Elizabeth Bennet gently lifted the hem of her skirt and eyed the two flights of worn stone steps before her. The stair cases marked the entrance to Rosings, the estate owned by Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, an entrance that stared her down with its dark medieval decor. There certainly were scores upon scores of windows, just as her cousin Collins had described last autumn when he bragged about his patroness. But each pane of glass appeared as the narrowed eyes of a great mythological beast with the ornate stone decorations and a number of ghastly-sculpted gargoyles on each parapet.

“Perhaps I ought simply take the carriage to the parsonage? I don’t wish to impose upon your aunt.” Elizabeth looked to her right towards Colonel Fitzwilliam. She strained to keep up with his pace as his longer legs and experience with the uneven steps gave him much advantage.

The Colonel laughed and offered his arm to assist Miss Bennet the rest of the way. “And miss the look of surprise on Darcy’s face? Never! Besides, the parsonage is unlikely to have resources for the horses. Darcy makes sure my aunt’s stables are well staffed. Give the horses their rest.” The last inn stop they skipped entirely on account of their excitement to see their future spouses.

An empty dread filled Elizabeth’s stomach as the monstrous green lacquered doors opened to allow them entry. The Colonel greeted the longtime butler of the home, but Elizabeth’s attentions were arrested at the site of Mr. Darcy approaching the entryway with such a somber expression it broke her heart.

The dark brown eyes of Fitzwilliam Darcy blinked numerous times, as he was most certain they must have been deceiving him. There stood Richard with none other than his beloved Elizabeth, the woman who haunted his dreams and filled his heart, yet though he was bursting to dash forward and greet her properly, he could not. Using years of practiced manners, the Master of Pemberley strolled forward in even measured steps. He gave a low bow to both of the new visitors.

“That’s it?” The Colonel stepped forward to clap Darcy on the shoulder. “I travel lo these many miles from London with a particular companion and that formal bow is all the greeting we receive? Well, if I was a lady I should say –”

“Colonel, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your cousin? You spoke so much about him on our way from London.” Elizabeth Bennett’s voice rang clear as she looked pointedly towards the butler and footmen observing their small party.

“Yes, Richard. Where are your manners?” Darcy risked a flash of a smile in Elizabeth’s direction and it was all the reassurance she needed. She had no delusions coming to Kent, even at the invitation of a friend, was not dangerous business.

“May I introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet, an acquaintance from London who was coincidentally invited to visit her cousin and his wife at the parsonage? I offered her uncle to personally escort Miss Bennet seeing as I was traveling to the exact same location. Miss Bennet, this is my boring, droll cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy. He owns property.” The barbs of Richard Fitzwilliam did nothing to distract the young couple now formally introduced to play their farce.

“Miss Bennet, may I say it is a pleasure to meet you.” Darcy gallantly offered for her hand and bent down to kiss it properly. Elizabeth let out a small sigh that only those closest to her could hear.

“FITZWILLIAM! Why are you carrying on so long in the hall?” Lady Catherine’s booming voice echoed in the large expansive entryway.

The Colonel offered his arm to Elizabeth once more, aggravating Darcy, but playing his role. “Come, we must not leave my aunt waiting.” The three entered the parlor to the sharp glare from the lady of the house. The unfamiliar young woman on her nephew’s arm made Lady Catherine frown in disproval.

“Richard, whoever did you bring with you? I was not aware you were to bring a visitor, and a young woman at that, this is most unsuitable. Come here, girl, let me see you properly.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders involuntarily pushed back at the older woman’s verbal assault, but she felt Richard lightly nudge her where their arms connected as a sign to keep quiet.

“Aunt, a close acquaintance of mine had a niece traveling to visit your parson and his wife. It seemed only gentlemanly that I escort Miss Bennet as I was headed the same.”

“Miss Bennet? A Miss Bennet? Surely not that bit of muslin listed as your mistress, Darcy! Yes, yes I’ve heard of her, she is to leave, at once! Hawkins! Hawkins!” Lady Catherine rose from her ornate chair to pull the cord hanging in the far corner of the room. The butler obediently appeared in the parlor. “Hawkins, escort this garbage out of my home this instant!” She pointed towards Elizabeth, whose mouth dropped in fear.

“Hawkins, if you wish to remain employed, you will not touch Miss Bennet.” The cool, calm voice of Mr. Darcy negated his aunt’s bluster.

“This is not your place, Fitzwilliam. How dare you have your cousin bring your mistress while your future wife lay dying above stairs? How dare you bring the same shame as my husband?”

Darcy continued to stand stoically, his arms clasped behind his back, just next to Elizabeth. If she inhaled deeply, she could smell his musk she knew all too well from their many walks in Hyde Park and elsewhere before this awful woman dragged him to Kent. The situation could not possibly be worse than she had imagined, but she had not truly expected a lady of the peerage to be so utterly without manners.

“Lady Catherine is mistaken, Hawkins. Miss Bennet is not here in any capacity related to me. She is here to visit her relations and no more. Is that clear?” Darcy’s voice proved scarier to the poor butler than Lady Catherine’s as the servant nodded and backed out of the room. Louis Hawkins had not recently been hired on at the estate, and though Lady Catherine indeed owned the home, it was not she who ruled the purse strings.

