Harley Street

Title: Harley Street
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom(s): Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Colonel Fitzwilliam, (one sided) Elizabeth/Darcy, (future) Darcy/Eloise Bridgerton
Rating: PG
Word Count: 20k (I hope you love me! I wrote this in a marathon over three days!)
Warnings: the introduction is 36 pages, time travel, no Edward, no Alice, gambling, debt, Darcy isn’t a sweetheart, Elizabeth Bennet needs an attitude change, smoking, racism
Summary: Bella saw him across the street under a streetlamp smoking a cigarette.  She didn’t expect him to follow her into a gambling den in Regency London.

Harley Street

I

Bella was aware that the officer had followed her in off the streets of London.  She had stepped out of her carriage and had seen him under a streetlamp on the other side of the street, smoking a cigarette.  Their eyes had met, violet to blue, for one brief moment.  He had bowed his head to her, and then he had discarded his cigarette and followed her down into the illegal poker match in the basement of the townhouse she was entering.

She had never seen him before and he barely had the buy in, so she did not think he was there to gamble.

Still, the officer sat himself across from her and while he played a good game, winning five hundred pounds, he spent much of the evening regarding Bella instead of focusing on the poker match.

Bella, the consummate gambler that she was, bought in at two thousand pounds, and came away with more than twice that.  It was a night well spent.

However, she felt the officer’s regard most keenly and tried not to shift in her seat.  His eyes were heavy on her and she thought he looked to admire.  She did not believe his gaze was predatory unlike some men, but it was certainly persistent.

In the small hours of the morning, when the game broke up, the officer lit another cigarette and left the game.  Bella found him lurking outside.

“May I escort you to your carriage, Madam?” he asked her, his eyes lit up by the end of the cigarette.

Bella did not particularly like the smell of tobacco.  Her Grampa Swan smoked an old pipe filled with Quileute cansana, which had a pleasanter smell to it, like old books and woodfires.  This just smelled stale and cheap, like reels of old film in Arizona heat.

She looked the officer up and down and told him boldly, “I never let a man escort me if we haven’t been introduced.”

“That can be remedied,” he told her with a grin.  “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”  He held out his hand to her, crisply gloved in white.

She regarded his outstretched hand.  “You are a consummate gambler, sir.”

“I could say the same of you, Madam.”

Bella lifted her chin and swept past him into her carriage, knowing his eyes were following her.

“Will you be here again tonight?” he shouted after her as her footman closed the carriage door behind her.

She looked out the window back at him.  He was rather good looking, better looking than Edward, even, with a chiseled jaw and curling brown hair.  At least his skin looked flushed with health.

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” she shouted back.  She then tapped on the roof of the carriage and it jolted forward, taking her away into the bowels of London, and away from the inestimable Colonel.

Bella arrived home not a half hour later, just in time for breakfast, at her quaint little flat in a less than fashionable address in Bloomsbury.  She had made quite a home for herself since she had been captured by the Volturi two years—or was it three now?—after following Edward to Volterra.  Aro had found her silent mind fascinating and had acquired her for his purposes.  He was, however, thwarted by Alice, who had thrown her into the arms of a vampire guard who, when his ice cold skin touched hers, thrust her back in time to the early 1800s—alone.  If Bella had to guess, she would say this unknown vampire had been a new acquisition of Aro’s and had not had time to fully manipulate his gift and could not quite control it.  So, Bella went into the past, secreted safely away, and now had to fend for herself.

Having no contacts, no money, and nothing but the rather inappropriate clothes on her back, Bella had to live by her wits.  That gave her one of two choices—prostitute herself or gamble.  She chose the latter.  She had spent many a night in Forks perched behind Charlie’s chair, watching him play poker with Billy Black and Harry Clearwater.  She had learned the rules of the game backward and forward and found she had a knack for cards.

She started with small games with the few pennies she begged off the streets, earning invitations to higher and higher stakes tables.  With her winnings, she bought fashionable evening dresses in mourning (everyone respected a young lady in mourning for her parents).  Then she went from renting rooms to a nice little flat, and now she could afford a carriage, a footman, and a maid.   Bella had quite the profitable enterprise going at the age of one and twenty.  She even had a certain amount of respectability as Miss Isabella Swan of Seattle, Washington, the young lady with a mysterious past from across the seas.  She was respected in gambling circles and rubbed elbows with baronets and second sons of Marquises who needed to supplement their incomes with gambling and who could not be properly supported by the more gentlemanly (and lower buy ins) at Whites and who had no luck at the racing tracks.

“Did you win at the gambling tables?” her maid, Charlotte, asked as she served tea with Bella’s breakfast that morning.  Bella had just changed out of her black evening silks into a nightgown and kimono.  After breakfast she would be going to sleep for the morning and half of the afternoon.

“Yes, Carrie,” Bella responded, picking up a scone.  “We did very well.”

“Any of the gentleman ask for your card?” Charlotte inquired slyly.

Bella paused.  There had been the Earl of Carbury.  His estate was mortgaged to the hilt and it was well known he needed to marriage a fortune.  Bella could well be considered a fortune, but she was not a society lady.  “Just the usuals.”

“No one promising then.”

There had been the officer with his hazy blue eyes obstructed by cigarette smoke.  Bella forced herself not to think of him.  He wouldn’t be there this evening, no matter what he had said.

“No, no one.”  She picked up an old copy of Lady Whistledown.  It seemed the Duke of Hastings was causing speculation again, or at least he had last Season.

That night, Bella prepared to go out again.  Charlotte put out one of her evening dresses, and helped her into her corset, lacing it up the back.  Bella had a bottle of orange blossom perfume, and she dotted it on her wrists and behind her ears.  She even let Charlotte put some ornamental pins in her hair that evening, as she was feeling rather whimsical.

When the carriage arrived at Harley Street, Bella prepared to exit, and was rather surprised when she heard a conversation outside of her door.  “What’s the matter?” she asked as she opened the door.  She looked out and saw the footman in angry conference with the Colonel.

“This man wants t’ hand y’ down,” the footman told her gruffly.

“Does he?” Bella asked with a lifted brow.  “He’ll just have to be disappointed, won’t he?”  She purposefully held her hand out to her footman, but the Colonel cut in and took it.

“Allow me, Madam.”

She sighed.  “If you insist.—It’s quite alright, Monroe.  We’ll let the Colonel have his way just this once.”

Her footman huffed and took the door, holding it open.

Bella stepped out of the carriage, careful not to trip on her skirts, and then took back her hand.  “I see you have recurred, Colonel.”

“You think me so inconstant?” he inquired with a laugh about his mouth.

“I hardly know you,” she answered.  “I know this is not your usual card game.”

“No,” he agreed, falling into step beside her as they entered the basement apartment.  “No.  I usually do not see such heavy action at the gaming table.”

She turned to him on the step.  “I wonder that you play at all and simply do not choose to watch.”

“They would throw me out, Madam.  Such men do not like being viewed in their den of iniquity.”

“Den of iniquity?” she mused, thinking he sounded like a Sunday School lesson.  “What an unsightly vision you have of us all.”  She held his blue gaze for a long moment before pushing forward, opening the apartment door for herself and entering.

The game had not yet begun and she greeted the usual players, entering the buy in.

The Colonel did buy in.  He lost money that night.  Bella won it all.  She did not feel sorry.

The Earl of Carbury asked for her card.  “Don’t be silly,” she told him.  “You shall marry some great lady with a fortune.  You need not waste your time with me.”

“We could spend some very happy interludes,” he suggested, moving slightly closer to her, only to find a hand placed firmly on his shoulder.

“Carbury,” the Colonel interrupted, “how is your excellent mother?”

Bella glanced at him in confusion and took a step back from the men.

“My mother?” Carbury asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yes,” the Colonel agreed, sending a look at Bella.  “My mother, the Countess of Matlock, was just saying the Dowager Countess was wearing last season’s fashions to Lady Danbury’s ball.  Did you not notice?  You should have because the bill from the modiste would have failed to appear on your ledger.”

Bella took several steps backward and headed for the door.

The Earl of Carbury did not follow.  The Colonel, however, did.

“He should not importune you.  He is a reprobate.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “I am a reprobate, Colonel.”

“You are a lady.”

“I have a footman.  That does not make me a lady.”  Her footman, however, had not appeared yet with her carriage.  Perhaps the game had broken up early.

He took a deep breath.  “My brother’s wife should like to invite you to tea.”

Bella turned around, wide eyed, and stared at him.  “I do not even know her name.  Does she even know mine?”

“I heard Sir John call you ‘Isabella.’”

“Well, your brother’s wife certainly cannot address the invitation to ‘Isabella,’” she told him rationally, just as her carriage came around the corner.

“Well, then, Madam, will you not tell me—”

It rolled in front of them and the footman hopped down to open the door.  Bella ignored the rest of what Colonel Fitzwilliam was saying.  Before Monroe could offer his hand, the Colonel placed his hand in front of Bella, and she begrudgingly took it and entered her carriage.

“It would help,” the Colonel told her, “if you placed a coat of arms on your carriage so I could look it up in the registry.”

“You forget,” she informed him, leaning past the curtain, “only his Majesty can bestow a coat of arms, and I do not think the Prince Regent would bestow a coat of arms in his father’s stead.”

“I could always ask,” the Colonel grumbled, taking out a cigarette.

“Because you’re such great friends?” Bella quipped, “given your mother is the Countess of Matlock?”

His blue eyes flashed up to her.  They were so startling in color, clear and bright, that Bella’s breath caught in her throat and she had to look away quickly.

“You are not immune to me,” the Colonel noted, pleasure in his voice.  He lit his cigarette.

“I wish you would stop smoking those,” she bit out.  “They’re cancer sticks.”

“Cancer sticks?” he asked in bemusement.

“Yes,” she told him plainly.  “Cancer sticks.  My grandfather Swan died from smoking tobacco pipes around Quileute campfires.  He was on the tribal council.”  She banged on the top of her roof twice.

“What is a ‘Quileute’?” the Colonel asked, carefully pronouncing the word. 

“Look it up,” Bella suggested as she rolled away.

The Earl of Carbury came running up the basement steps, but neither Bella nor the Colonel paid him any attention.  The Colonel stood on the sidewalk, stunned, cigarette in his mouth.

When Bella arrived at her little flat, she didn’t even wait for Charlotte, but quickly started taking her hair down in agitation.  When Charlotte did come in, Bella waited impatiently for her to unstring her dress before she was shirking it off behind a privacy screen.  Bella knew she was in an ill temper.  She let her feelings get the better of her, and she could only blame the Colonel’s shocking blue eyes.  They pierced her when he regarded her.  She hadn’t been so affected since Edward.  At least, she didn’t think she had.  It had only been a stupid school girl’s fancy.

Only taking a bit of tea before she went to bed, Bella drew the curtains and lay down.  However, visions of the Colonel in his fine red uniform plagued her and she could barely sleep.

The next night the Colonel was also present.  He turned in his cards early.  “I fear I am done in, gentlemen,” he said when he was only up a hundred pounds, “and ladies,” he tipped his hat to her.

Bella looked over her cards at him.  They were still early in the night.  “We are sorry to see you go, Colonel.”

“Are you?” he asked hopefully.

Laughing to herself, Bella upped the ante by two hundred pounds. 

Lord Septimus glanced at her before calling.

The Colonel withdrew and came around behind Bella to look at her cards.  She quickly folded them down.  “Don’t even try, Colonel,” she chided.  “How do I know your face won’t give away my hand?”

He leaned down, his hands on the back of her chair, and murmured, “You have seen my poker face, Isabella.”

“I have not given you the right to call me by my Christian name,” Bella reminded him, turning her attention to the other players who were deciding whether or not to call or fold.

“I know not your family name,” he informed her.

“That is not my fault.”  The lord to her right folded.  It was time to show her cards.  Bella set down three fours with two queens.  She showed no satisfaction on her face, but waited for the other players to reveal their hands.

Behind her the Colonel stood to his full height. 

Tonight he was not smoking a cigarette.  It seemed he had listened to her, even though he clearly did not know what a “cancer stick” was.

One by one the other four remaining players tossed in their hands with varying degrees of exasperation or, in some cases, in difference, and Bella took home the pot of well over three thousand pounds, not counting their buy ins that were held at the door.

“You did well tonight,” the Colonel remarked when he escorted Bella to the door.

She turned to him and lifted a brow.  “You at least did not lose any money.  They did not have to draw from your buy in.”

“Tis true,” he agreed.  “I would not wish to be in debt to these men.”

“They are not hardened criminals,” Bella reminded him.  “Most of them are members of White’s.  They just choose to come here for a riskier game.”

The Colonel’s eyes cut to the side and Bella turned to see that he was staring at the Earl of Carbury.  The two men seemed to be having a private conversation, and Carbury took his hat from the usher and quickly walked by them, going up the stairs without a look back.

