Excentryke's Musings

Title: Bride Swap
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride and Prejudice / Twilight Saga / Bridgerton (TV Series) / Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries
Pairings: I’m going to leave this one open.  You’ll just have to read to find out.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 21k
Warnings: character death (pre story), vampires, gambling, mentions of sex, Darcy can be insufferable, I just don’t like Elizabeth Bennet, Bella must save the day, illegitimate children, elopements

Bride Swap

The cigarette smoldered in the darkness of the gambling den on Harley Street.

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke, Colonel,” Bella reminded him.  She was sitting across from him, having finished her game of poker. 

He grinned at her.  “I know, Miss Swan.”  He dashed it on the ash tray in between them.  “I am a man of bad habits.”

She shifted in her seat.  “You need not remind me.”  She looked away toward where Lord Septimus was watching them.  He was rather sweet on her even though he was only nineteen and it would be rather premature for him to attach himself to anyone, especially a degenerate gambler such as Bella who had no reputation and no family name.  Turning back to Colonel Fitzwilliam, Bella prodded, “You wished to speak to me.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his muddy eyes coming to fix hers with an impenetrable look.  “You know how much I admire you, Miss Swan.”

“Talk, Colonel,” she reminded him.

“Talk it might be,” he told her, taking another drag of his cigarette, “but it is the truth.”  His eyes gazed into hers for a long moment.  “It is true I am a second son and must marry a fortune.”

“As I said,” she repeated, “talk.”

“Talk,” he agreed.  “I admire you, however, Miss Swan.  I admire your intellect.  I admire your poise. I admire your opinion.  I think you a lady of the highest order.  I would be happy to see you wear a Duchess’s coronet.”

Bella laughed to herself.  “That would be the day, Colonel.”

He smiled to himself.  “Yes, Miss Swan.  It would, but I digress.  My closest cousin is a man of reputation, land, and respectability.  His name is Darcy.”

“I have heard talk of Darcy,” Bella admitted.  “Septi mentioned his wedding engagement to a woman of no name and little fortune.”

The Colonel scowled.  “Septi talks too much.  He gossips more than a fishmonger’s wife.”

That was a little unkind.  Lord Septimus did not gossip, he simply liked to talk to Bella, and knew she read the society pages and Lady Whistledown for her own amusement.  As Bella read the society pages, so did Lord Septimus so he could discuss it with her over cards.  He was a sweet boy in that way.  Bella was fond of him as if he were a younger brother.  She would be happy when he found a woman who would be worthy of him.

Bella gave Colonel Fitzwilliam a look.

He looked sheepish.  “All right, I take your point, Miss Swan.”

“Good,” she replied.  “What of Mr. Darcy?”

“I have met Miss Bennet.  She is,” he paused, taking another quick inhale of his cigarette, thinking.  “—‘charming’ is the wrong word.  She is certainly lively.  Darcy is as dull as dirt.  He certainly needs ‘lively.’  Miss Bennet is the wrong lively young woman for him.”  He was scowling again.  “The wedding is in less than a fortnight.”

“I understood they were to marry in Hertfordshire.”

“They are,” Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed.

Bella was confused.  “Then why tell me all this?  If he’s in Hertfordshire, it’s not like you can bring him to Harley Street and hope he falls in love with me, like half the men in London.”

“Darcy does not gamble,” Colonel Fitzwilliam told her.  “No, I wish to invite you to the wedding as a friend of my sister’s.  I wish you to infiltrate Darcy’s confidence and—well,” he looked sheepish.  “Convince him with me that Miss Bennet is not the best option.”

“What makes you think he will listen to me?” Bella asked.  “What makes you think your sister will agree to this plan?”

“I already asked Julia,” the Colonel told her.  “She agreed to it as she does not like the idea of Miss Bennet marrying into the family either.  I told her that your powers of persuasion are unmatched.  You can make men part with their money like no one else.”  He smiled at her.

“Those are men who are already unopposed to parting with their money,” Bella told him wryly.  “This Mr. Darcy is quite another character.”

“Miss Swan,” the Colonel begged.  “Please.  As a special favor to me.”

She sighed.  He was giving her what would be described as puppy dog eyes in the twenty-first century.  “I suppose,” she agreed, “a brief sojourn to Hertfordshire would not harm me,” she decided and he leaned forward in excitement, “but—” she told him, “if I fail, you cannot hold me responsible.  This is a gamble and not of cards but of hearts.”

“Indeed, Miss Swan.  I do quite comprehend.  We leave the day after, well, we leave tomorrow.  Eight o’clock from Hanover Square sharp.”

She sighed.  That meant she wouldn’t go out gambling that night and would stay at home, bored.  “I will be sure to arrive in plenty of time.  I have a maid.  I will not go without her.”

“Of course,” the Colonel agreed.  “I would expect no less from a lady of your standing.”

Lord Septimus had been catching glances with her the entire time and was tired of their tête-à-tête.  He stood up from his card game, throwing in his hand, and came over.  “What’s this?” he asked, leaning over the Colonel’s chair.  “You are looking quite cozy.”

“It is nothing, Septi,” Bella soothed him.  “It is only Lady Julia Fitzwilliam is inviting me to a family wedding in Hertfordshire.”

“Is she?” Septimus asked.  “You shall need an escort.”

The Colonel looked up at him suspiciously.  “I shall be escorting the ladies.”

“You shall be escorting Lady Julia,” Septimus refuted.  “Who shall be maintaining Isabella’s reputation?”

“You are not invited,” Colonel Fitzwilliam told him through gritted teeth.

“I am if Isabella invites me as her escort,” Septimus disagreed, his green eyes shining.  “Isabella!”

Bella looked carefully between the two men.  The Colonel clearly did not want Lord Septimus to come along.  Septimus, on the other hand, did not wish for Bella to leave London at all.  “Shall I write you from Hertfordshire?” she offered.  “I am afraid this is a family affair.  I am the most intimate friend of Lady Julia.”

“Have you ever met Lady Julia?” Septimus scowled.

Glancing at the Colonel one last time, she got up from her seat and went over to Septimus, laying her hand carefully on his arm.  “Will you please escort me to my carriage, Septi?” she asked quietly.

He grumbled.  “This is not over,” he told Colonel Fitzwilliam, before he offered his arm to Bella.  Standing up proudly, he walked Bella out of the club, going so far as to get her cloak and clasp it himself, and lifted her into her carriage, promising to call before she left ‘as he knew what items to bring to a house party.’

Bella could only sigh when she got back to her rooms in Bloomsbury.

She turned up promptly Thursday morning in Hanover Square with her trunk.

Lady Julia looked nothing like her brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam.  Where the Colonel was tall with broad shoulders and curling brown hair, Julia had thinning blonde hair and a slim figure, her shoulders weak. 

“Miss Swan,” she greeted, smiling mischievously, her watery eyes holding a sparkle.  “Richard tells me this is a mission of the utmost importance.”

“It is as I understand it,” Bella agreed.  “I know nothing of this Miss Bennet.”

Julia took her arm and led her to the carriage.  “She is the second of five sisters.  Her elder sister is marrying Darcy’s great friend Bingley in a double wedding.  I am told the Bennet sisters have connections in trade.”  Her eyes widened comically for effect.

The Colonel was standing in his regimentals next to the carriage.  “Ladies,” he greeted.  “So fine to see you this morning, Miss Swan.”

“I am here as promised,” she told him, “ready to perform my duty as close friend of the family and spy.”  She winked at Julia who giggled.

Offering his hand to his sister, the Colonel lifted Julia into the carriage.  He paused when Bella was left on the step.  “If you have to entice Darcy away,” he murmured.

“While retaining my reputation of course,” she reminded him, accepting his hand and then ascending into the carriage.  A moment later she was sitting across from Julia.  “Have you entered the social season yet?” she inquired as the door was closed behind them.

“I have concluded my first year,” Julia told her.  “I was certain of a proposal from Lord Henry, but in the end he did not ask for my hand.”

“Men,” Bella sighed, looking out the window.  “They can be so fickle.”

“Has someone played with your heart?” Julia asked, concerned.

Bella thought of the Colonel and Septimus.  Then her mind turned to a proposal she had turned down.  “They try,” she admitted.  “They try but they do not succeed.”  She offered Julia a small smile.

By the time they arrived three hours later, Julia and Bella were on first name basis.  Colonel Fitzwilliam helped them out of the carriage, and Julia told Bella that Netherfield was not as fine as Matlock, causing Bella to pause.  “Your family estate is named ‘Matlock’?” she checked, looking to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Yes, why?” Julia asked.

Bella had a sick feeling to her stomach.  “No reason,” she lied.  Then, carefully, she asked, “Is the Viscount of Owestry coming to wedding with Miss Annabelle?”

If Julia noticed anything amiss, she didn’t say anything.  “Owestry is expected, but Annabelle is staying in Derbyshire.”

Nodding, Bella lifted her skirts and went up the outer staircase of the house.

When the party came into the Drawing Room, Bella was lost in the back.  The Colonel greeted his cousin, who was just as tall as he was, and Julia was cooed over as her bonnet was taken.  Finally, when everyone had settled and Bella had been forgotten on a settee, Julia remembered, “Oh, and this is my especial friend, Miss Bella Swan.  I could not be without her, so I brought her along to the wedding.”

Bingley, the other bridegroom, greeted her jovially, and Bella could see envy in the looks from the Bingley sisters, perhaps at the quality of her gown, but it was Darcy who had the unusual reaction.  He took in Bella and almost seemed to dismiss her until their eyes met and held.  Then he refused to look away.

Bella knew how to meet men at the gambling tables, but she knew little of society at large.  She supposed she should be demure and look away, but instead she took it as a challenge.  She stared back.

The longer he looked at her, the longer she looked back. His eyes were an unusual mossy green color, almost piercing despite their dark shade.  They were really the most extraordinary eyes really, shining more than Edward’s even when they were at their most golden.

Darcy looked so long, that Julia noticed, turning between them in wonder.  Then Colonel Fitzwilliam began to regard Darcy.  Soon Bingley became uncomfortable and was calling for music, but still Darcy stared at her.

Finally, Julia asked, “Bella, are you musical?”

Miss Bingley was playing gayly on the pianoforte at this point.

As she was being directly addressed, Bella turned away from Darcy with one last look, and smiled at Julia.  “I am afraid that my talents lie elsewhere.”  She glanced once more at Darcy and turned more fully toward Julia, dismissing Darcy as if he were unimportant.

The Colonel was going up to Darcy and whispering something to him.

“But surely you can sing,” Julia tried, glancing at her brother, but continuing the conversation with Bella.  “I must have heard you sing during the season.”

“Only to myself,” Bella lied, coming and sitting beside Julia and accepting a dish of tea from Mrs. Hurst.  “I was never properly taught.”

“Your governess did you a disservice,” Julia was now opining as if they had been friends for months and hadn’t just met that morning.

“I do believe, Julia,” Bella told her, “you are the first to mind my lack of musical abilities.”  Her eyes flashed violet in teasing.

Darcy and the Colonel were whispering to each other, catching looks at Bella and Julia.  Julia was decidedly trying to appear more comfortable than she was and Bella was ignoring Darcy completely although he had positioned himself to try and catch her eye again.

“Richard minds,” Julia insisted, nodding to her brother, who was Darcy’s copy except for the eyes.  “He should like to hear you play and sing.”

“I assure you,” Bella disagreed, “Colonel Fitzwilliam has never wished to hear me play or sing.”  She looked over at the cousins, choosing to catch Fitzwilliam’s muddy eyes and not Darcy’s sharp green ones.  “Is that not so, Colonel?” she asked to the room at large.

His eyes brightened at the question.  “No, Miss Swan.  I have never felt there is anything wanting in your person,” he declared likewise to the entire room though he was pointedly looking at Darcy.

“There, Julia,” Bella decided, having won the point.  “The Colonel does not mind.”

“He should mind.  I mind for him.”  Julia’s watery blue eyes looked at her before catching a glance at Fitzwilliam, a message clearly passing between them. 

Now that Bella knew Julia was Owestry’s sister, Bella could see the resemblance between them.  It was rather obvious.  What was she going to do when Owestry arrived at Netherfield?  She had promised he would never have to see her again.  It was clearly a promise she was going to break, and she didn’t like breaking her word, especially when she cared so much about him.

Fortunately, Bella did not have to answer Julia because lunch was announced. 

The Colonel immediately claimed her hand and led her in.  As soon as the wine was served, he turned to her and told her, “Well done.”

“What was that about?” she asked him, waiting for the cold ham to be served.  “Mr. Darcy is the most peculiar man I have ever come across, and I have come across many characters in my short life.”

“How are your eyes violet?” Fitzwilliam instead inquired.  “I have never asked but have wondered for quite some time.”

Bella almost visibly deflated.  Septimus wrote sonnets to her eyes.  Sometimes she wished she could pluck her eyes out.  “My father and my grandfather Swan had violet eyes,” she told him, not answering his question exactly.

“Did they?”

“Yes.  They are Swan eyes.”  She glanced over at Bingley who was happily chatting to Lady Julia who was on his right.

“Do you think your children will have violet eyes?” Fitzwilliam inquired, looking over at Darcy, who was paying more attention to them, than to his lunch partner, Caroline Bingley.

