Inside the carriage, the comfort was best described as shabby, but the state of the slightly worn fabric reminded Elizabeth Bennet of her own family’s carriage. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose as she realized the true danger of traveling alone. She held tightly to her reticule and Mr. Darcy’s book. The noise of men shouting outside made her close her eyes, and though they were not shouting at her, the vulnerability caused by her impetuosity quickened her heartbeat.

Opening one eye to peek out the window as the sounds of the wheels changed from the deeply rutted roads of Cheapside to the smoother surfaces of Mayfair, Elizabeth gasped at the enormous homes and grand facades. Spying Hyde Park, she smiled.

She always wished to walk there, but she had only been able to do so on one occasion, long ago, while visiting her aunt and uncle. Now considering she lived in London, the acceptance of her new home touched her heart. Elizabeth began to calmly reflect on the childhood wishes she had nurtured about the city. She could now live them if she desired!

The hackney-chaise rolled to a stop and Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the few coins to pay the driver and asked if he would remain for a moment or two.

The driver looked her up and down and leaned over and spat on the street. “Sure thing, milady.” He winked at her.

The entire exchange unsettled Elizabeth, and the man’s leers made her reconsider her request for him to drive her back to her aunt and uncle’s home. Glancing at the chaise and then to the brightly painted red door of Mr. Darcy’s home, Elizabeth pulled her gloves on a little tighter and walked slowly to the haven of the red door.

There was no knocker and Elizabeth’s hopes shattered. If there was no knocker, she realized, it meant Mr. Darcy could not possibly be home, for she understood how London society operated. Nevertheless, she had come all this way, so with a disappointed frown she knocked on the door vigorously until someone answered. She may as well return the book.

When the fine red door opened, Elizabeth heard the hackney-chaise begin to roll away. She quickly turned, trying to motion the driver to wait, but he was gone to the other side of the street for a fare.

“Miss?”

Elizabeth hastily turned around to stand face-to-face with the eagle eye inspection of a middle-aged woman dressed in black, armed with an enormous set of keys hanging at her waist. She must be the housekeeper, Elizabeth reasoned. Elizabeth smiled and curtsied, a motion that surprised the housekeeper, given how the young lady was dressed.

“I realize your master, Mr. Darcy, must not be home, ma’am. My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I was an acquaintance of Mr. Darcy during his visit in Hertfordshire.” At this, Elizabeth’s courage began to decline. The housekeeper continued to stare sharply, uttering nary a word to encourage Elizabeth.

Elizabeth glanced at the book in her hands, feeling immense sadness at the thought she would never find comfort there again. She lifted the leather-bound volume to draw the housekeeper’s attention to her burden, then held it out. “He lent me this book for a while. It brought me much joy, I wanted to ensure it was returned to its proper home.”

The housekeeper accepted the book and began to connect her master’s melancholy with a word the young lady had uttered.

“Hertfordshire, you said? You are from Hertfordshire?”

Elizabeth appeared bewildered that the housekeeper would be interested in her home county. “Yes, my father owns an estate there. Please, could you make sure the book is returned to Mr. Darcy?”

Working on intuition alone, Mrs. Potter made the extraordinary gesture of inviting this young woman into the home, expressly against her Master’s orders to turn away all visitors.

“You’ve come all this way. I’m certain Mr. Darcy would be quite upset if we did not offer you refreshment, you know.” Mrs. Potter shooed the girl inside before Elizabeth knew what was happening.

The entryway to Darcy house was grander than any home in London, Elizabeth was certain of that fact. The pristine floors shone as she gazed down upon them, and the judicious use of marble on the stairs, and in various statues made her stifle a small giggle. She knew Mr. Darcy was wealthy, but this was a small palace!

“Truly, I have not come from so terribly far, Mrs.–?”

“Mrs. Potter, dear. Come. Let me show you to the morning parlor and fetch my master.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in fear, she had reconciled herself to Mr. Darcy’s absence. On hearing that he was in this same house, she felt the last bit of courage leave her heart. “I really should go. He’s not expecting me. I cannot impose, you see.”

Mrs. Potter smiled at the girl and handed the book back to her.

“I may lose my position over this, but something tells me you must be the one to personally return this book to Mr. Darcy. Please remain here and make yourself comfortable.” Mrs. Potter bustled out of the room and closed the double doors. Motioning for a young footman named Jack, she instructed him to stand sentry and not let the girl leave for any reason until Mr. Darcy arrived. Jack stared at Mrs. Potter in confusion, but he agreed.

Hurrying up the stairs much faster than her age normally dictated, Catherine Potter hunted down her Master’s man, Simmons. Out of breath when she at last found the valet working in the dressing room, she waved her hands frantically, and the stalwart military man had no choice but to cross to the doorway.

“She’s here; she’s here, by my honor. It has to be her!”

“Who?”

“The woman you told me about, Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth Bennet, she’s here downstairs to return a book.”

Simmons, while usually a man of the most serious nature, experienced an expression he rarely allowed. He broke into a wide grin and told the housekeeper to attend the lady and he would bring their master at once.