“Carbury hopefully will not be bothering you anymore,” the Colonel informed her.

“Have you chased him away then?” Bella asked.  “How gallant of you.”

“He was not a rival for your hand—only your attention.”

Bella paused and looked up into the Colonel’s eyes.  He seemed to be serious.  Did he really wish for more than her attention for however long he fancied a mild flirtation?

Lord Septimus broke her concentration when he came into the hall, grabbing his walking stick.  “Ah, Fitzwilliam, Isabella,” he greeted.  He was rather a fumbling young man, just out of Cambridge, and the seventh of eight sons of a Duke who had enough to give his younger children money to throw around.  “Fancy seeing you in a private tête-à-tête.”

“No such thing,” Bella promised him.  “Will you fetch me my cloak?”

“Quite right!” he agreed, leaving them for a short minute.

The Colonel leaned forward.  “You know I should have liked to have fetched your cloak.”

Bella leaned forward conspiratorially.  “You were wasting my time, Colonel.”  She leaned back and tried to show she did not care either way.

Lord Septimus came back with her cloak and made a show of putting it on her shoulders.  Bella did not let him go so far as to clasp the front, but when Lord Septimus offered his arm, the Colonel stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I think I can take it from here, Septum.”

“Oh?” Lord Septimus asked.  “If Isabella thinks so.”  He relinquished Bella’s arm and saluted them.  “Till tomorrow.”  Then he scurried up the stairs to where his horse had undoubtedly been brought round.

“He is a charming boy,” Bella commented.

“He is a puppy,” the Colonel refuted.

Bella immediately remembered Mike Newton with all his acne.  “An inaccurate assessment,” she decided, but she allowed the Colonel to lead her up the basement stairs.

“Who owns this property?  It is a well appointed address,” the Colonel commented as they came onto the street.

“I have no idea,” Bella mused.  Her carriage was slightly down the street as several carriages were lined up, waiting.  She pointed it out and the Colonel obligingly led her toward it.  “Someone must hold the buy ins.  I assume he is titled or at least the son of someone titled.”

“Imagine if it is a woman.  Perhaps that is why you are permitted to join,” the Colonel suggested.

“It is not a woman,” Bella said decidedly.  “When I was first told of the game, I had to wait eight days for an invitation.”

The Colonel paused outside her carriage.  “I came in without an invitation.”

“I assume, Colonel, that is because you are a well known member of White’s.”  She widened her eyes comically.  “All the gamblers are members of White’s or are relations of members—all except for me.”

“They also all have excellent credit,” the Colonel told her.  “They are a hand selected group of individuals.”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed.  She took in the Colonel, in the strong lines of his shoulders under his blue cloak, in the double line of gold buttons on his uniform, and thought he made a fine figure.

“Madam, are you inspecting me?” the Colonel inquired with a pleased smile.

Bella allowed herself a moment of flirtation, no longer the scared seventeen-year-old who had first dared to question Edward Cullen.  “Perhaps I am, Colonel Fitzwilliam.  Does not the Prince Regent inspect his regiments?”

“It is very different being inspected by a lady,” he murmured, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

“You forget, Colonel,” she murmured, leaning up to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing his dark curls, “I am not a lady.”

He leaned back and looked at her skeptically.  “You have said that before.  I respectfully disagree.”

Their eyes held for several long moments, and Bella felt her breath catch in the back of her throat.  Colonel Fitzwilliam was so undeniably handsome with his dark curls and startling blue eyes, with his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders.  He also looked dashing in his uniform.  And he was human.  He was never going to tell her that he wanted to preserve her soul and that he couldn’t kiss her because it was too dangerous.  He was flesh and blood with a beating heart.  She could see the flush of his cheek beneath his five o’clock shadow. 

A horse whinnied somewhere along the line of carriages and broke the moment.  Bella quickly came to herself and stepped away.  She smiled to herself and looked up at the Colonel.

“I shall see you tomorrow,” he promised. 

“I do not think you have the money to gamble,” she chided.

“I will manage somehow,” he promised as he opened her carriage door and lifted her in.

She sat down and turned to the open carriage window.  “I don’t know why I let you.”

He smirked at her.  “You have no choice in the matter, Madam.  It is a military campaign.”

“What happens when you are transferred out of London?”

“Perish the thought!”  He turned to the footman who was sitting patiently in the front seat.  “Drive on!”

The carriage lurched forward and Bella was carried away.  The Colonel stood and watched her as she disappeared around a corner, a splash of red under a streetlamp in the early morning light.

Bella wondered to herself as she arrived back in Bloomsbury and allowed Charlotte to change her into a nightgown and kimono before presenting her with tea and ham.  She barely noticed what she was eating before she allowed her hair to be braided and then fell into bed.

If she dreamt at all, she dreamt of officers dressed handsomely in red.

She awoke before Charlotte came to draw the curtains and lay in the dark, staring at the canopy, wondering what the evening would bring.

Charlotte was going to dress her in the gown she had worn on Tuesday, but she insisted on a different gown.  She was dissatisfied with her hair, but she eventually accepted an elegant chignon as she wouldn’t hear of Charlotte curling it, and took dinner nearer nine o’clock than ten.

When it came time to go to Harley Street, she impatiently waited for the carriage, and almost hurried the footman to open the door.  Reminding herself to remain calm, she entered the basement apartment, and greeted the usual gentlemen who were usually present.

The Colonel arrived half one and had to wait for a place to open at the table, but he slid into his seat and waited until the cards were dealt with equanimity. 

Bella tried not to catch glances at him, but she noticed that the Earl of Carbury had stared at Colonel Fitzwilliam pointedly when he had first entered. 

The first hand was a wash and the Colonel lost money on the second and the third, and had to withdraw before the fourth. 

Sir Elliot had won a little money and Bella was pulling steady.

“Tomorrow night I’m not coming,” Bella informed the Colonel when they were standing on the street waiting for Bella’s carriage.  She was once again wrapped in her cloak.  She had left a little early because the evening had not proved successful.

“Saturday is the night for soirees.  I did not know you moved in society.”

“Some of the gentlemen have their wives invite me to their balls if there are gaming tables,” Bella told him, blushing.  “It seems a night of gambling cannot be a success if I am not present.”

“Have you been a fixture in Harley Street for long?”  The Colonel was regarding her.  He hadn’t taken out a cigarette all evening.

“Well over a year,” she confessed.  “I was at other games before that.”

“That demmed man is still holding my two thousand pounds,” the Colonel complained.

“It is your buy in,” Bella agreed as her carriage came around the corner. 

The carriages did not stay the whole night on Harley Street as the gambling den did not wish to attract attention from the medical offices that populated the well known street.  They waited several streets away and a boy would go and fetch them when the patrons wished to leave.

“Can you ever buy out?” the Colonel wondered.

Bella glanced at him.  “I’m not entirely sure.  I’ve never seen anyone try.”

He regarded her.  “Surely you cannot mean to gamble your entire youth away.”

“What else would I do with it?” she questioned sincerely.

The Colonel stared at her, as if the answer were obvious.

She stared resolutely back.

When he didn’t open the door for her, she reached out to open it for herself, but he got the hint and quickly moved forward to grasp the handle.

“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting his hand and entering the carriage.

“Which soiree are you attending tomorrow night?” the Colonel inquired.

“Why?” she quipped.  “Do you think you have an invitation?”  She tapped the roof of the carriage and they began to roll away.

The Colonel, however, was having none of it.  He reached up and grabbed her hand and began to run with the carriage.  “Isabella,” he begged.

Startled, she looked out at him.  “Fitzwilliam!”

“Tell me,” he begged.

“Lady Walter,” she cried out, just as he lost hold of her hand and fell back.  She was uncertain if he heard her, but the carriage pulled out of sight and drove out into the early morning sunshine.

Worried, Bella couldn’t eat breakfast, but forced herself to go to bed, screwing her eyes shut.  She felt like she lay in bed for hours, just thinking, but she fell asleep sometime in the late morning, sleeping fitfully.

Rising at four in the afternoon, Bella felt like she had barely rested at all, although she allowed Charlotte to primp her for the coming evening.  Tonight she was going to Lady Walter’s for a private ball and card party.  She wondered if she would see the Colonel, if he had heard her.  Surely he had an invitation—

The Colonel, however, did appear well after midnight in the company of a gentleman who looked quite likely to be his brother, with the same height, the same patrician nose, the same broad shoulders, and the same curling brown hair.  However, where the Colonel appeared in uniform with bright blue eyes, the gentleman was in evening dress and had a verdant gaze.

The two men came through the gaming room, the one in evening dress accepting a glass of wine from a footman, and the Colonel immediately spotted her at a game of whist.

“Sir Matthew,” the Colonel asked, when Mrs. Elliot had had enough and gave up her seat, “will you introduce me to the table?”

“Ah, Fitzwilliam, Darcy,” Elliot greeted.  “I had given you up for lost.  Why are you not on the dance floor?”

Darcy, the gentleman in evening dress, answered, “you know me better than that, Elliot.”

“True, true!” Elliot commented.  “I think you know Lord Hamilton.  However, this is Miss Isabella Swan who comes to us from the Frontier.  Her father owns land there.” 

Bella flicked her eyes between the Colonel and Darcy—who must be some sort of a cousin and not a brother.  They really did look astonishingly alike.

“You are in mourning, Miss Swan,” Darcy noted.

Bella licked her lips nervously.  “Charlie—my father—passed on the ship.  I find myself here without a mother or a father.”  She also found herself here without Edward or Alice, though hiding two vegetarian vampires in 19^th-century England might have proved difficult, though the days were often overcast with rain.

“That is most unfortunate,” Darcy agreed.  “You must be placed with an aunt, then.”

Bella did not answer as there was no such arrangement.  “Shall we play, gentlemen?” she inquired of the table.

“The buy in is five pounds,” Sir Matthew informed the Colonel.

“High stakes for a game with a lady,” the Colonel commented, nonetheless taking out the sum of money and adding it to the pot.

“I do not mind,” Bella told him sweetly, knowing he had gambled much, much higher with her just the night before.

The Colonel watched her the whole game while they made pleasant chitchat and Darcy regarded both her and the Colonel together.  When the game was won (by Bella and the Colonel, who was her partner), the Colonel stood and asked Bella for a dance.  She had her answer ready:

“I never learnt.”

He looked confused.  “Do they not dance in the Americas?”

“Oh certainly we dance in the Americas,” she answered.  “We just do not dance the same dances.”  Bella felt herself unfortunately blushing.  “I remember dancing when I was a girl of no more than seventeen.”

“Perhaps you can teach me some of your dances,” the Colonel boldly suggested, his eyes holding hers, blue to violet.

“I am not so proficient a teacher,” she apologized.  To the assembled party, she said, “I shall find another game while the Colonel finds a more elegant dance partner.”  She gave him a pointed look and turned back to the table.

Darcy watched her with a contemplative look in his eye.

The Colonel only disappeared for the breadth of a set before reappearing in the gaming rooms, attempting to pair with Bella again, Darcy watchful over his shoulder.  Bella learnt that the Colonel had a younger sister, Lady Julia Fitzwilliam, who was in her third season.  (She was, then, of an age with Bella.). She learnt that Darcy had a sister who was not yet out.  She learnt there was another cousin who had never entered society who lived in Kent, a young lady she believed, although Bella never learnt her name.  She learnt that the Colonel was quartered in London while Darcy was present for the Little Season having recently been in Hertfordshire.

“And how did you like Hertfordshire?” Bella asked Darcy, since it seemed she was keeping up a conversation with the cousins with the other players merely listening to them.

“I found it confined and unvarying.”

“I have never been to the country,” she confessed, “in England.  Washington is quite another matter.”  She played a card.  Mrs. Young played a seven of hearts.  Curious.

“You mentioned the Quileutes just the other night,” the Colonel brought up carefully.

“Indeed,” Bella agreed.

The Colonel exchanged a look with Darcy before playing a club of spades.

“Are they the local Indian tribe?” he asked.

Lord Edmund played the four of hearts.  It was Bella’s turn.  She considered her hand.

“The Quileute tribal land abutted Forks,” she admitted, taking out a ten of hearts and laying it on the table.  “The local chieftain was named Billy Black.”

“Swan is an English name.  They have castles in Wales.”

Swan was a Quileute name.  Bella’s grandfather had been a Quileute brave who had married a local paleface.  Charlie, when he had married Renee, had moved to Forks and had applied to the local police force.  It was why all of his friends were Quileutes.  He was half-Quileute himself. 

