part0016

O ver the next several days, Georgiana regularly ventured below stairs to Rosings’ guest room, astonished that such a place existed. Her girlish delight reminded Elizabeth of times spent with her sisters. Times that seemed so long ago.

Pemberley seemed so easy with Georgiana’s company that Elizabeth took advantage of it for solitary rambles. Getting Pemberley accustomed to her absence was a good thing for them all. Or so the texts on attachment sickness suggested.

It would be hard to be separated from her again. But hopefully it would not be such an abrupt or complete separation as the first. And there would be correspondence between her and Georgiana and Pemberley. That would make it better.

The morning was cool and comfortable. The breeze carried the distinct smell of rain on the horizon, but it was not imminent. Probably would not come before nightfall, more than enough time for all the walking she wanted.

More than once, Elizabeth had encountered Mr. Darcy on her walks. What perverse mischance that should bring him, and only him, into what should have been her private moments. Finally, she informed him that the particular path was a favorite haunt of hers. Yet he did not seem to take the hint.

On further reflection, though, it did not seem so surprising. He had said he was not well able to catch the unspoken meaning in a conversation. The next time she met him, she would have to be more direct.

But she did not have the chance. On their next meeting, he struck up a conversation—odd on several accounts. For the first, he rarely spoke whilst they walked. For the other, he asked some odd, unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, her opinion of Mr. Bingley and Jane’s future happiness, and could a lady be settled too near her family for her liking? What was her opinion of the house and grounds of Rosings Park? Did she find the house to her liking? What did she think of so many dragons on a single estate?

To what could all these questions portend? Was it possible he was entering into the very venture he foreswore—matchmaking? He could not have her in mind for Colonel Fitzwilliam, could he?

Overbearing, pretentious—

Colonel Fitzwilliam broke through the trees. “Miss Bennet! I had no idea that you ever walked this way. I have been making the tour of the Park as I generally do every year when Darcy and I visit. Are you going much farther?”

“I have only just left Pemberley in Georgiana’s care.”

He offered her his arm. “Then might I have the privilege of sharing your outing, or were you, like Darcy does, hoping for some time in the absence of all company?”

Darcy walked to avoid company?

She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “As much as I enjoy Pemberley and the other dragons, a bit of human companionship is very welcome, too.”

“Are Quincy and Blanche spending a great deal of time below stairs?”

“They and Wellsbey, and several of the barn tatzelwurms come by regularly as well.”

“I was told you had a way with dragons. It seems it was not an exaggeration.”

“I admit I do like them very much. It is always a pleasure to meet more of them.” She glanced up into the trees. Was that a fairy dragon’s twitter? “Do you find it common on great estates to have so many Dragon Friends and minor dragons?”

“I think it is largely up to the preference of the major dragon. Rosings seems to like having many minor dragons look up to her.”

“Longbourn barely tolerated any minor dragons larger than fairy dragons. I wonder what Pemberley will prefer. She does seem to like the company.”

“It is a good thing then, that Darcy tolerates draconic company with great equanimity.” He sniggered, leaves crunching under his boots. “I think he may like them better than people.”

“I think he would be hard pressed to deny Pemberley what she wants, considering how much he likes to have his way. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.”

“He likes to have his own way very well. But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others because he is rich, and many others are poor.” He tapped his chest. “A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, when have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”

“I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.”

“Unless they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”

Fitzwilliam shrugged. “Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”

Was he referring to her lack of dowry? Had Darcy warned him against interest in her?

Her cheeks heated, but she forced her voice to remain lively. “And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.”

Fitzwilliam threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Perhaps I might be willing to settle for just thirty thousand.”

“I wonder that Mr. Darcy does not marry. It seems it would be great convenience to him. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, as she is under his sole care—”

“No, that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in her guardianship.”

“Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way.”

He looked at her, expression darkening.

She edged back several steps. “You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her. I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. Pemberley adores her, and the minor dragons are becoming equally fond of her. I find dragons an excellent judge of character.”

“Indeed, they are, Miss Bennet, indeed they are.” He fell silent for the next dozen paces and kicked a clump of dirt. “Forgive me if I am too bold, but you do not seem to be a great admirer of my cousin.”

“On that point, I fear, I should remain silent.”

“But if you did not, you would agree with me?”