Lady Catherine looked to the three young people in her parlor and gave a sickening grin as Elizabeth looked to both men for what to do next. “It’s clear now. The two of you share her favors, yes, that’s it. I’ve heard of such things, in those dark circles of society, women who cater to particular tastes . . .”

“Close your mouth, madame, or I assure you I shall shut it for you!” The lion of Richard Fitzwilliam roared to life, releasing Elizabeth’s arm as he marched forward to advance on his aunt. “That tongue of yours has always caused trouble in this family, and where my father might tolerate it, I shall not allow you to blacken my character, nor Darcy’s, nor that of Miss Bennet. Am I clear?”

Lady Catherine de Bourgh suddenly shrank in stature at the dual assault from both of her nephews. Neither had ever spoken to her is such a manner and in her own home! But Lady Catherine was not an imbecile. There was no doubt this new madness in both of her nephews stemmed from this upstart before her, but her claws were in much too deep. No, to save her nephews, Lady Catherine would need to be crafty. Cunning.

“You would speak to an old woman, your superior in such a way? Why I ought to have you whipped, boy! You are not welcome in this home and I am most displeased you have not the manners to announce your travel companions. I am retiring to my rooms for the afternoon and I expect you both at dinner with your manners properly restored. Take this person to the parsonage if that is truly where she is destined for, but she is not for my company and that is final.”

Lady Catherine pulled on the cord three times and a young footman appeared to escort her upstairs. Dramatically leaning on her cane, and the boy’s arm, Lady Catherine left the room and for the first time in many minutes, Elizabeth Bennet felt enough relief to release the breath she had been holding.

Richard left the parlor not long after his aunt, closing the doors behind him, presumably to see to his Anne. Darcy led Elizabeth to the nearest sofa and she happily settled onto it.

“Fitzwilliam, I am so sorry, truly sorry. I was a fool for letting Richard talk me into coming to the main house first. Such a fool!”

Darcy traced the jawline of his beloved with his finger and crooked her face up towards his. Kissing her with the passion of a man on the precipice of disaster, he pulled her upper body into a crush against his own with a tight embrace. Fearing discovery, he reluctantly released her to appear as indifferent acquaintances should his aunt send a servant.

“It is I who am sorry you heard those filthy words spew from my aunt. She is unbearable at best, but today she was—”

“She is losing her only daughter. I’ve seen people behave most oddly in the face of great tragedy and stress.” Elizabeth gave her future husband a look of pure compassion. This was the same explanation she used to comfort herself when her memories of the night she was thrown out from her family home attacked her dreams. It was the only explanation she could give for why her father would allow her mother to have behaved so abominably.

“That is no excuse. No excuse at all. She hardly ever sees her daughter, and . . . and I am rambling on when I have no inclination to speak to you about my aunt.”

Elizabeth offered him a shy smile. She had not wanted to say as such, but her Mr. Darcy was quite clever in remembering their privacy was limited. She had not traveled for a day in a rambling carriage to talk about unpleasant matters.

“Are you pleased I came? I did think for a moment such a plan was—”

Darcy silenced her with another kiss. The delicious warmth she felt each time he placed his lips on her own made Elizabeth tingle down to her toes. Wishing to convey such joy, she nuzzled her nose on his own larger aristocratic profile, eliciting a rare laugh from him.

“I am overjoyed you are near. I have worried senselessly since leaving London. The situation here has become most dire.” The serious tone behind his words added additional weight to Elizabeth’s shoulders.

“And you have had no one to stand by you as you face it,” she declared.

The simplicity of her statement resonated deep within Darcy’s soul. No other woman had ever considered his feelings beyond passing fancies of his favorite drink or play or book so as to further discussion in a ballroom. He would have embraced her again had the doors to the parlor not opened once more, with Richard strolling in, clearly agitated.

“She is in a worse state than I ever imagined.” The army man wasted no time in walking across the parlor to the small sideboard where his aunt kept spirits. Wisely pulling the decanter from the back, Richard poured the scotch that was not watered down to save money.

“I sent for you directly. That was the purpose of my express. I am only glad you finally secured leave,” Darcy said.

“Has the doctor—”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, attracting the attention of both men. Meekly, she smiled and rubbed her hands over the lap of her dress. The discussion of another woman’s health, one that was still a stranger made her uncomfortable. “I’m terribly sorry, but the Collinses are expecting me. Would one of you escort me to the parsonage with the carriage?” She looked directly at Darcy when she said the words.

“We should both go.” Richard announced, downing his shot. “If we truly do not wish to raise talk, it’s imperative the staff not see the two of you alone as much as possible. Aunt Catherine will be suspicious this entire visit, thanks to my damn need to play a prank.”

Darcy helped Elizabeth up from the sofa, biting back his words that he agreed with his cousin’s sentiment. Perhaps if they had not arrived together, and instead Elizabeth had been introduced to his aunt as a visitor to the parsonage . . . but it was too late to change his aunt’s perceptions now.

“I shall call on you tomorrow. Do you plan to take your daily walk in the morning?” Darcy asked, most earnestly.

“Sir, unless you decide to break my other ankle by running me down with your horse, I believe it is safe to say I shall walk each morning the weather is fine.” The two locked eyes and enjoyed another brief moment of connection until Richard cleared his throat.

“We’d better find a way to marry me and Anne quickly, the two of you won’t last a week at this rate.”