“Really?” Bella inquired, looking up with her violet eyes.  She was aware just how pale her skin was.  She was also aware her hair was midnight black and her cheekbones were high.  The local Quileute kids never accepted her as one of their own because of her mixed heritage.  The local Forks students, well, they seemed to have forgotten that Charlie had grown up on the reservation, he was such a staple in Forks. 

She was also aware that the Colonel was telling her she could easily slip into an already established British family if she so chose.

The Colonel gazed back with his blue eyes.  They were so bright and impenetrable.  “Indeed.”

Several turns had gone by.  It was now the Colonel’s turn.  He played the eight of diamonds.

Bella had lost track.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Bella asked him once the table had broken up.  “I’m one of the Swans of Wales?”

He didn’t answer her.  Instead, he remarked, “You notice I’m not smoking a cigarette.”

“Feeling withdrawal?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Hmm.”  She looked over her shoulder at Darcy.  “The night is breaking up.”

“The dancing has ended,” the Colonel agreed, pulling out her seat so she could stand.  “Are you going to Harley Street?”  They moved slightly away from the other players.

“The idea had occurred to me.”

“Darcy would never be caught dead in such a place.”

“You’ll have to take him home then,” Bella suggested.  “You’ll only lose more money if you come along.  The buy in is still two thousand pounds.  Something tells me that as a second son, you don’t have that type of money to waste.”

“No, I do not,” he agreed.  “I was only on Harley Street because I was consulting a physician about my mother’s eyesight.”

“At that time of night?” Bella inquired.

The Colonel grimaced.  “Dr. Forsyte was out late with Lady Amanda’s birth of twins.  If I wanted to see him, I had to be amenable to his schedule.”

“I see.”  She paused.  “What do you want with me, Colonel Fitzwilliam?  You know I’m not related to the Swans in Wales.”

“No.  You seem to be American royalty.”  He glanced back at Darcy who was standing at an empty window, hands behind his back, staring into the darkness.  What a strange pose to take up.

“Not in that way,” Bella told him, thinking of American history.  “I am not a Vanderbilt.”

“Your dynastic—peculiarities could be forgiven.  I am a second son.”

“Suppose I am to entertain this conversation,” Bella told him carefully, actually thinking of a man other than Edward for the first time in her life.  They wandered over to a free window and sat in the inset, watching everyone mill around them.  “I am still a reprobate and you are supposing I have money.  I doubt you have money yourself.”

“I have seen you play cards.  Unless you lose as much as you win, you have money.—I have a commission and an allowance from my father.”

She snorted inelegantly.  “You like me so much?”

“Miss Swan,” he told her earnestly, “I followed you into a gambling den.  There might have been earls and baronets there, but it was a gambling den.  If I did not like you immensely at first sight, I would have immediately turned around and forgotten all about you.  It is efficacious that I marry, but I need not marry tomorrow and I have options.”

Bella looked down at her hands.  “If you send your card, I will call on your brother’s wife.”

“I do not know where to send it.”

“Tavistock Place, Bloomsbury.”  Her eyes flitted up.  “I know it is not a fashionable address.”

“It need not be fashionable,” he told her plainly, “only respectable.”

They both looked over at Darcy who had turned to regard them.  The party was thinning out and it was clear that the night was ending: the crowd was now leaving.

“We should say our ‘farewells’ to our hostess,” Bella suggested.

“Are you going back to Harley Street?” the Colonel inquired as they stood, Darcy making their way over to them.  “You did not say.”

“The night is still young.  I hope,” she added, Darcy now upon them, “that I will not see you there.  I would not wish to see you lose your allowance.”

“I have never seen a woman deuced so lucky at cards,” the Colonel commented.  “Darcy, Miss Swan is uncommonly lucky at cards.”

“I noticed,” he agreed.  “Shall we escort Miss Swan to her carriage?”

“Undoubtedly,” the Colonel agreed.  He offered his arm, and Bella only hesitated for a second before taking it.  “At Easter,” the Colonel was now saying, “Darcy and I always go to Kent to visit our aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourg.”  He was telling her something.  He was giving her a timeline.  It was January now.  He wanted to be married before he went to Kent in Easter.

“Is that where your other cousin resides.  In Kent?” she inquired. 

“Yes, the Honorable Miss Anne De Bourg,” the Colonel told her. 

They now approached their hostess and were saying their farewells before they came up to the footmen to claim their cloaks and hats.

“How old is Cousin Anne?” Bella asked as they were now awaiting her carriage.

“Three and twenty,” Darcy told her solemnly.

She looked over to him in shock.  “And she has never had a London Season?  I find that most peculiar for the granddaughter of an Earl.”  Bella had learned a great deal of society by existing on the edges of it.  She could probably write a guide for young ladies upon coming out if one did not already exist.

“Cousin Anne,” the Colonel told her quietly, “has always had a sickly constitution.  It would not be beneficial for her to go out into society.”

“Oh dear,” Bella agreed.  “No, the crush of a ball is not conducive to ill health.”  She remembered the long months of depression she had spent after Edward had left her lying in the woods.  She had never wanted to go out and socialize or go to school.  It must feel the same way if you were feeling poorly.  You probably didn’t want to see anyone.  You probably just wanted to lie in bed and sleep all day.

The carriage arrived but a short few minutes later, and the Colonel was sure to hand her in.  Their eyes caught, and he kissed her gloved knuckles, a sign of gallantry.

“Expect Lady Owestry’s card tomorrow.”

“I sleep until four in the afternoon,” she told him firmly, “though I’m sure my maid will be awake to answer the door.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Sophie.”  He stepped back from the door and Bella saw him stand beside Darcy, the two really looking exactly like brothers.  There must be a story there.  She was certain of it.

As the carriage carried her away, she sat back and thought of the evening.  She had not thought at the beginning of it that she would wind up in an unofficial engagement.

She went back to Harley Street and the Colonel did not follow her back there.  The night was still relatively young, and it was as profitable as it usually was.  She came home to Bloomsbury in time for breakfast and warned Charlotte that she should be expecting a footman with an invitation.

When she fell into bed not long after, she considered the Colonel.  She considered if she could become an officer’s wife and enter society at large.  She considered giving up gambling.  That would be easy enough.  She did not particularly enjoy the necessity of having to go back and back again to the gambling tables.  It was no longer fun.  Gambling had lost its appeal long ago.

When Charlotte came to wake her at four o’clock, an invitation was waiting for her from the Viscountess of Owestry for tea the following Monday.  It was now Sunday.

“Shall you go to the modiste?” Charlotte asked.  “You could buy a dress mostly made up.”

“No,” Bella answered.  “One of my afternoon dresses will be suitable.  I don’t need a new one.”

She went and sat down to tea.  She had a great deal to think about.

As it was Sunday, the gambling den in Harley Street was closed, although she understood the gentlemen clubs were open.  She spent the evening lounging around reading a Mrs. Radcliffe novel.  Charlotte had the evening off so Bella was left to herself.

She went to bed long before morning and Charlotte woke her in time for tea.  Bella put on a day dress, still in black mourning, and she put on the bonnet she rarely wore.  Her carriage was ready at the appointed hour and she was taken to Matlock House in Hanover Square.

Lady Owestry was a small creature with a snub nose and wide brown eyes.  She was dressed elegantly in pink silks and had what Bella assumed was a fashionable tea service.  She did, however, have much to say.

“You know Richard then?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Bella asked, stirring a spoon in her tea.

“Yes, Owestry’s brother.”  She sniffed.

“I am acquainted with him.”

“More than acquainted with him as he asked me last week to invite you to tea.”  Lady Owestry looked out the window at the passersby.  “Does he mean to marry you, then?  He only has an allowance from Lord Matlock and his commission.”

Bella thinned her lips.  She took a sip of her tea and didn’t answer.

Lady Owestry glanced over haughtily.  “Did you not know?”

Taking a deep breath, Bella told her, “I’m certain Colonel Fitzwilliam would prefer it if we didn’t discuss his financials.”

“Well, we should discuss it if you mean to marry him.  What is your dowry, Miss Swan?  You are a Swan of Wrexham, are you not?  You speak most peculiarly.”

Bella didn’t know where Wrexham was.  She assumed it was in Wales and she assumed there was at least one castle there.  “I know the Colonel didn’t ask you to interrogate me.”

“No, that was Lady Matlock.”

Ah, so the Colonel’s mother was involved.  That spoke volumes.  He had brought his cousin to Lady Walter’s to inspect her, he invited her to his sister-in-law’s, and now his mother was curious.

“Is she here?” Bella asked.

“I can send for her.”  Lady Owestry looked hopeful.

“You need not trouble yourself.”

Bella only stayed to tea for fifteen minutes.  She understood you could leave after that amount of time, and she took full advantage of that.  When she was descending the front stairs, she was surprised when another carriage rolled up and Darcy got out, escorting a young woman.

“Miss Swan,” he greeted.  “We came to tea.”

“Oh,” she answered, looking back up at Matlock House.  “I’ve left Lady Owestry.  She wanted to know my dowry.”

Darcy grimaced.  He looked down at the young girl, who looked very much like him with the same curling brown hair and the same verdant gaze.  “May I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?”

“Miss Darcy,” Bella greeted, offering hand.  “I’m sorry for meeting you on the steps.”

“Perhaps I can control Sophie if we go back in,” Darcy carefully suggested.

Bella glanced back at the townhouse before asking, “Are you sure that’s possible?”

She did end up going back into the drawing room, but Lady Owestry had quit it for another part of the house.  Darcy told the footman not to call her but to bring fresh tea. 

Georgiana sat prettily with her hands in her lap, but when the tea was served neither she nor Bella moved to serve it.

“It seems Mrs. Ainsley is not here,” Darcy remarked.

Bella did not know who Mrs. Ainsley was.  She looked at Darcy questioningly.

“Would you be so good?” he asked her, his voice stern but nonetheless polite.

“Oh, of course,” she answered.  Bella had never learned how to properly serve tea, but she got along pretty well in her own flat and she had seen Sophie prepare it often enough to know the basics.

She gave Georgiana the first cup before serving Darcy and then finally served herself.

Of course, once the tea was served, the three of them sat in silence.

Darcy sat and quietly drank his tea, regarding her.  It was not the same gaze as the Colonel.  Colonel Fitzwilliam looked to admire.  Darcy was clearly looking in curiosity.

After several long moments, Georgiana set down her cup and hesitantly opened her mouth.  “Miss Swan?”  She looked over to her brother for permission and he nodded encouragingly.  “Miss Swan,” she repeated.  “How did you meet Richard?  I only know that he appeared at Darcy House on Saturday and told us that he had found the woman he meant to, forgive me,” and now she blushed, “marry.”  Her voice petered out to a whisper.  She looked to the side in embarrassment. 

Georgiana was quite young.  She was still in raised hems and a blusher, her hair let down and in a bow.  She would never have been permitted to make social calls if she had not been visiting her cousin’s wife, the Countess of Owestry.

Bella nodded.  She couldn’t exactly say that she and the Colonel had met in a gambling den, but she could fudge the truth.

“Well,” she began.  “The Colonel saw me in the street.”  She paused.  “He was under a streetlamp smoking a cigarette.”  Taking a deep breath, she then added, “And he followed me.”

Darcy blinked once, long and hard.  “Indeed.  He had not told me that.”

“He just kept on appearing after that,” Bella concluded, offering a small smile to Georgiana.  “I couldn’t get rid of him.  He said it was a military campaign.”

“That does sound like Fitzwilliam,” Darcy agreed, looking over at his sister, who was sitting on her seat, eyes wide, staring at Bella.  “Once he sets his mind on a campaign, he does not falter.”

“I suppose it is the military man in him,” Bella concluded.

“Indeed.”  Darcy was still looking at his sister, but then he turned to Bella.  “Fitzwilliam and I both have the guardianship of Miss Darcy.”

This surprised Bella.  She supposed that both of the Darcy’s parents were gone.  Georgiana was awfully young to have lost both of her parents. 

“We have yet to meet your guardian,” Darcy continued, “or your maid.  Or do you have a companion?”

Bella hadn’t even thought to bring Charlotte on a social call.  “I left my maid at home.”

Darcy nodded.  “You are quite independent then.”

Bella remained silent, allowing her nonanswer to speak for her.

“I suppose you have no one to object to the marriage then.”

No one in the 19^th-century, Bella amended in her head.  “Charlie would appreciate that the Colonel is a man in uniform.”

When Darcy looked at her in question, she told him, “Charlie was my father’s name.  I called my parents by their names.”

“How peculiar,” Georgiana whispered, making herself heard.

Bella smiled at her kindly.

There was movement by the door.  “Do find out her dowry, Darcy.”  Bella turned and saw Lady Owestry.  Her snub nose really did make her look like there was an unpleasant smell in the room.  Bella supposed the unpleasant smell was her.  “She failed to tell me,” Lady Owestry continued, “and Richard will not say a word to Owestry on the subject.”

