Fitzwilliam Darcy calmly pasted the creamy butter from Bingley’s pantry onto his roll. “Mrs. Bingley, I shall properly apologize. I behaved in a wrong and uncustomary manner to your sister last night, and I shall make it right.”

Jane Bingley daintily wiped a crumb from her lips and smiled sweetly at him. “The behavior was unlike you.”

“My word! I’ll wager a guess! Darcy likes our Lizzy.” Bingley grinned like a mischievous child who had stolen a cookie and elbowed Darcy’s ribs.

Darcy glared back at his friend. Bingley’s chair scraped against the wooden floor as he pulled himself a half foot further away from Darcy, but he did not cease grinning impishly.

Jane tilted her head and looked at her husband.

Darcy’s mind painted a vivid portrait of him intimately close to Elizabeth Bennet, with her flashing eyes, laughing red lips, and yellow clad hips. The deuce. “You shall not push your sister upon me — even if she has nothing of the spinster’s look about her.”

“Nothing of the spinster about her yet.” Bingley laughed. “I have never been so entertained as when Mr. Lucas reported your attempt to apologize. Now I grasp why you never married.”

“I offended Miss Bennet but that deals no fatal injury to my chances if I wish to pursue her.”

There was a pause. Bingley put down the piece of ham he’d begun to lift with his fork and simply looked at Darcy. Delightedly smiling.

“I do not,” Darcy added, in an annoyed voice.

Damnation. There was nothing impressive about her. She had been rude to him, but she was a damned fine woman. If only her image would leave him alone.

It would be deuced uncomfortable if he was filled with lust for the hoyden when the Bennet family called on Netherfield in a half hour. “I confess, she is an impressive woman, and I desire to remove the insult I uncharacteristically uttered.”

“Impressive woman? Do I hear the parson’s mousetrap snapping shut? Is marriage nigh?” Bingley grinned with that irrepressible boyishness again and backed a bit further away, and pulled his silver plate piled with sausage and berry tarts with him.

Little Anne piped up from where she sat at the breakfast table on a chair with a big cushion so she could sit tall next to Georgiana. “Uncle Will will marry someone pretty, pretty, pretty.” She grinned childishly at Darcy and waved her pastry about, causing crumbs to fly over the dinner room.

“Not after your introduction.” Bingley added, “She’ll refuse you; she’s had her share of suitors. Maybe if you brag more about Pemberley…”

Georgiana grabbed Anne’s hand and firmly took the lemon pastry away from her and put it on the table. “Don’t wave your hands about so when you eat.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek and said, “Fitzwilliam, this story is most unlike you — I wish we were not meeting anyone. They all judge me, and I put you in an ill mood.”

It was like a kick in the stomach. He hated that Georgiana knew of his misbehavior because of Bingley’s thrilled amusement at how he’d mistreated Miss Bennet. And Georgiana was right about why he’d been in a poor mood, but she should never blame herself for it.

“Georgie…” Darcy put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. Their parents had never been physically demonstrative of affection, but he’d learned during the months of her pregnancy that fraternal touches could help to comfort Georgiana, so he made himself embrace her regularly. It was pleasant for him as well.

His sister’s smile was brittle.

Jane exclaimed, “Lizzy will not hold a grudge! And she will adore you too, my dear Georgie!”

Bingley leaned forward and patted Darcy’s arm. He whispered in a loud voice, “Don’t be sanguine — Lizzy can hold grudges.”

“Charles!” Jane poked her husband, who brightly poked her back.

A half hour later the children had been sent up to the nursery and the adults waited near the crackling fire for the Bennets to arrive and be ushered in. It was a particularly cold day, so they had decided not to wait outside for their guests, but to have everyone brought inside quickly so no unnecessary time would be spent in the freezing temperatures.

Darcy looked through the frost gathered on the windows. Darcy watched his sister with concern. She was always nervous when meeting new people. She sat stiffly on the yellow sofa in her blue dress, with a sort of trembling visible in the way her hair shook. But she noticed Darcy looking at her, and calmed and smiled at him. The drawing room had a pleasant smell from the burning pine wood and the few red and yellow flowers brought from the small hothouse Jane maintained.

