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The princess had been swept up in a whirlwind of social events arranged by the countess to herald Brunhilda’s upcoming marriage to her son, the viscount. In the course of these events over the past two weeks, Brunhilda had become fast friends with Miss Darcy. To the countess’s eye it was a fortuitous pairing of opposites—her shy niece really came out of her shell in the presence of the outgoing Brunhilda. Being rather high in the instep, the countess had despaired of finding an eligible suitor amongst the Ton for her niece, who, as well as being painfully shy, had the additional handicap of lacking a title. Of course, she knew she would be beating off the mercenary upstarts and desperate reprobates, never reflecting for a moment that her elder son was one of the latter. Just as surely, she realised that a foreign princess would lend Georgiana consequence. But she had been happily surprised to find that Brunhilda had also magically imbued Georgie with countenance. The countess’s task as Georgie’s patroness suddenly became so much easier.

Well aware of the duty she owed her new family in participating in these events, the princess had happily complied with the hectic schedule the countess arranged for her; even when the countess failed to get out of bed early enough to accompany her and Miss Darcy on their morning visits. Lady Matlock was more of a night person who favoured balls. On the surface, the countess and the earl could not have been nicer to Hildie, although one did not have to look too hard to see that they were both shallow and selfish people underneath. Nonetheless, the princess’s rank ensured she was generally surrounded by such people, and she was comfortable in their company.

But in Miss Darcy, she soon found a person close to her own heart, which was a big one. Everything about Georgie was sincere and genuine. Their first meeting had not been auspicious, having to break the news about her brother’s illness and terrible infirmity. The genuine affection—nay, love—that Georgie had for her brother reminded Brunhilda of the close bond she had shared with her father. Indeed, the parallels between their lives, particularly the loss of their mother and father in succession, made Brunhilda view Georgie as a younger version of herself, however improbable that comparison might have appeared to an outside observer. In short, Brunhilda was very ready to mother Georgie, but seeing she had plenty of condescending advice from the countess already, Hilda decided instead that Miss Darcy would be her honorary little sister.

Hilda had demurred when Georgie initially invited her to the Darcy townhouse, wishing to give her brother time to recover after his harrowing journey from Vienna. But as they wended their way home from their latest round of morning calls, Miss Darcy asked a third time for Hildie to come inside to meet her brother’s new ‘companion’.

Assured Miss Gardiner was a delightful lady, Hildie recalled Saint Peter and agreed on the proviso she would not be inconveniencing Mr Darcy.

“But,” she added laughingly, “just what does Miss Gardiner do for your brother? Is she a nurse?”

“No, she reads to him. She can even read in Latin and Greek!”

“Then perhaps you had better call her his ‘reader’, or better still, his ‘lectrice’, since everything French is so admired here—lest people get the wrong idea.”

“Oh, yes!” replied Georgie, not quite understanding. “That sounds very good! But I must enlist your help with something else...”

“Do tell.”

“My brother is planning to replace Miss Gardiner with a fellow from Oxford. I am sure he will be odious and boring. Please help me convince him to let her stay. This other fellow may be able to do mathematics but once he ensconces himself with my brother, they will just retreat into their own little world. It has been so nice since Brother came back from Vienna. I have finally been able to talk to him as a friend!”

This statement somewhat took Brunhilda back, sounding a little selfish. But knowing Georgie’s good heart, Hilda smiled and put the best possible construction on it, concluding that every cloud has a silver lining. If Mr Darcy’s illness had brought a brother and sister closer, surely some good had come of it?

“Besides, Miss Gardiner takes tea with me,” continued Georgie. “So, in a way I have gained two friends. No! three, counting you. It is so nice!”

Thus, after having mounted the steps of the townhouse, the ladies arrived at the front door. Farley was finally able to fully appreciate the viscount’s betrothed. He was truly awestruck. As she entered the vestibule, Brunhilda had to duck to prevent her bonnet hitting the lintel, as if she was exiting a carriage. After taking the princess’s hat and pelisse, Farley threw open the double doors to the saloon before hurrying off to order tea. In doing so, he felt impelled to describe the princess to Mrs Flowers. Why, he imagined that Boadicea in her chariot could not have been more magnificent!

Mrs Flowers, however, was not so easily convinced, despite her knowledge that Farley had only ever deviated from the truth in the interests of his master. She insisted on ascending from her domain with the tea tray to ascertain the veracity of the head footman’s pronouncements.

Having got the ladies settled, she departed with Farley, leaving Clara to attend to their immediate needs.

“Well?” asked Farley as he accompanied the housekeeper back downstairs.

As they paused on the first landing, an uncharacteristically mischievous smile broke over Mrs Flowers’ face before she composed herself. “She seems like a perfectly nice lady.”

Then dropping her voice to a whisper: “But I hope she has a temper. I hope she throws the viscount out a window. She seems certainly up to doing it!”