“I would never ask a lady, Sophie, I would hope you know that.  If Fitzwilliam will not tell you, you must content yourself with not knowing.” Darcy informed her.

Lady Owestry huffed and flounced out of the room.

Bella sighed.  The Colonel hadn’t even asked her.  He didn’t seem to care.

Georgiana remained silent for the rest of the tea, and Bella stayed for a full three quarters of an hour before taking her leave.  When she was once again standing on the steps of the house, she took in a deep breath and let it out again.  She had at least gotten through that.  Hopefully Darcy would give the Colonel a favorable report.  Lady Owestry certainly wouldn’t.

She had the carriage drive through Regent’s Park before taking her back to Bloomsbury even though it was winter, and settled in for an evening of Mrs. Radcliffe before she changed into evening dress for a night at Harley Street.

It was once again Monday, and Bella entered a high stakes poker game, promising herself she would not wait for the Colonel to walk through the door.

She had already won the second hand at fifteen hundred pounds, when he came in and looked for a seat.  He found one at another table, but halfway through the night, she switched over to him.  Looking at her wryly, the Colonel waited for them to be dealt in before speaking companionably about the latest horse race.

“You must be cold,” the Colonel noticed when they were standing in the door, waiting for the carriage to arrive.

“You seem to walk back to the barracks,” Bella argued.  “Or do you go back to Matlock House?”

“I cannot live under the same roof as Sophie!” the Colonel objected.  “You have now had the privilege of taking tea with her.”

“That’s your fault,” Bella shot back.  “You sent me into the lion’s den.”

He looked at her apologetically.  “I sent Darcy and Georgiana.”

“They arrived when I was leaving!”

He grimaced.  “Darcy told me.  Still, Sophie only inflicted a slight amount of damage.  Mama told me she could not learn your dowry.”

She appraised him.  “You haven’t asked.”

“No,” he agreed.  “Tis not gentlemanly.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“It would be deuced helpful,” he agreed, “but I have not asked and you have not answered.  There is no way to inquire.  Still, I would take you without a penny.  I know you have bought in to this gambling hall.  You must have something.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Something,” she agreed, turning back toward the door.  “I come from nothing.”  She thought back to Forks, how she worked at the Newton’s hardware store for spending money, how she had a college fund, how Edward splashed his wealth everywhere and tried to get a diamond on her.

The Colonel looked at her with softened blue eyes.  “I do not care,” he told her firmly.  “I already told you I would take you without a penny.”

Bella could feel her pale skin flush crimson down her neck and she looked away in embarrassment.  Hoping to change the subject, she said, “I told Georgiana you saw me on the street and followed me.  I thought it might sound romantic, sort of.”

“I hope you did not tell her where.”

“No, I did not tell her where,” Bella agreed.

Her footman came to the door to fetch her and Bella looked over at the Colonel.  “You need to stop coming.  You keep on losing money.”

“How else will I see you?” he asked her frankly.  “We barely move in the same circles.”

She sighed.  Carefully, she lifted a hand and placed her hand on his chest.  He grabbed it and held it firmly, looking into her violet eyes.  “Isabella,” he begged.

“Fitzwilliam,” she responded before she slipped her hand away and left through the door, leaving him behind.

When she woke up the next morning it was to find a bouquet of yellow roses waiting for her in her drawing room with a card from none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam.  She sighed happily and gathered them up in her arms. 

“And this came, Madam,” Charlotte told her, presenting her with an invitation. 

She took it carefully and slit it open with a paper knife to see that Georgiana Darcy had invited her to tea on Thursday.

“She’s not out of leading strings,” Bella noted to Charlotte.

“Will you go, Madam?”

“Yes,” Bella decided, going to her writing table.  Her writing had fortunately improved since she was a high school student in Forks.  It wasn’t calligraphy, exactly, but it looked passable.  “I will have to wear my bonnet again,” she sighed.

“We can go to the modiste,” Charlotte soothed.

“No,” Bella disagreed.  “It’s lined with silk.  It is still perfectly respectable.”  Most women in society had multiple bonnets, but Bella wasn’t exactly a woman of society, at least not yet.

She went back to her yellow roses.  They were a much more fine prospect.

They were done up in a vase by the time she left for Harley Street.  Bella hadn’t even known she owned a vase, let alone a large one made of crystal. 

When she got out of her carriage at Harley Street, the Colonel was there to set her down on the pavement, and she looked at him sideways.  “I thought we had an agreement, Fitzwilliam.”

“Can a man not hand his sweetheart out of her carriage?” he asked her back with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

She sighed.  “I take it you will ask the doorman for your deposit back.”

“Already done, Madam.”  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her gloves.  His blue gaze held her violet one, and she was sure not to look away.

“I take it you were successful?”

“I used you as a reference.”

She smirked.  She was very good business for the gambler’s den.  Men came back specifically to either look at her, or to try and win money off of her.  They also preferred to gamble with her than other gentlemen at White’s.  They also preferred to speak to her more than their wives and sisters, not that she always spoke back.

“May I escort you inside?” the Colonel inquired.

“Only if you think my reputation will remain intact.”

“As soon as our engagement is finalized, I intend to announce it in The Times.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she took his arm and he led her down the basement steps.  “I didn’t necessarily think you would.”

“The Swans are a very respectable family,” he reminded her.

She leaned closer toward him just as the door was opened for her and he swept his hat off his head.  “I’ll remind you, they’ll have no idea who I am.”

“They will wish an alliance with the Matlocks, however,” he told her.  “They will take ownership of you.”

Bella hadn’t necessarily considered that.  As she fully came into the hall, she surrendered her cloak, and turned to say goodbye to the Colonel.

He stood etched in the doorway.  “I don’t like seeing you go in there unprotected.”

“You better marry me,” she suggested, before leaving him in the hallway.

The night was profitable, as it usually was, and at the end of it, her footman lifted her into the carriage.  The Colonel had long since gone home. 

The Colonel appeared again on Tuesday night.  “Do you approve at cigars?”

She gave him a look.

He sighed.

On Wednesday, Bella was awakened to Charlotte pulling back the drapes, the day overcast and rainy.  Bella groaned into her pillows. 

“A gentleman is here to see you,” Charlotte told her.  “I told him you were not available until later, but he did insist on waiting.”

Bella stilled.  Sitting up, she pushed her long hair out of her face and asked carefully, “Who is it, Carrie?”

Charlotte was going around the room lighting candles.  “A Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.  As you had accepted an invitation from a Miss Darcy, I hope I did not do wrong by admitting him.  If you wish me to call the footman—”

“No,” Bella decided, reaching out for her timepiece on the bedside table.  It was indeed four in the afternoon.  “How long has he been here?”

“Well above half an hour,” Charlotte told her guiltily. 

Bella groaned.  Throwing her sheets off herself, she crawled out of bed.  “Help me into my corset!”

“But Madam!  You have not yet had dinner!”

“I don’t care.  Come, help me.”  She tripped her way over to her vanity and looked at her reflection.  At least she looked well rested.

It took Charlotte half an hour to tie her into her corset and afternoon dress, brushing out Bella’s hair and tying it back with a bow.  When she was finally presentable, having kept Mr. Darcy waiting for near an hour, she sent Charlotte out to make tea.

Darcy was standing at a window, staring out at the rain.  The yellow roses were on full display over the mantle.

“I’m so sorry for having kept you waiting,” Bella apologized as she entered the room.  “I did not know to expect you.”

Turning from the window, Darcy regarded her with his verdant gaze.  “I should have sent my card last night, Miss Swan.  It was my mistake.”

“Charlotte knows not to wake me,” she explained as she offered him a seat. 

He paused for a moment, taking in the room, his eyes lingering on the yellow roses, before he took the seat offered to him.

They both waited for Chalotte to bring in the tea service.  Just as at Matlock House, Bella served Darcy and then took a dish for herself.  She waited for Darcy to open the matter of discussion as he clearly had a subject on his mind.

Darcy took his time, savoring the tea for several long minutes before setting it aside.  “Miss Swan.”

Settling the cup in its dish, Bella looked up at him.  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

“Fitzwilliam is very much considered a Darcy.”

Peculiar as, if Bella had it correctly, it was Lady Anne Darcy who was a Fitzwilliam.  It wasn’t the other way around.  Darcy was a Fitzwilliam.  The Colonel was not a Darcy.

“You did tell me the Colonel was Miss Darcy’s second guardian.”

“That is quite correct.”  Darcy paused, considering.  “Fitzwilliam told me how you make your living.”

Bella paused.  “He did not tell you before?”

“He only told me that you had to fend for yourself.”  He looked at her quite meaningfully.

“I’m sure it makes absolutely no difference, but I move in the very highest circles.”

“You would not have been at Lady Walter’s if you did not,” Darcy agreed.  “I want to assure myself that you will stop.”

Bella looked up sharply.  “Stop what?”

“Gambling.”

“I haven’t agreed to marry the Colonel yet.”

Darcy looked bored.  “Not explicitly.  We all know it is only a matter of time.  You would not have endured Sophie’s line of questioning if you had not some idea of marrying him.”

“No,” Bella agreed, turning her attention to the yellow roses.  “You have a point.—I told the Colonel I wasn’t a lady.”

“Were you brought up on tribal lands?”

Bella’s head spun towards Darcy so quickly, she could feel a crack in her neck.  “The Colonel is putting it about I’m one of the Swans of Wrexham.”

“We both know that is false,” Darcy argued, picking his cup back up.  “No one outside of the three of us will ever know—but let us not pretend.”

Bella narrowed her eyes at him.  “You said the Colonel was a Darcy.  You look like brothers.”

If Darcy was surprised, he didn’t show it.  “Your supposition.  If what you suggest is true, there would be a scandal in the greater Fitzwilliam and Darcy families.”

That would be true.  Bella let it pass. 

“The Colonel,” she said after a long moment, “knows I have Quileute blood.  I have never pretended otherwise.”

Darcy took a sip of his tea.  “It is most fortunate the office of the Viscount of Owestry should fall to his elder brother, then, and Fitzwilliam may marry where he chooses and not where family and society dictates.”

“He is, then, of sufficient means to marry at the moment?” Bella checked.  “I had been wondering.  Officers so often outlive their means.”

“Fitzwilliam is not wasteful man.  Quite the reverse,” Darcy assured her.  “No.  I want your assurances that your nighttime habits will end.  As of now.  You will no longer attend whatever gambling dens you inhabit, except to purchase back your debt, and you will go into half mourning.  I understand that your father has been dead for at least a year.  You need not keep up the pretense anymore.”

“The Colonel has not—”

“Fitzwilliam knows of my demands and he agrees they are necessary.  He will have insisted within short order.  I merely insist now because Georgiana already sent her card.”

Bella’s eyes flicked down.  “I did receive it,” she confirmed.  Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out through her nose.  Renee had tried yoga on and off throughout her childhood and had brought Bella a few times.  She still remembered the basic breathing techniques.  “If you insist,” she decided.

“I will escort you there this evening,” Darcy informed her.

Bella lifted a brow.  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Fitzwilliam told me he had some difficulty with the return of his downpayment.  I do not mind lending you my name.”  Although he said this quite solemnly, he seemed sincere.

“I would not wish to keep you from Miss Darcy or any of your other engagements,” Bella deferred.

“I shall call for you at ten o’clock.”

It seemed to be decided then.

When Bella saw Darcy out not fifteen minutes later, Charlotte fetching him his hat and his gloves, Darcy paused at the door and took her in.  “You are extraordinarily fair skinned,” he observed.

She laughed.  “I used to tell everyone I was an albino.”

If Bella didn’t know better, she would have thought he glared at her.

“Goodbye, Mr. Darcy.”  She nodded for Charlotte to open the door. 

Darcy regarded her for another long moment, before allowing himself to be seen out.  After Charlotte had shut the door, Bella asked, “How much of that did you hear, Carrie?”

“Bits and pieces.”

“It seems my gambling days are over.”

Charlotte gasped.  “Are you in debt?”

“Far from it,” Bella assured as they walked back into the flat.  “It seems I’m getting married.”

Pausing, Charlotte blinked and then walked over to the tea things.  “Will you be keeping me on as ladies maid?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, Carrie,” Bella agreed, taking a seat on the sofa and looking at the yellow roses.  “I don’t know where we’re going to live or when it’s going to happen, but I certainly can’t tie up my own corsets.”

“Yes’m,” Charlotte agreed, curtseying, and then she took out the tray. 

Bella looked about the room.  She had lived in the flat for nearly two years, having done quite nicely for herself.  Perhaps the Colonel would like to move in here unless he wanted a more fashionable address.  She should certainly find out.  Living in the barracks had no appeal to her. 

