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"You're to survive Lady Catherine. Flattering her fireplace décor is your best strategy."

I am to flatter a fireplace.

Rosings proved to be exactly as ostentatious as Elizabeth expected: imposing architecture, manicured grounds, an overwhelming display of wealth designed to intimidate peasants. Inside, Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat in state like a queen granting audience.

Lady Catherine occupied her chair as though she owned every other chair in the room. Elizabeth recognized her from the borrowed story, but the description had not prepared her for being examined before she had finished her curtsy.

"So you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Lady Catherine declared. "I have heard of you from Mr. Collins. He mentioned your... spirited nature."

Elizabeth glanced at Charlotte before answering. Her friend would have to live with whatever impression she made here.

"He is too kind, your ladyship."

"Hmm. And what accomplishments do you possess? Do you draw? Play the pianoforte? Speak Italian? All young ladies should have accomplishments. I have told Mr. Darcy that Anne would have been very accomplished if her health had allowed it."

"I play the pianoforte a little, your ladyship."

"Only a little? At your age? And do you sing?"

"Yes, your ladyship."

"And your sisters? Are they also out in society?"

"Yes, ma'am. All of them."

Lady Catherine looked scandalized. "All of them? All five of them out at once? The younger ones before the elder are married? Your mother must be quite... permissive." Elizabeth opened her mouth to defend her family, but...

The doors opened. Darcy walked in, and Elizabeth forgot what she was going to say.

There were dark circles under his eyes. He had neglected to straighten one cuff. His eyes met hers across the room with an expression that clearly communicated I have been enduring this for weeks. Save me.

She had to study the carpet until she could trust her face.

"Fitzwilliam!" Lady Catherine barked. "There you are! Come, greet our guests. This is Mrs. Collins and her friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Hertfordshire."

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said with exquisite formality. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Elizabeth couldn't resist. "Is it? I find the narrative has quite predictable tastes in reunions."

His lips twitched. "Indeed. I am becoming familiar with its preferences."

"You are acquainted?" Lady Catherine's eyes sharpened.

"We met in Hertfordshire," Darcy said smoothly. "Miss Elizabeth is the sister of Mr. Bingley's intended."

"Intended? Has Charles Bingley made an offer?"

"Not as yet. But the narrative—" Darcy caught himself. "—natural affection requires it. Mr. Bingley is quite devoted to Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth had to fake a coughing fit to hide her laughter. He'd said "narrative" in front of an unaware character. They would need to be more careful. Or less careful. That could be fun too.

The visit proceeded with all the awkwardness of a mandatory social occasion. Lady Catherine dominated the conversation with the confidence of someone who'd never been told "no." Mr. Collins fawned over her every word like a devoted disciple. Charlotte maintained serene pragmatism.

And Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged increasingly desperate glances across the room. Lady Catherine was describing (in excruciating detail) the proper number of dessert forks required for a formal dinner.

Darcy reached for his glass, found it empty, and set it down without interrupting his aunt. Elizabeth moved the water jug within his reach when the servant passed. He thanked her with a look of such disproportionate gratitude that she had to examine her gloves for some time.

She could imagine his complaints. She would ask him afterward how many of them concerned dessert forks.