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Darcy stiffened, his fingers tightening around his cutlery. “If Mr. Ashworth’s heart is so set upon exotic flora, perhaps he should abandon the Church and organize a botanical expedition.”

“Oh, but brother, we shall collect while ministering in the West Indies,” Georgiana said. “The jungles are quite breathtaking with so much color that our staid English landscape seems dull in comparison.”

“I do wonder, however,” Charlotte mused. “How a Broadwood pianoforte would fare on a sea journey of such a scale. Salt air is notoriously unkind to walnut casing and tuned wire.”

“Oh, James says one may acquire a modest instrument locally, or simply make do with a guitar,” Georgiana replied earnestly. “I shall, of course, not be able to transport my harp, but I can sing hymns without accompaniment. It is the spirit and not the actual substance that is important.”

Darcy was sure his sister possessed a surfeit of spirit, but this second son of a privileged earl was marching his precious sixteen-year-old sister toward a swamp of fevers, tropical storms, and religious fervor on nothing more than a well-meaning blessing from an evangelical committee begging on the street corners for pennies.

Elizabeth, perceiving the gathering storm in his expression, deftly invited Georgiana to inspect the hothouse renovations under her supervision. Conversation drifted to less perilous topics, and Darcy permitted himself a breath, though Richard’s glance made it plain the matter was merely adjourned, not concluded.

The afternoon brought fresh torment for Darcy as he reviewed the quarterly reports with Mr. Miller. The steward had barely finished explaining a deficit in the lower pasture drainage when Mrs. Reynolds appeared discreetly at the doorway.

“Pardon the interruption, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds said, her lips tightening into a thin, expressionless line. “Mr. Lefevre has arrived in the drawing room. Mrs. Darcy and Miss Lucas are attending to him, but Miss Georgiana insists on pouring the tea as the household’s hostess. She maintains that your late mother assured her she would one day preside over the tea table.”

Darcy pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a familiar ache stirring behind his eyes. “In the absence of a wife, yes. I shall speak to her. As Mr. Lefevre’s visit is expressly for his cousin, Miss Lucas, I see no necessity for Mrs. Darcy to be troubled by his presence.”

Mrs. Reynolds allowed herself a microscopic sigh—indicating that if he did not exert his authority over his sister, her stubbornness would expand to uncomfortable proportions, if it had not already.

Darcy closed the leather-bound ledger. “Tell them I am coming. And inform Miss Georgiana that her sister-in-law is presently Mistress of Pemberley in both name and reality. I shall preside over the tea table myself, and Mrs. Darcy will be by my side.”

He had not wished to honor Mr. Lefevre with his presence, but he would now, because the alternative was sitting in his study imagining Lefevre’s easy smile directed at his wife across his own drawing room.

Mr. Lefevre was already comfortably ensconced in the drawing room, sitting on the sofa between Elizabeth and Miss Lucas, with Georgiana at the tea table. He rose languidly to his feet at Darcy’s entrance and performed an easy, unhurried bow.

“Mr. Darcy, how delightful.”

Darcy was no one’s delight, particularly not with a man who had spent the previous autumn in Hertfordshire squiring Elizabeth to every assembly, card party, and parish gathering within twenty miles.

He nodded curtly, his eyes sweeping the room to take in Colonel Fitzwilliam, who sat quietly in the corner thumbing through a volume of Plutarch.

Georgiana lifted the heavy silver teapot, her hand trembling slightly as she aimed for a china cup. “Mr. Lefevre was just telling us of his journey, brother—I thought it only hospitable to relieve Mrs. Reynolds of the tea service until⁠—”

“My dear Georgiana,” Charlotte interposed smoothly, rising from the sofa with unruffled grace and stepping toward the tea table. “You have performed prodigies of hospitality in managing the tray thus far, but you look quite fatigued from your journey. Pray allow me to relieve you before you scald Mr. Lefevre’s boots. Besides, your sister-in-law has not yet tasted your brother’s tea, and I know you will wish to sit and hear the remainder of Mr. Lefevre’s anecdotes without the burden of the kettle.”

Georgiana blinked, looking toward Elizabeth for guidance, which shouldn’t have bothered Darcy, but she relinquished the silver pot to Charlotte and took her place on the sofa next to Lefevre. Elizabeth rewarded his sister with a warm smile.

Darcy, however, launched the opening exchange. “Mr. Lefevre,” he said, settling into an armchair near his wife. “You have chosen a remote corner of Derbyshire for your travels. I trust your legal studies have not suffered from such an extended diversion.”

“My course at Lincoln’s Inn does not commence until autumn,” he replied evenly, accepting tea from Charlotte. “And I found myself with leisure to tour the Peaks. Then when my aunt wrote that Miss Lucas was sojourning at Pemberley, I thought, why not explore the delights of Derbyshire?”

“Then I hope the Derbyshire air agrees with you,” Elizabeth said with her usual warmth.

“It agrees with me admirably, Mrs. Darcy.” Lefevre’s smile was charming without being overly familiar. “Though I confess the scenery has improved markedly since yesterday. Charlotte describes the incredible beauty of the landscape and grounds, but her words entirely failed to capture the improvements of a new mistress.”

“Charlotte has never been given to excessive praise.” Elizabeth glanced at her friend with fond amusement.

“Then, allow me to rectify my cousin’s omissions.” Lefevre’s gaze slid from Elizabeth to the drawing room’s sprawling cornices, then back to her face. “One must marvel at how brilliantly you have assumed the management of such a vast estate. With all the structural repairs necessitated by a harsh winter and the usual domestic labor, you must find yourself incessantly occupied.”

Incessantly occupied with your insolence, no doubt, Darcy thought. He opened his mouth to deliver a chilling reminder that Pemberley’s affairs required no external commentary, but Lefevre had already pivoted.

“I confess I frequently miss the leisurely pace of our Hertfordshire autumn,” Lefevre murmured, lowering his voice. “Mrs. Darcy, do you recall the assembly at Michaelmas? You wore ribbons of pale blue, and we danced two sets before your mother declared you must rest your feet.”

“Those days belong entirely to the past, Mr. Lefevre.” Elizabeth’s smile froze. “As you can observe, my present situation is exceedingly well established, both for myself and my family.”

“Indeed, and my cousin is singularly fortunate to be included in your circle,” Lefevre deflected smoothly, though his eyes lingered on Elizabeth before he turned his attention toward the pianoforte in the corner. “Miss Darcy, I understand you possess rare accomplishments—the harp, the pianoforte, and a quite exceptional voice.”

“I am merely diligent,” Georgiana said, her face coloring at the compliment. “Although I have been practicing a sonata by Haydn that is both stately and delightful.”