“I have no idea,” Bella answered.  She remembered Edward had wondered about them, but she pushed him from her mind.  In all honesty, she rarely thought of Edward or the Cullens anymore.  “Perhaps.”

“I think Darcy should like for your children to have violet eyes.”

Bella looked at him oddly.  “I beg pardon?”

The Colonel put down his knife and fork.  “Darcy—”

“I heard what you said.  I just don’t know why you said it.”  Bella decidedly did not look in Darcy’s direction.

Colonel Fitzwilliam picked up his fork.  “Darcy first found Elizabeth Bennet’s eyes ‘fine.’  I remember him mentioning it last Easter before I had any idea that he admired her.”  He paused.  “Now he finds your eyes ‘singularly pleasing.’”

Bella was tempted to roll her eyes.  “You are telling me that your cousin is attracted to women’s eyes, and my eyes are the latest eyes he has come across.”  Men were so strange.

“Exactly,” the Colonel declared happily.  “We have to make this attraction permanent—”

“And then what?  I am going back to London.”  She sliced her ham rather viciously.  “If Miss Bennet is unsuitable with her lack of suitable connections, then I am certainly unsuitable.  I have no connections at all, and that is nothing to say of my lack of movement in polite society.”

“You,” Fitzwilliam told her, “are new blood.”

Bella stilled.  Was he truly saying…?  He was.  She paused and made a decision.  “I need to speak to you.”

“We are speaking,” the Colonel told her, completely missing the point.

“No,” she told him carefully.  “I need to speak to you privately and urgently.”

“Are you engaged?” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked suddenly worried.

“As good as.”

They shared a long look.  Colonel Fitzwilliam really did look Darcy’s exact copy except for the eyes.  It was unusual given that Lady Julia and Owestry looked so different and all three were siblings.

“Lord Septimus Wimsey?” Fitzwilliam asked carefully.  “He is rather possessive of you.”

“That would serve you right,” Bella told him outright.  “But no.”

The Colonel nodded carefully and went back to his ham.

After lunch, Colonel Fitzwilliam led Bella to a private sitting room and closed the door behind them while the rest of the party repaired to the Drawing Room.  It was unusual, but as it was a house party, members could split off into different rooms without impropriety being automatically assumed. 

“You should have told me you meant for me to actually marry Darcy,” Bella opened with, sighing and walking over to the window, looking out at the gardens.  “That was unfair of you.”

“I assumed if Darcy could form an engagement with Miss Bennet who hated him last April,” Fitzwilliam defended, “he could woo anyone.  He does have an estate and an ancient name.  Those are qualities that any young woman should want.”

Bella turned, her eyes flashing at him.  “An estate and an ancient name are not qualities,” Bella argued back carefully.  “They are assets.”  She held up her hands.  “That is neither here nor there.  I did not know your elder brother was the Viscount of Owestry.”

“You are engaged to Owestry?” Fitzwilliam was shocked.

“He proposed.”  She paused.  “I only tell you this because I refused and promised him he would never have to see me again.  And now he’s coming here for Darcy’s wedding—and here I am.”

Fitzwilliam pondered for a long moment.  “How did you even meet Owestry?”

Bella gave him a look.

“Fine,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “None of my business.  I take it his estate and ancient name were not inducements, then.”

“Quite the opposite,” Bella told him.  “I want nothing less than to enter society.  The idea quite repels me.”

“You are a strange woman, Isabella Swan,” Fitzwilliam complimented.

She gave him a wry smile.

“You do not want Darcy then,” he checked.

“No,” Bella affirmed.

“He is not even remotely pleasing?”

Bella gave him a wry look.  “Do you think I am a slave to lust?”

Fitzwilliam walked over to her and carefully took her hands in his larger ones.  “I am asking you to consider it, Miss Swan, for the good of the family.”

“What is your family to me?” Bella asked him, looking up into his eyes.  He was a full head taller than her and she had to crane her neck to catch his gaze.

“You obviously have some affection for Owestry, otherwise you would not be worried about breaking your word to him.  The Matlock family seems to mean something to you.  You also asked after Annabelle.  Miss Swan, please.  For the sake of the Matlock name.  Can you consider doing this for us?  You were willing to come here to convince Darcy to break the engagement—”

“I do not even know if I like Darcy,” she argued.  “I also,” she told him carefully, “do not know if Owestry would ask this of me.  It is one thing if he should ask me, quite another if you do.  What do I care if you want me to enter your family?  My care for your family extends as far as marrying Owestry, not in marrying his cousin.”  She removed her hands carefully from his and walked across the room to look back out the window.

She heard Colonel Fitzwilliam sigh.  “Then I ask that you simply remain a guest of our family for the next couple of days.  When Owestry arrives, I will consult with him.”

He made to leave but she called out to him.  “Owestry is not like you.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed.  “But perhaps the honor of the family weighs upon him like it does me.”

Bella didn’t realize a tear had run down her cheek until she had been alone for several minutes.

Not wanting to go back to the Drawing Room, Bella found a pack of cards and was playing Solitaire when there was a knock on the door and none other than Darcy appeared when it was opened.

“Julia was wondering where you had gone,” he explained carefully as he came into the room.

“Only here,” she promised, flipping over a card, looking into his verdant eyes for a long moment.  “Do you play cards, Mr. Darcy?”

“I do not like the amusement,” he told her stiffly.  Perhaps he was dull as dirt as Fitzwilliam had claimed.  That did not bode well for future happiness.

She flipped over a three of diamonds.  “At all?”

“Gambling can ruin a man,” he told her.

“It can make a man,” she refuted as she turned over a five of spades, “if he has Lady Luck on his side.  I must admit I have spent many a companionable an hour playing cards.”

He came up to the table and looked over her shoulder.  “You are a lady.  You play for pennies.”

“Do I?” she asked him, glancing up at him with her violet eyes.  “Are you sure?”  Their gazes held for several long moments, forest green to violet, until she turned and swept the cards up, shuffling expertly, before she put the cards away.  Bella wondered if she and Darcy were even suited.  “I am afraid I promised a correspondent a letter as soon as I arrived.  He tried to insist that I needed an escort other than Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I assured him that bandits would not take me on the highway.”

He pulled out her chair for her.  “Who is this correspondent?”

“Lord Septimus Wimsey,” she answered with a small laugh.  “His father should send him to Oxford or Cambridge because I fear he is rather bored with life despite his young age.”

“I understand he is the Duke of Denver’s seventh son and eleventh child.”

“Does Lord Septimus have that many sisters?” Bella asked as Darcy opened the door for her.  “I had not realized.”

Julia fussed over her as soon as she arrived in the Drawing Room.  Bella was delayed in writing her letter as she was called to a game of Whist.  Darcy stood at the window the entire afternoon, staring out at some point in the distance, but he did regard Bella when she was at her correspondence, complimenting her on her handwriting, which had been a battle well won when she had first arrived in London and had had to teach herself how to write with a quill pen.

Bella and Julia determined to call on the Misses Bennet the next morning.

When Bella went to bed, she called Charlotte to her.  “What is the gossip downstairs?” she inquired of her as she allowed Charlotte to brush out her hair.

“They all want to know who you are, mum.”

“What did you tell them?”  She sighed in pleasure as Charlotte continued the strokes of the brush.

“That you are a friend of Lady Julia’s, of course.  Nothing more and nothing less.  They wanted to know how many seasons you had been out, but I dithered around about that.”

Bella grimaced.  She had arrived in London when she was nineteen and she was now two and twenty.  If she were partaking of the London Season, which she decidedly was not, she would have just finished her fourth season.  It was unusual that a woman her age did not have a husband or some sort of protector.  Bella didn’t look her age, but in a few years people would start asking questions.

“What do they say of Mr. Darcy?” Bella inquired.

“Only that he is a stern man and a great friend of Bingley’s.  Everyone is surprised at his engagement to Elizabeth Bennet and wonders at it.”

“And Bingley’s engagement?”

Charlotte smiled.  “No one is surprised at that.  They all expected it last Autumn when Mr. Bingley was here with a house party.”

“Hmm.”  Bella thought.  So Darcy’s engagement was a surprise engagement and not the product of a long attachment.  Interesting. 

“Tell everyone I wrote a letter to Lord Septimus Wimsey today and expect a reply.  That will keep them chewing.”

Charlotte looked worried.  “Are you sure, mum?  I thought Lord Septimus was unencouraged.”

“He is unencouraged, but they don’t know that.”  She turned and looked up at Charlotte.  “Darcy knows anyway.  If he tells his valet, they will know downstairs regardless of what you say.”

Charlotte nodded.  She put down the brush and began to braid Bella’s hair for the night.

Bella fell asleep dreaming of green eyes looking at her imploringly, only to wake up breathing heavily in fear and wondering at it.

Longbourn house was not as fine as Netherfield, far from it, and Bella was pleased she did not have to have tea with all five of the sisters, only the eldest two.

“So you are both to marry,” Julia checked, looking between Jane and Elizabeth.

Jane was certainly the prettiest of the two, with dark brown eyes and curling honey blonde hair.  She had a slimmer figure of the two.  Elizabeth had wilder hair that was pinned closely to the head but sky blue eyes.  Bella found nothing special about her gaze, and she did look. 

“We are,” Jane answered, smiling serenely, making her even prettier.  “Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr. Darcy took us quite by surprise.”

“Is that so?” Bella asked, turning to Elizabeth.  “We understood you knew each other in Kent.  At least, that is what Colonel Fitzwilliam told us.”

Elizabeth looked like she had sucked on a lemon.  “We met here, actually, in Hertfordshire last Autumn.”

“They danced at the Netherfield Ball,” Jane supplied.  “I should have suspected then.”

“Indeed?” Bella pushed.  “And that was also last Autumn?”

Elizabeth was looking displeased.

“Last November,” Jane informed them.  “Lydia set the date.”

“Is Lydia another sister?” Julia inquired as she accepted a dish of tea.

Holding in a sigh, Elizabeth informed them: “Our youngest sister, Mrs. Lydia Wickham.  She is unable to attend the wedding at such short notice.”

“How unfortunate,” Bella commented.  “Lady Julia was kind enough to invite me.  I happened to have a space in my social calendar.”  She shared a look with Julia who smiled into her tea.

“We are so pleased Lord Septimus could let you leave London during the Little Season,” Julia teased.

Bella gave her a look.

“Lord Septimus?” Jane asked, interested.

“But tell us about April.  As members of the greater Fitzwilliam family, we are so terribly interested,” Bella prodded, smiling sweetly at Elizabeth.  “We do love a great romance.”

“Oh, yes,” Julia agreed a little sheepishly.  “I thought Darcy would never marry unless Lady Catherine forced him into a marriage with Cousin Anne, so this took us quite by surprise.”

This must be Lady Catherine De Bourg.  Bella had heard Owestry mention her once in passing.  She was the Earl of Matlock’s eldest sister, and so must also be Darcy’s aunt through his mother, whose name Bella didn’t know.  She lived somewhere in Kent.  Interesting that there was some sort of plan for Darcy to marry a De Bourg cousin but that he instead chose to marry the socially unsuitable Elizabeth Bennet instead.  Clearly there was more to the story here.

“Are you a member of the Fitzwilliam family?” Elizabeth asked archly, her sky blue eyes attempting to pin Bella.

Bella shook off the look.  Someone as amateurish as Elizabeth Bennet couldn’t trap Bella with her sly looks or words.  “I am a great confidante of the entire Matlock Family,” Bella corrected carefully.  It seemed like Elizabeth Bennet didn’t realize the family should be referred to by its title and not by its surname.  “Is that not so, Lady Julia?”

Julia blinked.  “Indeed,” she confirmed.  “Richard quite depends on her opinion.”

“Strange,” Elizabeth tried again.  “He did not mention you at Rosings.”

“Why would he mention me to a woman so little of his acquaintance?” Bella inquired back.  She picked up her spoon, stirred it in her tepid tea, clinked it against the rim, and set it back on her saucer.  “Or are you suggesting you have some intimacy with the Colonel?”

Elizabeth blushed scarlet.

She was then.  Elizabeth Bennet was suggesting she had some intimacy with Colonel Fitzwilliam.

As soon as Bella returned to Netherfield, she beckoned the Colonel into a side parlor with her eyes, waiting for him to come find her.

She shut the door behind him and asked, outright, “What is your past intimacy with Elizabeth Bennet?”

He deflated.  “She could not have told you.”

“She didn’t have to tell me.  She insinuated that you would have told her that you knew me if I was an important friend of the Matlock Family.  Are you hiding a past relationship with Elizabeth Bennet?  Is that why you want to break up this engagement?”

“She also has connections in trade,” he defended.

“Did you ruin her?”

“I did not go that far.”  He swore under his breath.  “If I did not ruin her, however, that does not mean another man did not.”

“You should tell Darcy.”

He hesitated.

She looked at him.  “You won’t admit to despoiling women in society, will you?”  She breathed out and held back an unladylike word.  “Fitzwilliam, I thought better of you.”

“Whores,” he paused to check that she was unoffended, but she signaled that he should continue, “The whores that frequent the barracks have the French disease.  It’s cleaner to despoil women in society.”

“Have you ever thought of widows?” Bella asked, knowing that widows took lovers in Regency England, sometimes out of boredom, sometimes out of lust, and sometimes for protection.

“They expect too much,” he told her, shrugging.  “You will be happy to know that I was warned off of you by several members of Harley Street.”

