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“No. Not alone. You are not accustomed to courtships. You would not know how to proceed. I shall arrange a course of action and you shall follow it. Is that understood?”

Darcy stared at her, entirely stunned. “Yes, Aunt.”

“Yes, yes!” Georgiana chimed in, bouncing on her toes with delight. “We all shall help him!”

Lady Catherine offered a satisfied nod. “Now, leave me. I must draft this letter regarding the Americas. The incompetence of this globe-maker will not correct itself. And fetch Mrs Jenkinson. I require her to take dictation for the letter and the courtship plan.”

Darcy offered his arm to Anne. She took it, her fingers gripping his sleeve. Georgiana followed them out of the study.

Darcy released a long exhalation of air, and sagged.

“Well.” Anne adjusted the cuffs of her gown. “That went well.”

“Mr Gardiner is a genius,” Darcy agreed, a huge smile on his lips.

The fictional engagement was dead and the path was clear. Darcy turned his attention to the breakfast parlour, a gentleman finally free to court the lady of his heart.

Chapter Nine: A Picnic Under the Unpolluted Shades

A lady with a newly acquired suitor might be expected to exist on a diet of poetry and sighs, but all Elizabeth wanted was a very large piece of toast.

Her stomach produced a hollow, unromantic rumble. The emotional exertions of agreeing to be courted by the master of Pemberley had apparently consumed every ounce of energy she had. Maggie was working the row of tiny fabric buttons down the back of a light green muslin day gown with a methodical slowness that bordered on torture.

Elizabeth gripped the edge of the dressing table, attempting to project the serene dignity of a lady being courted, while privately contemplating whether she could eat the decorative wax fruit in the bowl near the washstand.

“The green suits your complexion beautifully, miss.” Maggie smoothed the fabric over Elizabeth’s shoulders, ignorant of the starvation occurring before her.

“I should very much like a biscuit,” Elizabeth murmured, meeting Maggie’s gaze in the looking glass. “Or six. Please tell me you have finished with those buttons, Maggie.”

Before the maid could confirm her success, a knock sounded on the door.

Maggie fastened the last button, and Elizabeth called for the visitor to enter.

Uncle Edward and Aunt Madeline entered the chamber. Aunt Madeline wore an elegant day dress of lavender muslin. Uncle Edward, conversely, wore an expression of profound injury. He closed the door behind him and folded his arms over his chest.

“I am deeply wounded, Lizzy,” Uncle Edward declared, fixing his niece with a grieving look. “I am the gentleman of our family. I am the guardian of your welfare. Yet, I am treated as a mere acquaintance in matters of the highest consequence.”

Elizabeth paused, her fingers freezing on the sash she was attempting to tie, directing a questioning gaze to her aunt.

Aunt Madeline moved to the armchair and claimed a seat, offering an unrepentant smile to her husband. “Gentlemen do not require information until a matter is settled, Edward. It prevents unnecessary fretting and preserves the peace of the morning routine.”

“Fretting!” Uncle Edward scoffed, his eyes twinkling with amusement, betraying his injured posture. “I do not fret, Madeline. I assess. I evaluate. And I would have evaluated Mr Darcy’s character with far greater ease had someone informed me he was soliciting my niece’s affections.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed. “You are aware of the courtship, Uncle?”

“I am aware of everything.” Uncle Edward lifted his chin. “I have a far superior fount of information than either of you, actually. While you were whispering secrets in bedchambers, I was casting a fishing line on the lake. Mr Darcy and I enjoyed a very enlightening early morning.”

Elizabeth forgot her hunger, apprehension taking over. “You spoke with him? Today?”

“We discussed the weather, we discussed the trout, and we discussed you, Lizzy,” Uncle Edward confirmed, pleased with his own diplomatic prowess. “He is a gentleman of rare astuteness. Furthermore, I provided him with the precise logic required to dismantle his aunt’s arrangement. At this very moment, he is located in the study, I believe, informing Lady Catherine that her proposed family transaction is permanently void.”

Elizabeth sank onto the edge of the mattress, the green muslin billowing around her. Mr Darcy was confronting the matriarch of Rosings Park and doing it all for her.

“He is speaking with her ladyship right now?” she whispered, her imagination conjuring images of flying inkwells.

“He is concluding the business,” Uncle Edward corrected. “I expect he will join us for breakfast with a clear schedule.”

“I am never leaving this chamber,” Elizabeth decided, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I shall remain on this mattress and perish of starvation. It is the only sensible course of action. When Lady Catherine discovers I am the reason her daughter’s prospects are ruined, she will order the wolfhounds to eat me. Maggie, you may slide a single piece of toast under the door once a day until I expire.”