Darcy called for her precisely at ten o’clock and Bella was dressed for the evening although it was too soon for gambling at Harley Street.  She instructed the driver where to take them, and allowed Darcy to escort her into the basement apartment.  The place looked dark without the usual lamps lit and without the gentlemen sitting about the tables, smoking their cigars and cigarettes.

“Miss Swan.”  It was the manager, a tall man of African heritage in a crisp livery.

“Mr. Andrews,” she greeted.  “You know Mr. Darcy by reputation, of course.”

“I know all of the members of White’s,” Andrews confirmed, bowing.  “Would you like a buy in, Mr. Darcy?”

“No,” Darcy answered, setting his cane down.  “We should like Miss Swan’s back.”

Andrews’ eyes gleamed black.  “I am very sorry to hear that.  Is Colonel Fitzwilliam stealing you away—or is it you, Mr. Darcy, given his presence?”

Darcy stared implacably back.

Bella could sense the growing tension between the two men.  “Nothing has been announced,” she answered diplomatically.  “Shall we say, however, that it is not Mr. Darcy.”

Andrews turned to her knowingly.  “I see, Madam.  Unfortunately, we do not carry that much cash on us until later in the evening, and the Bank of England does not accept cheques written out to ladies, even one of such high quality as yourself.”

Bella pursed her lips.  She was well aware of the Bank of England’s restrictions.

“You can make it out to me,” Darcy decided, “or Colonel Fitzwilliam, if Miss Swan elects him in my stead.”

Bella didn’t like this.  Bella didn’t like this at all.  Her money was her money.

“Andrews.”  She was trying not to beg.

“Miss Swan.”  This was Darcy.  He placed a hand over her gloved one and looked at her imploringly.  “Your money will be Fitzwilliam’s as soon as you marry,” he reminded her.

That was unfortunately true.  Women’s suffrage wasn’t even an idea in Regency England.

Holding in a sigh, Bella turned back to Andrews.  “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” she told him.

“If you will but wait here,” he told them carefully, looking between the unlikely pair before retreating into a back room.

They waited for several long minutes.

“Who owns the club?” Darcy finally asked.

“I don’t believe anyone knows,” Bella answered, looking down at her evening gloves.

“Someone in London knows,” he responded cryptically, looking at a portrait that was hanging on the wall.

When Andrews returned, he presented with a Bella with a banker’s note for two thousand pounds made out to Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.  It irked Bella, but she accepted it and placed it in her reticule.

After they got back in the carriage, Darcy informed her, “Fitzwilliam is at the Bingleys’.”

She blinked.  “Who?”

“Charles Bingley.”  The name meant nothing to her.  “There will be card playing and music.  Do you play the pianoforte?”

Bella, in fact, did play the piano.  Grandma Marie had paid for lessons when she was a child and she could passably perform.  She had played once or twice in London homes since she had come to Regency London and had received polite applause, but she didn’t think her Claire de Lune was anything particularly talented.

When they arrived it was to find a small party broken up around card tables with a young woman in orange silks at the piano.  The Colonel was partnered with another gentleman, but he immediately left the card table to come and greet Bella. 

“There you are!” he declared.  “I had quite given you up for lost!  When Darcy offered you his carriage, I did not believe he would take you around the outskirts of London to bring you here, my dear.”  He kissed her gloved hand and quickly led her over to her host, barely sparing a glance for Darcy.  “Isabella, may I present Mr. Charles Bingley?  Darcy stayed with him in Hertfordshire this past Autumn.”

Bingley was an affable young man with ginger hair and freckles, and he immediately invited Bella to the card table.

The game was whist, the terms were twopence a game, and Darcy had fortunately slipped Bella some coins in the carriage.

Miss Caroline Bingley was the young lady playing the pianoforte and she gave it up to an elder sister, a Mrs. Louisa Hurst, who played in the background as the Colonel and Bella trounced Bingley and his younger sister in several games of whist, making several farthings between them.

Caroline Bingley was all obsequiousness, asking Bella’s opinion about silks and last Season’s fashion of gloves before the subject of Lady Whistledown came up.

“Indeed,” Caroline said.  “I myself only glimpsed the Duke of Hastings walking with Miss Bridgerton, that is, the Duchess, but they seemed thick as thieves, even when Prince Friederick was reportedly in London to visit Her Majesty Queen Charlotte.”

“You must have been presented with the Duchess,” Bella guessed as she picked up an almond and popped it in her mouth.  They seemed to be honeyed almonds and were really quite lovely to munch on during an inconsequential card game during a night in society.

Caroline Bingley blushed.  “I have never been presented to the Queen.”

Bella paused.  She glanced across from her at the Colonel who was signaling her.  Bella didn’t understand the signal and narrowed her eyes at him in question.

Surely the Colonel and Darcy, as a wealthy though untitled landowner, were of the first circles.  The Colonel was the child—albeit the second son—of an Earl.  Darcy was the nephew and grandson of Earls.  Georgiana decidedly had a large dowry.

Were the Bingleys not of the same circles?

Bella paused and considered.  “I have yet to be presented to the Queen,” she told Caroline carefully.  “As an American—” she let her words hang.

Caroline looked scandalized.  “Lady Matlock did not sponsor you last Season?”

That was right.  Every debutante needed a sponsor, a lady of rank and quality to guide her into society and vouch for her.  As an American, Bella obviously had no one.

Bella cleared her throat and drew a card.

The Colonel fortunately entered the conversation.  “Isabella is being presented as Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam this coming Season.”

Caroline seemed mollified and even Charles Bingley smiled.  “Why then, I shall read all about your triumph in Lady Whistledown.”

“You read her too, then,” Bella guessed.

“I never miss an issue,” Caroline confided.

“Neither do I.”  Bella looked over at the Colonel.  He was regarding her over his cards adoringly.  “Does Lady Julia read Lady Whistledown?”

“Of course she does,” he agreed.  “I daresay I have been known to pick up a copy every now and then.  Bingley?”

He grinned good naturedly.  “I was lost without her in Hertfordshire!”  He looked over at the pianoforte where Louisa Hurst had just concluded a piece and started clapping, even though he was still holding his cards.  “Well done!  Well done!”

Louisa Hurst looked pleased with herself and stood from the instrument.  As there were no other ladies present, it seemed it was Bella’s turn to perform. 

The Colonel gallantly led her to the instrument and stood with her to turn pages.

Mrs. Hurst took her place at the card table, a new game starting, and Darcy, although he had been standing, hands behind his back, staring out the darkened window, joined the game when he was implored several times to do so.  Mr. Hurst was sleeping on a settee.

Bella looked over the music briefly only to set it aside.  “I have it memorized,” she told the Colonel.

“Then I shall stand at attention,” he informed her.

“It is nothing so special,” she warned him, wishing she could take off her evening gloves.  It was so much easier to play the piano with nothing on her hands.  “Just something I learned as a child.”

“Shall we have a pianoforte once we are married so you can practice?” he suggested, leaning down so he could whisper near her ear.

Blushing, she looked up at him momentarily before she turned back and looked out over the room.  No one was paying attention to them except for Darcy, who was clearly taking them in instead of inspecting his cards.  Mrs. Hurst said something to him and he quickly returned his attention to the game.  However, as soon as the game moved on without him, he returned his eyes to Bella and the Colonel.

Bella settled her fingers and began to play.  She was competent but she wasn’t particularly talented.  She also had to pay attention and, with Darcy and the Colonel regarding her, she found it difficult.  When she finished the Beethoven to scattered applause, she knew she couldn’t give up her seat so soon, so she searched her memory.  There was nothing for it.  She was going to have to play Exogenesis Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.  She had spent months in Arizona obsessing over them and they were the only pieces—albeit it rock pieces—that she knew well enough to play.  No one was going to know what had hit them—if they paid attention at all.

It also required her to sing.

Fortunately, as she began to play the Overture, she lost herself in the music.  When she began to sing, she became aware that the chatter in the room had stopped, but she kept on playing the piano part.  At least she didn’t have someone playing the electric guitar with her.  That would certainly turn heads in the early 19^th-century.

When she moved on to Cross-Pollination, she was aware that the card playing had also stopped.  She looked down at her hands, at how her fingers moved back and forth over the keyboard in a way she knew was not period appropriate, and wondered how this was being received.  Then she started singing again in her rich alto about clouds and the outesphere—and she knew she was breaking history.  When she moved back into the piano, she closed her eyes and just let the music move her.

Redemption was much slower, much more melodic.  Bella could almost feel the strings move above her, remembering all those hours listening to her cd player in her room, blocking out Renee and her flightiness. 

When she finished, she allowed the final notes to hold and then opened her eyes. 

Everyone was staring at her in wonderment. 

She lifted her hands off the keys and placed them carefully in her lap.  Looking up at the Colonel, he met her eyes head on and gave her a small smile.  Offering her his hand, he lifted her up from the seat and led her over to the couch.

“Who composed that—haunting melody, Isabella?” the Colonel inquired into the silence in the room.

A British Rock Band.

She couldn’t very well say that though, could she?

“Something from back home,” she whispered.  Her eyes flitted up and glanced around the room. 

“Well,” Bingley decided.  “We clearly near more music from the Americas.  Positively delightful!  I have never heard anything quite like it!”

Darcy was regarding her quite openly, like she was a puzzle he could not quite put together.

Caroline looked over to Darcy for guidance.

Mrs. Hurst flipped open her fan.  “Wonderful,” she gasped, “the blending of vocals and piano.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, leaning back.  “Most unusual.”

Licking her lips, Caroline opened her mouth to voice an opinion.  “You must sing more, Miss Swan.”

That was the last thing Bella wished to do.  She looked up at the Colonel.  “I am afraid I was never properly taught.”

When the Colonel lifted Bella into the carriage not half an hour later (it seemed he was going home with Bella and Darcy, having walked to the Bingley’s rented house), he asked, “Was that tribal music?”

Bella couldn’t help it.  She broke out laughing.  “You have never heard tribal music in your life, have you, Colonel?”

He looked embarrassed.  “I have never had occasion to visit the Americas.”

“Neither have I,” Darcy agreed.  “I hope you will not teach Miss Darcy any of your American music,” he chided.  “I do so worry after her education.”

Bella lifted an eyebrow at him.  “I doubt I have much to teach Miss Darcy.”

The Colonel laughed and slapped Darcy on the shoulder.  “You need not fear Isabella.  She is quite harmless despite all the societal differences.  She blends in quite well when she wishes to.”

“Does she?” Darcy wondered as he looked out the window.  “I am beginning to think not.”

Bella blinked at him.  “I have no intention of corrupting Miss Darcy,” she told him plainly.

He nodded at her.  “I will take Fitzwilliam’s assurances.”

The Colonel sighed.

When they arrived back at Bloomsbury, the Colonel gallantly stepped out of the carriage and walked Bella to her door. 

“Will you be there tomorrow?” she asked carefully, aware that Darcy was regarding them from his place in the carriage.

“I am needed at the barracks,” he apologized.  “My days are not my own.”

“The life of a Colonel,” she surmised.

He picked up her gloved hand and kissed the back of it.  “I will dream of you, Isabella,” he swore, his blue eyes holding hers, entranced.  Bella already knew she would be dreaming of him.

Although it was still relatively early, being only two in the morning, Bella got dressed for bed and climbed behind the curtains.  She was going to have to change her entire sleep schedule now that she had given up gambling.  There was no reason to stay up all night and sleep until the afternoon.  She’d have to shift herself over slowly.  If she was to be Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam, much would be expected of her.

II

“Darcy has gone for another walk.”

Bella looked up from where she was sitting on a couch, reading Thomas Gray.  Anne was standing at a window, holding herself up.

Standing quickly, Bella rushed to her and took Anne by the arms.  “Anne, you should be resting.”

Anne sniffed.  “Where does he go?”

Bella reached for the handkerchief she kept up her sleeve and handed it to Anne after she settled her back on the couch.  Mrs. Jenkinson had left the room five minutes ago, which was thoughtless of her.  Anne needed constant attention.  With Darcy in residence at Rosings, Anne got ideas, put in her empty head by her domineering mother, and then would stupidly go to the window.  Anne’s legs were in braces and couldn’t hold up her weight.  Bella would have a word with Mrs. Jenkinson unless Richard thought it would have more weight coming from him.

Mrs. Jenkinson came back in with another book of poetry.  Bella rolled her eyes.  They had a stack of five poetry books.  They did not need a sixth.

“Help with Miss De Bourgh’s shawls!” Bella ordered.  “She went to the window and upset herself.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Jenkinson murmured, discarding the book and rushing to Anne.

“Where does he go?” Anne repeated once Mrs. Jenkinson had finished her fussing.

“Who?” Bella asked, brushing some curls out of Anne’s eyes.  She was all wrapped up now.

“Darcy!”