He had failed his sister in many ways, but Darcy had made the right decision when she begged not to be made to marry. He could have protected his own reputation by selling his sister’s person, future, and fortune to a barely known man. It would have made him miserable.

Darcy had been happy these past years.

Georgiana and Anne kept the house full of laughter and sweetness. His habits had always been such that he did not enjoy parties and large gatherings overmuch, and the excuse that the neighborhood refused to acknowledge Georgiana had left him happily able to avoid such clumpings. He maintained an extensive correspondence with his friends; he hunted and fenced with his neighbors; and the three of them had traveled extensively on the continent after the peace came.

A clattering of carriage wheels sounded outside. Through the window Darcy saw the Bennets’ brightly colored carriage roll to a stop. Two horses pulled the chaise, one black with white markings on the face and the other a bay horse.

Bingley had told Darcy once that his father-in-law preferred to avoid expenses that merely served to enhance his consequence, instead putting the money towards a fund for his daughters’ dowries. Darcy approved of such thrift. If Bennet’s estate had been unentailed, the matter would have been different though.

Mr. Bennet left the carriage first. He wore a tall top hat and a tightly fitted grey coat whose tail flapped behind him. He first helped his wife out, a fine looking middle-aged woman whose coloring was similar to Jane’s, and then her.

Elizabeth Bennet looked as fetching in the distance in a heavy bundled coat as she had yesterday in the ballroom when a low-cut dress displayed her feminine attributes. Where did the fascination with watching her come from? It was the sway of the dress. Something about the sway. She wore a pretty yellow bonnet with a lace fringe which hid her hair, except a few black curls which fell around the edges of her face.

As if drawn by his gaze, Miss Bennet looked up at him. Their eyes met and there was a spark in his chest, and Darcy looked away, feeling disconcerted at having been caught staring.

He walked back to his armchair. His stomach was unsettled, and there was an odd awareness of where he placed his hands. Where should they go? He would not show any interest in this woman. He would not let anyone, even a dear friend, push a woman upon him.

Besides, she would dislike him after their argument the previous day. Darcy clung to that thought to calm his nerves.

The door opened and they all stood up. Bingley waved Mr. Bennet forward. “Bennet, my friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley; his sister Georgiana.”

Darcy shook hands with Mr. Bennet. He was a bald man with sparkling eyes and a sardonic grin. “An exquisite and abnormal pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Sleep was denied me for many hours last night by tales of your sayings. There were even weepings and tears.”

“I beg you to allow me to apologize to you, and your family for my—”

“None of that.” Mr. Bennet waved his hand. “Not to me. You captured Lizzy’s character perfectly. Without hearing her say a word — the usual manner with which a man judges a woman’s mind.”

“Papa.” Miss Bennet elbowed her father. “I confess to being provoking last night.”

She was provoking now. Darcy could not keep from looking at her. Such eyes. Such a face. There was a mole to the side of her nose, and her fine lips twisted in a delightful smile, and her dress was pulled in with a ribbon beneath the bosom that showed off her form.

After waiting for him to say more, Miss Bennet turned to Georgiana. “It delights me to meet you. I swear I shall not judge you by your brother’s discerning opinions upon my person and character. I shall judge you by Jane’s opinion of your character — high as the clouds.”

Georgiana shook her blond hair, and blushingly stammered out a reply. That had been the time when he should have apologized to Miss Bennet again.

“Come—” Miss Bennet drew her arm through Georgiana’s elbow. “Over there. We’ll sit on the sofa and properly acquaint ourselves. Leave men to manly nonsense.”

She walked away from him, again. Her hips clad in a dark pink dress made as compelling a sway this morning as they had the previous night.

Darcy realized he was staring at a young lady’s rear directly in front of her father, so he jerked his eyes away and said to Mr. Bennet, “I do not deserve such condescension, but I pray you will not judge me solely upon my words last night.”

