The ride to Mrs. Long’s home passed in relative silence, each man lost in his thoughts. Darcy wrestled with the growing realization that his own failings—his aloofness, his lack of curiosity about the Bennets—had contributed to his current predicament.
As they approached Mrs. Long’s home, Fitzwilliam smiled. “You know, Darcy, Mrs. Long will be expecting an explanation for why we have graced her with our presence. Shall I devise a story?”
Darcy shot him a warning glance. “Nothing outlandish, Fitzwilliam.”
The colonel’s grin widened. “What about this: we are here to inquire about her legendary recipe for gooseberry tart?”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “I doubt Mrs. Long would appreciate the implication that she cannot keep a cook. Have you no idea more plausible?”
As the carriage jostled along the road toward Mrs. Long’s house, Fitzwilliam leaned back, tapping his fingers against the window frame.
“Plausible, eh?” Fitzwilliam’s lips quirked into a grin. “We could tell her you are writing a treatise on the dangers of local gossip. She is clearly the reigning expert.”
Darcy shot him a withering glance. “A suggestion that does not insult our hostess, if you please.”
Fitzwilliam held up a hand in mock surrender. “Very well. We shall just stick with the original plan and tell her you are introducing your highly placed cousin to all the best families.”
Darcy arched a brow. “All?”
“Yes,” Fitzwilliam smirked. “You are making amends for being a fastidious oaf before.”
“I never said I was—”
“You did not need to,” his cousin interrupted. “I am well aware of your behaviour among those unfamiliar to you, Darcy. And I intend to enjoy myself a little.”
As Mrs. Long’s modest home came into view, Darcy straightened in his seat, glancing sidelong at his cousin. “Do try to behave, Fitzwilliam.”
The colonel’s roguish smile broadened. “When have I ever done otherwise?”
Darcy scoffed. “Shall I provide a list?”
Fitzwilliam clapped a hand to his chest in mock offense. “A list? Of my transgressions? My dear cousin, I thought you knew me too well for such formalities.”
He held his composure, though Fitzwilliam’s antics made him wish to laugh. “I should think a catalogue would be more fitting,” he replied drily. “But for now, I ask only this: do not embarrass me before Mrs. Long.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Of course not! I am here torepairyour reputation, cousin. By the time I am finished,Mrs. Long will believe you are the very pinnacle of warmth and wisdom.”
“Even your vaunted social grace will not be able to achieve that.”
A footman opened the carriage door.
“Come now, Darcy. Let us meet this legendary historian of Meryton society.”
Darcy shook his head and descended, his cousin’s laughter fading as they approached the door. When Mrs. Long opened it moments later, her widened eyes revealed both astonishment and delight at the sight of her unexpected callers.
“Mr. Darcy,” she exclaimed, her voice bright with a mix of curiosity and delight. “What an unexpected pleasure! Do come in.”
He inclined his head. “Mrs. Long, thank you for receiving us. May I introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Mrs. Long said all that was polite and then ushered them into a small but comfortable sitting room where two young women sat stiffly on a settee. The nieces, Darcy presumed. He did not recall seeing them at the assembly the previous autumn, but then he had not really looked. Both women before him were dressed plainly but with a palpable air of anticipation, their wide eyes darting between the two men.
“Colonel, this is my niece, Miss Letitia Long,” Mrs. Long said with a flourish, gesturing to the elder of the two. “And her sister, Miss Agatha Long.”
Both young ladies curtsied, though Miss Agatha’s curtsy wobbled slightly. Darcy offered a polite nod while Fitzwilliam performed a gallant bow that left Miss Agatha blushing furiously.
“It is such a surprise to see you gentlemen here,” Mrs. Long continued, settling herself into a chair and looking at them expectantly.
“We shall be making visits to all the primary families in the area to introduce my cousin, Mrs. Long.” Darcy offered her what he hoped was an apologetic glance. “I mean to start out better on this visit than on my last.” Darcy’s glance toward Fitzwilliam carried a warning not to embellish.
