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He reached the master suite on the upper floor without incident.

Fletcher waited within the dressing room. He had laid out a selection of evening garments on the bed. Fletcher had entered his service when Darcy was fifteen years of age. The man had an uncanny ability to read his master’s moods, a skill honed through years of steadfast loyalty. He was the one who had stood quietly in the shadows during the darkest days of mourning the late Mr Darcy. He had prepared the riding boots in Hertfordshire while Darcy stubbornly ignored his growing infatuation, and he had witnessed the utter devastation following the proposal in Kent.

Fletcher was far more than a servant; he was Darcy’s most trusted confidant.

“I require something elegant for this evening, Fletcher,” Darcy murmured, removing his coat. “Yet I do not wish to appear as though I am attempting to impress.”

Fletcher surveyed the wardrobe like a discerning scholar evaluating ancient texts. He ignored a heavily embroidered waistcoat in favour of a subtle, dark blue silk.

“And the matching superfine coat, sir,” he advised, taking it from the wardrobe and holding it aloft for inspection. “It projects quiet authority. It suggests a gentleman who is comfortable in his own home, regardless of the... unexpected additions to the household.”

Darcy changed into the freshly pressed linen shirt with a dry smile. “The additions are indeed unexpected. I find myself navigating a rather delicate situation, Fletcher.”

“I am aware, sir.” Fletcher began the intricate process of arranging the snowy cravat. “If I may be so bold as to offer an observation?”

“You may always speak freely in this room.”

“I was by the entrance when the gentleman and the lady from London arrived,” Fletcher noted, his tone mild but laced with seriousness. “Mr Gardiner appears to be a man of intellect, and he carries himself with dignity. It appears to me that he has earned his position in the world through effort. Mrs Gardiner is graceful and polite.”

Darcy nodded, recalling the brief interaction in the courtyard. “They seem remarkable people. I was hasty to misjudge their sphere without even meeting them.”

“Then I suggest a specific approach, sir.” Fletcher tied a flawless knot in the starched linen. “If a gentleman wishes to court the favour of a wary young lady, he would do well to first secure the friendship of her guardians. Befriend the uncle, sir. Demonstrate your respect for the aunt. A lady places great value on how a suitor treats her family, as you have learned the hard way, I am afraid.”

Darcy stared at his own reflection in the looking glass.

“I had the same thought, Fletcher,” Darcy agreed with gratitude. “You are correct.”

“The blue waistcoat, sir.” Fletcher presented the garment. “It pairs well with a reformed disposition.”

Properly attired and armed with a renewed sense of purpose, Darcy walked downstairs. He proceeded to the primary drawing-room, where the whole party had gathered to await the announcement of dinner.

The room hummed with polite tension. Mr and Mrs Gardiner occupied a sofa, their evening attire impeccably neat. Miss Elizabeth sat adjacent to Georgiana near the tall windows. Anne rested in a padded armchair, a shawl draped over her shoulders. Lady Catherine occupied the largest settee as though she were sitting on a throne.

Darcy offered a bow to the room at large and directed his attention to Mr Gardiner.

“I trust your chambers are to your liking, Mr Gardiner?” he inquired, claiming a chair opposite the sofa. “Mrs Reynolds is usually quite thorough, but you have only to ask if you require any further comforts.”

“The accommodation is magnificent, Mr Darcy,” Mr Gardiner replied. “Your housekeeper runs a truly remarkable establishment.”

“The craftsmanship of Derbyshire is inferior to that of Kent,” Lady Catherine announced, ignoring the flow of the conversation. “The mortar used in the northern counties is far too porous. I observed a flaw in the brickwork of the stables when I inspected them. I shall instruct your steward on the proper mixture of lime and sand tomorrow morning, Fitzwilliam.”

Darcy forced his jaw to remain relaxed. “My steward is quite experienced, Aunt. The stables have stood for a century.”

“Age is no substitute for proper instruction,” Lady Catherine declared.

Every subsequent attempt Darcy made to establish a polite rapport with Mr Gardiner met a similar fate. If they discussed the weather, Lady Catherine proclaimed the Rosings kitchen gardens were superior. If they discussed the Derbyshire roads, she listed the exact dimensions of her own poultry shed. She offered outrageous, unrelated pronouncements that stifled any possibility of connection.

Salvation arrived in the form of the butler.

“Dinner is served, sir,” Martin announced.

Darcy rose and offered his arm to his aunt. Mr Gardiner escorted Mrs Gardiner. Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Anne formed a small cluster, walking together into the passage.

The procession entered the state dining room. The table stretched the length of the room, illuminated by dozens of flickering beeswax candles in tall candelabras.

Darcy assumed his place at the head of the table and Lady Catherine claimed the opposite end. Darcy gestured for the Gardiners to take the chairs to his left and right. Miss Elizabeth took the seat beside Mrs Gardiner, with Georgiana on her other side. Anne settled into the chair opposite Miss Elizabeth, adjacent to Mr Gardiner.

The clicking of claws on the floor heralded the arrival of the wolfhounds. Apollo and Diana trotted into the dining room, ignoring the footmen. The beasts approached Anne and they settled their large bodies onto the carpet between Anne’s chair and Mr Gardiner’s chair, resting their heads on their paws.