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“Indeed.” Elizabeth kept her voice pleasant. “I am always happy to assist with observations, though I seem to have misplaced my quizzing glasses this morning.”

Beside her, Georgiana suffered a sudden, violent spasm of coughing into her handkerchief—though whether from lung weakness or a suppressed giggle was entirely open to interpretation. Charlotte, however, raised one eyebrow and shook her head slightly, a gesture only Colonel Fitzwilliam noticed.

“Are you.” Lord Matlock’s jaw tightened with a furious dart at Darcy, as if to say, ‘control your wife.’

Elizabeth reached for the tea tray, poured herself a steaming cup of Hyson, and waited.

Lady Matlock leaned forward, much like a stork stretching her neck. “My dear Mrs. Darcy, you must understand our concern. Georgiana is very precious to us. We have watched over her since her infancy, and her well-being is naturally⁠—”

“As it is ours,” Elizabeth replied. “I believe we are all united in that regard.”

“That remains to be seen.” Lord Matlock’s voice carried the edge of a man who had expected deference and found none. “Your judgment, it seems, does not match your concern. My son informs me that Mrs. Darcy, perhaps not completely understanding her role as mistress of Pemberley, has permitted the young Mr. Ashworth and his sister to pay a visit under your roof.”

Elizabeth could not be sure if Lord Matlock had a pronoun problem or who he was addressing, but Darcy intervened. “The Ashworths have departed this morning at my request. They will not be invited back, and they have agreed not to contact my sister. I fail to see how that constitutes insufficient action.”

“He should never have been here at all,” Richard said from the mantelpiece. “The invitation was issued without your knowledge, Darcy, and without mine. Mrs. Darcy, however, was aware as it was written on her own stationery.”

Elizabeth had not known until Georgiana confessed it to her, but she would not expose her, so she stirred sugar into her tea nonchalantly. “The invitation was irregular. I believe we have all acknowledged as much. But Mr. Ashworth conducted himself with perfect propriety throughout his visit; his sister served as chaperone, and he departed with discretion. The matter is settled.”

“In your flawed judgment, perhaps.” Lord Matlock speared Elizabeth with a look of severe displeasure, as if his bulging bullfrog eyes would cause Elizabeth to flinch. She didn’t. “And yet I find myself here. Which suggests it is not entirely settled. The question before us is whether Georgiana ought to remain at Pemberley, where this unfortunate entanglement was permitted to develop, or return to London under our supervision, where she may be properly introduced to society and to gentlemen whose credentials require rather less examination.”

“With respect, sir,” Elizabeth said, “the entanglement, as you call it, did not develop at Pemberley. It began in London.”

Lady Matlock’s teacup clattered on the saucer. “I beg your pardon?”

“The correspondence between Miss Darcy and Mr. Ashworth commenced while she was in London. Miss Darcy told about a musicale at Lady Ashworth’s, with much page-turning and hymn-singing, subsequent social engagements, and perhaps another encounter on a stroll through Hyde Park, always properly accompanied by Mrs. Annesley, of course.”

Lady Matlock gasped, her long neck stiffening with aristocratic indignation. “That is absurd! I kept Georgiana under the strictest surveillance while she was under my roof. Every visitor was scrutinized, and I personally inspected every letter that entered or left the household. No gentleman, however pious, could possibly have cultivated an attachment under my very eyes without my knowledge!”

“And yet,” Lord Matlock growled, his gaze snapping toward his nephew, “are we to believe this unverified assertion?”

Darcy stepped forward, placing one hand on the back of Elizabeth’s chair—a silent, immovable barrier. When his voice cut across the room, it was glacial.

“You need not rely on unverified assertions, Uncle. Mr. Ashworth confessed the entire chronology in my study last night. The letters passed while Georgiana was in London.”

Lady Matlock pressed a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes bulging with disbelief. “Then she deceived us! The girl must be entirely out of her senses⁠—”

Georgiana, to her credit, kept her gaze fixed on a point above the hearth, holding herself and rocking in the chair. Elizabeth patted her on the shoulder, and she eased somewhat.

“She did not deceive you alone,” Darcy interrupted, his eyes shifting coldly toward Richard before returning to his aunt and uncle. “Mrs. Annesley was fully aware of the correspondence and actively permitted it. When questioned, she confessed that she had received explicit instructions from Lady Matlock not to interfere with gentlemen who sought to pay court to Georgiana—her ladyship apparently being under the impression that an early attachment to a well-bred second son was preferable to keeping her locked away.”

Lady Matlock’s jaw dropped. “I gave no such instruction regarding a penniless missionary!”

“You gave instructions to encourage eligible suitors for an unpresented girl,” Darcy replied with unsparing precision. “Mrs. Annesley merely applied your general policy to a very specific, and disastrous, exception. The oversight, my dear aunt, occurred in Mayfair, not in Derbyshire.”

“Nephew, your accusations are preposterous.” Lord Matlock raised a hand—the movement of a man accustomed to silencing a chamber with a finger. “Let us not trade accusations. The question is simple. Where is Georgiana best situated for her own protection and improvement? Lady Matlock and I believe London offers advantages that a country estate, however admirable, cannot provide. Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Darcy, particularly as those who have not enjoyed a London season must sometimes rely upon… rather more improvised methods of instruction?”

Elizabeth did not so much as blink. She met the Earl’s gaze and rose, unhurried, from her seat.

“The country air does not corrupt young women, Lord Matlock. It merely offers fewer places to hide.”

“And this is precisely why Georgiana will remain at Pemberley.” Darcy did not move from behind her chair, but his voice carried. “She will be presented when she is ready, introduced to society when her guardians—both of her guardians—agree she is prepared.”

“With your proposal that your inexperienced wife should replace one of the guardians?” Lady Matlock’s thin eyebrow arched skeptically. “She should apply herself to learning her duties to your estate, which she is woefully unprepared for.”

Elizabeth smiled—a sweet, perfectly devastating expression that owed nothing to humility. “It requires remarkably little knowledge of hothouses and stillrooms to understand the human heart, Lady Matlock. Fortunately, having managed three younger sisters through the various perils of youth, I find guiding Miss Darcy scarcely more demanding than training saplings.”

She turned slightly and gave Georgiana a warm, reassuring glance. Georgiana caught the look and returned it with a small, meek, pleading expression—a silent plea for sanctuary that did not escape her aunt and uncle’s sharp, bulging eyes.