Blinking, Bella looked over toward the window.  “Has he gone for a walk?  Is he not playing billiards with Richard?”

“No!” Anne insisted.  “He has been gone nigh on an hour.”

“Are you sure?” Bella inquired, going to the window now herself and drawing back the curtain.  All she could see was Rosings’ impressive gardens. 

“Go!  Go find Richard,” Anne demanded, pushing away Mrs. Jenkinson who was arranging her cap on her head.  “You will see that I am right.”

Bella looked at her doubtfully, but left the room anyway.  It was better to allay Anne’s fears than to let her sit and stew over it all morning.

Lady Catherine had this ridiculous notion that Darcy should marry her daughter Anne and that they should join the Pemberley and Rosings estates with this alliance.  She had told Bella in confidence, and so of course had made this known to Darcy and Anne over the best several years of their adulthood and no doubt childhood.  Lady Catherine claimed it had been Lady Anne Darcy’s dearest wish.  As Lady Anne had not made her wishes known to Darcy on the matter (this was according to Richard), Bella highly doubted that.

Anne De Bourg, however, clung onto the idea. 

Anne was sickly and only had her inheritance of Rosings Park to recommend her.

Lady Catherine wanted Darcy for her, so Anne only wished for Darcy as a husband.

Darcy decidedly did not want a sickly wife that Anne would make. 

Richard had confided in Bella that it was uncertain if Anne could even bear children, she was so weak.  Having met Anne, Bella quite took his point.

Anne would flutter about so.  She fixated on Darcy and had no other topic of conversation.  Darcy, accordingly, avoided her company.

Coming up to the billiards room, Bella knocked quietly and heard Richard call her to enter.  She pressed in and saw that her husband was the only person in the room.

“Where’s Darcy?” she asked, confused.  “Anne has this strange notion he’s gone for a walk and, therefore, abandoned her.”

Richard grimaced.  “She has the right of it.”

Bella sighed.  “Oh dear.”

“Oh dear is right.”  Richard sighed and put down his cue.  Walking over, he took Bella into his arms and kissed her forehead.  “I have this notion he is meeting a lady.”

“A lady?” Bella looked up into his bright blue eyes.  “What gives you this idea?”

“Just a feeling.  It seemed like he had an appointment.  He was most mysterious for Darcy, just as I was when I first met you and was trying to find reasons to meet with you.”

Bella laughed.  “You just had to come gambling with me.”

He held her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head.  “Indeed.  I lost well on nigh seven hundred pounds at Harley Street.”

“My dowry more than made up for it.”

She could feel him smiling into her hair.  “Such a dowry,” he agreed.  “I was quite happily surprised.”

Bella smirked into his uniform where she had curled into his shoulder.  She had come into the marriage, not only with an address in Bloomsbury, which they had moved out of for Blackburne’s Mews, but well over two hundred thousand pounds.  They were considering buying a well appointed estate in Derbyshire as they could well afford it.

There was a knock on the door.  Bella felt annoyed at being interrupted.  Looking up from her husband’s embrace, she saw it was a parlor maid.

“Excuse me, mum,” she apologized, curtseying.  She looked hesitantly between Bella and the Colonel.

“What is it?” Richard asked.

“Miss Anne was asking for Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”  She curtseyed again and left them to themselves.

Richard looked down at her and chuffed her chin.  “I am afraid Anne depends on you as the entire family does.”

“She doesn’t have any friends her own age,” Bella explained.

“That is because she is too ill to travel to London or Bath.”  Richard sighed.

“I had noticed,” Bella agreed, reaching up to kiss him briefly before exiting the room.

Anne was fretting with her shawls.  “He is not there,” she posited, her voice breathy.

Bella paused in the doorway.  “No.  Darcy is not with Richard,” she affirmed.  She hesitated.  “He could be elsewhere in the house.”

“No,” Anne insisted.  “He has gone for a walk.”

Going back to the window, Bella looked back out into the gardens.  “Is Darcy prone to walking?”

Anne coughed.  It was a hacking sort of cough and erupted into a fit of gasps.  Bella withdrew from the window and went to fetch a glass of water.  What was Mrs. Jenkinson about?  Really, she should have had this all in hand.  She was, after all, Anne’s companion.

“Darcy,” Anne breathed once she had recovered, “rides with Richard in the afternoon.”

Ah.  Bella saw.  It was clearly the morning.  He also was not riding and Richard was in the house.  He was deviating from his usual pattern.  Perhaps he did have an assignation with a lady.  However, when had he had time to meet a lady?  They had been in Kent for less than three days. 

Trying to take Anne’s mind away from Darcy, Bella returned to her side and picked up the Thomas Gray and began to read from it.  Anne, though, would fret.  She would flutter her handkerchief or sniff loudly, and once or twice shifted in her spot.

When it was time for luncheon, Richard came into the room and caught Bella’s eye.  She raised her eyebrow in question, and he shrugged.

It seemed Darcy had not yet returned.  He should hurry up unless he should like to excite comment from Lady Catherine.

She continued to read aloud, but Anne interrupted her.  “Richard,” she demanded, her voice strained but nonetheless wispy, “have you seen Darcy?”

Bella clicked her teeth shut midsentence and marked her spot.  Anne probably hadn’t been paying attention and wouldn’t know the difference, but she would. 

“Not since breakfast,” Richard replied good naturedly.  “He probably tucked himself away with Rosings estate work.  You know how he looks over Lady Catherine’s books.”

“Oh,” Anne breathed, clearly thinking.  “Perhaps you are right.”

“You know I am, Coz,” he assured her as he came and took her small hand between her two larger ones.  “Now, has anyone been to dinner lately?”

She giggled. 

Bella startled at the girlish sound and looked over at Anne in disbelief.  Anne, most likely due to her sedentary life, resembled a toad with blonde curls and blue eyes, a cap on her head.  She was unmarried and too young to be an old maid, so Bella did not understand this fashion choice.  Bella did not even wear a cap although she had been married a full month since, but Anne looked like a fat, blonde, becapped toad draped in shawls.  Now that she had let out this coquettish giggle, this image was now firmly placed in Bella’s mind eye.

Richard was smiling pleasantly at his De Bourg cousin.  Bella supposed he had watched her grow up.  She had never asked Richard his exact age, but she knew he was in his early thirties, so he was a good decade older than Anne.

“Well,” Anne told him with a light in her blue eyes, “the vicar of course and his wife.”

“This would be Lady Catherine’s new vicar,” Richard supposed, sitting down gallantly next to Anne as soon as Mrs. Jenkinson vacated the seat next to her.  He looked over to Bella and shared a conspiratorial look with her before returning his attention to Anne.  “You wrote that he wed over Christmastide.”

“That,” Anne told him with a whispering flourish, “is not the interesting piece of news.  Mrs. Collins has a guest—a very pretty guest.  Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire.”

Bella blinked.  Hertfordshire.  Darcy had just spent the Autumn in Hertfordshire.  This must be the lady Darcy was meeting on his walks.  She shared another long look with her husband.  His mind was clearly going in the same direction.

“And tell me of Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he pleaded gallantly, looking clearly interested.

“Well, Mr. Collins, before he went to Hertfordshire to secure a bride,” Anne told him in her quavering voice, “told Mama that he intended to visit a Mr. Bennet, his cousin.  He is to inherit Mr. Bennet’s estate and Mr. Collins meant to propose to one of Mr. Bennet’s many daughters as he is to injure them upon his inheritance.”  She glanced over at Bella with an impish look on her toadish face. 

Bella smiled at her encouragingly.  “Indeed?”

“Indeed,” Anne whispered.  “However,” now she turned back to Richard, “when he came back with a wife, it was not a Miss Bennet, but a Miss Lucas, and now Miss Bennet comes for a visit.  It is most,” she paused looking for the correct word, “suspicious.”

“Perhaps it was love,” Richard suggested.

“But Mrs. Collins is so plain! and so old!” Anne declared, her voice gaining a modicum of strength despite its feathery tone.  “And Miss Bennet is so pretty.  I do not quite understand it, Richard.  You shall not understand it either when they come to dinner on Thursday.”

Richard looked across Anne again and locked eyes with Bella.  It seemed he intended to lay eyes on Miss Bennet before Thursday.  Perhaps Bella would manage it if Richard could not.  It might be easier for Bella to invite herself on one of Darcy’s walks as a lady.  Darcy might be afraid Richard, as an imposing officer, might scare Miss Bennet away if she thought she was being ambushed.

“Well, we shall just have to see,” Richard decided with a grin.  “It all sounds so very interesting.”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed from Anne’s other side.  “I wonder at Mr. Collins.  Perhaps Mrs. Collins has the better temperament for a clergyman’s wife.”

“Mama,” Anne informed them carefully, “much prefers Miss Bennet.  She has so much more to say for herself.”  She sighed and dabbed her nose with the handkerchief Bella had given her.  It was embroidered with Bella’s initials—I.M.F.—Isabella Marie Fitzwilliam.

“Curious,” Richard agreed.

There was a sound at the door and Darcy entered the room, as stern as always, though perhaps with a flush in his cheeks.

Bella shared a quick glance with Richard.  “How were the estate books?” Bella inquired.  “I hope they did not give you too much trouble.”  She gave Darcy a pointed look.

“Indeed, Isabella,” he agreed after looking to Richard for confirmation of the ruse.  “Nothing another few afternoons will not set right.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Richard agreed.  “The ladies have been reading poetry.”  He picked up a book from the pile of books.  “Marlowe it would seem.”

Anne opened her mouth to agree, but at the sight of Darcy, tall, broad shouldered, and stern, she seemed to have lost her voice.

Bella waited for her to complete her thought as she seemed at the precipice of speaking, but when she closed her lips quickly and sank back into her shawls, she quickly corrected Richard.  “No, dear.  Thomas Gray.”

“Oh?  Gray?”  He put down the book of Marlowe.  “He is a particular favorite of yours.”

“You have found me out,” she agreed with a small smile.  She glanced over at Anne.  She seemed to be no more than a cap and a nose sticking out of her shawls.  Oh dear.  Bella paused.  “Do you think luncheon will be called soon?”

Darcy had withdrawn to a window at Anne’s reaction to him, but he turned back to the room at large.  “We await only Lady Catherine.”

The lady had seemed to be strangely absent.  The previous two mornings she had sat with Bella and Anne and made pronouncements about Anne’s posture and lack of accomplishments.  Today she was missing.

Bella looked at the large timepiece in the center of the room.  It was a quarter past one.  Lunch was late.

As if reading her thoughts, a footman came in with a note on a platter.  He approached Bella, who was the ranking lady in the room, and presented it to her.  She took it and read it. 

“It seems Lady Catherine has a migraine,” she told the assembled party.  “She begs us to excuse her.”

Anne meeped.

Everyone turned to her.

She shrank further into her shawls.

When she made no further sound, Bella turned to the footman.  “Is luncheon ready?”

“Yes, Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”

“Nothing awaits, then, than for me to escort you in, Cousin Anne,” Richard told the room gallantly.  He exchanged a look for Darcy.  Normally Darcy would escort Lady Catherine into the dining room and Richard would take in Bella.  Anne would then follow with Mrs. Jenkinson helping her to walk so she wouldn’t have to use a cane that she kept by the side of the couch.  With Richard taking Anne in, Darcy wouldn’t have to do the job.  Furthermore, he wouldn’t have to partner with her for the meal.  The task would fall to Richard, a safely married man.

Bella didn’t mind giving up her husband for a meal, especially if he was volunteering to spare their cousin Darcy.

She accepted Darcy’s hand and allowed him to lead her in.

Naturally, she didn’t confront him during lunch.  Their conversation wouldn’t have been private and would have been overheard by the lovestruck Anne and the untrustworthy Mrs. Jenkinson.

She left Richard making small talk with Anne well past three o’clock and found Darcy at the accounts.

“Do I bother you, Cousin?” she inquired. 

Darcy made a note with his quill and then replaced it in the inkwell, turning his attention to her.  He looked so startlingly like Richard that it always surprised Bella.  Richard’s face was a little starker, the brow very slightly higher, but the similarities were remarkable.  She understood from something Darcy had said when she was taking tea with Georgiana during the engagement that the curling brown hair, verdant eyes, broad shoulders, and height were Darcy traits.  While Richard had blue eyes, like his mother, everything about him was Darcy, although his father was the Earl of Matlock—a Fitzwilliam.

“What is on your mind, Isabella?”

“Anne has noticed you’ve deviated from your usual habits.  You’ve been going walking in the mornings.”  He didn’t even blink but instead regarded her silently.  “I of course support your choice to ignore Lady Catherine’s absurd matchmaking attempts.  Anne would make a poor choice of bride.  It’s obvious.”  She paused and took a breath.  “But if Richard is right and you are meeting a lady—and if that lady is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire—even Lady Catherine might notice when the vicar and his wife come to dinner.”