“Yes, she would!” Where had April come from? She was supposed to stay with Pemberley for her tea party with Georgiana and the minor dragons.

“Your little friend reveals an uncomfortable truth?” Fitzwilliam stopped and offered a finger for April to perch upon.

“You do not have leave to speak of my opinions.” Elizabeth clenched her fist behind her back.

April flapped her wings. “Then I shall speak of mine. I think she is a fool for what she holds against him. I am certain there is a misunderstanding, and she does not know the truth of the matter.”

“I know he can be offensive. It seems he offered you great affront at the ball you mentioned the other day. But those do not seem deep enough infractions to earn such great resentment.” All amusement faded from his features.

“I like to credit her with better sense than that!” April said. “At least she has the wit to imagine substantial offenses, not addle-pated ones.”

“I see your Dragon Friend thinks very highly you of. Pray tell me, what has my cousin done to offend?”

How honest an answer should she offer? Clearly, he would not permit her to avoid one altogether.

“He is a very perplexing man, Colonel, and I do not know what to think of him. Here, he is all charm and consideration. Mr. Bingley said that is true of his character. However, he is not that way universally. What am I to make of a man who can be two different men in different company?”

His eyebrows knit as he addressed April. “What did he do?”

Elizabeth stamped her foot, narrowly missing his. “If you insist upon knowing, sir, then you will at least have the courtesy to address me.”

“Very well, madam, I put the same question to you. What did he do?”

“He has left a trail of harm in his wake, both to me and to one I consider a friend.”

“Wickham is no friend!” April growled.

“Wickham? What do you know of him?”

“He is part of the militia stationed in Meryton and has become a friend of my family. He did me a tremendous favor—”

“Which was dangerous and foolhardy to accept.” April flitted to her shoulder and nipped her ear.

Elizabeth covered her ear with her hand. “For which I am very grateful. Mr. Darcy has done him great harm.”

“And that is what you hold against him? No, you said that Darcy had harmed you as well …”

“Not just me, but Pemberley, too. Through his incompetence, he permitted her egg to be stolen away, endangering her. She hatched alone and could easily have failed to imprint! Then, he tore Pemberley away from me without consideration of her—or me.” She pressed her fist to her mouth.

Fitzwilliam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have warned him. Walker has warned him. He has been a fool to ignore us. There is a very great deal you do not understand about this entire situation. Darcy’s pride has prevented him from sharing some very important information that I believe will entirely change your opinion of him and of the situations you describe.”

“I do not see how that can be.”

“Pray, come with me to Rosings’ lair. April, would you gather Walker and Cait? I think you will be happier to hear the tale directly from the dragons. Whilst you might accuse me of favoritism toward my cousin, you know the dragons will be entirely forthright.”

“Very well.” But what could the dragons possibly tell her that would change her mind?

Walker and Cait were already perched just inside Rosings’ lair when they arrived. Rosings sat nearby, a vague expression of annoyance on her face. The tip of her tail flicked slowly like Papa tapping his foot whilst he was angry.

“I have heard you are in possession of a number of very foolish notions.” Rosings huffed a hot breath in her direction. Firedrakes’ breath was always hotter than that of other dragons. “Ordinarily I care little for the ignorance of warm-bloods, but since in this case your foolishness could have a direct influence on Pemberley, I cannot sit idly by and allow you to continue to be stupid.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. She did not appreciate being called stupid, but it was not wise to argue with a cowntess.

Rosings turned about twice and settled back down. “I have been told that there are two offenses of very different natures, and by no means of equal magnitude, you laid to Darcy’s charge. The first, that he detached Pemberley from yourself, considering nothing for the welfare of either of you. The other, that he willfully and wantonly he threw off the companion of his youth, the acknowledged favorite of his father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on the Darcy patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, ruining the immediate prosperity, and blasting the future prospects of Mr. Wickham. Am I correct in my understanding?”

“I am not sure I would have put it in those terms.”

Considering Rosings expression, she did not actually expect an answer.

“Yes, you would.” April peeked out from behind Walker.

“Dodging the truth.” Rosings snorted. “Your human affectations of politeness do not impress me. I am known for my directness, and you shall find me to be no other way.”

That was something she usually appreciated about dragons, but perhaps not so much just now.

