"Finally?" Elizabeth arched a brow, shooting a glance at Darcy. "I was under the impression Mr Darcy found our acquaintance in Hertfordshire...negligible."
Darcy made a sound that sounded like a strangled cat. "I never—that is—Miss Elizabeth, I—"
"He talks of nothing else," the stranger interrupted cheerfully. "He is a bore about it, truly."
"Robert!" Darcy hissed.
"What? It is the truth. Honesty is a virtue, Cousin." The stranger turned his full, beaming attention to Elizabeth and Jane. "Ladies, since my cousin has apparently lost the power of speech and his manners, allow me to salvage the reputation of the family."
The stranger swept into a bow that was flamboyant, elegant, and entirely mocking of the very concept of bowing.
"I am Robert Fitzwilliam," he announced, straightening up and flashing teeth that were far too perfect. "Viscount Keathley. Older, wiser, and significantly more charming cousin to this statue here. And you are?"
"This is my sister, Miss Jane Bennet," Elizabeth said, gesturing to Jane, who had recovered her composure enough to look lovely and demure. "And I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. And this is our aunt, Mrs Gardiner."
"Mrs Gardiner," Robert bowed to her. "You have excellent taste in nieces."
"I have excellent taste in most things, my Lord," MrsGardiner replied smoothly, not intimidated in the least.
"Miss Bennet," Robert turned back to Jane, his voice softening again. "I must thank the cobblestones of Piccadilly. If you had not tripped, I might have walked past without stopping, and that would have been a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions."
Jane blushed again, a lovely rose colour dusting her cheeks. "You are too kind, my Lord. And I am grateful for your reflexes."
"I am at your service. Always. For falling, tripping, or general stumbling."
Darcy finally seemed to reboot his brain. He took a half-step forward, his face a mask of strained politeness. "Mrs Gardiner. I hope you are enjoying the festive season?"
"We are," Mrs Gardiner said. "Though we are here under somewhat... restorative circumstances." She glanced at Jane.
Darcy followed her gaze. He looked at Jane Bennet and saw the sadness behind her polite smile. He saw the lack of Bingley at her side. He saw the way she stood, beautiful but diminished.
Guilt flashed across his face. It was quick, but Elizabeth saw it.
Good,she thought.Feel it. Choke on it.
"I trust," Darcy said, his voice tight, "that your family in Hertfordshire is well?"
"They are well," Elizabeth said coldly. "Though my mother is much distressed by sudden departures and broken promises. But then, such things are common in society, are they not, Mr Darcy? One must learn to expect disappointment from those who lack the fortitude to follow their own hearts."
It was a direct hit. Darcy winced. Robert let out a low whistle, looking between them with glee.
"Ouch," Robert murmured. "Direct hit. Frigate sunk."
"We are keeping you from your shopping," Darcy said abruptly. He looked desperate to escape. He looked like a man who wanted to dig a hole in the pavement and bury himself in it. "Georgiana... Robert..."
"Oh, we are in no rush," Robert said airily. "Are we, Georgiana?"
"Not at all," Georgiana said. She looked at Elizabeth with large, hopeful eyes. "Perhaps... perhaps we might see you again? While you are in town?"
Elizabeth looked at the girl. She wanted to hate her. This was the girl Caroline Bingley wanted for her brother. This was the reason Jane was miserable. But looking at Georgiana Darcy—shy, sweet, and clearly trying to bridge a gap she didn't fully understand—Elizabeth found she couldn't do it.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said, noncommittally. "We are in town for some time."
"Where are you staying?" Robert asked immediately.
"Gracechurch Street," Mrs Gardiner answered before Elizabeth could invent a lie. "In Cheapside."
Darcy stiffened. Robert didn't even blink.