Bella looked up at him, genuinely shocked.  “Really?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed.  “You have many champions, some of whom may surprise you.”

They fell into silence. 

Curious, Bella asked, “Did you not despoil Miss Elizabeth because she hesitated or because you did not wish to take it that far?”

He looked at her askance.

“I am trying to gauge her character.”

“We were interrupted by her hostess, Mrs. Collins.  If we had not been, I had hopes that we would have continued to have a pleasant interlude.”  His muddy eyes looked at her imploringly.

She thought for a long moment.  “How can you not tell Darcy?” she wondered again.  “I realize that you wish to retain your good name, but surely men take lovers all the time—”

Fitzwilliam indicated that they should sit, and they retired to a settee.  He looked down at her hand and carefully took it, playing with her fingers.

“Colonel,” she chided, slipping her hand away from his.  “We are not lovers,” she reminded him.

“You know I admire you.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but you are also throwing me at Darcy.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.  He took a steadying breath.  “It has to do with Georgiana.  That is, Miss Georgiana Darcy, Darcy’s incredibly young and incredibly suggestible sister.  She almost eloped last year with a reprobate.  He attempted—before he eloped with her—to compromise her so that she would have no choice but to elope with him.  Darcy is terribly,” he paused, “—sensitive to the idea of men compromising women in society.  He would call me out if he knew I had dallied with Elizabeth.”

Bella sighed.  “He would call you out?”

“He is an excellent shot.”

“Is he?”

Fitzwilliam considered for a long moment.  “Miss Swan—Isabella.”

Turning when she heard her name, Bella gave him a look.

“Isabella,” Fitzwilliam repeated, “surely you have noticed how closely Darcy and I resemble each other, and how little Julia and I do.”

“Yes.  Julia and Owestry also closely resemble each other while you do—not.”  Bella swallowed.

“Lord Matlock did not father me.  My mother had a brief affair with George Darcy, her husband’s goodbrother.  I am not a Matlock by birth.  I am a Darcy.  Darcy—that is Fitzwilliam Darcy—is my brother by blood.  We privately acknowledge this.  I cannot admit to him, of all people—”

“Hush,” Bella whispered, reaching out and placing her hand carefully over his.  Fitzwilliam was hunched over, clearly ashamed.  “I understand you quite clearly, Colonel.”

“Richard,” he corrected.  “You know all my secrets.”

“Surely not all,” she teased.

He looked up and smiled.  “Nearly all, Isabella.”

“I have a few secrets myself,” she admitted just as there was a knock on the door.  Withdrawing her hand, Bella looked toward the door. 

She was somehow unsurprised to see Darcy on the other side.

Forcing a lightness she did not feel, she greeted, “I was just telling your cousin that the eldest Miss Bennet smiles too much.”

Darcy grimaced.  “I shared the identical opinion the first evening I met the Misses Bennet.”

“Did you?” Bella inquired.  “Well, Miss Elizabeth does not smile too much, I am happy to say.  Now, Richard,” she asked, turning to Fitzwilliam, “surely Bingley keeps horses. I am never able to ride in Town.  I am afraid I take the carriage everywhere.  The day is most fine.”

“Allow me to choose a suitable mare for you,” Darcy interjected.  “I know Bingley’s horses.”

“Surely a horse with spirit,” Bella decided as she stood.  “My father taught me to ride bareback when I was only three years old.”

“Did he?” Fitzwilliam asked with a laugh.  “Well, I will leave this conversation to you and Darcy and find Bingley for a game of Whist.”  He widened his eyes at Bella as he left the room, leaving her trapped with Darcy.

Darcy indicated that she should precede him out of the room, and she allowed him to show her out.

“Your father was a brave man.”

“That he was,” Bella agreed, thinking of Charlie.  “He also knew his horses.—I should get my riding boots.”

“I shall meet you at the stables,” Darcy told her.

“Remember, a horse with spirit.”

Darcy gave her a long look, his verdant eyes shining.  He neither agreed nor disagreed, but simply walked toward the door.  Bella paused on the step and wondered if he would listen to her.

He did not listen to her.  Darcy chose a gentle mare for her to ride, and Bella thought it not worth the argument.  She allowed him to help her into the saddle and rode out of the stables with him out toward the fields.  She was also riding side saddle.

“What did you think of Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy inquired once they were far enough away from the house.

She looked over at him and paused.  “It is not what I think of Miss Elizabeth, it is what she thought of me.”

He looked over at her, puzzlement on his face.  “Did she find something lacking in your person, Miss Swan?”

“I’m afraid she did,” Bella answered ruefully.

“You had to speak to Fitzwilliam on the subject?”  He was looking away from her now.  “I have noticed you appear to have a closer friendship with him than you do Julia.”

She sighed heavily.  “I am caught out.  In our society, gentlemen cannot have friendships with ladies unless it is of a romantic nature, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and I decidedly do not have a romantic connection.”

“How do you know my cousin?”  He seemed genuinely curious.

“How does any lady know a gentleman?” she flipped back, her violet eyes shining.  “You should not dwell on such questions that do not have ready answers.”

“Every aspect of your person is a question, Miss Swan.”

“Is that so?” she wondered.  “I thought I was an open book.”

Their horses were now meandering along a fence.  Bella wondered whose property was on the other side.

“Where was your father’s estate?” Darcy now inquired.

Bella looked out toward the meadow.  She knew why he was asking.  He was asking if her father was a gentleman.  He was going to compare her to Elizabeth Bennet.

“I hail from the Americas,” she told Darcy carefully, still not looking at him.  “My father died on the crossing.”  She turned to him, her eyes flashing in challenge.  “My money is as English as anyone else’s.”

He regarded her for several long moments and then nodded. 

She urged her horse forward and rode along the fence and Darcy quickly cantered up behind her. 

They arrived back at Netherfield well in time for lunch. 

Bella was well displeased with her ride.  Darcy insisted on taking it only at a canter, going so far as blocking her way.  He also wouldn’t let her jump any hedgerows, saying her horse was not used to such feats.  She wanted to snap at him that it was his fault for choosing such an inadequate horse, but she held her tongue.

She gave a dark look to Fitzwilliam when she arrived back in the Drawing Room, back in her ladylike slippers, and asked if anyone would like to play a game of Piquet.  Bingley happily took her up on her offer, but the game was soon interrupted by lunch.

She wondered when Owestry was set to arrive.

The afternoon was interminable.  She took a walk with Julia in the gardens but the weather turned dark and they were forced back into the house.

Darcy asked for her to read allowed a Shakespeare play with Julia and Caroline Bingley as the other players, and so Bella was forced to put on a performance.  She wondered if this was how the upper classes spent their days.  It was terribly dull.

Getting Fitzwilliam alone just before they went into dinner, she inquired, “When does Owestry come?”

“I had an express from him when you were out riding,” he admitted.  “He says tomorrow after luncheon.”

She nodded.  “You should intercept him and tell him that I am present.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam eyes widened.  “How do you expect me to do that?”

She blinked at him.  “You’re a military man.  Be resourceful.”

“What?  Do you want me to take Miss Bingley on a romantic walk in the gardens when he is expected?”

Bella grimaced.  “She would certainly like nothing better.”

“Darcy should like nothing better than to walk in the gardens with you.”

Her violet eyes flicked up to him.  “You arranged a ride where he picked out the most unsuitable mare for me.  I blame you for that, by the way, Richard.  Now he knows I am American and there is money.”

“No one knows how much money,” the Colonel observed.

“And why should you?  I’m not marrying any of you, am I?” she quipped.

He smiled down at her.  “That is what you suppose, Isabella.  Just because Septi has yet to land you, does not mean no man shall be so lucky.”

Annoyed, Bella simply rolled her eyes, a very unladylike move, and left him in the corner where they had had their conference behind a potted plant.  Fortunately, no one had noticed them. 

Darcy, unfortunately, walked Bella into dinner, and she was forced to discuss Richard II with him for a dreadful two hours over mutton.  She wondered how Elizabeth Bennet could stand him.

“Dull as dirt,” she told her maid, Charlotte, when she was having her hair brushed out that night.  “What are all the servants saying?”

“Only that Mr. Bingley went to Longbourn for tea and Mr. Darcy did not.”  She paused.  “There was no agreed upon reason why this should not be the case.” 

Bella sighed and played with her book, which was on her vanity.  She felt she needed to do something with her hands.  “Owestry is coming tomorrow.”

Charlotte paused.  “Do you think he will renew his addresses, mum?”

“I do not know.”  She leaned forward and put her head in her hands.  “This is all so messed up.”

Setting the brush aside, Charlotte reached forward and carefully braided Bella’s hair.  “There is nothing wrong with being a Viscountess,” she soothed.  “I know I have never—”

Bella sat up and turned, setting her hand on Charlotte’s.  “Carrie.  I would always take you with me.  I don’t need some fancy French maid.”

Charlotte let out a breath.  “If you forgive me, mum, but if you love Lord Owestry—”

“That’s the problem,” Bella sighed.  “I’ve been wrong before.”  She looked down at her hands, thinking of Edward.  She had been so wrong about him.  So terribly wrong.  He had left her on the floor of the woods outside of Forks and she had become a husk of herself. 

Then Edward had been stupid enough to tell the Volturi that he had revealed himself to Bella, a human, and they had sent the guard to fetch her.  Bella had been kidnapped, Charlie drained of blood in the middle of the night, and she had been placed in a dank Italian prison for months.  Until—

“Mum,” Charlotte prodded.  “Lord Owestry is not—he is honorable.”  She set her lips in a line and nodded.

Bella let out a sigh. 

“He would take care of you.”

“I do not need a man to take care of me.  I can take care of myself.”

“But do you want to go to the gambling days for the rest of your days?  When you’re old and gray?  Don’t you want” Charlotte hesitated “—children?”

Denial was on the tip of her lips, but Bella hesitated.  She wasn’t a teenager in Forks anymore dating a forever seventeen-year-old.  She wasn’t in high school.  She was a young woman in Regency England.  The world had shifted beneath her feet and she hadn’t even stopped to realize it.

Looking up into Charlotte’s grey eyes, she nodded carefully.

“Lord Owestry—or some other man—can give you children,” Charlotte told her compassionately.  “You can have that.”

“I certainly don’t want Mr. Darcy to give me children,” Bella admitted.  “Look how tall he is.  His children would be enormous.  They would split me in two.”

Charlotte blinked.  “Mr.—Mr. Darcy, mum?”

Bella glanced at her and sighed.  “Colonel Fitzwilliam has some stupid notion—”  She took a deep breath.  “Don’t breathe a word of it downstairs, and I mean it, Carrie.  I have no intention of pursuing Mr. Darcy.”

“Should I—”  Charlotte licked her lips carefully.  “Should I cozy up to his valet and see what he says about you, mum?”

Hesitating, Bella nodded.  “That might be best.  Don’t make it too obvious.”

“Of course not, mum.  Thank you, mum.”  Charlotte stood and curtseyed, picking up her candle and going to the door.

Bella watched her go and soon blew out her own candles, sliding into bed and wishing she were anywhere but at Netherfield.

The next morning she played cards with Bingley, Fitzwilliam, and Mrs. Hurst, trying not to be overly aware that Darcy was staring at her while pretending to read a book.  When Bingley got up to visit the eldest Miss Bennet, Darcy declined and said he wished to go riding instead.

“What, and not see the indominable Miss Eliza with her fine eyes and pert opinions?” Caroline Bingley asked from her place on the sofas.

Bella and Fitzwilliam shared a look.

“I daresay her eyes will still be fine tomorrow,” Darcy replied back, not even looking at her.  “Julia, do you wish to go riding?  Persuade your friend, Miss Swan, to come, too.”

“Is there much fine country about?” Julia inquired as she made to stand.  “Come, Bella, surely you do not wish to be cooped up indoors all day.  You can play cards this afternoon.”

Bella finished the round.  “If you think so,” she agreed, making to stand up.  “I will go fetch my riding boots.  Perhaps you can ride the mare I took out yesterday.  Her personality was gentle.  She did not trouble at all.  Darcy can find me a horse that will actually jump a hedge.”  She gave him a pointed look.

“Isabella, surely, can be trusted to jump a hedge,” Fitzwilliam defended.  “I shall go pick out a horse for you if Darcy shall not.”

Darcy looked murderous.

“Thank you,” she told him, going up to Julia and linking arms.  “Come, let us prepare ourselves for our morning jaunt.”

With Julia there to serve as chaperone, Darcy could not ask Bella any more pointed questions about her fortune or her connections, but he did ask her which ball she liked most of the social season.

“Did you not attend, Mr. Darcy?” she parried back, glad to be on a horse with a little more spirit, although she was still riding side saddle.

“Oh no,” Julia answered for him.  “Darcy never attends the season.  He might actually find a wife there!”  She giggled to herself.

Bella smiled at her indulgently.  “I suppose,” she pondered aloud, “that is a problem with a social season.”

“There are too many matchmaking mamas,” Darcy confirmed.

“And too many gentlemen on the prowl for a title and a dowry,” Bella suggested back.  “Is that not so, Julia?”

“And a pretty face,” Julia added, a far off look in her watery eyes.  “Do not forget, gentlemen are after a pretty face.”

“That sounds unfortunate,” Bella admitted, turning back to Darcy.  “However, you and Bingley did not seem to be after a title or a fortune, from what I understand.  You were only after a pretty face.  Perhaps we should learn from you how to attract a man since Julia and I failed to do so this summer.”