“Darcy went to Hertfordshire in search of Pemberley’s egg—”

“Which was placed in jeopardy due to his carelessness!” She probably should not have taken that tone.

“Another point upon which you are sorely deluded, but I will come back to that. You will refrain from further outbursts until I have finished speaking.” Rosings breathed sulfurous fumes on her face.

Her eyes burned. “Yes, Cowntess.”

“Upon his arrival in Meryton, Darcy consulted with your father who failed to extend appropriate courtesies and aid to him. There is some thought he was even working at cross purposes to him.”

“What has my father to do with any of this?”

“Everything when one considers that it was because of his lazy Dragon Keeping that Longbourn was permitted to throw Pemberley off his estate.”

“Pray excuse me?”

“That is precisely what happened.” Walker glided to the cavern floor beside her. “Darcy would have stayed at least another month. Longbourn insisted that he remove Pemberley immediately because of you.”

“Me?” Chills coursed down her neck and shoulders.

“He told Darcy that Pemberley was not good for you, was exhausting you.”

“But that was not true.”

“Darcy knew that. But he is smarter than to try and argue with a jealous wyvern.”

April flew to her shoulder. “Longbourn cannot abide the notion of sharing you with anyone.”

“Then why did he try to persuade me to marry Collins?”

“You despise the man! What better reason?” Cait squawked from her perch near Rosings’ shoulder.

She braced her hands on her hips, more to hold herself up than for a show of bravado. “That is not usually considered a good reason for marriage.”

“But if his desire is not to share your affections with another, it is an excellent one.” Cait accentuated her point with wing flaps.

“Marrying Collins would keep you at Longbourn estate and lonely for company which Longbourn would be happy to provide.” Walker paced in front of her.

The edges of her vision blurred. No, she would not falter, not in front of Rosings.

“Typical wyvern reasoning. They are a despicable lot. Selfish, lazy creatures.” Rosings snorted.

Surely Rosings had to be mistaken. She swallowed hard. “How exactly did he reason I would be available to meet his demands if I had a self-centered boorish husband to attend?”

“Wyverns are also not very smart. I doubt he even considered it.” The side of Rosings’ lip curled back. “The material point is that it was not Darcy who separated you from your dear Pemberley. It was your own dragon.”

Her knees wobbled like jelly. Fitzwilliam caught her elbow. Walker dragged an old log near for her to sit.

She covered her face with her hands and drew in ragged breaths. It had been Longbourn’s doing the whole time? Bad enough that she had wrongly blamed Mr. Darcy, but that the dragon she Kept should have turned on her so? Bile burned the back of her throat. If he had already betrayed her so thoroughly, no wonder he was willing to try to persuade her as well.

Horrid, hateful creature!

“So you see, you did not know as much as you thought you did. If that bothers you, you will be horrified to discover how wrong you have been about Wickham.” Now Rosings was just gloating.

She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth. “Pray, do not say. I fear I cannot bear it.”

April trilled softly in her ear, just enough to ease some of her tension, but not enough to put her to sleep.

“Mr. Wickham, is the son of a respectable man who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct naturally inclined Darcy’s father to be of service to him. George Wickham was named for Darcy Senior and was his godson, thus his kindness was liberally bestowed.” Her tone suggested Rosings did not approve.

Elizabeth covered her mouth and bit her lips.

“Darcy Senior supported Wickham at school, and afterwards at Cambridge.” Walker folded his wings behind him like a school master. “Though I warned him otherwise, Darcy Senior was not only fond of young Wickham’s society—you have seen how engaging his manners can be—he also had the highest opinion of him and hoped the church would be his profession, intending to give him a family living when the time came.”

Rosings lashed her tail, nearly knocking Walker off his feet. “But old Darcy died before he could see it done. He left a legacy of a thousand pounds upon young Wickham. Shortly thereafter, he received another three thousand from Darcy when he declared he had no desire to go into the clergy but would study the law instead. Of course, by this time, Darcy had begun to see through Wickham, his debts, his gambling, his—what you call—debaucheries. Darcy was glad to have all ties cut and intended to have nothing more to do with him. Good riddance, I said. Especially since Old Pemberley found him poking about near the lair, more than once.”

“Are you suggesting—”

“That Old Darcy had permitted Wickham some knowledge of dragons? In his dotage, it is entirely possible.”