Using the door connecting the dressing room to the bedroom, Simmons began to pull the drapes open, allowing the sunlight to spill into the room.

Mr. Darcy groaned from his bed. He was a man who appeared a ghost of his old self from nights of drinking and days of little food. “Simmons! If this is your idea of a jest, I am not amused.”

“Sir, you have a visitor. I’m here to help you dress as quickly as you are able. “

“No visitors! I’ve made myself perfectly clear. Whomever it is, send them away.” Darcy rolled over into his pillows, covering his face with their fabric to avoid the sun’s harsh glare.

The covers of the bed were stripped away, and Darcy felt the chill of the room around him. Sitting up in his bed and grabbing his head, for the quick movement exasperated his headache, he growled, “Simmons! I’ll have your job for this.”

John Simmons stood at the foot of his master’s bed and glared at him much like Darcy’s father would on the few nights that Fitzwilliam Darcy had imbibed too much. “Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and she has come all this way to return a book.”

Darcy nearly jumped from the bed, stumbling around in confusion as his physical stamina suffered over his weeks of mistreatment. He began barking orders, and though Simmons thought it comical, the valet remained indifferent to his master’s antics. There was no time for a bath, but Mr. Darcy was shaved, dressed and doused in as much cologne as Simmons allowed. He exited his bedroom to walk downstairs.

He reached the top of the stairs as Mrs. Potter was arguing with Miss Elizabeth, who was trying to leave. Though Elizabeth remained polite, he saw the housekeeper was not winning the battle. He stared, fixed in place, as Elizabeth’s hands reached the door, and though arrested by the sight of her beauty, he managed to call out.

“Elizabeth.”

The silky call of her name by his voice brought her up short in her escape. She gazed up the stairs at him. She did not move as he descended the stairs and came directly to stand before her.

“I apologize for making you wait, but I would quite like a few moments of your time. I think there is much we may discuss?”

Silent for a moment, Elizabeth searched his face. It was different from what she remembered, thinner, less healthy. But his eyes, his gentle brown eyes were the same. Accepting his arm, she began to follow his lead to the morning parlor where two trays of refreshments had just arrived.

“It is I who should apologize, sir, for arriving without notice. I had only to simply return your book by post or perhaps leave it with Charles to return when next you visited. I understand taking so much trouble to return it myself is rather ridiculous.” Elizabeth began to breathe shallowly as she knew her actions might give license to a rich man like Mr. Darcy, but her intentions were far from wanton. The leers of the hackney driver made sense as she now understood he thought her a lady of loose morals.

“I am happy we are neither of us performers for society’s demands. How is your family in Hertfordshire?”

Elizabeth startled as such an easy question now represented an acute pain in her heart. She muttered some noncommittal phrases and began to speak of Jane.

The two continued an easy conversation of pleasantries until Elizabeth noted the late hour. If she did not return soon, her aunt and uncle would most certainly miss her. As much as her heart ached at leaving Mr. Darcy’s presence, she had no choice but to announce it was time to take her leave. The announcement brought an agitation to Mr. Darcy which surprised Elizabeth.

“Of course. I’ll call my carriage and drive you to. . .” Mr. Darcy waited for Elizabeth to answer with her London address, and she recalled Miss Bingley’s constant barbs about her relatives in trade. The afternoon with Mr. Darcy had gone so well, Elizabeth did not wish to ruin their visit by reminding him of her station in life.

“That won’t be necessary, sir, I shall hire a chaise to return home.”

“I cannot possibly send a gentlewoman alone in a hired carriage across London. It simply is not done,” Mr. Darcy reasoned.

Elizabeth smiled. “What happened to your joy that neither of us played to society’s demands, sir? Is it only when it’s in your favor, or do you support all reasonable actions that may flout society’s strictures?”

Darcy smiled. He had missed the sparkling wit of Miss Elizabeth Bennet most acutely. Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he agreed that the lady had bested him. Still, a sudden fear that he might not see her again gripped his heart.

“Miss Elizabeth, it is my greatest wish we might continue our acquaintance while you are in London, if it is amenable to you? When might we meet again?”

Elizabeth searched his words carefully for any declaration of himself and sadly realized he had offered none. Momentarily saddened, she reasoned that although Mr. Darcy may not desire the same outcome as she did for their happiness, there was nothing wrong with enjoying his amiable company. If, and when, their acquaintance came to the breach, she already turned down one man’s wedding proposal. It could not be so difficult to tell a man she held no desire to become his mistress.

“I believe the weather shall be fine again tomorrow. Would a stroll in Hyde Park at three o’clock be acceptable?” he asked earnestly.

Darcy wondered at the thoughts in Elizabeth’s head as he watched her expression subtly change numerous times before she responded. She readily agreed to a stroll in Hyde Park the following afternoon, and took great care in walking to the door. As a footman had hailed a chaise for his lady, Darcy could not reconcile the odd feeling in sending her off in such a manner. Just before she entered the carriage, he made a perceptible squeeze of her hand and locked eyes with the woman who tormented him in his dreams.

“Until tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth.”