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Lady Catherine rose from her chair. She cast one final glare at the footman, and swept from the room, leaving a trail of furious indignation in her wake.

Darcy released a long exhalation of air as he walked back to his seat.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was observing him, not in amusement, but with deep appreciation. She had witnessed him defy his aunt to protect a lowly servant and refuse to yield to her demands. The warmth in her eyes sent a thrilling jolt to his heart.

He had intended to impress her with elegant conversation and he had succeeded by wrestling a dog away from his aunt. The absurdity of the situation nearly caused him to laugh aloud.

“Martin,” Darcy addressed the stunned butler, who still stood paralysed by the sideboard. “Help Bates and clear these dishes. The grease is overpowering. Please arrange a large tray of sandwiches; cold beef and cucumber will suffice. Serve them in the music room.”

“Immediately, sir.” Martin bowed, grabbing Bates by the elbows and ushering the surviving footmen into action.

Darcy offered his arm to Mrs Gardiner. “Shall we withdraw to the music room? I believe we all require a change of scenery.”

The party relocated to the airy space of the music room. The atmosphere improved immensely the moment the door closed, sealing away the memory of the culinary disaster.

Georgiana obligingly took her place at the pianoforte, playing a lively sonata that banished the lingering tension.

Martin arrived shortly thereafter, accompanied by a footman carrying the tea service, and bearing a tray laden with neatly trimmed sandwiches. The guests partook eagerly, having eaten nothing of the ruined dinner.

Darcy claimed a seat on the sofa and addressed the small gathering, contrition softening his features.

“I must offer my most profound apologies to you all,” he stated sincerely, ensuring he met Mr Gardiner’s gaze. “The dinner was inedible, the service was inadequate, and my hounds behaved abominably. I deeply regret that you were subjected to such inconvenience on your very first evening at Pemberley.”

Anne swallowed a bite of her sandwich, dabbing her lips with a linen napkin.

“Do not sweeten the situation, Cousin,” she remarked, her tone dry and wonderfully sharp. “You are permitted to say her name. She is not present to hear you.”

A beat of silence followed the bold statement.

Then, Mr Gardiner laughed, Georgiana giggled over the ivory keys and Mrs Gardiner offered an amused smile.

Darcy turned his gaze to the windows where Miss Elizabeth sat, laughing. The sound was enchanting. Oh, how he had missed that sound!

“Very well,” Darcy conceded, a smile breaking across his own face. “I apologise for my aunt.”

The remainder of the evening passed with surprising swiftness. Released from the oppressive presence of Lady Catherine, the conversation flowed naturally. Darcy observed, with gratitude, the manner in which the Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth tended to Anne. In the absence of the nervous Mrs Jenkinson, Miss Elizabeth ensured Anne had a comfortable cushion for her back and Mrs Gardiner poured the heiress a cup of tea, speaking to her with maternal kindness.

They treated Anne as a valued companion, not a sickly burden. Darcy felt his respect for Miss Elizabeth’s relatives multiply tenfold.

Eventually, the hour grew late. The party expressed their fatigue, and Georgiana closed the lid of the pianoforte. Warm wishes for a restful night were exchanged, and the guests filed out into the passage, heading to their chambers.

Darcy remained in the music room. He rose from the sofa and walked to the unlit hearth, bracing his palms on the cool marble of the mantelpiece. He closed his eyes, releasing a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief. The evening had been a spectacular disaster, yet somehow, it had ended in laughter.

He heard a soft rustle. He opened his eyes and turned to see Miss Elizabeth standing in the threshold.

“I beg your pardon, Mr Darcy,” she said, stepping into the room. “I left my gloves somewhere.”

“Allow me.”

He retrieved the white gloves from a table by the chair she had occupied earlier, walking slowly to her. He extended his arm, offering the garments.

She accepted them, her fingers briefly grazing his own. The fleeting contact sent a rush of heat directly up his arm.

“I thank you, sir,” she said.

“Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy could not allow her to leave without a final word. “I am truly mortified by the events of this evening. You must believe that Pemberley is not usually a theatre for such absurdity.”

Miss Elizabeth met his gaze directly.