“You see! You see!” April shrieked, “I told you he was dangerous. He was asking indirect questions about dragons, encouraging her to tell him myths and stories—”

Elizabeth covered her face with her hands, throat almost too tight to speak. “He is not a deaf-speaker is he?”

“We do not know certainly. He stole Pemberley’s egg, but then had it stolen from him by someone unknown in Meryton.” Walker said.

“That came after Darcy thwarted his attempt to elope with Georgiana when she was just fifteen,” Cait cut in.

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “On that point, I must own my part of the blame. We both trusted Mrs. Younge, her companion, and thought going to Ramsgate would be good for her. But her dowry of thirty thousand pounds proved sufficient inducement to Wickham to put him in collusion with Mrs. Younge. Darcy arrived just in time to prevent the scheme.”

“On Earl Matlock’s suggestion, Darcy packed Wickham off into the militia to keep him away from his sister and Pemberley.” Walker snarled. “I should rather have pecked his eyes out.”

“Any reasonable creature would have thought that enough to keep them both safe from the villain.” Rosings thumped her tail.

Elizabeth jumped to her feet, shaking. “Wickham tried to steal Georgiana and succeeded in stealing Pemberley’s egg? To what end?”

“It is hard to say.” Walker dug his talons through the dirt. “He might have been trying to sell it not fully knowing what it was. There are those—on the continent where the Accords have no bearing—who would pay handsomely for such a prize.”

“It is also possible, if he is a deaf-speaker, he was going to try to befriend her himself and convince her that he was her Keeper,” Rosings said.

“Without being able to hear her?”

“He might have made the ruse work when she was newly hatched. More importantly though, it is possible he would have tried to make a claim on the estate through Pemberley.” Walker glanced back at Rosings who nodded.

“The Blue Order would never uphold such a claim.”

“No, I grant you that. But they might have found something to placate him, a small estate somewhere—he has always tried to lead a gentleman’s life. Even as a small boy, he wanted to leave the sphere to which he had been born.” Walker shrugged his wings.

“The Duge Cornwall could have eaten him instead! Would he not suspect the risks whilst dealing with dragons?” She threw up her hands.

“He has always been willing to gamble with very high stakes. The four thousand pounds given him by the Darcys lasted him only a few years. How do you think the fortune was lost?”

She began to pace, nearly tripping over Rosings’ tail. “This must be false! This cannot be!”

But dragons did not often lie. And they also confirmed April’s suspicions. And Aunt Gardiner’s.

What a fool she had been! An arrogant, prejudiced fool!

“Pray excuse me! I must consider all you have said.” She dashed from the lair, barely able to breathe.

A sick headache kept her to bed all the next day. Only fear of causing Pemberley anxiety roused her for her typical walk the following morning. Naturally it was a cold, drizzly day, exactly designed to reflect her mood and remind her of what a buffle-headed, shallow-pate she was.

How could she have been so entirely mistaken? Perhaps one could forgive her blindness regarding Longbourn. A Keeper was supposed to be partial to their dragon, patient and forgiving, that was after all the foundation of dragon-human relations. Both species had to choose to endure the peculiarities of the other. It was only natural that she should fail to see Longbourn’s real flaws until his transgressions became very heavy, indeed.

But to be so wrong about Mr. Wickham?

The account of his connection with the Darcy family was exactly what he had related to her himself. The kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. What Wickham had said of the living though–his gross duplicity! Resigning all pretensions to the living in lieu of so considerable a sum as three thousand pounds! More than Papa had in a year! And a thousand pounds at old Mr. Darcy’s death beyond that!

That sort of money could have kept him comfortable for a lifetime. At least, a lifetime not marked by extravagance and general profligacy. How many families lived well enough on such a sum?

Yet Darcy had never laid such a charge at Wickham’s feet. Why would he protect Wickham so? Respect for Wickham’s father, or perhaps his own?

Aunt and April both suspected Wickham and tried to warn her that there was no actual evidence of some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence. The only signs in his favor: the general approbation of the neighborhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him.

Powers that Mr. Darcy lacked.

That first evening she had met Wickham at the Phillips’—the impropriety of such communications to a stranger! How had she missed it before? The indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done and the inconsistency of his claims with his conduct. He had no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy’s character, though he had said that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.

