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She felt the flush returning to her neck.

"It is always a pleasure to converse with an educated lady. I hope we will have more time to talk during my visit."

"Yes, well, we shall see," mumbled Kate into her roll.

"Right, enough of all that nonsense," said her mother brightly, clapping her hands together. "Today is the day! Today is the day of Elizabeth Darcy's grand, amazing, wonderful, devilishly difficult birthday treasure hunt!"

"That is rather a long name, Mama," said Mina, her attention having been dragged away from her drawing. "If you wish me to make a banner, you should have told me weeks ago. It will take me forever to paint it up."

"We need no banner, dearest, just willing participants." Elizabeth looked around the table with an expression of quite alarming enthusiasm. "Are we all ready for my devilishly tricky treasure hunt?"

"I am not certain I am," said Darcy, taking his seat beside her. "I have been married to you for more than twenty years, my love, and experience has taught me to be very suspicious of your grand plans."

"That is because I have spent the last decades teaching you to have fun, darling."

"It is my burden to carry," he said with a laugh.

"And you do it so beautifully," said Elizabeth, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Darcy caught her hand before she could withdraw it and brought it to his lips. "Only for you, my love."

"Enough of that nonsense, you two," said her Uncle Charles jovially. "Tell us about this treasure hunt. I cannot wait! Henry is most excited and has promised to be on my team, although I am not quite sure whether that will be a help or a hindrance."

"Oh, a hindrance," said her mama. "Most certainly a hindrance. There will be a series of clues for each team to solve, culminating in a final clue which will lead to the grand prize. The first team to find the prize will be awarded it and declared the winner. I feel we must have some paper crowns or some such for those lucky people to wear at the birthday dinner tonight, too. It promises to be a splendid day, and I am sure we shall have lots of fun! Now, I thought teams of four would work, and I don't think we need to count little William as a full member."

George held his hands over the toddler's ears. "You will offend him, madam! He is a most precocious baby and excellent at solving clues."

Her mother laughed and held up her hands. "I stand corrected! So, teams of four. I will arrange them properly when everyone is down, but for the moment, William, I know you said you wished to be with Kate, so that is two. Mina, would you like to join your father's team?"

"That sounds agreeable, Mama," said Mina, already drawn back into her artwork.

"So that leaves one more, and Mr Briar, you are in the right place at just the right time! How would you like to join the Darcy family team?"

He held a hand to his chest and gave a solemn bow. "I would be honoured, madam." He then turned to Kate. "I can already see that it boasts some fine minds."

Kate wrinkled her nose. She did not wish to spend the whole day with this vexing man who was able to discompose her so completely, but her mother had already turned away and begun to arrange the other guests.

"It looks like you are stuck with me, Miss Darcy," he said in an undertone, and she could not but agree with the sentiment.

Chapter Four

Nathaniel stood at the window of his guest chamber and looked out over Pemberley’s grounds. The landscape was much wilder than the carefully manicured grounds at Syndham Hall. There, his father’s obsession with tightly clipped hedges and elaborate topiary had produced gardens that felt more like a structural diagram than a place of pleasure. Nature had not so much been tamed as beaten into submission. Here, although the harsher edges of the landscape had been softened to create attractive gardens, there was still a wildness to the whole aspect that made it feel perfectly at home against the rugged peaks stretching across the horizon. Then there were the people. Nathaniel had never seen a family so entirely at ease with one another. So ready to show affection for each other. At Syndham Hall, his parents and younger brothers only ever broke through the chilly formality long enough to stab one another in the back.

The thought of his family seat brought an unexpected tightness to his chest. It was a strange feeling, not to feel at home in one's own home, and something he rarely allowed himself to ponder upon. He had not been to Syndham for three years. He was always happier moving about the world, exploring every corner he could reasonably reach, whether by sea, by carriage or donkey, or on his own two feet with a pack heavy on his back. Even when in England, he shuffled between friends and acquaintances, unwilling to turn his eyes towards the austere grey walls of the place where he had grown up.

That was his overwhelming memory of childhood. Greyness. A lack of colour not only in the surroundings of the sixteenth-century mausoleum that was the manor house, but in the people who inhabited it. His mother wore various unflattering shades of mauve and slate, and always had an expression of distant hauteur, while his father moved around the house like a disapproving wraith, only leaving his study for silent mealtimes. Even his younger brothers seemed to have absorbed the prevailing gloom, although in their case it manifested itself in cruel pranks and petty humiliations. There had been little laughter at Syndham Hall, and what there was had always come at somebody else's expense. Nathaniel had spent much of his boyhood wondering whether every family lived like this, and was pleased that most of the people he encountered had at least a little joy and light inside their homes.

But nowhere had he experienced the unfettered affection that infused Pemberley. The family were so at ease, so artlessly warm and welcoming. He had vowed never to be like his parents. He had embraced colour and life and experience with everything he had. But he sometimes felt like a man wearing a bright mask, able to interact with people with good humour and warmth but never quite understanding the experience of living in their world.

Even Kate Darcy, the slightly prickly and shy sister, was clearly at ease within the circle of her family. She was a puzzling young lady, not showy or flirtatious like many of the society misses he came into contact with. With those ladies he could pass the length of a dance or a call flirting gaily. He enjoyed the interactions, but they were no more than skin deep, a pleasant distraction. But Miss Catherine intrigued him. She had those wide watchful brown eyes a man could lose himself in. And when she was displeased, which she seemed to be whenever she was in his vicinity, her nose crinkled most becomingly. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those crinkles away and for that tight control to loosen. For those wide eyes to darken with pleasure… He shook his head violently to clear the thought. Where in Hades had that come from? He was at Pemberley to pass the time between two expeditions at the invitation of a friend, not to trail around after eligible young ladies. He had barely spoken to her and he was thinking of… well… of things he should not. He was clearly in a fanciful mood and was sorely in need of some fresh air to clear the cobwebs.

He checked his appearance in the mirror, tweaked his cravat and slipped on his signet ring. He was not a vain man, but he liked to look well in company and, most importantly, always to dress in a way that his parents would sorely disapprove of. Bright colours, fashionable cuts and enough frivolity to cause society matrons to crease their brows. Today, he had chosen a dark blue waistcoat shot through with fine silver thread. His valet, Herriot, a perfectionist to the point of obsession, always made sure his attire was immaculate. In polite company, at least. The conditions on an excavation rarely allowed for such heady considerations as fashion.

There, he was ready for Mrs Darcy's Grand Treasure Hunt, and if an antiquarian and excavator could not make a success of such an event, then, really, what was the point of him? He grinned at himself in the mirror, the grin that had eased his way into every type of society, from the coffee shops of Cairo to the drawing rooms of Grosvenor Square, and left to meet the rest of the party.

When Nathaniel stepped onto the large southern terrace, there were already several small knots of people standing around. He paused, looking over the crowd and wondering about his best plan of attack, when Colonel Fitzwilliam’s booming tones came from his right.

“Good man, Briar! How the devil are you this morning?”