“I’d expected a different sort of man than you appeared to be last night.”

“I was utterly dissimilar to myself.”

“Alas disappointment! If you behave in the mode of yesterday every day, I would derive great amusement.”

Darcy had been told that Mr. Bennet had a teasing, sardonic manner. “I would by no means curtail your pleasures. But I do not make a practice of insulting young gentlewomen.”

“Young? We know your real opinion. At my daughter’s age, her looks are a tender subject.”

Darcy’s face stiffened into an authoritative mask. He knew he was being made fun of. He deserved some punishment, but he despised that his own actions had turned him into an object of fun.

Mr. Bennet looked like a happy cat playing with a mouse. “Say something. What weepings and wailings I endured last night!”

Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet, who faced them, but all her focus was on Georgiana as she spoke quietly to his sister, who nodded as Miss Bennet spoke. Darcy did not believe she’d cried at all. He looked back at Mr. Bennet. “I ought never have allowed my ill temper to lead me to say such things to your daughter. I made an effort to apologize to her last night. I earnestly hope she was not very hurt.”

Mr. Bennet tilted his head. He yet gave the impression of a cat — but now the cat was curious. “A superb gentlemanly mask over your emotions. I cannot perceive if you feel terribly guilty or are secretly laughing.”

Such a question deserved no reply.

“Lizzy told me your apology — you explained she ought take no offense, as you are deeply attractive to women due to your substantial wealth and oversized pile in Derbyshire, and that you know she must be desperate for a husband since her charms will not last long. Incorrect. I assure you, my Lizzy shall always be charming.”

“Don’t be like that.” Bingley clapped his hands. “Darcy tried to apologize.”

“But did he sincerely wish to apologize?”

Bingley grinned. “Darcy, were you sincerely apologetic?”

Darcy had not been sincere then. He was not entirely sincere now. Miss Bennet probably was desperate for a husband at her age. He looked at the women again. Her white hands were waving about. Georgiana nodded eagerly as Miss Bennet spoke. There she was, trying to befriend Georgiana, no doubt to impress him.

“Well?” Mr. Bennet’s catlike smile was back.

“I…it was entirely my fault that I failed to apologize properly.”

Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows, making a pretense of being dissatisfied by Darcy’s half apology. However, Mr. Bennet radiated amusement. Ill-tempered irritation rose again, and Darcy took an extra second before speaking to rein it in, so he would speak evenly. “I was wrong to call Miss Bennet a spinster where she could hear. And I was impolitic when I defended myself, instead of admitting that I simply should not have said what I said. I can admit wrongdoing, and I will say nothing further on the subject.”

"Only should not have been said — you yet believe her old, mercenary, and desperate."

Darcy despised this sort of expectation of polite dishonesty. He did not know if Miss Bennet was desperate for a husband, but his was not an unreasonable guess.

“Far more delightful than the usual run of rich, arrogant gentlemen." Mr. Bennet grinned and rubbed his hands together with unalloyed amusement. "Lizzy noted that aright.”

“Now, Bennet,” Bingley looked uncomfortable, “Darcy apologized. This was sincere. No need for your teasing manner towards him.”

Both men looked at the youngest of the three.

“I forget — my son despises disputes.” Mr. Bennet extended his hand to Darcy. “Then, for my part, the apology is accepted. Pray, forgive my treatment of you. Elizabeth is a most beloved daughter.”

“I do sincerely hope she was not injured.”

Mr. Bennet smiled, less harshly. “Lizzy found nothing but amusement in what you said; thus no harm done.”

Darcy glanced at the women again. Miss Bennet was looking at him and their eyes met. She frankly looked at him with that mischievous twist to her lips and her dancing dark eyes. Darcy felt himself begin to flush and he turned away. He did not like being an object of amusement to her.

“Pray tell,” Mr. Bennet asked, “how do you stave off the horrors of boredom and the Byronic ennui which affect all cursed with any sense and born to too much wealth — besides bringing middle-aged ladies to tears.”