Darcy considered for a long moment.  “I had heard that the Indians of the Americas had prophetic skills.  I have been doing some reading on the Iroquois and the Navajo.”

Bella blushed, her pale skin reddening from her cheeks down her neck and into her chest, which was fortunately covered up with a blusher.  Since she had married Richard, she had purchased silks in colors of half mourning: greys, mauves, and silvers, not favoring the brighter colors of London society, but had promised to include dark reds as they were the Fitzwilliam colors.  She supposed the deep silver she was wearing would at least mask the paleness of her skin and the redness of the blush.

“I was never allowed at tribal gatherings,” she confessed.  “My blood was too diluted.  I never smoked from a peace pipe, for example.”

“But it is in your blood,” he argued, “these skills and these charms.  How else could you have known about Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“You are going and meeting her then on your walks?” she checked.  “I am not incorrect.”

“No, Isabella,” he agreed.  “You are not incorrect.”

Bella paused and bit her lip in worry.  “Are you meeting in secret?  Richard followed me off the street but we never met in secret.  We were always out in public and within a week I had met you and Lady Owestry—”

His deep eyes stared into hers for several long minutes, so long, in fact, that she felt uncomfortable.  “You worry for my reputation,” he concluded.  “I thank you for that.”

Bella dropped her gaze and nodded.  “You worried for Richard’s,” she whispered.

There was a moment of silence.  “I did,” he agreed.  “I need not have.  I understand that now.”

Bella nodded.  “Tell me of Miss Bennet.”

He considered.  “I will consult Richard.”

“If you think that best,” she agreed, understanding the bond the cousins had.  She stood from where she was resting up against the desk.  Placing her hand carefully on Darcy’s shoulder she smiled at him.  “I can always offer a woman’s opinion, if you ever need it.  I am not so empty headed as Anne.”

There was a slight hint of laughter in his verdant gaze.  “Richard said he wishes to look at estates in Derbyshire.  I did not realize that your dowry was so established.”

“Quite established,” she promised him.  “We wish for our eldest son to inherit land.  We may not be able to give him a title, but he need not have a profession.”

“Richard has said he was going to resign his commission at the beginning of the Season.”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling to herself.  “I shall miss seeing him in a red uniform.”

“Many a young lady loses her head when she sees an officer in red,” Darcy commented wryly.

“I did not know I was one of them,” Bella agreed, “until I saw Richard.”  With that, she left the room and closed the door carefully behind her.  She was aware of Darcy regarding her as she retired from the room, but she did not look back.  She would let him keep his counsel until he sought her out now that she had made preliminary overtures.

Lady Catherine still had a migraine at dinner so Richard gamely led Anne in and Darcy served as Bella’s dinner partner. 

After dinner, the ladies withdrew and Anne went to bed as was her custom.  Bella stayed up waiting for the gentlemen, but received a message from Richard that he and Darcy intended to stay up into the evening discussing matters.  Matters.  Matters such as Elizabeth Bennet?  Most likely, she thought.

She retired to the bedchamber she and Richard shared, and Charlotte helped her out of her dress and corset. 

“How do you like the house, Carrie?” Bella inquired.

“It is quite grand,” Charlotte agreed.  “Everyone is kind downstairs.”

“Good,” Bella said with a small smile.  “If you learn anything from Miss De Bourg’s maid about this ‘hopeful alliance’ with Darcy, do let me know.  It seems so silly.  Otherwise, I shall not need you until tomorrow morning.  Goodnight.”

Charlotte curtseyed and left with a candle, leaving Bella quite alone.

She tried to wait up for Richard, but it was well past one in the morning when Bella finally drifted off to sleep.  It had been more than two months since she had shifted to a normal sleep schedule, and she now let the natural sunlight wake her in the mornings.

“It is not good,” Richard told her when Charlotte was doing her hair.  He looked up at her maid and then kept his counsel.

Charlotte had been with Bella for more than two years and was loyal, but Richard had no direct experience with that.  Bella could well understand his silence.

“Thank you, Carrie,” Bella told her.  “Keep an ear out for gossip.”

Charlotte hesitated and looked at Richard nervously.  There was something then.

“What is it, Carrie?” Bella asked.

Charlotte still hesitated.

Bella beckoned her over and leaned forward so Charlotte could whisper in her ear.  Looking over once more at Richard, Charlotte reached over and whispered, “The entire house thinks you are with child and will give birth in six months’ time.”  She stepped back and waited worriedly.

“Is that all?” Bella asked.  “Well, they will soon be proved wrong.  I assume they think I’m penniless then?”

Charlotte looked worriedly at Richard who now was clearly interested.

“You may speak freely.  Colonel Fitzwilliam will not be angry with you.”  Bella looked at her expectantly. 

“They,” Charlotte cleared her throat.  “They think Colonel Fitzwilliam is overspending his allowance on your clothes.  There—there is speculation Mr. Darcy has given him a loan as a wedding present.”

Richard laughed into the back of his hand.  “What is this nonsense?”

“The scuttlebutt,” Bella informed him, “is that you had your wicked way with me and were forced to marry me before a child comes.”  She tapped his arm playfully.  “I wonder if that’s what Lady Catherine thinks.”

“She knows no more than my father,” Richard confirmed.

Bella hummed.  That meant she thought she was an offshoot of the Swans of Wrexham, recently returned from the Americas, of unknown wealth, although she surely knew of the house in Blackburne’s Mews.

“Hence why the servants are chattering.  She must be keeping her counsel.  We did, after all, arrive in Darcy’s carriage.”

“Our carriage is being painted,” Richard agreed.  They were having it detailed with the Matlock crest while they were in Kent.  The footman and driver were on paid leave.

Bella turned back to Charlotte.  “Thank you, Carrie.  That will be all.”

Charlotte curtseyed and quickly left.

“She really is quite loyal,” Bella promised.  They had had this conversation before, but Richard still would not speak in front of her.

“To you.  Not to me.”

“As you find.  What were you saying?”  Bella turned back toward the mirror and took in her reflection.  That day she was wearing mauve with a large broach, which had been a gift from Lady Catherine upon the occasion of their wedding.

“Miss Bennet.  It is not at all good.”  He looked over his shoulder to check that the door had been properly shut.  “She is the second of five daughters.”

“But her father is a gentleman.  Anne said Mr. Collins is inheriting the estate.”

“Her mother’s family is in trade.” 

Bella frowned.  She knew this was an indictment upon the Bennets.  Families like the Bingleys were tainted for generations by connections with trade despite their fine educations at Cambridge and their purchased estates.  Miss Bennet’s own connections did not look well.

“What else?”

“Bingley was attached to another sister and Darcy thought it prudent to detach him from a potential match.”

Bella frowned.  “But he considers this match for himself?”

He shrugged.  “He says he admires Miss Bennet, that he loves her most ardently.  He claims she does not care about his wealth or his estate.”

Bella’s eyebrows rose.  “How is that possible?”

“You did not care about my connections,” Richard reminded her with a small smile.

“I am an American!” she reminded him.  “I was operating on the edges of society.  I had no respectability.”

“You had every respectability.  You were a lady of refinement.”

She looked at him pointedly.  “Your love for me blinds you.”

Richard sighed, the argument familiar from the very first of their courtship.  “I do not believe that this alliance is favorable to the Darcy’s.  It will hurt Georgiana.”

This, of course, would be Richard’s primary concern as Georgiana’s second guardian.  In two years she would be presented to the Queen and would enter society.  He would not wish her chances at all damaged.

“Surely he must see this.”

“He is blinded by his regard for her.—We must stop this before it’s more than assignations on the pathways of Rosings Park.”

She blinked at him.  “How?  If you cannot dissuade him how are we going to stop this?  It’s not as if we can throw Anne at him.”

“We must show her in a bad light,” Richard told her firmly.  “The only way we can possibly do this is compare her disfavorably to you.”

“How?  By playing the pianoforte?”  Bella chewed her lower lip.  She remembered the last time she played the piano.  Everyone had been shocked.  “Surely you don’t want me to sing again.”

“Can you sing anything else?”

“Madness.”

Richard looked at her oddly.

“Never mind.”  Bella sighed.  “We will think of something.  Perhaps she is a fortune hunter and we can unmask her.”

“If she is a fortune hunter, Darcy will not see it.  He truly believes she cares not for Pemberley.”

“Every woman who meets Darcy cares for Pemberley,” Bella refuted.  “Even Anne is blinded by Pemberley and she’s never even been there.”  She looked at herself one last time in the mirror and then stood up.  “This is a military campaign.  I understand you have never failed once you’ve set your mind to one.  Now there are two of us.  We shall pull this off.”

Richard laughed a little.  “Are you my commanding officer?”

Bella thought of Charlie who was a police officer.  She grinned a little to herself.  “If needs must.—Come on, it’s time for breakfast.”  She reached out her hand and Richard easily took it.  He kissed the back of it before allowing her to lead him out of the room.

Darcy was standing at a window in the breakfast room, drinking a cup of tea.  It seemed his usual pose was staring out a window.  Bella wondered if he was looking out at the scenery or thinking.

Bella came in and greeted Lady Catherine and Anne before taking the seat Richard held out for her.

“Anne, you are slouching,” Lady Catherine corrected.  “See how Isabella sits.”

Pausing in buttering her scone, Bella realized she was rather straight backed.  She had learned to sit properly during all the poker matches she had played on her long sojourn from Italy to London.  She had had to learn to be a lady and had mastered the art by the time she arrived in Bloomsbury and the upscale gaming den of Harley Street.

Anne mumbled something into her shawls.  She was rather lost in them again.  Anne was even wearing green that morning, making her even look more like a blonde toad.  It was all rather unfortunate.

After breakfast, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, and the men to their individual pursuits.  Bella went to the window and looked out.  It was not a quarter of an hour later that she saw Darcy take to the front lawn in his hat with his walking stick and go for a walk.  It seemed he was going to meet Miss Bennet again.

When Lady Catherine had finished her monologue on all of Anne’s faults and asked Bella to read to them, Anne leaned over and whisper, “Did Darcy go for a walk?  All of my instincts tell me he is not in the house.”

“I am sure he is with Richard or at the accounts,” Bella lied, picking up the Thomas Gray and opening to the bookmark.

“You do not have to protect him,” Anne sighed, sniffing into Bella’s monogrammed handkerchief.  She still hadn’t given it back.  “He hasn’t married yet.  Every year it becomes less and less likely.”

Bella looked at her sadly.  “Why don’t you entertain other gentlemen then?”

Anne sniffed.

“Isabella!” Lady Catherine.  “Why do you not read?”

Bella almost upset her book.  “Forgive me, Lady Catherine.  I shall begin now.”  She glanced over at Anne one last time before she found her place and began.

Darcy did return for lunch that day.  But he did go for a walk Wednesday morning and again on Thursday morning. 

“Well,” Bella said as Charlotte put in red berry ornamentations in her hair that evening to go with her silver evening dress with black lace, “now we get to meet the vicar and his wife.”

“—and Miss Bennet,” Richard added for form, coming up behind her as Charlotte stepped away.  “When did you get these, my love?”

“I took a fancy to them when you sent me to Madame Delacroix,” Bella admitted.  “I thought they matched your redcoat.”

“A nice addition,” he agreed, leaning down and kissing the arch of her neck.  “It is nice to see you in colors other than silver and grey.”

“Do not forget the purple!” Bella demanded, laughing.  “I wear purple!”

“Mauve,” he corrected, his nose running against her skin.  “Mauve, my dear.  What do they teach you in your American schoolhouses?”

“Nothing good, I’d wager,” Bella agreed.  She sighed when she turned her head and Richard kissed her deeply.

They were slightly late for receiving guests, but managed to still get there just before the vicar and his wife arrived.

Lady Catherine looked at them admonishingly, but at their flushed and smiling faces, simply pointed to where she wanted them to sit.  They were, after all, newlyweds.

The vicar was a thin, excitable young man with curling blonde hair and blue eyes.  His wife was undoubtedly plain but polite.  Miss Bennet—Bella sighed.  Miss Bennet was dressed very badly in a yellow frock that clashed with her honey blonde curls that were barely pinned into respectability.  Her sky blue eyes were alight with laughter and her cheeks were flushed pink with amusement.  She could be called pretty, Bella supposed, if she weren’t secretly laughing at everyone.—and she was secretly laughing at Darcy.

“Are all your sisters out?” Lady Catherine asked over the soup course.

“Yes, ma’am, all.”

“What?  The younger are out before the elder are married?”  Lady Catherine was clearly shocked.  “Your younger sisters must be very young.”

“Yes.  My youngest is not sixteen.” 