“Not for lack of trying, on Julia’s part,” Darcy remarked, now that Julia was out of hearing range, having gone on ahead.  “Lady Matlock took her to every soiree and had her in a new ballgown every night.”

“You are unkind to your cousin.”  Bella’s eyes flashed violet.  She was annoyed on Julia’s behalf.  “She has yet to grow into herself.  Give her time.”

“While you seem to know yourself very well, Miss Swan.”  His verdant eyes caught hers in a long look.  “I think you are ready to be fallen in love with.”

Bella felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.  “Who are you to make such a pronouncement, sir?”

“I am one such man,” he told her boldly.

“You are practically married.”

“Practically is not in actuality.”  He held her gaze firmly.  “There is still time.”

“If I were Miss Bennet, I should slap you across the face.”

“She,” Darcy told her decidedly, “is not here.  You are.”

At that moment, Julia had swung back around on her horse and was looking between the two of them in confusion.  “Is all well?  You seem most agitated, Bella.”  She reached out and touched Bella’s arm.  Bella restrained herself from shaking Julia off.  “Do you have a migraine?”

“It is only the late November heat,” Bella lied, trying and failing to smile.  “I find that this Autumn is unseasonably warm, and we ladies are forced to wear bonnets wherever we go.”

“Yes, it would be lovely if we could forego them,” Julia agreed lightly.  “Yours is a particularly merry shade of blue.”

Bella glanced at her, not expecting the compliment.  “I believe the modiste chose it for me,” she confessed.  “I do not care about my own clothes.”

Darcy looked up at this.

“But you are dressed so well!” Julia exclaimed, “and in the latest fashions.”

Bella gave her a kind smile.  Leaning toward her, she whispered so Darcy could not hear, “My modiste and my maid have a scheme between them.”

Julia leaned back, a twinkle in her eye.  “Indeed?”

“Tis the truth,” Bella told her lightly, shifting the reins in her gloved hands.  “I am quite helpless on my own.”

“What is the name of your modiste?” Julia prodded, Darcy looking on in interest at the entire conversation.

Bella’s eyes twinkled.  “I shall tell you that she is not Madame Delacroix!”

“No!” Julia gasped.  “But you are so finely dressed.”

“It is my secret,” Bella told her with a smile.  “I saw the Dowager Viscount Bridgerton having ices with her eldest—Miss Bridgerton is not out for several years—and she was cooing over a pink frock I was wearing.  She was trying to get it out of me as well.  Charlotte, my maid, was in attendance, and it was all we could do not to keep from smiling at one another.”

“Oh, to be sure!” Julia giggled.  Turning to Darcy, she then said, “you cannot be interested in lace and bodices, Cousin.”

“To be sure, I am most interested in lace and the hem of your gowns.  I have a sister who is to come out in just two years, if you remember.”

“And a wife for whom you must buy an entirely new wardrobe,” Julia guessed.  “I saw the frock she was wearing.”  Turning back to Bella, and urging her forward on her horse, she leaned over and suggested, “The Misses Bennet were not dressed well at all, were they?”

“No, they were not,” Bella agreed.  “Even I could see that.”  Darcy was riding up beside them on Bella’s other side, and she turned to him.  “Do you intend to take Miss Bennet up to London to the modiste before retiring to Pemberley?  I wonder you did not send her up already.”

“I sent her for her trousseau.”

“At your expense,” Julia guessed, leaning over.  “Did Bingley do the same?”

“Bingley did not send Miss Jane Bennet to Madam Delacroix.  The Bingleys do not have an account there.”  He glanced over at Julia with a warning look.

Julia meeped.

She and Bella exchanged a glance.

“I do not believe they go to my modiste,” Bella told Julia.  “Miss Bingley would not have looked at me so when I was introduced at Netherfield if she saw my modiste.”

“No, no, she would not,” Julia agreed with a sigh.  “Your modiste must be the best kept secret in Town—apart from Lady Whistledown’s identity, of course.”

Darcy now interjected: “You may very well be right, Julia.”

Bella chose not to look at him, instead looking straight ahead.  Her bonnet hid her facial expression.   “We shall never know the identity of Lady Whistledown.”

“No, no, we may not,” Julia agreed sadly.

Darcy seemed to have no opinion on the subject.

After luncheon, Bella could not concentrate on cards as she knew Owestry would be arriving.  She had suggested to Fitzwilliam that he might like to take the air, but he had stayed firmly seated at the table, making up the set.  Bella was sure to win every penny he had.

It was half three when she heard a carriage roll up, and it was then that she again pointedly looked over at Fitzwilliam.  He seemed to be lost in the hand he was playing.  Bella bit her lip.

She heard him in the hall.

When Owestry first entered, he did not see Bella.

He was greeted by Julia and then waylaid by Darcy.  It was only after being introduced to Bingley that his host thought to introduce him around the room, pausing on Bella, saying, “And you know Lady Julia’s particular friend from Town, of course.”

Owestry’s watery blue eyes paused on Bella and she saw the recognition and surprise in them.

“It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other, Owestry,” she apologized, choosing to address him informally.  “I hope Miss Annabelle is well in Derbyshire?”

He drank her in for all but a moment before answering, “She misses taking ices with you most keenly.  Annabelle still asks after you in her letters.”

Bella blushed and looked down at her cards for only a second, her violet eyes flashing back up.  “Perhaps our schedules with realign and we will once again be in Town at the same time,” she suggested carefully, trying to send a message.

Darcy was looking between them carefully, his face stern and unreadable.

“We shall all go together,” Julia declared from her place on the sofas.  “Will that not be nice?”

Owestry turned to his sister and gave her a tight smile before going and sitting on a different settee that was much closer to the card table.  Bingley came and sat down and picked up his hand.  “Where were we?”

“Mrs. Hurst was going to play her card,” Fitzwilliam supplied.

“So I was,” she agreed, setting down a Jack of Spades.

It was not half an hour later when Owestry made his excuses and left the room. 

Bella played another hand and then asked Caroline Bingley if she should like to take over.

Darcy’s eyes followed her out of the room.

A footman was standing outside the door with a silver tray and a note on it.  Bella picked it up and read that she should go to the gardens.  She slipped the note up her sleeve, not wanting anyone else to come by and pick it up and know where she had gone, and dismissed the servant.

Owestry was waiting for her on a bench in the rose bushes.

She didn’t even have a chance to explain because he caught her round the waist and kissed her as soon as she approached him.

His lips were soft.—and Bella had never kissed a human before.  It was nothing like kissing Edward who was cold and hard as marble.  Owestry’s lips were pliable and alive.  She sighed into the kiss and as quickly as it was begun it was over. 

Bella hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she was bereft of the feeling of Owestry’s lips against hers and she was forced to open her eyes again.  “What was that for?” she asked, smiling a little to herself.

“You chased me all the way to Hertfordshire.”  He was smiling now, too, still holding her by the waist.

Carefully, she lifted up a hand and pressed it against his chest.  “No,” she admitted.  “When I agreed to a brief sojourn in Hertfordshire as Lady Julia’s particular friend, I did not know she was your sister.  I never knew your family name was ‘Fitzwilliam.’  I found out when I arrived and was terrified you would hate me for being here.”  She looked up at him with soulful violet eyes.  “Colonel Fitzwilliam asked me to come to—to break up the wedding.  He does not approve of Elizabeth Bennet.”

Owestry looked at her askance.  “Why does he think you can break up the wedding?  Not that I do not admire your singleness of purpose, m’dear, but you do not even know Darcy.  I do not even know how you know my brother and sister—”

She hesitated, not wanting to admit that she gambled for a living.  “Owestry, I—it—hmm—”

She heard footsteps on the gravel. “Darcy has some strange obsession with my violet eyes and Fitzwilliam is trying to exploit that,” she whispered hurriedly before stepping away from him again.  Owestry, however, took her hand and pulled her down to the bench so that they were sitting side by side, carefully nestled into the rosebushes.  Bella looked up at him with wide violet eyes and he merely gazed back, unrepentant.

The steps hesitated, paused, and then turned back.

Bella let out a breath.

“Do you like Darcy?” Owestry asked, his tone suggesting she would be a fool to.

“He is the proudest, most disagreeable man in all of England!” she declared, huffing to herself.  “I can’t stand being in the same room with him.  Your brother has this absurd notion—”

“I do not care what my brother thinks,” Owestry interrupted.  “He has always been too loyal to Darcy by halves.  However, it is true.  This wedding must be stopped.  It is a stain on the Matlock name.  I am glad Richard and I are in agreement.”  He turned back to Bella.  They were almost exactly the same height sitting down, so he looked directly into her eyes.  “Now,” he said, “what am I to do about you if you did not follow me down here from London?”

“Kiss me again?” she suggested hopefully.

He smiled at her and leaned in, doing just that.

Darcy was missing from the Drawing Room when they came back, hand in hand and smiling, although Owestry kindly let her enter the Drawing Room first.

“Has the groom finally decided to go visit his bride?” Bella asked the room at large, not really believing her question.

“He went to take the air,” Fitzwilliam told them, eyeing the couple suspiciously.  “Where did you run off to?”

“We went to ‘take the air,’” Owestry told his younger brother, his watery eyes shining with mirth.  “I understand you have been undergoing a military campaign since I last saw you.”

“Have I?” Fitzwilliam asked, looking at Bella suspiciously.  “I am in His Majesty’s Army.”

“I suppose you are,” Owestry agreed, clearly not caring one way or the other.  He settled on a couch with that morning’s Times and opened it.   Bella had settled herself around the card table, looking over Caroline Bingley’s shoulder.  She was not doing well.

Darcy did appear an hour later, taking in the room.  Bella was now playing cards and she did not look up at him.  He took a position by the window where Bella could tell that the angle meant he was regarding her reflection.  She did not wish to be regarded.  She was glad when it was time to go change for dinner.

“What did Owestry’s valet say when he arrived?” Bella asked Charlotte as her hair was put up in a more complicated style.

“He has been unpacking his lordship’s trunk all afternoon.”  Charlotte took her time placing a comb exactly where she wanted it.  “How is his lordship?”

“He thought I had followed him down from London.”  She paused.  “He did not mind that I hadn’t given my positive reception of him.”  She smiled and kicked her feet like a little girl.  “I think it is only a matter of time before he asks me to marry him again.”

Charlotte smiled.  “Well, when the time comes, we can pack up your rooms in Bloomsbury easily enough.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, looking at her reflection.  She was wearing pink silks.  “I just have to tell him where the money comes from.”

Squeezing her shoulders, Charlotte assured her, “If he loves you, it shall not matter.”

“No,” Bella whispered to herself.  “Hopefully not.”

When she entered the Drawing Room, it was to find Owestry, Fitzwilliam, and Darcy in close conference.  Darcy was clearly angry, Fitzwilliam stern.  Owestry had a placid look on his face.  He was smoking a cigar.

“Oh dear,” she greeted.  “Are you talking about me?”

Owestry twirled his cigar between his thumb and forefinger.  “You were always forthright, Isabella.”

“I’m afraid that’s how we come in the Americas,” she responded, coming more fully into the room.  “I was a quiet little thing when I was Lady Julia’s age.”

“Are you not Julia’s age?” Darcy asked, clearly confused.  “I thought you came out together.”

Bella decidedly did not share a look with Colonel Fitzwilliam.  “Is that what she said?  If she said it, it must be true.”

“Isabella,” Owestry chided, “Darcy is not accustomed to your teasing.”

“He is accustomed to Elizabeth Bennet’s teasing,” Fitzwilliam said under his breath, before quickly accusing: “Why have you not told Owestry off about his cigar?”

“Who’s to say I shan’t over dinner?” Bella inquired as she accepted Owestry’s arm as he led her to a couch and lifted her down.  “Your cigarettes are a nasty habit, Richard.  Owestry, though, should only have a cigar when he’s at his club or with other gentlemen.”  Her eyes flashed violet.

Taking a puff of his cigar as he sat beside her, Owestry noted, “We have never had dinner together before tonight, have we, Isabella?”

“We have not.”

“Point quite well taken,” he told her, placing his smoldering cigar in an ashtray beside the couch.  “If you do not like the smell of tobacco, I can well understand, m’dear.  It is a woman’s prerogative.”

“Thank you, Owestry.”

Darcy regarded them from his place by the window, hands behind his back.

Fitzwilliam was watching the entire room.

When Caroline Bingley came in, she was staring obsessively at Bella’s dress.  “I do so enjoy seeing the latest French fashions,” she commented to her sister, Mrs. Hurst.  “Do you go to Paris for your gowns, Miss Swan?”

“No, London,” Bella told her, giving no more information.

“She will not even tell me,” Julia supplied, “and I am her dearest friend.  I just know it is not Madame Delacroix.”

Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst shared a look.  “Is it a new modiste?  Someone from the continent?”

Bella only smiled to herself and did not answer.

Julia giggled.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed confused by the conversation.

Owestry, bless him, cared little about fashion.  He asked Bingley about hunting in the area.  It seemed the men were to get together a shooting party.  Bella wondered if she could force Colonel Fitzwilliam to let her join.  She didn’t want to shoot anything, but she did like to ride freely and even with a more suitable horse, she hadn’t been able to gallop or jump any hedgerows with Lady Julia being in tow.