“Your daughter is not middle aged.”

Mr. Bennet glanced at the ladies. He did so quickly and lowered his voice, smirking slyly. “You brought my wife to tears with your aspersion on Lizzy’s looks.”

“I said nothing against your daughter’s appearance.” Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. Darcy quickly added, “She is an exceptionally attractive woman.”

“Who is excessively attractive?” Miss Bennet’s bell-like voice interrupted them.

Darcy flushed and looked down. Keep a grip upon yourself.

Bingley laughingly said, “You, my dear sister — he admires you, but still has the schoolroom belief that pulling a girl’s hair is the best way to show his admiration.”

“I do not!”

They all looked at him. Darcy realized he was becoming unsettled again by her presence and losing his usual firm control of himself. He’d secluded himself for so long, and avoided women. He was simply not used to being near a woman who attracted him.

“I shall assume that he meant he is not attracted to me, for it is clear he does think pulling a girl’s hair will attract her.” Miss Bennet laughed. “Had any of my vanity survived the previous night, it would be crushed by this. I have never had a man so sharply reject me twice. But I fortunately only have pride, not vanity.”

“Miss Bennet, I beg you to allow me to apologize to you once more. What I said the previous day absolutely should not have been said.”

“None of that! You still believe I am desperate for a husband. I empathize with your distaste of women, such as me, and every single other single lady, who have set their caps for you. I despise such polite niceties. You are an original and I quite prefer your open misogyny to polite nothings.”

“I must apologize, for I did not speak to you in a gentlemanly manner.”

“Fah! Gentlemanly manner— the most gentlemanly speaking man I ever saw was the worst.”

“You see,” Mr. Bennet said, “my Lizzy is herself an ‘original’. If you wish to court her, insulting her will go far better than pretty nothings.”

“I do not wish to court her!”

Miss Bennet looked at him frankly with her intense eyes. He flushed again, but this time refused to look away. The connection between their eyes roiled in his stomach. Their gazes lingered. Something changed in her eyes, and it was she who looked down with a reddening face. Darcy wanted to explain himself to her, to take back the expression of disinterest and to say something pretty to her.

Singular.

“Pray, tell true.” Miss Bennet sucked her crimson lip under her white teeth. “Is it because you believe us all mercenary that you have not married?” Her lower lip was moist from where her tongue had touched it.

Darcy could not gather himself to speak.

Bingley laughed. “He despises the company of women — you know my sister Caroline, ‘twas quite the joke the way she would chase him from room to room, and Darcy too polite to say he did not wish her company. But she was mercenary.”

“Unkind! Unkind to say that of your sister! And in front of an avowed misogynist!” Miss Bennet giggled. “The horror is I cannot defend her from the insult in good conscience.”

“I am not a misogynist.”

“But you despise the company of women?”

Miss Bennet’s challenging gaze was back. Darcy could not think when her eyes were turned on him. “No!” There was a pause. He thought Miss Bennet was suppressing another giggle. Darcy added, “My affection for my sister has led me to spend enormous time in her company.”

“Perhaps your love for your own blood overcomes your general distaste for the fair sex? Can you name any other woman who you have spent a great deal of time in the presence of.”

“My mother; my Aunt, Lady Catherine; and—”

“Lady Catherine? Of Rosings Park? If she were who I had to judge the gentler sex by, I would be a misogynist too. Not that I mean to insult your distinguished aunt to your face. But I just did, without intent.”

“I am not a misogynist.”

“Is there any woman who you have spent much time with who was not your near relative?”

Caroline Bingley had been the closest to such a woman. He had hated her.

“Aha!”

“That does not mean I hate women, I enjoy their company, much as any man.”

Her gaze was now frankly skeptical.

Mr. Bennet said in an amused tone, “One can enjoy the presence of women without thinking well of them.”

“I—” Darcy paused. “Miss Bennet, given the nature of this conversation, I hope it does not insult you if I turn the question around. Pray tell, why have you never married.”