Richard glanced over at Bella.  Georgiana, Bella knew, had just celebrated her sixteenth birthday that February.  It was full young to be out.  Georgiana hadn’t even lowered her hems.  Richard must be questioning Mr. Bennet’s parenting skills.  Bella certainly was.  She looked carefully over at Darcy, but he was regarding Miss Bennet plainly.  She paused.  She could not tell if he looked at her in disapproval or admiration.  Darcy was so difficult to read.  She wondered if Miss Bennet could even tell.

As the ranking lady of the party, Bella got to perform first.  This created quite the quandary.  What should she play?  She knew Richard and Darcy remembered Exogenesis from the previous January.  Lady Catherine would surely disapprove.  She would disapprove of anything Bella played.

Setting her fingers on the piano, unfortunately covered in white evening gloves, Bella prepared to play Starlight.  Her repertoire was rather limited to her interests.  Edward had always played for her in Forks, but he never bothered to ask if she could even play or if she would like to learn Bella’s Lullaby.  More’s the pity.

When she got to Black Holes and Revelations, she knew she was breaking history again.  No one in Regency England knew what a black hole was.  Bella wasn’t even sure if she could explain properly what a black hole was to a 19^th-century man.  An imploded star that eats light.  That wouldn’t go over well. 

She merged one song into another and when a half hour seemed to be up, she landed on the final chord dramatically and then lifted her hand, waiting for applause. 

Richard was standing devotedly by her side although she was performing from memory, and he led her away from the couch as everyone clapped for her. 

Mrs. Collins was deferred to next, but she declined, citing she had no talent.  Miss Bennet was then applied to, and she accepted Richard’s hand and he led her to the instrument.

Bella watched as she played a middling piece, speaking all the while to Richard until Darcy approached them.  At one point she played a false note, and both Bella and Anne looked up, but Miss Bennet just breezed on and Lady Catherine continued to lecture the assembled party of how she was a true connoisseur of musical talent although she, herself, could not play.

“Well?” Bella inquired that evening after Charlotte had readied her for the night.

Richard huffed out a bit of air.  “She is delightful.”

“But…?” There was certainly more to the story.

“She is insolent and rude.  Miss Bennet hides it with charm, but it is certainly there.”

Bella flopped onto her back.  “Such a mind working around Georgiana—”

“Yes,” Richard agreed.  “I quite take your point.  She takes too many liberties, even with me, a married man with whom she had just formed an acquaintance.”

Bella looked over at him in worry.  “Was-was she flirting with you?”

“Decidedly.”  He looked down at her.  “I did not like it,” he rushed to assure her.

“Some men would.”

Reaching for her hand, he took the back and kissed it.  “I am not ‘some men,’ Isabella.  Quite the reverse.”

Bella gave him a small, insecure smile.  “Did Darcy notice that she was flirting with you?”

“If he did, he did not object.”

Bella breathed out of her nose.  It was worse than she thought.  “What is to be done?”

Richard remained silent.  It seemed they had a problem on their hands.

The next morning Darcy disappeared for his morning walk.  Bella claimed a headache at breakfast and was waiting for him within the tree line.

He paused.  “I thought you were in bed, Isabella.”

“So does Richard,” she agreed, turning with him and inviting him to walk with her.  “Though perhaps he knows me well enough to know it was just a ruse.”

“I cannot speak to that.  He is your husband.”

“He is your cousin,” Bella parroted back.  “You have known him much longer than I.  We have been married but a month.”

“An enviable position.”

“Is it?” Bella asked him directly.  “Richard said Miss Bennet flirted with him.”

Darcy paused and looked at her.  “She was trying to make me jealous.”

“Was she?”  Bella hummed.  “Do you like such tricks?”

“It is enough that I recognize her ploys and the meaning behind them.”  This was said stiffly.  “She cares for me.”

Bella walked on a little in silence.  “Are you certain enough to put it to the test?”  When Darcy made to object, Bella reminded him, “Richard put me to the test with you and Lady Owestry.”

“Was not last night a test?”

“Decidedly not!” Bella protested.  “She was there as the vicar’s wife’s pretty friend.  She was not there as your potential bride.”

“We have not an understanding.”

“I thought you just says she is using tricks on you.  Surely she must have some idea of your regard.  Come, Darcy, what harm could it do?  Take me to your place of assignation and you can hide behind a tree.  You will have the advantage of hearing her answers from her yourself.  You need not rely on me to give you back her words.”  She looked up at him with a sly smile.  “What are you afraid of?”

“I am not afraid,” he sternly answered.

“There you go then.”  She had won the argument.  “The plan is set.”

“Indeed.”  Darcy did not seem too happy about it, but he was not going to renegue on an agreement. 

They came to a bend in the pathway not five minutes later and Darcy pulled to the side, indicating the steps beyond.  Bella understood.  Here was where Darcy and Miss Bennet would usually meet.  He seemed a little unsure, but she pressed his arm gently and he took a few steps into the tree line and disappeared with only a slight rustle of leaves.

Bella took a deep breath and prepared herself.  She had to show Miss Bennet in her worst light. 

Going further down the path, Bella found a fallen tree and a pleasant little glade.  Miss Bennet, as expected, was sitting on a tree stump, her bonnet tossed over a rock, her face tilted back in a ray of sunlight.  She was clearly posing for the benefit of Darcy.  Bella wondered if he could see it from his hiding place.

“Ah, Miss Bennet,” Bella greeted.  “You have recurred.”

She looked up, pretending to be startled at being found.  “Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” she gasped.  “I did not know you walked.”

“Walked at all or walked these pathways?” Bella asked ruefully.  “Darcy told me it was your custom to take a morning constitutional.”

Miss Bennet looked astonished again.  “Did he?”

“You seem surprised,” Bella noticed as she came over to the fallen tree and perched upon it.  “You must have noticed he has taken to walking himself.”

Grimacing, Miss Bennet agreed, “Yes, I had.  I told him my usual haunts so we could avoid each other, but he stumbles upon me nearly every morning.”

Bella paused.  Was she truly pretending ignorance to her?  “We need not pretend.  While I myself like a man in a redcoat, it does not take every woman’s fancy.”

Miss Bennet took her in.  “There are many a redcoat in Meryton.  The militia are quartered there.”  Her sky blue eyes shone with some secret, and Bella wondered at it.

“Indeed?  They must make up many a pleasant evening at cards.”

“Exactly so,” Miss Bennet agreed.  “It was at one such card party where the whole of Meryton learnt of Mr. Darcy’s true character—but I should not speak of it to you.  Mr. Darcy is your cousin.”

Confused, Bella quickly demurred.  She sensed Miss Bennet was burgeoning with a secret.  “Darcy is my husband’s cousin.  I have been married but a month.”

“You just met him then?” Miss Bennet inquired, leaning forward.  She really did look disagreeable in her brown pelisse and deep blue spun gown.  This was the second time Bella had seen her and found her badly dressed.  She wondered how Darcy could find her attractive with “fine as” as Richard related.

“Just,” Bella lied.  “We shared a carriage, of course, from London.”

“I spent a week in the same house with him,” Miss Bennet commiserated.  “But we were speaking of Mr. Darcy’s character.”

Were they then?  Bella was wondering at the course of the conversation.

“Mr. Wickham,” Miss Bennet related, “is in the Militia quartered at Meryton.  He was Old Mr. Darcy’s godson.  He grew up with Darcy.”

Bella wondered if this Mr. Wickham looked fine in his red coat.  Miss Bennet certainly seemed to be indiscrete speaking about him.  “What of him?”

“Old Mr. Darcy left him the living at Kympton.  He was a great favorite.  Mr. Darcy was so jealous that he denied Wickham the living outright and left poor Wickham destitute!  I tell you this so you can be on your guard with Mr. Darcy.  You are staying in the same house with him.  Do not believe a word he says or a single overture he makes to you!”

Bella chewed her lip in worry.  Darcy was in love with this woman?  She was assassinating his character to a complete stranger!

“Did-did anyone corroborate this story?” Bella asked carefully, knowing Darcy was listening to every word.  “Is it very much talked about in Meryton?”

“No one need corroborate it!  Mr. Darcy’s character speaks for itself!”  Miss Bennet’s eyes flashed blue.  “Mr. Wickham is all honesty!”

“Is he?” Bella mumbled.  It seemed Miss Bennet had a crush on the inestimable Mr. Wickham.  “Are you and he engaged?”

Miss Bennet seemed taken aback.  “N-no,” she stammered.  “No.  Nothing like that.”

Bella looked at her knowingly.  “I think you should like to be though.”

“As I said, he is penniless because of Mr. Darcy’s actions.  He needs a fortune.”

“And you have not a fortune?” Bella asked.  She looked over to the tree line.  That was interesting.  Darcy, it seemed, was prepared to take her without a penny, just as Richard was prepared to take Bella with nothing to her name.  “His commission is not enough to support a wife?  He is not prudent?”

Miss Bennet gasped at the implication.  “Mrs. Fitzwilliam—that is not—”

“What?” Bella asked.  “Officers often marry on their income.  They can augment it at the gaming tables if they have wits enough.”

“Are you saying Colonel Fitzwilliam—” Miss Bennet asked hesitantly.

Bella stared back at her.

Lowering her head in shame, Miss Bennet did not say another word. 

“Are you not aware,” Bella asked carefully, “that you have caught the attention of a man ten times Mr. Wickham’s consequence?”

Miss Bennet’s head whipped up in shock.  “Who?”

Considering, Bella answered, “I don’t think it matters anymore.”  She stood from the fallen tree and straightened her skirts.  “I cannot leave Miss De Bourg for long.  She depends on my company.”

However, Miss Bennet wasn’t listening.  She seemed to have crawled inside herself.  Bella sighed and turned around and walked back down the path.  When she came to the spot where she had parted from Darcy, she patiently waited for him.  He soon appeared, but she put her finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet, just in case Miss Bennet had followed.

He nodded and took her arm, leading her further down the path and then they veered off down past a brook.

They came to a Greek Folly and seemed to be very much alone.

Darcy was clearly agitated.  “I knew not that was her opinion of me.”

“Who is this Wickham?  I assume he speaks lies.”

“He was my father’s godson,” Darcy admitted.  “Father left him the living, but he did not want it.  He demanded its worth instead.  Foolishly I gave it to him and he wasted it within months on gambling dens and loose women.”

They looked at each other ruefully when he mentioned gambling.

“How could I have been so blinded?” Darcy sighed, turning away from her and looking out toward the trees.  “How could Miss Bennet be so indiscreet and spread uncorroborated lies to my own relations?”

“You know now,” Bella told him.  “She was poisoned against you.”

“By a braggard!”  He swiped the grass with his walking stick.  “Wickham plagues me!”

Bella said nothing.  She knew of Georgiana’s attempted elopement with the man.  Richard had told her in confidence.  Bringing it up now would only anger Darcy more.

“She was unsuitable, she flirted with other men,” Bella reminded him carefully.  “Her family was unsuitable even for Bingley and Bingley’s sister will never be presented to the Queen unlike Georgiana.”

He turned to her, his lips in a thin line.

“You know I am right.”  She held his gaze for several long minutes, trying to get her point across.  “The Darcy line is far too important.”

Nodding, he looked away again.  After several long moments, he admitted, “Eloise Bridgerton is being presented to the Queen this Season.”

Bella looked over toward him in question.  She thought she remembered Richard mentioning a Viscount Bridgerton, who was a member of White’s. 

“She amuses,” Darcy admitted.  “I would never be bored.”

This sounded hopeful.  “A plan of attack,” Bella decided resolutely.  “Richard will surely approve.”

“A Viscount’s daughter is eminently suitable,” Darcy continued, offering his arm to Bella.  “She could be a friend to Georgiana.  Her mother bore eight children, so we know she is fertile.”

“How many sons did the Dowager Viscountess have?” Bella asked, falling into the conversation Darcy was distracting himself with.

“Four sons and four daughters.”

“That is most promising,” she laughed, mostly to herself but a little at Darcy.  “Think of all those dowries.” 

“Benedict Bridgerton mentioned the Duchess of Hasting’s dowry when she married.”  Ah, this must be one of the elder sisters then.  The daughter of a Viscount and the sister of a Duchess.  These were connections that were certainly beneficial.  “Most agreeable.”

“Not as agreeable as mine,” Bella teased.

Darcy looked over at her sternly.  “Fitzwilliam never told me your dowry.”

“You know we bought the townhouse at Blackburne’s Mews and we’re buying an estate in Derbyshire.  Surely you can guess that it is most correct for a lady of my standing.”

Leaning down so that they wouldn’t be overheard by the birds, Darcy whispered, “A Swan of Wrexham.”

Bella couldn’t help it.  She threw her head back and laughed.  If Miss Bennet heard her from where she was walking, she didn’t know the reason, and she never would.

The End.