Precisely the opposite to Darcy.

It was all there had she only chosen to look. And Wickham’s attentions toward her must have been like those to Georgiana—designs to acquire by force a draconic legacy which he had not been given by nature. No wonder the Order considered deaf-speakers the greatest danger to dragonkind.

And through it all, Darcy had refused to reveal anything that could harm his sister’s reputation.

She wrapped her arms tight around her waist. How despicably she had acted! She prided herself on discernment and wit, valued her own abilities above Jane and Mary’s warnings. Good reason to heed the warning that pride goeth before a fall.

Had she been in love, she could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, was her folly. So pleased with the preference of one, and so offended by the neglect of the other at the very beginning of both acquaintances, she courted ignorance, and drove reason away where either man was concerned.

To finally see herself now, without the trapping of conceit, it was not a pretty sight. How could she ever face—

“Miss Elizabeth?”

After encountering her on this path so many times before, why did Darcy still look surprised to do so?

She curtsied, pulling her cloak a little closer around her shoulders.

“Are you well?” He peered at her in a way she would have previously considered as looking for fault, but now just seemed concerned. “Has your headache improved?”

“I am as well as can be expected.”

He matched her stride, and they walked on together in silence for a dozen paces.

“Forgive me if I am intrusive, but I understand from Walker that you had an audience with Rosings yesterday.” How could he look at her that way—so kind and concerned—after he must know everything that had transpired?

“You might call it that.” She would call it a thorough dressing-down.

“Dragons are by no means delicate, but I fear that Rosings is probably worse than most. Much like her Keeper.”

“Do you find dragons often resemble their Dragon Mates?”

“It has been my experience that they do.”

Her cheeks burned hot. After time solely in Darcy’s care, Pemberley was sweet and affectionate.

“Or perhaps it is that the Mates begin to resemble their dragons. I have been finding myself in want of a new dog recently.” He cocked his eyebrow.

She giggled. Had he always had such a charming sense of humor?

“Do you not keep a pack of hunting hounds at Pemberley estate?”

“True enough, but I was rather thinking of a house dog. What would you think of a pug perhaps?”

“Oh, they are temperamental little creatures. Lady Lucas keeps one that does unspeakable things to the pillows.”

Darcy hid a laugh in a cough. “I believe I met that dog whilst in Meryton. Definitely then, no pugs.”

Her caught her gaze, his eyes so deep and expressive they dismissed all words from her tongue. Had he always looked at her that way?

Unable to breathe, she broke eye contact.

“Forgive me, sir, but I must speak. Pray accept my deepest apologies for both my father and Longbourn. I have been given to understand they treated you and Pemberley most abominably. I am mortified that he failed to render you more aid on your urgent errand. He is fortunate that you do not report him to the Order for his negligence.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and walked on. “Pemberley is well, and that is all that matters, is it not? One could argue that the additions that have been made to dragon lore regarding the imprinting of newly-hatched dragons are worth what we all experienced.”

“The additions to lore have not been accepted, yet. As I understand, the Conclave still wishes to examine Pemberley themselves. Rosings is still willing to sponsor her before them, is she not?”

“Most definitely. She is convinced that Pemberley has imprinted properly, if not more strongly than usual.”

She studied the dirt on the toes of her half boots. “I am grateful both for that and for your forbearance with my father. I know being old, ill, and set in one’s ways is little excuse, but it is all I have to offer on his behalf.”

“Few of us are perfect.”

“I am afraid though, I have no such excuses for Longbourn. To have thrown you and Pemberley out is utterly inexcusable by all standards. Not only was she a baby in need, but her rank alone should have compelled him to offer far more hospitality than he did. It is all the worse for having caused Pemberley’s current sufferings. Longbourn could have caused her serious harm, even her death. It is inexcusable.”

Darcy dragged the toe of his boot through a clump of thick moss. “I confess, it will be difficult to see wyverns in a positive light after this, but I prefer to dwell on the fact that Pemberley is much improved and is forming a bond with my sister who is also much improved. For all the mischief wrought, there is some good to come out of it.”

Perhaps he was right. It was best to remember the past as it gave one pleasure, not pain.