“Mr. Darcy, an indelicate inquest! Your celebrated frankness returns!”

“Perchance you suffer from misandry?”

“Darcy — I do not know what you two are about,” Bingley exclaimed, “but Lizzy is in the best of health! No sickness ever about her.”

Everyone looked at him. Bingley pulled at his cravat and looked down. “Misandry is not an illness?”

Miss Bennet smiled, flashing her white teeth. “Your friend wished to know if I hate the male sex.”

“Of course!” Bingley laughed good humoredly. “No surprise you both know words I don’t.”

Bingley’s self-effacing expression made everyone laugh, and broke the tension of the argument. They all smiled at each other.

Darcy recollected a discussion perhaps five or six years previous where he could almost swear he remembered Bingley using misandry. It would be very like Bingley to make fun of himself to break up what he saw as a too aggressive dispute.

Miss Bennet extended her hand out to Darcy. He took her warm, delicate hand and shook it with a grip that lingered a little long before he let go.

She said, “I accept your apology, Mr. Darcy — though in part because your sister begged me to. She believes the entire matter was her fault, which I take as an extraordinary notion, but she is as sweet a girl as Jane claimed, and I could not deny her earnest request.”

“My sister is the dearest woman in the world. My affection for her is unbounded, and I am pleased you like her.” There was a cast in his tone which reflected his slight skepticism. Likely Miss Bennet wished to enthrall him, and she must know that Georgiana’s affections were the surest way to his own.

“Your affection is returned.” Miss Bennet replied, “She has an appalling adoration of your opinions. You have turned her into quite the idolater.”

Bingley said, “I thought you had declared truce?”

“I have.” Miss Bennet laughed. “But Mr. Darcy must confess his sister looks up too much to him.”

Mr. Bennet said, “Lizzy, what it seems a man must admit to is oft a different matter entire from what he will admit to. Let us test the question: Darcy, does your sister look up too much to you?”

“No.” Darcy did not like to discuss his sister and he suspected they were questioning her character, and referring to how she had been seduced by Wickham. He stood stiffer and taller. She had been young, and he had failed to guard her.

He never would fail that way again. He would always be present with her to guide her and ensure Georgiana knew what to do.

“No offense! No offense!” Miss Bennet laughed. “I begin to read you. There is that stiffening in your posture. I do not know what you are thinking, but I mean no aspersion upon your sister. She is a fine young lady. But she ought to have more independence of mind at her age. She is sensible and she should not refer every time she is asked for her opinion on a matter of fashion, or politics, or books, or whether we shall call upon each other tomorrow, to your opinions.”

Darcy tilted his head. “Is that all you meant?”

Miss Bennet and her father shared a long glance. Mr. Bennet twisted his mouth in a wry manner and Miss Bennet nodded. Darcy felt an odd envy for how she and her father seemed able to communicate without words.

He oddly wished to converse with her in that intimate manner.

Miss Bennet said, “I assure you, there was no hidden reference to the origin of your niece. I do not judge women of twenty for the actions of their fifteen-year-old selves.”

“My gratitude.”

“You are a prickly sort.” Miss Bennet laughed, throwing her head back and displaying the line of her white neck. “But you have earned your ill temper honestly. Yet seeking a hidden motive in everything said to you will lead you into much error.”

Darcy looked closely at Miss Bennet. She met his gaze frankly again. Perhaps she was not trying to seduce him. “I possibly am vain. What I said last night about only having pride…perhaps I was wrong.”

Miss Bennet clapped. “The examined life is the only one worth living.”

Darcy grimaced at her display of enthusiasm for his admission of wrongness, and her reference to Socrates. Too great learning in a woman led to mannish and immoral behavior, but it was also alluring. Like everything about the deuced woman. “I am no misogynist. The fair sex can be tender and honest. Harsh experience has shaded my attitudes, but I know not every woman is motivated solely by mercenary considerations.”

