Outside the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet shooed away the footman who immediately came to her side for assistance. She began to walk across the grand foyer to the back hall. Her efforts to leave the drawing room were quickly rewarded when her silver fox of a charmer was but ten paces away. He gallantly strolled up to Mrs. Bennet, bowed low to kiss her hand, and turned them both as the lady giggled. With her back now to the direction from whence he came, Uncle Darcy complimented Mrs. Bennet on her frock being such a lovely shade of gray.

“Oh, Alastair, you trifle too long with an old widow like me.”

“And if I disagree, Mrs. Bennet, will you scold me?” He asked her conspiratorially by leaning into her ear. Unfortunately, as Alastair looked over his paramour’s shoulder, an unpleasant sight of the other three men walking down the hall came into view as they turned the corner. “I’m afraid, my darling, our time is at an end. Shall I come to you this evening?” He asked as he once more bent down to kiss her hand.

“I shall leave my door unlocked. But I am not the type of lady to invite strange men into my bedchamber.” Mrs. Bennet gave a signal that she was continuing their rather pointless ruse of discretion. Alastair winked as he turned around and walked away, leaving Mrs. Bennet in the foyer to greet her son-in-law and his family members.

“If the two of you will join the ladies in the parlor, I would like a word with Mother Bennet.” Mr. Darcy said as they all arrived in the foyer. Robert faltered in his steps as he looked back at his cousin, but Darcy nodded. “Tell my wife I shall be there in but a moment.”

The two Fitzwilliam men shrugged, supposing it must be something to do with Mrs. Darcy’s condition and left their host. Darcy coughed to clear his throat.

“I was just going to bed, Mr. Darcy. I am ever so tired after such a long day of planning and entertaining our guests.” Mrs. Bennet spoke nervously as she walked away from her daughter’s husband toward the stairs.

“And will you be enjoying your bedchamber alone?” Fitzwilliam ground his teeth as he disliked being so crass, but he wished for this interview to be over quickly.

Mrs. Bennet squawked with shock that such a baseless accusation be laid at her feet.

But Fitzwilliam held up his hands in mock surrender. “There is no need to deny it to me, Madam, I witnessed my uncle leave your bedchamber this morning in the same attire he wore last evening. I am only requesting that you consider your actions after I explain to you the kind of man my uncle is.”

“There is no need to warn me, Mr. Darcy. As your elder, I’m quite aware the gentleman your uncle is and how miserable his life has been since his family saw fit to send him away to the far shores of India. For shame to send a man away from all he holds dear.”

“And did he explain we sent him away because we lacked positions to foster the bastards from his affairs with the staff?” Mr. Darcy again startled his wife’s mother as he kept his tone of voice low so that it would not echo in the grand foyer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy spied a footman over by the stairs begin to stir, and he suddenly regretted having such an inappropriate interview in a public space. “Please, Mother Bennet, think of your daughters.” Mr. Darcy reached out for his mother-in-law’s hand and tried to impart his sincerest wish for her to curtail her behavior. “My uncle is a man of no honor. He will not hesitate to use and abuse the ones who love him most if he can see an advantage to it.”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and jerked back her hand. She frowned. “You have insulted my character, sir, and I’m afraid that there is nothing more this old widow needs warning from. I suppose you and my daughter are planning to send him away?”

Mr. Darcy said nothing and Mrs. Bennet took it as an affirmation.

“I see. Well then, do not be surprised if I board that carriage with him. I am no prisoner here, and though my settlement is meager, Uncle Darcy has assured me we shall find favor with his many friends.”

Mrs. Bennet stormed off in a huff, leaving her son by marriage alone in the foyer pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Darcy possessed no wisdom to explain how badly he had bungled what was meant to be a gentle conversation with Elizabeth’s mother. Momentarily, he found compassion for his mistake by blaming his other uncle and cousin of abusing all of his patience in the library. The only meager measure of success he could grant was that he had not revealed to Mrs. Bennet that Mr. Alastair Darcy was the natural father of George Wickham.

It was unlikely the knowledge of little baby Robin could be kept for long from the man who could very easily lay claim to the child. But both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy hoped the longer Robert Bennet grew up in the loving arms his Aunt Jane, the better chance the lad had for a successful life. With any luck, Alastair Darcy would be far too distracted to worry about the grandchild of his own unscrupulous liaisons.