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Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for Mr Bingley’s answer.

“Indeed,” replied Bingley, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to be a bit more judicious in my choices.”

“So, you have decided against Miss Jane Bennet?”

“Oh, Darcy! She’s a very nice girl but Caroline is right—if I marry an heiress with connections, I won’t continually have to be soliciting money to expand and improve my business.”

Elizabeth ground her teeth. She eyed the open door of the dressing room with longing, impatient to be away.

The chair scraped as Bingley stood up.

“Darce, do you mind if I take a leak? I’m afraid that tankard I had in St Albans is rather filling my breeches.”

Elizabeth knew the chamber pot was kept in a commode under the window. A tinkle on china confirmed that Mr Bingley was engaged.

“There are two banker’s daughters coming out this season...,” continued Bingley.

Hearing his voice directed against the wall, Elizabeth carefully slid out from underneath the bed. Crouching, she fled to the safety of the dressing room. Closing the door softly behind her, she glanced around quickly, afraid that Mr Finn might challenge her, but the dressing room was empty. Inside, she quickly spotted the other door leading to the hall. After brushing down her dress, she was leaning her ear against the door to ascertain if the hall was clear when it opened suddenly and she almost fell into Mr Darcy’s valet.

To her relief, he merely raised his eyebrows.

“I dare say you are wondering what I am doing here?” she whispered.

“I gather you are not counting Mr Darcy’s cravats?” whispered Finn in return.

“That man, Mr Bingley—I have no wish to meet him,” Lizzy said, quite unnecessarily. “Do you think it would be possible for me to continue my work in the saloon for the duration of his visit?”

Without demur, Finn helped Lizzy carry the blotter, standish and ‘reply’ basket downstairs to Darcy’s study instead. It was a beautiful room that served also as a library, much larger than its equivalent at Longbourn.

After helping to arrange things on the desk, Finn paused.

“If it is any consolation,” he offered, “I do not like that bourgeois either. Would it be impertinent for me to ask the reason for your avoidance of him?”

“He courted my sister informally,” said Elizabeth, quite truthfully, “and we had every reason to suspect he would soon declare himself openly. But he left without warning, leaving my sister heartbroken.”

She added, quite truthfully, given his recent disclosure. “I do not think I could be civil to him.” In truth, Lizzy would have previously welcomed Mr Bingley back with open arms if his return brought Jane happiness. But he seemed to have abandoned her sister. If Elizabeth encountered him by chance now, she would be torn between her indignation for Jane and a fervent wish that he might yet relent and make her sister happy.

As Elizabeth’s words were consistent with what Finn knew of Mr Bingley’s reputation, he nodded sympathetically and went off.

Finally alone, Elizabeth would dearly have loved to retrieve her uncle’s letter from her pocket, but between getting on with her work and knowing that the contents of the letter would likely overset her, she refrained from doing so. An hour later, Elizabeth heard Finn and Farley politely but firmly ejecting Mr Bingley so the master could take his rest. She continued writing, assured that Mr Finn would retrieve her when she was wanted again.

She was around halfway through the pile when Miss Darcy came into the study around three. Having just returned from her morning calls, Georgie sat down to take tea briefly with Elizabeth before going upstairs, declaring her intention to drop in on her brother before dressing for Lady Montagu’s soirée.

After Georgie left, Elizabeth got up to stretch her legs, admiring the hand-tooled covers of the books of Mr Darcy’s library. She worked quietly for the rest of the afternoon, finishing the replies to the pile of correspondence. Apparently, Mr Darcy was too tired after Mr Bingley’s visit to even listen to a novel. Around four, Farley announced the carriage was ready, at her convenience. Replying to the last two invitations, Elizabeth cleaned the writing implements and set them aside.

Her first full day in Mr Darcy’s employment had been so eventful that Elizabeth was not sure if her heart could stand such another. It was with great relief that she climbed into the carriage for the trip home. Her uncle’s letter seemed to burn a hole in her pocket all the way to Cheapside. But conscious of Clara’s presence, she left it alone and thought sadly instead of Jane, whose continuing hope that Mr Bingley might return to claim her seemed hopelessly optimistic.

On reaching home, Elizabeth bravely spoke of her ‘pleasant’ day in which she read correspondence, wrote letters in reply and had afternoon tea with the colonel’s cousin. Of disappointed hopes or crawling underneath beds to avoid unpleasant acquaintances, nothing was said.

Elizabeth finally found herself alone after dinner. Quietly extracting her uncle’s letter from her pocket in the solitude of her bedchamber, she opened it and reread the first paragraph before continuing.

Dear Mr Darcy,

Please accept my sincere apologies for any misunderstanding that might have occurred during our interview last Monday. I merely had the best interests of my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, at heart. As I apprised you, rumours regarding yourself and my niece, quite ruinous to her reputation, have been circulating since the incident at the Netherfield ball.

After speaking to you, I am reassured that there were no amorous intentions on your part, but I do think it unfortunate that your friend chose to include the waltz at his ball. This dance is not performed at the Meryton Assemblies and its inclusion at the ball has drawn the censure of many important villagers including Reverend Elton, the vicar of Meryton.

In retrospect, I appreciate your station in life is much higher than I had been led to believe, your mother being the daughter of an earl. As the daughter of a country squire and a truly worthy lady, Elizabeth is a fit mate for almost any gentleman in the country, though not, perhaps, for a person so closely related to the peerage.