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Having not been enthusiastic about having a reader in the first place, Darcy might have been expected to let Miss Gardiner go on her way. But the fact that she had offered to do so willingly set up his back.

“Take herself off? Is she dissatisfied with the pay?”

“Not at all. We have not even discussed it. She was merely eager to obtain her first position and thought she put herself forward when perhaps she should not have. Should I let her go or not?”

“By no means! I must admit I was a little churlish today. Please make my apologies. If she will stay, I promise to make better use of her tomorrow.”

“Very well. I will try to convince her to stay. She has a footman. Should I send her on her way in a hackney?”

“By no means, call for the carriage and please arrange for it to pick her up in the morning.”

Elizabeth was duly delivered to Cheapside in the Darcy carriage with Mick standing up behind. She was welcomed home with congratulations on her success by her aunt, although Mrs Gardiner had mixed feelings about her niece’s employment. More familiar with the importance of connections over merit in obtaining a position, one part of her had prayed that Lizzy might not be successful in finding a job. Indeed, she had hoped that after a repairing lease in London bolstered by a few visits with her sister, Elizabeth might have been convinced to return to Longbourn. It had been unfortunate that Jane could not be spared from the Garths’ household at Christmas. Jane’s brief return to Longbourn for the festive season might have set up both the elder Bennet sisters for the new year. Instead, they had only been reunited in London. After the initial outpouring of emotions, their company over the last two Sundays had been balm to both sisters.

Over dinner, Elizabeth was forced to engage in further subterfuge to avoid telling her uncle that her employer was Mr Darcy. Once again did she rue her mother’s managing ways. Assuring herself it would all be history in a fortnight, Lizzy merely related that she had been engaged temporarily by a Colonel Fitzwilliam to read to a sick member of his family. She might have been more cautious about this selective use of facts had she known that her uncle was familiar with the names of Mr Darcy’s relatives, having consulted the peerage after his trip to Mayfair, but she was blithely unaware of her uncle’s visit to Mr Darcy’s home. As for Mr Gardiner, that embarrassing episode, which he fervently wished to forget, had occurred ten weeks ago and the name that had stuck in his head was the Earl of Matlock, so he did not make the connection.

The next morning, the Darcy carriage arrived in Gracechurch Street, as promised, at nine. Mr Gardiner, who had delayed his departure to the warehouse to assure himself of his niece’s welfare, was relieved to see that Colonel Fitzwilliam had had the forethought to send a maid. This freed him from the obligation of sending a footman to accompany Elizabeth. Mick’s presence had been sorely missed at the warehouse yesterday, and even his abbreviated absence to transport Elizabeth to and from Mayfair in the coming days would have been a burden to Mr Gardiner once his next ship docked, as was expected imminently. Having only caught a glimpse of the sleek black carriage as it departed on the previous day, Mrs Gardiner quietly commented to her husband on its restrained luxury as Elizabeth climbed in and waved goodbye.

“It is as fine as any peer’s carriage I have seen,” she remarked, noting the absence of any escutcheon on the door.

“Well, with the Mayfair address, it seems hardly surprising,” returned Mr Gardiner, already scheduling his own day in his head.

Although Mrs Gardiner made a noise of acquiescence, her mind was appreciating the colonel’s black liveried servants and the black hammercloth, which might have suggested the owner was in mourning, had it not been for its unobtrusive gilt edging. On the whole, the equipage exuded taste, refinement and wealth. She resolved to make some enquiries about the colonel.

On arriving at the Darcy townhouse, Elizabeth changed into a pair of silk slippers she had brought with her before being ushered into Mr Darcy’s bedchamber, accompanied by Clara. Lizzy found the patient propped up in bed, ready for her arrival, wearing a pair of rose-tinted glasses. The chinoiserie banyan he had worn yesterday was replaced by a black silk brocade dressing gown, a colour that seemed to emphasise his cheekbones.

“Good morning, Miss Gardiner,” said Darcy, almost as if he could see her. “I was hoping we could begin today by going through the backlog of my mail.”

On saying so, he gestured in the direction of a basket on the floor, which had been placed beside a chair.

“Good grief!” exclaimed Elizabeth after appreciating the volume of letters inside. “There must be a whole year’s worth of correspondence in there!”

“That,” said Darcy, “is the last ten weeks’ minus the more important items, which Finn has already attended to.”

Finn, who had been hovering in the background, now came forward. “I brought two more baskets, Miss Gardiner: one for discards—invitations which are already out of date and flyers; and the other for items that require a reply. As we will need to get Mr Darcy up often for his therapy, I thought you could attend to the replies while he is taking his exercise. If you are in agreement, I will have a small secretaire moved onto the landing. The light is good there.”

“Oh! Yes! Thank you!” replied Elizabeth, taking her seat and picking up the nested baskets as Finn went off, presumably to order the placement of the furniture.

Arranging the two empty baskets at her feet, Elizabeth began sorting the correspondence aloud. “Invitation to a December Royal Society meeting—discard; flyer for a patent closed stove—discard; invitation to Lady Sefton’s ball next week—decline?; invitation to Lady Jersey’s Twelfth Night Masquerade, past—discard; ...”

“You had better reply to that one with my apologies—anything from the peerage and... Mrs Drummond-Burrell. It would not do to upset her when Georgie is coming out.”

“One of the patronesses of Almack’s?” asked Elizabeth. “Surely Georgie already has the entrée?”

“Yes, she does. But that would not stop Mrs D doing something petty if I slighted her.”

“Reply...,” amended Elizabeth, tossing it into the appropriate basket and picking up the next missive. “A quote from Mr Peebles for eight front doors in oak, decorated.”

“Ah! Those are for the townhouses. Finn has brought up the file for them. I think he put it next to the nightstand. File it under ‘d’ for door.”

Sorting of the mail took all morning. During the occasional breaks when Farley arrived to help with Mr Darcy’s exercise, Elizabeth removed herself to the landing where she transferred the contents of the ‘reply’ basket to the desk and began the task of addressing them, one by one. Sitting down at the secretaire, she was charmed by its elegant design. As she dipped her quill into the silver standish and glanced up occasionally to appreciate the refulgent light from the mullioned window, Elizabeth thought she could quite enjoy being Mr Darcy’s secretary, despite the tedium of replying to all this largely inconsequential correspondence. She could only wonder that Mr Darcy had never previously employed a secretary to deal with it. Occasionally, the bumping and scraping of furniture that emanated from inside the bedchamber made Elizabeth wonder just what Mr Darcy’s exercise consisted of. With a wry grin, she imagined him deconstructing his four-poster bed.

It was on her third return to Darcy’s bedchamber, when she could see the bottom of the basket in sight, that her hand alighted on a letter that she quickly unsealed.

“A letter from Mr Ga...,” she stumbled, as she appreciated the familiarity of the handwriting and the sender’s direction above the seal. Opening it, she scanned the first lines. Her eyes opened wide. Within a blink she corrected herself. “Garamond—peddling yet another closed stove. They are rather popular at the moment, aren’t they?”

It did not escape Darcy’s notice that the pitch of Miss Gardiner’s voice had gone up with her last utterance. This seemed to find some resonance with him, but he attributed it merely to her jovial mood and replied in kind.

“Yes, they are out of luck because Mrs Flowers already has one and Mrs Reynolds is dead set against them!”