“Whatever left your sister in such dread of dragons?” Hopefully he would not find the question impertinent.

“When she was just ten years old, she ran away from her governess—a rather horrid woman, though she heard dragons. Apparently, she had been telling Georgiana horrible dragon histories. She had some wretched fascination with the period before the Pendragon Treaty and preferred stories of people being eaten by dragons. One can hardly blame Georgiana for running away. Unfortunately, she ran into Old Pemberley’s lair. She had not yet been introduced to him, and he was in his decline and decidedly cranky. She surprised him, and he her—”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh heavens! I can just imagine! One’s first meeting with a major dragon can be shocking even when one is fully prepared. My sister Mary nearly fainted the first time she met Longbourn. I had prepared her for the sight, but the smell of his breath was too much for her.”

“The venom does leave him with a … rather remarkable odor.” He wrinkled his nose.

“You are very gracious, sir.”

“How long will you be staying on as Rosings’ guest?”

Was that a hopeful note in his voice?

“I do not know. I have to suppose that it is better to go too slowly than too quickly, in weaning her away from my presence.”

“I pray you will forgive my intrusion in the matter, but I have been giving this a great deal of thought. Rosings has begun teaching Pemberley to hunt. Her first great growth spurt is supposed to happen in perhaps six weeks or so. I think it would be best to have her away from Rosings in about a month.”

She gasped. “I had not thought of that! You are right! We cannot risk two hunting dragons in the same territory!”

“I am relieved you agree. I did not want you to think I was trying to divide you from Pemberley again. Still though, there is no way to know if she might be able to separate from you without harm by then. To that end, I should like to offer an invitation to Pemberley, on behalf of my sister, of course. You might come as her particular friend and remain as long as you wish—as long as you feel it necessary—”

A clumsy, darkly-clad figure crashed through the trees. “Mr. Darcy! Cousin Elizabeth?”

“I just called upon Lady Catherine and was told that you were staying at Rosings Park as her guest. Imagine my surprise! I had been under the impression that you were tending a sick relation. Should not your family know of your whereabouts?”

“Miss Elizabeth has indeed been tending a sick relation, a good friend of my own who lives nearby.” Mr. Darcy’s voice shifted, subtly, into the more commanding tone that he used when in the presence of those below him—or was it with those who irritated him? It was difficult to tell.

“Indeed? Lady Catherine made no mention of a mutual acquaintance.”

“Probably because my friend has no good opinion of Lady Catherine,” Darcy said.

No, now was not the time to laugh, despite the mischievous look in Darcy’s eyes.

“In such a case, cousin, I think it may behoove you to spend some time in consideration of the appropriateness of your solicitous care of this person. If she has no good opinion of Lady Catherine, I cannot imagine that is the sort of company you should be keeping.”

“Perhaps her opinion is the result of her illness, sir. Is it not the case that when we are ill, our judgement can be suspect?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy nodded, slow and somber. “I think it quite possible. Her infirmity has made it difficult for her to appreciate my aunt’s most unique qualities.”

Collins clasped his hands behind his back, bobbing his head, almost a caricature of a sober vicar. “You may be completely correct. In that case, I feel it my duty as a clergyman to help set her thoughts straight. Take me to visit her directly, and I shall offer her my assistance.”

“That is gracious of you sir, but her companion, one of my aunt’s choosing, is very, very protective. She is very cautious in who she allows to visit her charge.”

“But I am vicar of this parish!”

“A point well taken. Perhaps we might be able to convince her of your suitability as a visitor, but she is quite old and set in her ways. Allow us to approach her and see if she might be convinced.” How did Mr. Darcy manage to remain so serious?

“Is Lady Catherine aware of this person? I am certain she cannot approve—”

“I am certain that she would offer a great deal of forbearance in her condescension toward the ill and infirm.” Darcy’s brows knit, and Collins blanched. “Are you by chance on your way to the parsonage, sir?”

“Indeed I am. I have not yet been there, instead going directly to see her ladyship first.”

“Excellent, perhaps I may accompany you then. I was on my way there, taking my yearly tour of the park, identifying those maintenance issues which should be addressed. You might show me the needs of your parsonage first hand?”

Collins’ knees buckled just a little. “I am grateful for your notice, sir. How kind, how magnanimous, that you would wish to see it with your own eyes.”