"I imagine one could give the most wonderful house parties at Pemberley. Musical evenings, picnics, dinners..." She gave an affected sigh. "One should never allow such a house to stand empty."
"Fortunately," said Darcy, "my housekeeper has matters very well in hand."
She looked lost for a moment, as if he had wandered from a pre-approved script, then laughed loudly, as though he hadmade a charming joke. "Of course, servants are no substitute for a lively hostess."
She made another attack with her fan, this time catching him on the shoulder. He took a step back. Unfortunately, the lady followed, like one of his hunting dogs who had caught the scent of prey.
"And Pemberley! I should so like to see it," she went on, now almost manic in her enthusiasm. "I have often imagined driving through the park and catching my first glimpse of the house."
Darcy thought that Miss Harrington had imagined rather too much. Before she could describe how she would rearrange the furniture he heard a voice from behind him.
"Mr Darcy, sir, begging your pardon. A matter of importance requires your attention."
Burke stood a few paces away, looking towards the ground and speaking with more deference than Darcy knew he would ordinarily employ.
Darcy had never been so pleased to see his valet. "Indeed?"
"Yes, sir. It concerns..." Burke paused dramatically, looking between Darcy and Miss Harrington with a haunted expression, "your luggage."
Darcy rose to the occasion at once. "Good heavens, Burke… the luggage… yes, I had quite forgotten."
He inclined his head towards Miss Harrington. "You must forgive me."
"Oh." Miss Harrington's smile faltered. "Will it take long?"
"I cannot imagine," said Darcy gravely.
He bowed and walked away before she could frame another question. They had reached the far side of the terrace before either man spoke.
"Burke."
"Sir?"
"Does my luggage require my immediate attention?"
Burke paused as if considering the matter very seriously. "No, sir."
Darcy glanced sideways at him. "Then I am indebted to you."
Burke permitted himself the ghost of a smile. "I thought it prudent, sir. The young lady looked ready to pounce. Also, I believe Lady Hortensia is about to address the competitors. The guests are beginning to gather on the lower terrace."
Darcy glanced towards the terrace. Groups from every corner of the gardens had begun drifting in the same direction, ladies gathering their skirts as gentlemen offered arms and servants hurried discreetly to stragglers from the lawns.
Unfortunately, several of the ladies appeared to have noticed him. One smiled brightly the moment their eyes met. Another whispered something to her companion before both turned to look in his direction with unmistakable interest. Beyond them, Mrs Harrington had caught her daughter's eye and was making an urgent little motion with her fan. When Amelia did not move quickly enough, she placed a hand at the small of her back and gave her a discreet but unmistakable push in Darcy's direction.
Without another moment's hesitation he turned and set off towards the terrace by the longest route he could contrive, reaching automatically into his waistcoat pocket as he walked. Ever since his father's death, he had fallen into the habit of checking the gold watch whenever his thoughts became unsettled. He glanced at its face, snapped the cover shut and slipped it back into his pocket.
As he did so, the worn clip securing the chain surrendered. He heard the faint metallic snap but, at that same moment, feminine laughter erupted somewhere behind him. He did not look down and quickened his stride.
???
Elizabeth was making her way towards the terrace with Jane when something caught the afternoon sun.
"One moment," she said, pausing.
She stooped and lifted a handsome gold watch from the grass. A broken length of chain still hung from it. Turning it over, she found a simple inscription, worn smooth by years of handling.
For George. Every hour, yours. Anne.