“My word!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, dramatically. “You are no longer convinced that my sole goal is to entrap you into marriage. I did not mean to imply you should stop thinking that.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows at that. Was she flirting with him?

“Thinking every woman desires silver and the pretty things it can buy — which I do, most everyone does — that is not the entirety of misogyny. I see nothing to dislike in your sister, but I suspect you believe it is good that she thinks too highly of your opinion.”

“She does not think too highly of my opinion, if her high regard is deserved by me.”

Miss Bennet had an open expression that invited him to say more. It also kept her eyes prettily on her face.

“She needs guardianship and protection. Her judgement can be led astray easily. But so long as she trusts me to know what is best for her, Georgiana will be safe from further errors.”

“You still judge her by the actions of the fifteen year old.”

“No! I judge her as I would if such an event not happened.”

“Your sister is twenty. Far too old to be swaddled as a child.”

“Women always need protection and guidance. No matter what their age.”

Miss Bennet grinned again, in a manner that almost was a snarl. Her eyes were dancing again, but with anger instead of amusement. “Protected and guided, no matter how old? Must we be?”

“My intent is not to offend you.”

“That, Mr. Darcy, is a terrible beginning to any speech which will be taken without offense. How much guidance do I need from my guardian gentlemen?”

Some impulse Darcy did not understand took control of his mouth, as he wanted to see how her eyes would look if she became authentically annoyed. “Woman can make household decisions, but in matters of great moment the female incapacities will appear. I cannot look with approval on the modern fashion for romantic and passionate marriages. It is well for a man who can control his passions to choose a partner in life for himself, but once a woman’s affections are engaged her reason will always lose.”

Miss Bennet glared at him. Anger did give her eyes an extra beautiful richness. Mr. Bennet hid his laughter with an unbelievable cough.

“You see,” Darcy added, magnanimously, “you were correct that my speech would give offense.”

“You blundering gentleman. Yes! Yes I suffer from misandry — this is why. This is your sober and reasoned opinion. That women cannot reason because our emotions and passions are too strong. This is why I have not married.”

“History proves woman cannot manage their passions. Those who preach female education and reason the furthest are those most prone to losing control of themselves.”

“Gentlemen always maintain themselves in good regulation.” Elizabeth sneered at him.

Darcy flushed at the reference to his words the previous night. He did not think he was well regulated now either. There was something about Miss Bennet that made him behave differently.

“Men are alike with women.” Miss Bennet added, “You and I are the same sort of being.”

“Women are tender and sweet and vulnerable. Some fiends choose to abuse a woman’s soft, affectionate nature, but gentlemen seek to protect those women who are precious to them. I am one who acts as a true gentleman — I try, at least.”

“You are a misogynist.”

“I adore my sister; I think highly of many women.”

“You think ill of us all. You have said we are all weak and unable to reason.”

“Surely you know many examples of women who cannot reason when their affections are engaged. Your sister Lydia, I understand, is as much an example of this frailty as my own sister.”

Miss Bennet rolled her eyes and sneered. “And you pretend to be able to reason? You speak for women, but I could speak for men equally well.”

“I understand you. You can bring up an example of a man’s foolishness for every foolishness I have seen committed by a woman. A clever reply.”

Miss Bennet rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his admission that she had a point.

“You are learned.”

“I will not be flattered by that.”

“But despite your reason, when a great passion takes you, you will be unable to pick prudently, and it will be the responsibility of your father” — Darcy nodded towards Mr. Bennet who inclined his head with twinkling eyes — "to protect you and ensure you make a wise choice. And if he cannot, then your brother.” Darcy gestured to Bingley.

“Nay! Do not bring me into your spat!” Bingley had been looking between the two of them. He glanced towards the window and coughed. “The sun! How bright it is! A perfect day for shooting! Much warmer than before. Darcy, I promised fine game. Mr. Bennet, with us!”

Miss Bennet sneered and curtsied. “I see we have strained my brother’s patience with our argument too far. Good day.”

She curtsied, barely, and walked where her mother and Jane talked with Georgiana.