Satisfied, Farley gave a chuckle and returned to wait on Miss Darcy, who was in the midst of a spirited conversation with the other two ladies when he returned to the saloon. He was glad to see Miss Georgie happy and so relieved that the master had decided not to go ahead with his plans to set her up in her own establishment now she had graduated from the schoolroom. In Farley’s opinion, families should stick together. He knew Mr Darcy had been motivated in his project by the impropriety of an unmarried brother and sister living alone, particularly once Mrs Annesley had departed. But the master’s illness had precluded him from forwarding his plan on his return from the Continent as he had intended, and Darcy’s continued infirmity had likewise dissuaded him of the necessity of it. Farley could only remember with fondness what a happy place the Darcy townhouse had been before Mrs Darcy’s death shortly after Miss Georgie’s birth.

After a very pleasant afternoon tea, Hilda got up to leave, telling Farley not to bother with the carriage—she would walk across the square. This, however, Farley was by no means ready to comply with, as he knew what was due to a princess. When he explained that Miss Gardiner needed to be driven home, Hilda consented to accompany her as far as the opposite side of the square to satisfy the head footman’s notions of propriety.

Preoccupied with tending to the ladies, Farley did not get round to asking Miss Gardiner about the letter before she departed. He first needed to look up the name of the gentleman who had called in his card index. But Farley did have enough presence of mind to slip Miss Gardiner a small purse containing her first week’s wages while handing her her bonnet. The momentary embarrassment Elizabeth felt upon receiving her first pay was covered by the confusion of her leave-taking. When she managed a graceful “Thank you, Farley” as he settled her pelisse on her shoulders, they both knew it was for more than simply helping her with her coat.

After Princess Brunhilda descended from the coach at Matlock House, Elizabeth waved goodbye and settled back into the upholstery to review her day. On the whole she was sanguine to have been of use to Mr Darcy in discovering the alterations to the townhouses, despite the hullabaloo that had occurred as a result of it. She was impressed with how well organised and decisive he was. She could see of how much use he must have been in advising Mr Bingley about Netherfield, particularly when that gentleman had no experience in running an estate. It was a pity that Mr Darcy was so circumscribed in what he could now do. So much wasted talent! And there was little she could do to ameliorate the problem. She could hardly read a ledger or describe a plan to him—how tedious that would be!

With Mr Finn’s contrivance, she had borrowed the plans of the townhouses overnight so that she could familiarise herself better with them and so aid Mr Darcy as best as she might in the short time left to her before leaving his service. She did not want to think too much on that, but she would have to ask for references to seek her next position—one from the colonel, definitely; and yes, she would have to also ask for one from Mr Darcy, regardless of how lowering that would be. It was thus important to be of the utmost service to him—or so Elizabeth rationalised her growing obsession to help Mr Darcy. As they drove along, she began imagining how she might have better described the differences in the townhouse plans if Mr Stewart had not been present, when she sat bolt upright and exclaimed: “I know!”

Clara jumped.

“Sorry, Clara!” Elizabeth laughed, “but I just had a wonderful idea! Can you knock on the partition? I would like to be dropped off at Covent Garden instead of Gracechurch Street.”

The carriage duly detoured to Covent Garden, but when Elizabeth attempted to alight, saying she would take a hackney home, Clara and Mr Darcy’s coachman would not be a party to it. After a quick discussion, it was agreed that Clara would accompany Elizabeth into the market while the coach waited. Elizabeth was a little worried that she was wasting everyone’s time. She would have greatly preferred to waste only her own. She had not been to Covent Garden many times and had no idea whether the man she was looking for was a permanent stallholder or only came to the market occasionally. But when she wended her way through the crowds to the place that she had seen him last, Lizzy was relieved to find his stall where she had remembered it. His sign proclaimed him to be Jacques Petit—a maker of fine dollhouses. His centrepiece, which had fascinated her, was a scale model of St Paul’s Cathedral. Elizabeth remembered his claim that he had measured the original exactly with string.

Pulling the plans from their leather holder, Elizabeth explained her problem to the craftsman. Could he make a scale model? How quickly? She needed to pick up the plans tomorrow morning. Yes, he could copy the plans overnight. The model would take at least another day, depending on how much detail she required, but he had much experience and would be speedy. The price was discussed; a guinea extracted from Elizabeth’s purse as down payment, and she promised to return in the morning. Buoyed by enthusiasm, Elizabeth returned to the carriage and began to think how else she might be of use to Mr Darcy.

Upon the princess and Miss Gardiner taking their leave, Farley was finally able to consult his card index. Given his accurate remembrance of the date of ejection of the person in question from the townhouse, it was an easy matter to extract the correct business card. On the reverse, Farley found his handwritten note that the gentleman should be readmitted if he returned, provided that the earl was not present. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that the surname of the gentleman in question was ‘Gardiner’, just like Miss Frances. They both spelt it with an ‘i’ too, which was certainly less common than the usual ‘e’. Curious, he retrieved the papers sent from Jukes and Jackson with Miss Gardiner but immediately saw that her address was in Gracechurch Street, whereas Mr Gardiner was in Southwark. Still, it was possible that they were related. Farley resolved to ask Miss Gardiner on the morrow.

In the morning, the Darcy coach once more stopped outside Covent Garden on the trip from Cheapside while Elizabeth ventured inside with Clara to retrieve the townhouse plans. She was gratified to discover that not only had Mr Petit copied the plans overnight, he had already built the basements of the townhouse model.