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“Of course, I can.”

Darcy removed the parchment from behind his back and uncurled it. Elizabeth’s mouth fell open upon taking it all in.

“I know what you are wondering. Let me assure you, it is safe.”

“Oh, I would not think otherwise. No—I am astonished, that is all. Ben will love it.”

“That is my thought exactly. Its construction is underway as we speak.” Darcy placed the rendering on the table and stood with his wife in his arms, carried her to the closest of the two small beds, which were more conveniently rearranged for his purposes, and commenced bestowing upon her his undivided attention.

Her soft moans had given him to know he would be late in meeting the builder for their scheduled appointment. One satin covered button by one, Darcy slowly unfastened his wife’s gown. He could not imagine committing such an unprofessional breach in etiquette for a less worthy cause.

Georgiana knew without being told the purpose of her aunt’s early morning summons. Revered amongst her society acquaintances, Lady Ellen was heartbroken upon learning that her niece had eschewed coming out that spring. It was time for Georgiana to take her proper place amongst society’s elite, and her ladyship told her niece as much.

Georgiana crossed her arms over her bosom. “I suppose this is your polite way of telling me it is time I find a husband—preferably a titled one should you and my uncle have your say and a wealthy one should my brother have his.”

“Mind your tone, young lady. I am sure your brother and uncle want what is best for you—as I do.”

“I beg your pardon, your ladyship. I have had this discussion so many times before with my brother and Elizabeth, even Lady Catherine.”

“That is all the more reason to take this matter seriously. With that being said, I have written to your brother, expressing my concerns. He wrote back with his assurance that we are of the same mind on this subject. You will have your presentation at court and your coming out next year.”

“So, I am to have no further say at all as regards my own future?”

“What reason might you have to possibly object to this scheme? Is this not what every young lady dreams of?”

Georgiana said nothing. She was not about to tell her aunt about her tacit understanding with the son of her late father’s steward, Mr. Wickham. There was no need to subject the grand lady to a fit of apoplexy.

“Well, young lady, what have you to say further on the matter?”

There was really only one easy way to end their line of talk—feigning submission. “I know what is expected of me. I am exceedingly delighted about my coming out Season.” Going further to add that she could hardly wait would have been stretching the truth a bit too far. Instead, Georgiana asked to be excused.

Each morning at Matlock House brought a new adventure into young Ben’s daily routine. Still, he missed his parents dearly. The added uncertainty of his grandpapa’s health weighed on him as well. He needed to do something to help his family, and he had just the thing in mind.

His lordship entered the study and, to his surprise, found the room occupied. “What on earth are you doing in here, young man?” Lord Matlock’s booming voice was enough to frighten the poor child. Ben recoiled, knocking the inkwell over, and in so doing created quite a muddle of things.

“Look at my desk!” Lord Matlock marched across the room and pulled the bell for a servant.

“I am sorry, my lord!”

“As well you should be! I asked you what you are doing in here.”

“I am writing a letter.”

By now, his temple throbbing, his eyes bulging, his lordship stood directly before Ben. “A letter!”

“Yes, my lord, to my grandpapa in Hertfordshire.”

His lordship observed the ink stains on Ben’s hands and various parts of his clothing. He picked up the letter. “This looks like the work of a child.”

Ben’s face clouded with puzzlement. “I am but a child, my lord.”

“Yes-yes, so you are. Why did you not get your aunt Georgiana or your cousin Anne to assist you in your letter writing campaign? I am sure the results would have been better than this.” He looked at the splashes of ink all over the place. “It surely could not have been worse.”

“Letters are meant to be private, are they not?”

“Some letters, letters of business and letters between adults, but as your letter does not fall into either of those categories, I do not see that any privacy is needed.”

“Will you help me, my lord?”