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“Lizzy! You are writhing and kicking me!” said Jane from the other end of the bed.

Her sister had woken Lizzy in the midst of yet another improper dream of Mr Darcy. But this time he was her husband, so she supposed it was not so improper anymore.

The Gardiners’ lunch in Grosvenor Square, which was also attended by Princess Brunhilda and the colonel, was a success. The visit passed off very agreeably; the children were on their best behaviour, with no precious ornaments were broken. The men withdrew to Darcy’s study afterwards to drink brandy and try out the walking machine. Although the colonel thought that the combined forces of Mr Gardiner and his cousin caused the ensuing conversation to veer too often towards the sort of Double Dutch one occasionally endured from the Royal Engineers, Darcy’s cousin forgave Mr Gardiner entirely when he offered to make the colonel a rowing machine as a gift, provided it was kept at the barracks, where others might admire it.

On the way home to Cheapside, Jemmy expressed the opinion that Auntie Georgie had hugged him too many times. But little Timmy, who thought her very beautiful in her gossamer gown—like a fairy princess—had borne it very well. As for the real princess, Timmy asked if all the ladies from Vienna were taller than the men, and if they had bigger houses for them there. The wedding and subsequent lunch also worked wonders on Jane who quickly reverted to the calm and confident demeanour she had always displayed in Hertfordshire as the nightmare of indigent spinsterhood receded. Jane was looking forward to the new connections she might enjoy as her sister’s chaperone and companion.

On Monday, the Darcy carriage arrived bright and early to transport Jane and Lizzy to Mayfair. A shopping trip with Georgie and Hildie was projected for the morning. The unencumbered ladies then intended to spend the afternoon in the Darcy saloon while Lizzy devoted her time to her new husband, and Hildie to her upcoming wedding.

On entering the carriage and finding herself finally at liberty to talk freely on frivolous topics rather than the more rational conversation expected by her aunt and uncle, Jane began to praise the refined style of the Darcy townhouse. The English restraint of the furniture, upholstered in beautiful fabrics, was much more to her taste than the high flights of the Egyptian Revival furniture of the Garths, which to her mind looked decidedly gothic. Lizzy agreed, but finding the topic of conversation more worthy of her mother soon shifted it to the Garths themselves, with the ulterior purpose of potentially forwarding Mr Thorne’s suit. By the time the carriage reached Piccadilly, Lizzy had judged that Jane had talked sufficiently of Cherise, Felix and Amabel that the introduction of the topic of her suitor would not seem too direct.

“Oh, Jane! I forgot to tell you that I finally met your Mr Thorne!”

“He is not my Mr Thorne, Lizzy. Did he visit Uncle Gardiner?”

“Yes, at his warehouse when I worked there one day.”

“Oh, Lizzy! You were not working in the warehouse?”

“Only in the office, Jane,” replied Lizzy calmly, anticipating Jane’s reaction.

“But in Southwark, Lizzy!” bemoaned Jane.

“We had lunch together with my uncle at a French café,” replied Lizzy, blithely ignoring her sister’s objections.

This sounded too forward and modern for Jane to approve but her curiosity was aroused. “But what is that, Lizzy?”

“A place where French food is served with wine and coffee. We had a very tolerable meal. I was not the only lady present in the establishment.”

“And what did you think of Mr Thorne?”

“I thought him very well spoken, a man of information, and not entirely focused on his business at the expense of all other subjects. In short, I formed a favourable impression of his character. But I could not like his beard, I thought it aged him.”

“It is strange you should say that, for when he came to dinner at the Garths’ on Tuesday evening, he had shaved it down to some neat sideburns. He looked ten years younger!”

Lizzy stifled a grin that threatened to spread over her face. “Indeed? How extraordinary! Was Cherise impressed with his new look?” she asked slyly.

“Cherise did remark that he looked very handsome, but I still cannot approve of that dark clothing that he wears. I suppose he adopts it so that he might walk onto the docks at any time without fear of besmirching himself. His clothes are all of excellent quality, but to my mind he always looks more piratical than gentleman-like.”

Mentally Lizzy sighed. It was obvious that Mr Thorne would have to sacrifice more than his beard to gain her sister’s heart. She changed the subject. The rest of the trip was whiled away in discussing the new trim Jane had added to the cornflower blue silk gown she was wearing.

Georgie and Hildie, who were waiting for the arrival of the Bennet sisters, emerged from the Darcy townhouse to meet them at the carriage door. When Lizzy and Jane declared themselves ready to depart without delay, the ladies climbed straight in, and the carriage returned to Bond Street.

They called first at the modiste so that the garments Lizzy had ordered might be fitted. The other ladies insisted on seeing Lizzy in each one. Georgie and Jane exclaimed over how handsome they all looked. Hildie provided more practical help in suggesting hats that would match the new gowns. The princess favoured very modish confections that were modelled on gentlemen’s hats. She bemoaned the fact that she was too tall to wear such hats, which she thought would look perfect perched atop Elizabeth’s chestnut mane. When Elizabeth saw the tiny top hats and shakos sitting on her crown, she had to admit they looked rather dashing. Jane exclaimed she would ruin her complexion and urged her to consider matching poke bonnets instead. But when Georgie expressed her admiration for Hildie’s suggestions, Elizabeth succumbed, and the hats were ordered in matching material.

After leaving the modiste, Georgie insisted on walking along Bond Street, looking into the shop windows with the nebulous aim of finding inspiration for wedding presents for Hildie and Elizabeth. The window-shopping proved very much to Jane’s taste, allowing her to admire the beautiful goods without spending a penny. Elizabeth felt her time could have been better employed—she was eager to be back at the townhouse with her beloved. Finally, Hildie expressed her regret that they must depart soon if she was to have lunch with them, having promised the countess she would help with the wedding preparations in the afternoon.

Meanwhile back at the Darcy townhouse, the colonel had arrived from the barracks for the projected lunch with his cousin and his betrothed. He found Darcy in his study discussing the progress of the townhouses with his secretary. Mr Trevor soon excused himself to work at the secretaire that had been installed on the upstairs landing for Elizabeth. He was awaiting the construction of a tiny office for him behind the stairs.

Sitting down near the fire, Richard stretched his boots in front of the hearth as he related his plans for the future to his cousin.

“Hildie’s got me in training for a diplomat already, Darcy. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays we are to speak French. I’m a little bit rusty but bore up well on my first day speaking frog. Mother is helping out. On Tuesdays and Thursdays we are to speak German. Well! I will be hard-pressed to put a sentence together with Hildie tomorrow. Everything is damned backwards! I got by in Vienna by resorting to French when things got complicated. I wanted to alternate the French with Spanish, which I thought I knew well enough from the time I spent there during the Peninsular War. But Hildie says my Spanish is only passable and that I speak like a peasant! How else should I be speaking, says I, if I am bargaining for chickens? It will not do, says she, I must learn to speak with a Castilian accent! Once I’ve got the German passable, she says I must get onto Swedish! And I am not allowed to cheat by relapsing to English at the barracks. I must seek out fluent speakers when I am there and stay in my mode.”

“It sounds like she will instil in you just the kind of discipline you lack, Richard,” said Darcy, not unkindly.

Richard was incredulous. “How can a soldier lack discipline?”

“There is more to discipline than marching up and down or having the courage to give the order to charge, Richard. If she’s going to help you with all this, you could not have a kinder teacher.”