“We ladies can go see the Misses Bennet,” Louisa Hurst suggested.

Bella repressed a sigh.  It seemed her hopes were dashed already.

Owestry showed her into dinner.  As the ranking gentleman, he had first choice of ladies and Bella was his undoubted choice.

Darcy took in Julia, but once again he ignored his dinner partner in favor of regarding Bella throughout the entire meal.

“I say, that was rum,” Owestry commented when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies and Owestry, Fitzwilliam, Julia and Bella made up a table on the far side of the room.  Bingley, Caroline, Louisa Hurst and Mr. Hurst made up another table but they were by the fire.  Darcy was positioned in front of a glass, staring out the window into the darkness.  “He stared at you all evening, Isabella.  I daresay he is staring at you now if I am any judge of angles.”

“He is,” Bella answered with a sigh.  “Richard, this is all your fault.”  She drew a card and discarded another.

“It is not my fault our cousin has a weakness for ‘fine eyes.’”

“It is your fault for trying to exploit this weakness,” Owestry chided.  “I wrote to you about Isabella last season.”

Julia picked a card.  She hesitated and then discarded it.  “You know Bella?”

It was Owestry’s turn.  “I hope to announce our engagement before this fool of a wedding goes off, if it cannot be prevented.”  He discarded.

No one had put down any cards yet.

Fitzwilliam was next.  “How was I to know that ‘the lady in the glacier’ was the same Isabella?  There are hundreds of Isabellas in London!”  He was whispering this harshly, not paying attention to his cards.

“Someone will notice,” Bella chided.  “Pick a card.”

Fitzwilliam picked a card and discarded it without even looking.  “You and Isabella do not remotely move in the same social circles!”

Sighing, Bella picked up a card and smiled.  She lay down a three of hearts, a four of hearts, and a five of hearts.  It was Julia’s turn.

“What is that supposed to mean?  I know she has no connections in English society, but surely that can be got around because she is foreign and an orphan.  She is clearly made of money.”

Julia set down the six of hearts.

Owestry drew a card.

Fitzwilliam turned to Bella.  “He has no idea, does he?”

“I have not told him,” Bella admitted.  “And this is neither the place nor the time, Richard.—Your turn.”

He picked up a card and discarded it just as quickly.  Bella doubted he had even looked at his hand.

“Told me what?”

“Neither the time nor the place.”  Bella took a card, placed it in her hand, and discarded the seven of clubs.

Julia looked rather worried, but picked up a card.

“Well,” Owestry decided, “whatever it is, it cannot be too worrisome because you mean for her to marry Darcy, so if she is suitable enough for Pemberley, she is more than suitable enough to become Viscountess of Owestry.”

Fitzwilliam sighed.  He had no counter argument to that effect.  “Surely you must see that we must remove Darcy’s affections from Elizabeth Bennet—”

“Surely there must be some other way than replacing her with Isabella.  By all means, let us replace her with Julia if we are bride swapping.”

Julia meeped again.  Bella looked at her worriedly.  Julia obviously did not care for the idea.  Bella didn’t blame her.  Darcy was insufferable.

“Julia,” Fitzwilliam argued as Owestry picked up a card, placing it in his hand, before laying out the five of hearts, the six of hearts, and the seven of hearts, and then attaching the eight of diamonds to Bella’s run, “is not Darcy’s type.  Isabella is every man’s type.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bella sighed.  “Your turn.”

Fitzwilliam picked up a card and discarded it, once again not looking.  “You have not looked at a woman since before you married Sophie and even you are besotted with Isabella.”

Bella looked up in interest at that, but didn’t comment.  She picked up a card, the nine of diamonds, and set it down on the table, continuing the run.  It was Julia’s turn.

“As I am besotted with Isabella, we need another plan.”  Owestry picked up a card, considered it, and then discarded it again.  “We can all see how unsuitable Miss Bennet is.  We must make Darcy see it.”

“The problem is—your turn,” Bella said.

Fitzwilliam picked up a card and discarded it, as he had done every other turn.

Bella picked up a card and looked at it.  “The problem is,” she began again, “your cousin is insufferable.  Surely you all can see that.”

“We are unfortunately aware,” Owestry confirmed.

Bella took out an ace of clubs and discarded it.

“Miss Bennet seems to be the only woman in England who can stand him, or is willing to take him for his estate.”

Julia picked up the ace of clubs and set it down with a two and three of clubs. 

Bella grimaced.  She hated when other players picked up her discards.

“Darcy claims that she is in love with him,” Fitzwilliam told the table in secret, going so far as to lean in.

Bella glared at him.  He was being too obvious.

Owestry leaned back and picked up a card.  “That makes her a clever fortune hunter.”

“We cannot,” Julia began carefully, “get Miss Bennet to give up Darcy, so we must get Darcy to give up Miss Bennet.”

“Which is why my plan was perfect!” Fitzwilliam whispered desperately.  “You just had to go and ruin it, Owestry.”

“I never would have married Darcy,” Bella declared.  “As I said, he’s insufferable.—Your turn, Richard.  Keep up.”

Picking up a card and discarding it, Fitzwilliam gave her a sly look.  “I cannot believe you do not want Pemberley.”

“I have told you once if I have told you a hundred times, I do not wish to marry an estate and enter society.”  Bella was exhausted of the conversation.

“If only I were a second son and could take you to India so we could live like heathens,” Owestry opined.

Bella gave him a small smile, picking up a card, placing it in her hand, and discarding another ace.  She looked over at Julia, daring her to pick it up.

“I have never heard you wish to renounce the title before,” Fitzwilliam declared, stunned.

“I was never in love with Isabella Swan before,” Owestry answered.  He picked up a card and lay down the eight, nine, and ten of hearts.

Fitzwilliam picked up a card and discarded it without any prompting.

“Perhaps if we convince Darcy that marrying Elizabeth Bennet will be a misery,” Julia suggested as Bella picked up a card and considered.

“She is loose with men,” Bella added in.

Julia stilled.  “How do you know that?”

Bella purposefully did not look up from her cards.  “I have my sources.  I just cannot prove it.”

“By gad you cannot!” Owestry declared.  “What is your source of information?”

“If she did it once, she must have done it twice,” Bella answered instead.  “We just need to find out with whom.”

Fitzwilliam was eyeing her.  “Darcy did say she defended Wickham to him.”

“That character!”  Owestry discarded a card.  “He does like to have his way with women.”

“Her sister is Mrs. Lydia Wickham.  Do you think he made merry with one sister before marrying another?” Bella looked between Owestry and Fitzwilliam.

“I would not doubt it,” Fitzwilliam answered, looking over at his brother.  “I know what Wickham is like more than you.  I can well believe it of his base character.”

“Then we only need prove it.  Then neither of us ladies need marry Darcy.  Oh!”  Julia set down a row of clubs.  “Rummy!”

The game was set.  For once, Bella had not won the hand.

Julia looked pleased with herself. 

“Shall we repair to the gardens?” Owestry asked Bella as they stood up from the table.  “We can leave Darcy to stare at us from where he is standing.  I daresay he has an excellent view.”

“Do those windows face the gardens?” Bella asked worriedly, nonetheless walking toward the door.

“Take Julia as chaperone,” Fitzwilliam suggested, pushing his sister forward.  “I daresay you need one.”

Julia looked put out.  “I do not care to walk in the garden.  It shall smell of roses and I detest the smell of roses.  Lord Henry sent me nothing but roses all season and I had to bear the smell of them.  I shall not put up with them now!”  She flounced toward a settee and Bella could only smile to herself.

“Poor Lord Henry.  No wonder there wasn’t a match.”  She whispered this to Owestry.

“Do not say that to Julia,” he whispered back.  “She will never forgive you.”  He opened the door for her and led her out of the Drawing Room. 

Bella could feel Darcy staring them down.

“You would think his fascination with me would be reason enough to end his engagement to Elizabeth Bennet,” Bella sighed when they were out of doors, Owestry draping a shawl over her shoulders.  “It is most peculiar.”

“Men are hardly rational when they are in love.”

She looked over at him and smiled.  “The Misses Bennet are coming to tea tomorrow.  You shall see Elizabeth and her sister Jane.”

“I dread the thought,” he pronounced, taking her hand and slipping it through his arm.  “I suppose I could always be elsewhere.”  They walked a few more steps.  “The wedding is a week from tomorrow.”

“We don’t have that much time left.”

“It still baffles me that you agreed to help if you did not know that Richard was my kin.”

She laughed to herself.  “He gave me ‘puppy dog eyes.’”

He paused and turned to look at her.  “What, pray tell, are ‘puppy dog eyes.’”

“The eyes a boy gives you that resemble a puppy who is too cute to turn away,” she explained back.  “Surely Annabelle must have perfected the look.  Most adorable children have.”

“Richard is not an adorable child.”

“No, but he can be sympathetic when he wants to be.”  They walked on ahead for a few more steps.  “Maybe he’s never tried it on you.”

“It would never work on me.”

“Perhaps Richard only manipulates the ladies,” she posited.

He paused and turned to her again.  “Isabella—”

“I am not in love with him,” she quickly defended.  “He merely looked like he was a puppy dog I had kicked.  Honestly, Owestry.  I fancied getting away from Town.  Hertfordshire seemed as good a place as any.”

He looked at her carefully for a long moment and then continued to lead her on their walk.  “I suppose it is my good fortune.  I may not have seen you until Christmastide if you had not come, and then only if you still went to the glacier on Sunday mornings instead of services.”

Bella smiled to herself.  She was not very attentive to Sunday services in her local parish.  “It was lucky Annabelle was afraid of the new rector and nearly pulled a scene outside of the church.”

“Lucky that I indulged her with ices when she began to cry, you mean,” Owestry teased her.  “Most fathers would not have been so indulgent.”

“My father never knew what to do with me.  He would just leave me alone and hoped it would get better.  It never seemed to work.”  She remembered Charlie leaving her alone to waste away in her room for the long months after Edward had left, sitting on her bed and staring out the window.  He hadn’t even tried to help her.  Then again, she wouldn’t have let him.

“You miss him.”

Bella blinked.  “I suppose I do,” she admitted.  “His death was sudden even though it was many years ago.”

Owestry placed his hand over hers as they continued to walk and Bella entwined their fingers, delighting in the warmth of his hand. 

When she went up to bed, Charlotte was waiting for her. 

“Well?” Bella asked.

“Mr. Everett was most particular to talk to me once he learned I was your lady’s maid,” Charlotte told her as she helped Bella out of her gown.  “He wanted to know all your preferences.  How you took your tea, for example.”

“Did he now?” Bella asked as she stepped into her robe.  Her hair was next.

“I inquired after Miss Annabelle for you.  The poor dear has been asking after you, mum, and he asked permission to write to her governess and tell Miss Annabelle that you were here.  I told him to ask Lord Owestry as it was not my place to say.”

“Owestry is going to tell her,” Bella confirmed, her hair now being brushed out in methodical strokes.  “How did Darcy’s valet react?”

“He was most attentive to our conversation.  Blackbourne is his name.  Friendly fellow.  He asked how long you had known the Viscount.  Mr. Everett informed him you had been acquainted since the beginning of last season.”

“And Colonel Fitzwilliam’s man?”

Charlotte paused.  “The Colonel does not have a manservant.  Mr. Blackbourne sees to him while he is here.”  She went back to brushing Bella’s hair.

Bella hummed at this information.  Life as a second son had its drawbacks then.

Darcy was standing at the window when Bella entered the breakfast room the next morning.  He seemed to be drinking coffee.

As soon as she entered, he went and fixed her tea exactly as she liked it.  Bella blinked at him.  It seemed Blackbourne was listening when Charlotte told Mr. Everett exactly how she liked her tea. 

Bella did not blush and accepted the cup with a small ‘thank you.’  She set the cup down at her place and went to make up a plate for herself.

Julia entered with a flourish not five minutes later.  “Is not the day fine?” she greeted everyone.

“I had not noticed,” Bella admitted, taking a sip of her tea.  “I suppose I will stay indoors since we are to expect the Misses Bennet.”

“I do like Jane so much more than I like Elizabeth, do you not think?” Julia prattled, making up her plate with scrambled eggs.  Darcy was now making her up a coffee.  It seemed he knew how she took it as well.  “She is the prettier of the two.”

“She smiles too much.”

The side of Darcy’s mouth twitched.

“Who?  Jane?”

“Precisely.”

Owestry now came in.  “Of whom do we speak?” he inquired, going up to Julia and kissing her on the cheek.

“Jane and Elizabeth Bennet,” Julia informed him, taking a seat next to Bella.  “Bella thinks Jane Bennet smiles too much.”

“Can a lady smile too much?” Owestry asked the room at large.

“You have yet to meet Jane Bennet,” Darcy calmly informed him from the window.  He did not go to make Owestry his tea or coffee.  That was a nicety he only performed for the ladies.

“You must find Jane the prettier of the two,” Julia was now saying to Bella.  “What is your opinion?”

Bella paused from cutting up her Canadian bacon.  “Objectively speaking,” she began carefully, “Jane Bennet is the prettier of the two.  However, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Yes, but you are prettier still than Jane Bennet,” Julia was now declaring.  “Any man who has eyes would think so.  Do you not agree, Darcy?”

Darcy turned from the window and glanced at Julia before his eyes landed on Bella.  “Miss Swan knows my opinion on her beauty.”

