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“Not needed? It is her job to be here to attend our honoured guest. Oh, pray you will forgive this lapse, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy cleared his throat. “I am not offended, madam. Please do not trouble yourself on my behalf. In fact, I shall deem it a great service if you would give this matter no further consideration.”

Ever desiring to garner his approbation, Mrs. Bennet studied the table. “Mr. Darcy needs a more substantial meal, Lizzy. I shall speak with Cook myself.”

“No—Mama, this is quite sufficient.”

“Well, if you are certain.” After a moment, she beckoned Elizabeth to her side. Speaking in a hushed tone, she said, “Mind you, Lizzy, it does not do to underestimate Mr. Darcy’s appetite. Surely such a man has cultivated quite a discerning palate and is, no doubt, a connoisseur of the finest tastes in life.”

Elizabeth suffered embarrassment not simply for herself, but for her betrothed as well. She said nothing determining it was the quickest way to encourage her mother’s departure. Some moments later, Mrs. Bennet reluctantly took her leave. Elizabeth had not forgotten the air of intrigue pursuant to Mr. Darcy’s unspoken promises that had filled the room just moments earlier. She wasted no time in her endeavour to recapture it.

After reclaiming her own seat, she coaxed him to resume his former attitude. “Come, I must have you eat something more.” With no second thoughts over the liberties she exercised, Elizabeth arranged a linen napkin on his lap and commenced where they had left off.

Mr. Bennet wandered into the room and looked around. There, Jane and Bingley sat in the corner doing what they often did: bestowing their attention on no one other than themselves. His daughters Mary and Kitty sat in the opposite corner, behaving normally: the former, reading a book and the latter, twisting her curls mindlessly about her fingers. His wife and her sister Philips sat huddled on one of the sofas.

“Where are Lizzy and Mr. Darcy?”

Mrs. Philips and Mrs. Bennet swapped surreptitious glances. The latter said, “I am sure I do not know where the two of them have gone. At first, Lizzy quit the room, and then Mr. Darcy made some excuse and disappeared as well. Is that not true, Sister?”

“Indeed; however, I would not worry too much, for no doubt wherever they are, they are together ... doing what young people violently in love are wont to do with the eve of their nuptials so soon upon them. I am surprised that Jane and Mr. Bingley remain in company,” she said in a hushed voice meant only for the three of them. “Perhaps that young man has a better regulation of his passions than his friend.”

Suspecting his wife and her sister were keeping secrets, the silver-haired patriarch raised his bushy brows. This was his favourite daughter that they were speaking of, and while he had no doubt of her sensibility, he was not unaware of the proclivities of young lovers in love. True, he had grown rather fond of Mr. Darcy, but even now, with twenty-odd years of wedded life to his credit, he had not forgotten what it was once like to be violently in love.

Mr. Bennet sank into his favourite chair, buried his head in his paper, and commenced giving it much more attention than it warranted. Whilst Mrs. Philips went on pontificating in a manner that proved her unrefined bona fides, Mrs. Bennet determined to do nothing to dissuade her sister or preferably urge her along her way for the evening. Invariably, when the two sisters’ prattling was particularly uncouth, Mr. Bennet peered over his paper and gave it a good thump as a none too subtle means of evidencing his dismay.

At length, his curiosity to ascertain what had become of his second eldest daughter he no longer sought to ignore, so after a quarter of an hour passed, Mr. Bennet folded his paper, tucked it under his arm, and headed towards the door. In a matter of days, he would sequester himself in the sanctuary of his library, unencumbered by such burdensome dictates as spending time in company. As much as he did not wish to see his Lizzy stolen away to the wilds of Derbyshire, he looked forward to the calm that being a father of two daughters about to be married and committed to spending every waking hour in the company of their betrotheds did not afford.

After a while, Darcy’s mood had recovered from Mrs. Bennet’s untimely interruption. With any luck, there will be no more disruptions. He noted the twinkle in Elizabeth’s eyes. Her teasing smile always aroused his sensibilities. Surely she knows not what she does to me.

Darcy shifted in his seat. “I believe it is my turn to serve you.” He leaned close to Elizabeth and said, “First, I require a favour of you.”

“What is it, sir?”

“You must close your eyes.”

“If I do as you suggest, then how will I know when to open my mouth to accept your offering?”

“Trust me, my love, you will know.”

Elizabeth was about to say something in protest, but the touch of his fingers upon her lips silenced her.

“Close them,” he said. “Otherwise, my love, I will have no recourse but to blindfold you.” Merely mentioning such an enticing prospect resuscitated his former ardour. After Elizabeth did as he asked, he picked up a piece of bread and started coating it with sweet strawberry preserves.

“What is taking you so long? Or do you mean to starve me with anticipation?”

Darcy chuckled. “My, are you not impatient? No doubt you are unaccustomed to the immense pleasures afforded by delayed gratification.”

“No doubt you mean to teach me.”

“Indeed.” He brought the tiny morsel to her lips.

Before Elizabeth could open her mouth, her eyes flew open, and she jumped. Fighting to prevent throwing both hands in the air, Darcy dropped his hand on the table, preparing to stand.

“No—stay where you are, young man. Do not bother standing on my account,” said Mr. Bennet.

Darcy released a deep inward sigh of relief. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was stand erect just then. He surmised his future father-in-law must have deduced his predicament.

Elizabeth was all too aware of Mr. Darcy’s discomfort as she was hardly in a dissimilar state, despite evidencing none of the tell-tale signs. Her voice higher pitched and strained, she said, “Papa, I took the liberty of preparing a repast for Mr. Darcy.”