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“Hildie!” said Elizabeth. “You look so well! The English weather must truly suit you!”

“Something English suits me very well,” joked Hildie, “but I do not think it is the weather! Do you mind if I come in? Georgie has gone straight up to change for Lady Venables’ ball, but Richard and I have decided to spend the night in. He has a parade early tomorrow morning.”

“Of course!” said Elizabeth. “Shall I call for tea?”

“Certainly,” said Hildie, advancing into the room and shutting the door behind her, “though it is my fifth cup today! I had hoped to have a little girl’s talk with you.”

Lizzy was not sure what a little girl’s talk might be, but she had an alarming feeling that it might concern matrimonial relations—a topic she was not sure she could discuss even with Jane. Her misgivings proved accurate. When Clara withdrew upon bringing the tea tray, Hildie launched into a comical rendition of her honeymoon. While not going too far into specifics, this story contained far more personal information than Elizabeth had wished to know of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Apparently, Hildie had once treated the colonel for saddle-sores in a rather private place and had furthermore discovered his rump to be just as firm as medical inspection had initially suggested. Lizzy hid her blushes behind her teacup and did her best to change the subject, but Hildie was determined to be heard. Even worse, Lizzy dreaded that her new cousin expected her to reciprocate. Although her interactions with her husband had mostly consisted of some passionate kisses and caresses in the mornings, Elizabeth was in no way prepared to discuss them nor divulge the more exhilarating experience of the plunge pool, though her mind could not help thinking of it with everything in Hildie’s speech that struck a chord. As the coup de grâce, Hildie related the jolly good time she had had consummating her marriage in a rocking carriage somewhere past Wembley.

“The superior position for a lady takes so much of the hard work out of lovemaking for a gentleman,” giggled Hildie, “that I wonder they do not demand it more often. It just goes to show how much they like being in control!”

Before Elizabeth could think of a reply to this astonishing confidence, there was a brief knock and Georgie stepped into the room, fully arrayed in an elaborate pink ball gown that offset her rather mannish features charmingly.

“Well! That was quick!” goggled Hildie.

“Yes! Povey is a marvel! I was hoping I could join you for tea before we had to depart. It is too long since we three have sat down together!”

Thankfully Georgie’s presence restored decorum to the conversation. The topic of the honeymoon was continued via a more sanitized version that focussed on the pleasant Jacobean house that the married couple had occupied and the beauty of the estate. Before the ladies could embark on another topic, the clock struck the hour and Georgie reluctantly departed to meet her aunt at Matlock House, taking Brunhilda with her.

As she stepped beneath the lintel, Hildie gave a parting wave to Elizabeth, raising one eyebrow, “I hope to continue our conversation soon, Cousin Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth was heartily glad she had been temporarily spared its continuance and hoped to avoid any recrudescence in the future. Tucking her legs up under her in the window seat, she tried to return to her book, but it could not hold her attention. It occurred to Elizabeth that rather than merely exercising that lady’s histrionic abilities in lewd comedy, Hildie’s speech might have had a hidden purpose. Recalling Hildie’s kind heart, she began to think this increasingly likely as the evening progressed.

At dinner, Darcy failed to immediately notice his wife’s distraction, being wholly given over to mathematical thinking following Calhoun’s visit. He occasionally put down his cutlery to expound on some point and even went so far as to shovel salt from the salt cellar onto the tablecloth so that he might write in it for Elizabeth’s illumination. Mrs Flowers frowned at the mess when she came in to clear the plates. Pushing Darcy’s wheeled chair out of the dining room, Elizabeth noticed the housekeeper throw some of the spilt salt over her shoulder onto the carpet and promptly order Clara to sweep it up.

After parting with Darcy in the vestibule where Finn was waiting for Hobbes to assist him carrying the master upstairs, Lizzy ascended before him so that Fairbanks could start on her toilette. Thus, she managed to arrive in Darcy’s bedchamber soon after her husband retired to bed. She immediately noticed the addition of the new striped bed hangings in coral and cream that matched the upholstered bedhead.

“I see Finn has been busy.”

“He claims the hangings are the colour of women’s lips, but if my memory serves me correctly, I think he has been reading too much Petrarch. I seem to recall that your lips are the colour of cherries.”

Lizzy smiled at these uncharacteristically flowery words issuing from her husband’s lips as she climbed into bed beside Darcy.

“I would describe the colour of the hangings more as coral—not the deep red variety but the paler colour that is somewhere between puce and orange. But of course, you know the colour of the counterpane because you had it before you left for the Continent. Oh! And Finn has added new candle sconces to the wall above the bedhead.”

“So now we have some privacy and nor will you have to grope around in the dark.”

Elizabeth wondered if Darcy was teasing her provocatively. “How thoughtful of him. Though I hope these curtains are heavy, as I would not like to be lit up like a shadow play.”

Darcy smiled, “I had the same thought myself. Finn assures me the curtains are lined.”

After fluffing her pillow, Elizabeth snuggled up to her husband’s back. He was very hot and Elizabeth knew well enough by now that usually meant he was feeling amorous. Feeling more than a little naive and foolish for spurning Hildie’s kindly meant advice, for Elizabeth could see it as such with the benefit of hindsight, Elizabeth stroked Darcy’s bicep tentatively through his nightshirt.

Taking a deep breath, she found the courage to broach the subject.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes?”

“I was under the mistaken impression that ladies had to lie on their backs and, well... Would it help if I got on top?” she asked.

There was silence for a moment when Elizabeth thought she might have offended her husband until a soft, “That would be nice,” escaped his lips.

Claiming the hand on his arm, Darcy turned over to face her and brought his other hand to her cheek. “I did not like to ask so early in our marriage, lest I wound your sensibilities, but, yes, I think that might work. Have you been talking to your aunt or did you perhaps find the books in the study?”

“Are there books of that sort in the study?”

“Well, yes, there are. My father gave them to me when I went up to Cambridge.”