Owestry did not look happy at his answer.

Fitzwilliam and Bingley wandered in for breakfast.  The topic of discussion was changed.  Darcy went back to staring out the window.

When it was half ten the Misses Bennet arrived in their father’s carriage.  The ladies were all arranged in the Drawing Room.  Julia and Bella were sitting on a couch.  Caroline Bingley was off to the side, ready to play hostess.  Louisa Hurst was removed from the setting.  Darcy stood at the window, looking out onto the drive.  Fitzwilliam positioned himself at the mantle.  Bingley was ready and eager to be pleased.  Hurst had gone off somewhere.  Owestry was in a side room ostensibly reading a book, but instead positioned behind a door that was left carefully ajar.

“Jane,” Caroline Bingley greeted, offering her a seat next to her, “Eliza.  So good of you to come so close to the wedding.  You must have so many last minute details to see to.”

“Mama is quite busy,” Jane confessed just as tea was called for.  “I believe she enjoys it.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed.  “I do not believe she has ever been so happy in her life!”

“Two daughters married, after another is so well placed,” Bella observed.  “It must be such a triumph.  How many sisters have you, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth once again looked like she had sucked a lemon.  “I am the second of five sisters,” she answered carefully.

“And no brothers?” Julia questioned, taking up her role as Bella’s accomplice.  “How difficult for your father’s estate.”

Bella glanced between the sisters.  “You must inherit the estate then, Miss Bennet,” she decided.

Jane looked off to the side, over at Elizabeth.  Squaring her shoulders, it was Elizabeth who answered.  “The estate is entailed away to our father’s cousin.”

Caroline smiled slyly.

Bella couldn’t help it.  She looked up at Mr. Darcy.  He had turned back to look out the window.  She couldn’t tell the angle of the reflection of the glass.  She sighed.  “My father’s estates in Washington are quite lost to me,” she confessed.  “I have only my fortune.  It is not an enviable position.”

Julia gasped and reached for Bella.  “You cannot mean to say that you rent, Bella?”

“That is exactly what I mean to say,” she told her friend, taking her hand companionably.  “My true friends do not hold it against me.”

“I doubt that will be a problem for much longer,” Fitzwilliam consoled her, recognizing her relationship to Owestry for the first time.  “You will not need your own estate.”

“Indeed.  What would I do with it?” Bella laughed.

“But what will happen to your mother if the estate is entailed away?” Julia asked in mock sympathy, her hand still clasped in Bella’s.  “Isabella is an orphan.  She does not have a mother to worry for.”

Bingley was the one who spoke up.  “Darcy and I are in negotiations with the Bennet cousin to buy out the entail.”

The footman came in with a large tea service and set it down in front of Caroline and Jane.

“It is a matter of a few months to a year before our business is concluded.”  Bingley seemed proud of himself.  Bella, for the first time, wondered how young Bingley was.

“Is not Mr. Wickham not in negotiations with you?” Bella asked as innocently as she could manage.

Caroline paused from where she was washing out the teapot, her eyes flashing to Darcy at the window.

Bingley hesitated.

“Wickham does not have the means,” Elizabeth answered for Bingley, leaning forward and taking a biscuit from the tea tray even though Caroline had not even brewed the tea as of yet.  It was decidedly poor manners.  “Caroline, these are delicious,” she complimented.

Darcy turned from the window and stared at Elizabeth’s poor manners.

Bella did not blame him.

“A pity Mrs. Wickham cannot be here for the wedding,” Julia was now saying.

“Yes, a pity,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “I heard Wickham was in the Regulars now.”

“He is,” Jane told him with a serene smile.  “Lydia always did love a man in uniform.”

“I find,” Julia put in with a smile of her own, “that a love of officers tends to run in the family.  Do you not find, Bella?”

“I never favored a man in uniform,” Bella admitted.  “But I never had any sisters so I cannot test the theory.”

“It does run in families,” Fitzwilliam told the room.  “We officers see it all the time.  Where you see one sister, you will see another if not two.  Sometimes we will even see the mother!”  He chuckled.

Elizabeth glared at him.

Bella caught the look.

Darcy, she saw, also caught the look.

“You like an officer in a red coat then,” Bella tried.

Caroline was now passing out the dishes of tea, first to Lady Julia, as the ranking member of the party, then to Jane and Elizabeth as guests, next to Bella, then to her own sister, before handing out cups to the men in order of rank.

“Was Mr. Wickham quartered here?” Bella continued.  “You must have had a favorite, Miss Eliza, when he was.  Did you favor someone, Miss Bennet?”

“My attention was always taken up with Bingley since he first arrived in the neighborhood.”  Jane smiled serenely.  “That was a good few weeks before the regiment arrived.”

Bella smiled back.  She took a sip of her tea.  There was not enough milk in it and too much sugar.  Trying not to make a face, she decidedly did not look in Darcy’s direction.  “Who was your favorite then, Miss Eliza?” she inquired.  “You would not tell us of your romance in Kent.  Do favor us with a story from Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth looked like she had sucked on several lemons.

“I myself have never favored a redcoat,” Caroline Bingley was now saying, passing around a plate of biscuits.  “I remember Miss Eliza was quite taken with—”

The door opened and a footman entered with a tray.  He walked directly up to Bella and presented her with a letter.  It seemed to be an express.  She picked it up, looked at the direction, and saw it was from Septimus.  He always had the worst timing.  “Thank you,” she murmured, setting the letter aside.  “You were saying, Miss Bingley?”

“It was only—it was Wick—”

“Who was the letter from?” Elizabeth interrupted, batting her big blue eyes.

“The letter?” Bella asked, astounded at Elizabeth’s rudeness.

“Yes, the letter.”  Elizabeth took a loud, long sip of her tea.

“This letter,” Bella qualified, holding up the express.

“That is what I asked,” Elizabeth agreed.  She glanced over at Darcy over her shoulder.  He was decidedly regarding the scene on the couches.

Bella blinked.  “Do I inquire after your personal correspondence, Miss Elizabeth?  Are we on such an intimate acquaintance as that?”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to stare.

After the Misses Bennet had left, Julia whispered, “It is from Lord Septimus, is it not?  Does Owestry know?”

“I will tell him,” Bella promised, walking with Julia over to the writing desk and taking out a letter opener.  She slit open the express and unfolded it to find a long, cramped letter inside.  It seemed like Lord Septimus had used every fold of paper he possibly could.  Bella would need a magnifying glass to even read the letter.

Owestry walked into the room and looked about him.  “I did not catch a glimpse of the Misses Bennet.  Which one is handsomer?” he inquired of the room at large.

Darcy glared at him before returning to the window where the Bennet carriage was still waiting outside.  Owestry walked over to the window where he stood next to Darcy, significantly shorter than his cousin, and looked out.  “Which one is which?” he inquired.

“If you wanted to know, you should have taken tea,” Darcy answered before striding across the room.

Julia abandoned Bella with her letter and came up to Owestry.  Pointing the sisters out, she made comments about their inferior dresses.

Darcy came up to Bella and loomed over her, clearly wanting a look at the letter.

“May I help you?” she inquired, pressing the letter to her chest so he could not read it.

“Is it Lord Septimus then?”  He sounded bored, but Bella knew he was jealous.  He had a glimmer in his verdant gaze.

“Of course it is Lord Septimus,” Fitzwilliam agreed, coming up from the mantle.  “He practically beheaded me when I told him he could not come.”  Now he and Darcy were looming over her from either side.  Bella felt rather trapped.

“I need a magnifying glass,” she requested of neither and both at the same time.  “If you would be so kind.”

“Poor Septi,” Fitzwilliam sighed.  Looking at Darcy, he remarked, “I do not know the house.”

Darcy gave would have glared at him if it were not undignified before leaving the room, obviously in search of a magnifying glass.

When he had returned, Bella was sitting at the writing desk and accepted it without a word.  Everyone was waiting for her verdict, but when it was finished, she sent for her maid and sent the letter up to her room, not commenting on it.

“When is luncheon?” she asked the room at large.

Louisa Hurst looked at the clock.  “Not until two o’clock, Miss Swan.”

Bella checked the clock herself.  “Not enough time to answer,” she mused.  Instead, she went over to the settee, picked up Julia’s discarded book, and sat down.

Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Owestry all exchanged looks.  Bingley looked around a little confused.  Hurst was asleep on the couches.  Julia glanced over at Bella, worried.

Luncheon was an awkward affair.

Afterward, Bella wrote a lengthy letter to Lord Septimus, warning that an old suitor was down at Netherfield and assuring him that was not a reason for him to come down.  “Stay up in London,” she wrote, “and I will be there hopefully within the next week.  This wedding cannot be that far away.”  She signed it with her name and called for a servant.

It was then that Darcy asked for the pleasure of her company for a ride.

“Am I going to have to ride a mare?” she questioned him.

“I am certain the horse Fitzwilliam chose for you is still available,” he answered stiffly.

“Julia?” Bella inquired.

“If you forgive me, Julia, I should like to speak to Miss Swan in private.”  Darcy did seem a little agitated. 

“Then perhaps a walk in the gardens is more suitable,” Bella suggested.  “The day is so fine, after all.”

She was wearing a bonnet to shade her eyes and walking in the outer gardens with Darcy, both of them enveloped in silence.

“I must apologize for Elizabeth’s behavior,” Darcy finally began.  “She was unpardonable today.  She was acting quite like the younger Misses Bennet.”

Bella wasn’t certain what this last part meant.  “It is not your place to apologize for her,” she reminded him.  “You are not her husband yet.”

“No,” he agreed grimly.  “I am not.”

He paused and pinned her with his verdant gaze.  “Miss Swan—”

“Mr. Darcy—”

“If I should wish to call off my engagement—”

“Your entire family would support you,” she told him firmly.  “No one thinks Elizbeth Bennet is the right wife for you.”

Darcy did not look surprised at her words.  “If I should wish to marry another—”

Bella would not pretend to be surprised at his words.  “I have a previous attachment.”  She gave him a stern look.  “Surely you must have seen.”

“Lord Septimus,” he agreed, continuing their walk.

She merely shook her head. 

“Elizabeth,” he told her, “is the only woman who has ever wanted me for myself and not for Pemberley.”

Bella considered this.  “Did she accept your hand before or after she had seen Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?  I understand you had an argument when you were in Kent, which is some time removed.”

He did not speak for several long moments.  Then, finally, he admitted coldly, “After.”

“Then you have your answer.”  She walked out to look at the view.  “You need not marry now.  You are a young man.”

“I find I have—expectations, Miss Swan.”

She turned and looked up at his pained face.  He was talking about sex then.  He had been anticipating sex from Elizabeth and had been wishing to switch Bella for Elizabeth and still sate his lust.

“I suggest,” she told him carefully, “you go to London immediately for the Little Season.  Are connections in trade and improper behavior at tea worth sating your lust?  Besides, I’ve heard rumors.”

“What rumors?” he demanded.

“That she likes red coats and is a little loose with her affections.  She may not have been loose with you, but that may not mean she has not been loose with others.”

Angry, he grabbed her arm.  “What have you heard?” he demanded.

Bella looked coolly up into his eyes.  “Mr. Darcy,” she told him plainly.  “You are hurting me.”

His vicelike grip on her arm was hard and was going to leave a mark.  She tried to wrench it from his grasp, but he was holding steadfast.

“Mr. Darcy,” she begged, not liking the sound of her voice, but his face was angry.

She could hear shouts in the background.

“Please,” she tried.  “Someone will see.”

“See what?” he asked, clearly perplexed.

“My arm,” she told him, indicating where he was holding her viciously. 

He looked down, confused, as if he hadn’t realized, but it was then he was attacked with a walking stick and made to let go.  He fell sideways and Bella was swiped into Owestry’s arms, held firmly against his chest.  Fitzwilliam was standing over Darcy who was crouched on his hands and his legs on the walkway.  Bingley was watching the entire scene in bewilderment.

“Stay away from my fiancée!” Owestry bellowed at his cousin.  “I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Fiancée?” Darcy gasped, climbing to his feet.

“Are you hurt, m’dear?” Owestry was now asking.

“Just my arm,” she answered.  “Charlotte must tend to it.”

“Yes, we will take you inside.”  He turned to Darcy, his watery eyes flashing a brighter blue.  “This is not over!”  Turning back to Bella, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and led her inside, Fitzwilliam keeping Darcy from following.

As soon as they were climbing the outer stairs, Owestry was calling for a warm bath and for Charlotte.

“What happened?” Charlotte asked as she came flying down the stairs, noticing that Bella’s hair had partially fallen down out of her bonnet.

“Mr. Darcy—grabbed me.  My arm—”

Charlotte gasped.  “Come this way, mum,” she told Bella gently.  “Do not worry, m’lord,” she told Owestry.  “I have Miss Swan well in hand.”

Bella looked back and gave him a small smile before rushing back into his arms and gently kissing him there among all the rushing servants.  She left him with a silly grin on his face.

Charlotte got her quickly undressed into her petticoats and then took a look at the bruise on her arm.  “He has large hands,” she noticed.

“Very large hands,” Bella agreed darkly.

Pulling out a bathing sheet, Charlotte helped Bella get completely undressed and then placed her in the water.  Then she took out her hair and brushed it so that it was falling out of the tub.  She braided it and pinned it on top of her head.  “We shall wash it the day before the wedding,” Charlotte told her.

