitty, hide the ribbons! Oh, my Lord, please, sit down. Take the good chair! Hill! Hill! Bring the wine! The good wine!"
Robert grinned. He looked at Darcy with a sparkle in his eye.I love her,he mouthed silently.
"You are too kind, Mrs Bennet," Robert said, sitting in the offered chair and basking in her adoration. "Truly. And you have a charming home. Cozy. Delightful."
"Is Mr Bennet at home?" Darcy asked, cutting through the flattery before Mrs Bennet could offer Robert her firstborn child, with or without her husband's approval.
"He is in his study, Mr Darcy. But oh, never mind him! Stay here! Tell me, my Lord, do you know the Prince Regent? Is he as stout as they say?"
"I must speak with Mr Bennet," Darcy insisted. "Robert?Are you coming?"
"And leave this delightful company?" Robert asked, looking aghast. He leaned back in his chair, accepting a mince pie from a trembling Hill. "Absolutely not. You go, Fitzwilliam. You are excellent at serious conversations. And while you are at it, ask on my behalf as well, will you? I shall stay here," Robert declared. "Mrs Bennet, will you tell me about Mrs Long's lace? I am on the edge of my seat."
Darcy left him to his fate. As he walked towards the library, he heard Mrs Bennet say, "Oh, my Lord, you are too handsome! Just like my Jane!"
Darcy smiled grimly. Robert was in his element. Now for the hard part.
Mr Bennet's library was exactly as Darcy remembered it: a sanctuary of dust, books, and cynicism. The master of the house was seated at his desk, reading a letter, looking entirely undisturbed by the chaos erupting down the hall.
"Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet said without looking up. "I assume the high-pitched screaming indicates you have brought a guest. Or a circus bear."
"A Viscount, actually," Darcy said, closing the door.
Mr Bennet looked up over his spectacles. "Ah. That explains it. My wife has a specific frequency for the peerage." He leaned back. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were in London, avoiding Meryton's society."
"I was," Darcy admitted, taking the chair opposite. "I failed."
"Evidently." Mr Bennet studied him. "You look cold, Mr Darcy. And you look determined. It is a dangerous combination."