“Let us soak it now,” Bella begged.  She didn’t like the early nineteenth century where they barely washed their hair once a week.  “You can pin it up on my head afterward.”

“You will be soaked to the bone,” Charlotte argued, “and it is the middle of the day.”

“Owestry won’t care.”

“Miss Bingley shall.”

Bella groaned.  “I am still soaking it.”  She took a deep breath and sank her head underwater.  She could hear Charlotte gasping in distress, but she had gotten away with it.  Breaking for air, she groaned.  “My arm.”

“You should not push yourself, mum,” Charlotte chided.

Bella rested against the tub.  She sighed.

She waited until the water was chilled cold before she came out.  By then a servant had come up with a lunch tray, and Bella ate in her room. 

Her wet hair was brushed out and done in tiny braids that were then braided into a larger circlet on her head.  Charlotte dressed her in a dark red and white dress, and she was allowed to descend to the Drawing Room. 

Bella went and took a seat next to Julia on the settee.

Fitzwilliam came up behind her and whispered in her ear, “I told Owestry about how we met.  I had to since he declared to Darcy you were his fiancée.  Felicitations, by the way.”

“He never technically asked,” she stated a little wryly.

“Well, I have been trying to keep Owestry from calling Darcy out.  We have separated them in the house.”

She closed the book she had picked up.  “Where is he?”

“Which one?—Darcy has been demanding how you know Elizabeth Bennet was loose with officers.”

“Darcy can sort his own problems, or you can come clean.”  She looked up at him earnestly.  “Or maybe Elizabeth Bennet can sink herself.”  Standing, she indicated that he should lead the way.

Owestry was in the smoking room, enjoying a cigar. 

Bella did not care for the smell.  It reminded her too much of her Grandpa Swan who had died of lung cancer when she was still quite small.

“You must be used to cigars if you frequent gambling houses,” Owestry posited as he rolled the cigar between his fingers.

“Doesn’t mean I like it.”  She grimaced.

“No,” he agreed, setting it aside.  “You were upstairs for so long, m’dear.”

“I’ve always found bathing and swimming so refreshing,” she admitted, “from the time I was a little girl.  I used to go cliff diving in Washington before my father and I left for England.”

“Cliff diving?” he wondered, amusement in his eyes.  “You are a positive Amazon.”

She gave him a small smile.

He reached out for her hand and she gave it.  He kissed the back of it.  “We need not speak of Harley Street or any other gambling hall,” he told her.  “I am told you are respected by half the members of White’s and the Duke of Denver himself might attend our wedding.”

“Viscount and Benedict Bridgerton shall certainly be in attendance,” she agreed wryly.  “I have won a pretty penny off of them.”

He laughed.  “You have been moving in society and Lady Whistledown had no idea!”

“I went places she was not welcome.”

“True,” he agreed.  “It must stop, however.  I cannot have my Viscountess in the gambling dens of London when she should be attending balls.”

“You know I do not wish to attend balls, Owestry.”

“There are Piquet tables,” he soothed.  “You need dance with me only once to show we are present.”

She shifted uncomfortably.  “I need a dancing master,” she admitted.  “My education was an illiberal one.”

He nodded.  “Do you speak French and German?”

“Spanish and very ill indeed.”

He looked at her strangely.

“I lived in California for awhile.  California was owned by Spain,” she reminded him softly.

“If you say so, m’dear,” he agreed.  “Now Darcy.”  She nodded.  “He has agreed the point that his anger at you proves his anger at the unsuitability of Miss Bennet, which he misdirected at you.  I agreed not to call him out if he called off the wedding.”

Her violet eyes looked up at him.  “He is calling it off then?”

“Only if he has another bride in time for the wedding.”

Bella’s stomach sank.  “He is partially guided by lust then.  Can’t he just wait like most people who haven’t found the right person?”

“He says he has waited long enough.”  Owestry picked up his cigar, lifted it up in question, and Bella shrugged.  He put it to his lips and puffed it, obviously soothed by the familiar action.  “We have two options,” he decided.

“Two?”

“Three, technically.”

“Three,” she checked.

“Give you to Darcy, which is a nonstarter.”

“I would refuse,” she confirmed, turning in her seat and rubbing her forehead.  “What are the other two options?”

“Convince Julia and Darcy that they are a match.”

Bella didn’t like the sound of that either.

“Or buy him a match from London within the next week, including the special license.  Cousin Anne is completely out of the picture at this point.”

Yes, there was a story behind that.

“So, it is Julia,” Bella reasoned.

“No,” Owestry disputed.  “It is Eloise Bridgerton.  Her family would prefer her wedding to be in London, however.”

“I have only met Daphne.  Her first season is not until—”

“It is Eloise.  Trust me on this one.  We leave tomorrow morning.  I have already sent the express.  Perhaps you should like to tear up your letter to Lord Septimus and write an express, telling him you shall see him tomorrow, albeit as an engaged woman.”  His watery blue eyes sparkled.

He leaned forward and kissed Bella lingeringly. 

“I have sent for Annabelle.  She shall be so pleased to see you.”

“She must be nine now,” Bella guessed.  “I missed her birthday.”

“I missed yours,” Owestry admitted, reaching up and stroking the hair behind her left ear.  “I do not know your age.”

“I am quite advanced,” Bella admitted.

“You will be my second wife.  You do not need to be nineteen,” he assured her lovingly.

“I am two and twenty,” she confessed.

“We have plenty of years left,” he told her, reaching out for her and kissing her once more.  “I am only five and thirty.”

She laughed.  “Charlie was five and thirty when he died.”

“How old would your father be now?”

“Nine and thirty,” she told him.  “He still would shoot you in the leg for daring to come near his only daughter.”

“I am certain we could have found common ground,” Owestry assured her, moving in one last time.  “Go find that letter before I have to call Lord Septimus out.”

Bella smiled impishly at him before leaving Owestry to his cigar.

Bella ordered her trunk packed and spent the evening having Charlotte dry her hair out.  The servants were full of her engagement to Owestry and the ending of Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth Bennet.  The servants also knew there had been a jealous scuffle between Owestry and Darcy, but not that Bella had been hurt.  That bit had been fortunately kept quiet.

“I still do not like it,” Bingley was saying as the carriage was being loaded early the next morning.

“You do not have to like it,” Darcy was saying.  “I wrote a note to Elizabeth saying urgent business has called me to London and I shall write to her when I arrive.”

Ah, so they weren’t calling off the wedding just yet.  Darcy was hedging his bets.

“Elizabeth will think you’re abandoning her.”

“She will think no such thing.”

Even Bella could tell Darcy was lying and she had known the man for less than a week.

Julia came outside in her Autumn coat and looked resplendent in Royal Blue.  “I am so glad I do not have to marry Darcy,” she said quietly to Bella.  “Richard said it was a close thing.”

“I understand Eloise Bridgerton is the intended victim.  I believe the poor girl is only sixteen.”

“I wonder how the men decided on her.  Is there not an elder Miss Bridgerton?”

“Yes, Daphne.  She makes her debut next Summer.”

“Strange,” Julia commented.  She leaned over the banister.  “Is Mr. Bingley trying to convince Darcy to stay?”

“He is,” Bella agreed.  “Let’s enter the carriage so we can leave.”

The ladies descended the outer stairs and Owestry handed them in.

“Elizabeth—” Bingley was now arguing, but Bella tuned him out.

Within three minutes, the carriage was on its way, with Owestry, Fitzwilliam, and Darcy accompanying them on horseback.

They arrived before lunch at Matlock House.  Bella had not scrutinized the house when she had last been in Hanover Square, but now she took it in and found it to be well appointed.  Her own carriage was waiting for her, and her manservant transferred her own trunk over and Owestry helped her over from one carriage to the other.  He paused before shutting the door on her.

“I do not know where you live,” he admitted carefully.  “I am not just going to let you disappear, Isabella.”

Charlotte was sitting opposite her and Bella made a motion to her.  She slipped out the other door. 

Bella took out a slip of paper from her sleeve.  “It is very modest,” she told him.  “I never saw any reason to spend money on my accommodations, only my coach and my wardrobe.”

“My grandmother’s ring is in the safe,” he told her carefully.  “I will call after luncheon with it.  It deserves to grace your finger.”

“I shall expect you.”  She reached out and squeezed his hand.  After he shut the door, she leaned over, knocked on the opposite one, and Charlotte came back in.

Septimus called, of course, before lunch.

“What is this about you being engaged?”  He flung himself into a seat.

“It has not been announced in The Times,” she told him carefully.

“Who is it, dammit?”  He set his walking stick aside, his golden hair combed back over his forehead.  “I knew I should never have let you go to Hertfordshire.  It is not Colonel Fitzwilliam, is it?”

“Of course not!” she declared.  “I would never marry him.”

“Good,” Septi grumbled.  “He could never give you a proper life.”

“You,” Bella noted, “will have to join the church or the army within the year.  Your father only gave you two hundred pounds to pal around with.  It was your good fortune you are now worth twenty thousand.”

“I could retire with a wife on such a sum,” he reminded her.

“You could,” she agreed, “but you’re bored.  You need a profession.”

He sighed.  “Can you see me preaching sermons?  How dull!”

“Then the Army then.  You can still gamble.”

Charlotte came in with the tea set, and Bella set about pouring it.

“I could likewise buy a little estate somewhere with a tidy little income and be quite happy with a little wife for the rest of my days.”

Bella looked up at him.  That is what Bingley had been attempting to do when he had met Jane Bennet, which had caused the whole Elizabeth Bennet problem.

“Surely you do not want to marry a country girl,” she checked.  “I have met a few recently.  I have been most unimpressed.”

“Country girls hold no allure for me,” Septimus told her plainly as he accepted his dish of tea.  “You know you are the only woman for me.”

She took a deep breath.  “Septi—”

“Isabella.  I know I am only nineteen years old—”

“I was very stupid when I was nineteen years old,” she told him.  “I thought I was as wise as Croesus, but the truth is I was not.  No one is.  If I had followed my heart, I would be quite miserable.  I am a passing fancy.  I am much too old for you anyway, Septi.”

He looked taken aback.  “You fib!”

She held him with her stare.  “A lady does not lie about being too old.  She lies the other way around.”

Septimus clearly looked uncomfortable and tried to settle back into his seat, but was clearly failing.  The silence stretched between them, until Bella decided to give him a way out.  “You had an appointment, did you not, Lord Septimus?  With your excellent father?”

“Yes,” he agreed carefully.  “Pater did say he needed me.”

Bella put down her dish of tea and stood.  “I thank you for your excellent care of me,” she was now saying as she walked him toward the door.  He had picked up his walking stick and Charlotte was fetching his hat.  “I hope, if a wedding is announced, you will be our guest.”

He gave her a small, genuine smile.  “I would never miss it, Isabella.”  He bowed low over her hand and then left her.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Bella moved back into her rooms, wondering what was for lunch.

Owestry called precisely at half one.  “These rooms are most comfortable,” he complimented, coming up and taking her hand.  “I can see you here in my mind’s eye.”

“I have been most contented here,” she told him, offering him a seat.

“How long is your lease?”

“It is up for renewal in February,” she told him.

“Then we shall be married by February,” he told her.  “It is good to be practical.”  He cleared his throat and reached into his breast pocket, taking out a small pouch and laying it out on the coffee table in between them.  “This is for you.”

Bella paused and then reached for it.  Opening up the pouch, a small emerald ring fell out into the palm of her hand.  She looked up, stunned.  “This belonged to your grandmother?”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “I should like you to have it.”

She tried it on her left ring finger, but it was too loose, so she moved it to her middle finger where it fit quite nicely.  She looked at it.  It was small and elegant, almost getting lost on her finger.  At least she would still be able to wear her evening gloves.

It was not the ring she would choose, but it was a family piece, so Bella didn’t suppose she had a right to complain.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  “I can see this ring has sentimental value.”

He nodded.  “I should like you to wear it when Darcy invites over the Dowager Viscountess and the Misses Bridgerton to tea tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Bella asked.  “Are we all going to be there?”

“Yes, Darcy wants you there.  He says he trusts your judgment.  I also refuse to leave you alone with him.”

“I hope Miss Eloise has ‘fine eyes’,” Bella remarked a little wryly.

“I have been informed by Richard that the Dowager Viscountess has blue eyes.  That is something.”

“Something indeed,” Bella agreed.

Owestry hesitated. 

“What is it?” she inquired.

“May I escort you to church tomorrow and then to the glacier?  Annabelle is still in Derbyshire, but—”

She smiled widely at him.  “I cannot promise to be attentive, but I shall certainly be glad to be seen with you.  Are you planning to have the banns read?”

“Yes,” he admitted quietly.  “It shan’t be announced in The Times until next Friday—”

“I see,” she agreed.  “No.  We should be there.”  Bella could feel herself blush from her cheeks, down her neck, into her blusher.

They walked out together, hand in hand, and Owestry kissed her in the parlor before leaving her.  Bella squealed like a little girl when the door shut behind him and floated back into the apartment.

Bella went to bed in a dream that night and barely slept.  She was still walking in a daydream when Charlotte pinned her into her yellow and purple silks, doing up her hair.  When the carriage arrived, Owestry kissed her hand and handed her in.  Julia was there as chaperone.

The parish was in King’s Cross and when the banns were read, Bella held her breath until the vicar moved on to the next order of business.

After church, they drove back to Matlock House where they dropped off Julia before proceeding to the glacier, where they had spent many happy an interlude together during the previous season.

When they entered the glacier, several ladies looked up and paused at the well known widower, the Viscount of Owestry entering with a lady.

Owestry took it in stride and ushered Bella toward a table.

They were served promptly and their ice cream was served to them.

“A little decadent for November,” Bella commented.

“Annabelle shall be sorry to have missed this.”

“Have you sent for her?”

“I have,” Owestry told her, “before we left Netherfield.  I wrote of our engagement.  I knew it would make her happy.”

“Good,” Bella agreed.  “I already think of her as a daughter, though perhaps it was premature last season.”  She glanced down at her ice cream and took a scoop.

“It was not premature.  I asked you to marry me last September.  It was you who refused me.”

Bella hesitated.  “You know I am terrified of becoming a Viscountess.  I was not made for society life, Owestry.  I live like a gypsy.”

“Mother will act as hostess for many years to come,” he soothed, “and she will show you the way.”  He gave her a small, tentative smile.  “We need not go out quite so often until Annabelle is old enough to have her first season.”

A smile tugged at Bella’s lips.  “What a commotion that will be.  She is already quite pretty, prettier than Julia if I may say so.”

“Yes,” Owestry admitted carefully.  “Julia looks too much like me and Pater.  Annabelle has much of her mother in her.”

“Then the Viscountess was quite pretty,” Bella observed just as carefully.

Owestry regarded her over his ices.  “I did not care for Sophie.  She was chosen for me.  We did not have a felicitous marriage.”

Bella daringly reached out and took his hand, knowing that they were being observed.  “Happier times are ahead.  I am certain you do not regret Annabelle.”

“I do not,” he told her firmly.  “I had regretted that she was not a son.  I did not think to marry again until I met you.  Before I found the prospect unappealing.”  He squeezed her fingers and then withdrew his hand. 

“I had not thought to marry at all,” Bella revealed, “until Richard was trying to force my hand.  Then Charlotte, my maid, pointed out that as a woman I might want children and I had not considered that question.  I had been in such a state of motion for so long, I had not stopped to think.”

“I shall have to give Charlotte a Christmas bonus then.  Do you intend to bring her with you?”

“I do.  If I could bring my coach driver and manservant, I would be much obliged.  They have been loyal to me.  My manservant is quite young and supports his mother and sister—”

He looked at her with his watery blue eyes and nodded.  “I quite take your point, m’dear.  I shall speak with my butler.  You would want them at the London House?”

“George, the manservant.  His family is in London.  I can inquire of the coach driver, Monroe, what he would prefer.”

“It will be quite a rise in fortune for your servants to go from serving a lady in Bloomsbury to entering a Viscount’s service.”

“I do not know the way of things,” Bella admitted.

“There will be an adjustment for them,” Owestry warned.

“I would rather bring them than cut them off,” Bella told him firmly, “especially Charlotte and young George.  I will advise them of the change in circumstance.  I understand that you are their new master—though Charlotte’s first loyalty will be to me as my lady’s maid.”

“Quite,” Owestry agreed.  “She does do your hair so nicely.”

“You’ve noticed,” Bella teased.

“I am not blind unlike some men, no matter what Richard says of me,” Owestry told her.  “I thought you knew that.  I have always known you were the best dressed woman in London which is why I was searching for you in all the ballrooms in London last season.”

“Lady Whistledown did not know what to do with your presence in all of society along with your refusal to dance with any of the young ladies,” Bella agreed.

Owestry smiled to himself.  “Julia did tell me I was a constant subject in the gossip papers.”

When they were finished with their ices, he escorted her back to Matlock House where they had a small repast, and then they had to wait until afternoon tea when the Dowager Viscountess would call on Darcy with her two eldest daughters, both of whom were not yet out.

“Come sit with me at the pianoforte,” Julia commanded when Bella was sitting and reading the Sunday Times.  “We have not enough people to make up a card table.”

“I would be the last person to turn pages,” Bella informed her, coming up to the instrument and taking a seat beside Julia.  “I cannot read music in the least, Julia.”

“Pater wrote,” Julia whispered to Bella as she arranged the music.  “He is so pleased Owestry is engaged to a lady of fashion.”

“No one said if the Earl and Countess were coming down to Hertfordshire for the wedding,” Bella whispered back, wondering why they had to keep their voices down.  It wasn’t as if Owestry was listening in.  He was on the opposite side of the room and clearly wasn’t paying them any mind.  “Owestry,” she called.  “Go find Richard and play billiards.”

“Do you ladies have secrets?” he asked, looking up from the volume of Shakespeare he was perusing.

“We ladies always have secrets,” she told him.  “This piano bench is cramped.”

He put the book down and bowed to them, obligingly leaving the room.

“There,” Bella said.  “Now we have the room.  So.  Are your parents coming to the wedding?”  She stood from the piano bench and headed back to the settee and her discarded Times.

“Owestry sent an express to tell them that we have repaired to London.  He asked them to break their journey here and wait for further instructions.  They are due on Thursday.”

“And it is Sunday now.”  Bella chewed her lower lip, even though she knew it was a bad habit.  She never indulged when she was playing poker as it was a tell.  “The banns will only be read next Sunday if we are still in London, otherwise we wait another week.”

“Have you set a date?”

“Sometime before February.  My lease is up then.”

“Surely you must be married before Christmastide,” Julia noticed.  “You must come to Matlock for Christmas.”

Bella turned this over in her head.  “I suppose that is the reason for a November wedding for Darcy and Miss Bennet.”

“I suppose it is,” Julia agreed.

“Are the Earl and Countess now bringing Annabelle?  I suppose they must be.  He sent for her.”

“Owestry did not tell me his plans,” Julia confessed, now rising from the pianoforte herself.

“I have not seen her since September.”

Julia leaned over the piano keys.  “You have met dear, sweet Annabelle.”

“I met Annabelle before I met Owestry,” she admitted wryly.  “Granted, it was only by a few minutes, but I think Annabelle decided she wanted me for a mother and engineered the entire match.”

“How sweet,” Julia sighed happily.  “She clearly knew what she was about.  She should give pointers to Richard.  Let us hope Owestry knows what he is about with Eloise Bridgerton.”

Julia was now moving toward the couches. 

“Do we know anything about the girl?”

“Second daughter and fourth child of the Dowager Viscountess.  I believe she is sixteen years of age.”

“That is young.”

“Old enough,” Julia pointed out.

“But why her and not the older sister who is on the cusp of coming out in society?”

Julia leaned forward even though they were alone and whispered in Bella’s ears.  “Richard said Eloise had ‘fine eyes’.” 

Bella leaned back and stared at Julia.  “Indeed?”

“Some of the finest though not as fine as yours, I have been led to understand.”

“Well, Richard has clearly shown a propensity in choosing eyes.  He chose mine after all and Darcy was clearly struck by my blue gaze.”

“Your eyes are violet, Bella,” Julia reminded her.  “Your eyes are hardly blue.”

Bella glared at her.  She knew her eyes were violet.  That didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend they weren’t a common blue color.  “What color are the other Bridgerton girl’s eyes?”

Julia shrugged.  “No idea.  A common green perhaps?  Mayhaps they are even brown.”

Bella wished she had brown eyes.  It would make her life so much simpler.

When it was time to go to Darcy House, they all bundled into the carriage even though they were just traveling across the street.  Bella thought it was terribly silly.  Darcy House was just as impressive as Matlock House.

As soon as they entered the Drawing Room, Julia asked, “Where is Georgiana?”

“Not here,” Darcy answered.  “Why is Julia here?”

Fitzwilliam entered the room, dressed smartly in his regimentals.  He seemed to have come separately.  “This is a family visit.  Julia is here to make it appear less like an inquisition.  Where is Georgiana?”

Owestry placed Bella on a couch. 

“Julia will serve as hostess,” Owestry decided, “since Georgiana is not here.”

Julia nodded her head, taking a seat next to Bella.  “See, I have a purpose, Darcy.”  Her watery eyes flashed harder.

Darcy did not answer, but went to the window to look out onto the street.  Owestry sat down on a settee and Fitzwilliam went over to the mantle.  It seemed like they had all taken up their positions. 

The Dowager Viscountess of Bridgerton arrived not ten minutes later with two daughters in tow.  Both young ladies had dark brown hair.  The elder, who was slightly shorter, had dark brown eyes like their mother.  The younger, who was slightly taller, had stunning blue eyes.

Well done, Colonel, Bella thought.

After everyone had been introduced and tea had been called for, Julia inquired how the Misses Bridgerton were enjoying the Little Season.

“I quite enjoy the opera,” Daphne told the room.  Her hems had been dropped in anticipation of her coming out the following summer.  She looked quite the young lady with her slim figure and her pretty turn of face.

“Miss Eloise?” Julia inquired as she passed her a cup.

“Oh, me?” Eloise answered, looking around the room.  “I always prefer a good book to the attractions of Town.”

Darcy turned from the window at this pronouncement.  “Which books, Miss Eloise?” he inquired, catching her blue gaze.

“Which books?” she repeated, accepting a shortbread.  “Oh, only the books Mama permits me, I assure you.  I have quite learned my lesson—” she hesitated.  She clearly couldn’t remember Darcy’s name.

“That is our host, Mr. Darcy,” Bella supplied kindly with a soft smile.

Eloise’s eyes dashed between Bella and Darcy.

“Mr. Darcy,” Eloise repeated.  “Most of my books were confiscated.”

“The Viscount Bridgerton was most stern with our Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton informed the room.  “We cannot learn how she got her hands on a copy of Byron.”  She took a sip of her tea.

“You enjoy poetry then, Miss Eloise?” Darcy inquired.

“Quite,” Eloise agreed.  “I am not adverse to prose, however.”

“She prefers poetry,” Lady Bridgerton told Darcy with a laugh.

“Who is your favorite poet if it cannot be Byron?” Bella inquired, taking up the questioning.

Eloise blinked, her beautiful eyes wide and clear.  “Pope, Lady—”

“Miss Swan is my fiancée,” Lord Owestry informed Eloise, reaching for his dish of tea, which he had set aside.  “Lady Julia, my sister, is the only lady of rank here aside from your excellent mother.”

“Oh,” Eloise murmured, “I see.”

“I fear we have overwhelmed Miss Eloise,” Fitzwilliam worried from the mantle.  “Perhaps we should have music to put everyone at their ease.”

“The Misses Bridgerton have not finished with their tea,” Bella reminded him carefully.  “Besides, we should not expect them to perform for us.  They are the guests here at Darcy House.”

“Daphne plays the pianoforte so beautifully,” Lady Bridgerton complimented her eldest daughter.

“And Miss Eloise?” Owestry inquired.  “Do you also play the pianoforte?”

“Oh,” she answered.  “Mr.—”

“Lord Owestry,” he supplied.  “I am a Viscount.”

“Oh dear.”  She took a sip of her tea.

Daphne was looking at her, clearly chastising. 

“Do you play?” Lady Julia inquired again, a smile on her face.

Eloise had been looking at her slippers, which were poking out under her raised hem.  “Oh, Lady Julia.  Do I play?” she repeated.  “Oh, no.  I am afraid not.  I sing.”

“Most beautifully, if I may say so,” Lady Bridgerton added with a bright smile on her face.

Darcy at least was regarding Eloise in interest.  She seemed to notice and looked up at him fearfully before her eyes darted around the room.

“Well,” Bella decided once the Bridgertons were gone.  “I think we quite overwhelmed poor Eloise Bridgerton.  However, a Viscount’s daughter is most suitable.  How did you like her, Darcy?”

“She was as scared as a church mouse,” he commented, not even bothering to look from the window.

That, unfortunately, was a very fair assessment.

“The eldest Miss Bridgerton, however,” Darcy pronounced, “will do quite suitably.”  He took a sip of his tea, his back still presented to the room.

Bella looked over at Fitzwilliam excitedly.  “We must send Daphne flowers,” she decided.  “Expensive ones.”

“Not roses,” Julia told Bella.  “They have the most unfortunate aroma.”

“Women,” Darcy told his cousin, now turning from the window, “enjoy the scent of roses.  You are in the minority.  Pemberley is renowned for its rose garden.”

“I knew there was a reason I did not like Pemberley,” Julia muttered under her breath, causing Bella and Owestry to smile.

“Come,” Fitzwilliam commanded, going over to Darcy and marching him to the door.  “We go to the florist now to place our order.  There is no time to waste.”

When they were out of the room, Bella wondered, “I found nothing interesting about the elder Miss Bridgerton.  Her eyes were certainly nothing special.”

“Her decided lack of opinion is what makes her an ideal wife,” Owestry informed her.  “She will make an excellent hostess and she will prove quite beautiful when wearing silks and diamonds.”  He stood up.  “Come, our work here is done.”

“Do you think he can woo her within a week?” Julia wondered aloud as they came out to the hall to collect their cloaks and to call the carriage.

“It might take a fortnight,” Bella suggested carefully.  “Daphne Bridgerton has a beating heart.”

“One bride for another,” Julia realized.  “Men are so terribly fickle.”

“I am not,” Owestry promised, coming up with his walking stick in one hand and his hat in another.  “I can promise you ladies that.”

He and Bella shared a smile.  The door was opened and they walked out into the November air.

The End.