“That it does, Miss Catherine,” Manneville agreed.

Caroline sniffed audibly. “The only way I could tolerate the drink would be to weaken it with plenty of cream and sugar.”

Manneville challenged, “That’s my sentiment when it comes to tea.”

Manneville noticed how Bingley squirmed, indicating his discomfort with the conversation’s tone. The man would make an easy mark in a card game, he thought.

“I hope you found your accommodations adequate, Manneville,” Bingley said.

“My unknown host does himself proud, Mr. Bingley. Of course, a ship’s onboard accommodation is always lacking unless one captains the vessel; yet, my American home has the best, and I’m accustomed to such luxury.”

“Mr. Darcy’s home is one of England’s finest,” Bingley asserted.

However, before the man could finish, Caroline interrupted. “I wouldn’t have thought, Sir, that one might find anything as grand as Pemberley in the Americas.”

“Then you would assume incorrectly, Miss Bingley. I don’t pretend that my own house can rival Mr. Darcy’s, but my simple plantation house does boast twenty chambers and a more than adequate ballroom.”

“Twenty bedchambers?” Kitty gasped.

“Yes, Miss Catherine,” he said proudly. “And of course, I’ve a home in Charleston, overlooking the bay.”

Manneville expected Bingley’s caution. “You’ll find that in British society, Manneville, people do not discuss their wealth or lack thereof.”

Self-mockingly, Manneville chuckled. “I’m well aware of British norms, Mr. Bingley. My father made certain of my education in such matters. However, I don’t plan to tarry in England. I’m in the country to see to family matters and to test the marriage market. And, as far as announcing my wealth in British society, Sir, I’m at a disadvantage. When you or Mr. Darcy or the colonel walks into a room, everyone already knows you and your family history.”

“You mean to seek a wife, Mr. Manneville? A British wife in America?” Jane asked with more than a little curiosity.

“It is my wish, Mrs. Bingley. A British wife would rule South Carolina’s society, and I’m an ambitious man. Such a wife could bring me glory,” Manneville said bluntly.

Bingley sputtered, “You’re… you’re very direct, Sir.”

Manneville’s smile widened. “I suppose that I am. It’s my American upbringing. I simply never saw any reason to hide the obvious. It would give me no advantage.”

“Is having the advantage important, Mr. Manneville?” Caroline asked suspiciously.

“It’s an absolute in both business and life, Miss Bingley.”



“Will you, ladies, be well while Mr. Joseph and I examine the road conditions? We thought we might take a walk in the main road’s direction,” Darcy said as he stood and put on his gloves.

“We’ll finish our tea and then return to the room, Fitzwilliam. Nothing ill shall occur during broad daylight.” Elizabeth stated the obvious.

Darcy squeezed her hand. “We shan’t be long — less than an hour.”


Darcy and Mr. Joseph walked along the rural road, scrutinizing the area carefully. Although some thawing had occurred, the icy conditions remained. “This could refreeze overnight and make travel slower.” Joseph indicated the water accumulating in the ditches lining the road.

Darcy made his own observations. “But the road is graded well. See how it curves down to allow the runoff.There’s little water on the road’s surface. Another day should permit our escape. I imagine the main road has already opened to limited service.”

“It will be a slow go, nevertheless,” Joseph added. “Between the resumed traffic and the storm’s remnants.”

Darcy turned toward the inn. “I suppose we should start back. I wish to speak to Mr. Simpson regarding his assessment of the dangers before discussing our plans with Mrs. Darcy.”

“You seek your wife’s opinion, Mr. Darcy?” Joseph’s eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“As my wife is very astute, I’d be a fool to ignore her fine mind.” Darcy suspected that his marital bliss came not from his seductive prowess but because he treated Elizabeth as his partner rather than as chattel. He was of the mind to believe that she’d never have consented to marry him if he hadn’t admitted that she had taught him about selfishness. He remembered well his confession to Elizabeth:

“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son, I was spoiled by my parents, who allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you? You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but more advantageous. By you I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

“Then it’s as Mrs. Joseph asserts? Yours is a love match?” Joseph added smugly.

Darcy walked on in silence for a few minutes. “I would’ve assumed, Sir, that you, too, cared deeply for your wife. Was I mistaken?”

“You’ve not erred. My wife holds my highest regard.”

“Yet, you refuse to admit to loving your wife,” Darcy observed.

Joseph countered, “I do not hear your professions, Sir.”

Darcy chuckled. “I see how it is. If I’m man enough to admit to loving Mrs. Darcy, you could follow suit. If that’s what it takes, Joseph, I confirm that I’m hopelessly in love with my wife. You now have my permission to admit your own weakness.”

The man reddened. “I assure you, Mr. Darcy, that I do not require nor seek your permission for anything.”

Darcy’s smile widened. “And that’s how it should be, Joseph. My affection for my wife — my decisions regarding my estate — my sister’s guardianship — are all mine. They’re none of your concern unless I choose to share them, as your life belongs to you until you care to speak of it. Do not mimic another man’s actions, Joseph. Do what’s best for you. That’s a lesson which I learned from Mrs. Darcy.”

Only the crunch of their boots on the frosty lane broke the silence for several minutes. “I didn’t mean to offend, Mr. Darcy.”

“You didn’t offend, Joseph. I spoke because I observed in you my own tentative nature. We men are not free to express our thoughts. Women strike up instant relationships. Look at our wives as proof. It is how Society deems our roles so we must develop confidence in our choices, and, more importantly, we must guard against accepting outside examples as the norm. The true north is what works for us — what makes us personally satisfied with our lives.”



“What do you think of Mr. Manneville and the lieutenant?” Mrs. Bennet asked Kitty as they laced the threads of a matted waistcoat they repaired for Mr. Bennet.

Kitty had taken refuge in her mother’s room. She had accepted responsibility for monitoring Mrs. Bennet’s activities. Kitty, who loved creating fashionable designs, concentrated on the looped stitches forming a monogram. “They’re fine-looking gentlemen,” she mumbled.

“I’d imagine that one or both would be considering marriage,” Mrs. Bennet hinted as she fluttered about the room.

Still involved in the stitching, Kitty absentmindedly responded, “Mr. Manneville said as much earlier today.”

“Did he now?” Mrs. Bennet asked with delight. “That’s a fine situation.”

Kitty’s head snapped up in full attention. “Mama, don’t even think it! Mr. Manneville will return to America.”

“But the man is very rich, is he not?” Mrs. Bennet’s tone conveyed the direction of her thoughts.

“If he’s to be believed,” Kitty confirmed.

Picking up her embroidery hoop, Mrs. Bennet returned to her stitching. “I suppose one might corroborate the man’s worth through the colonel or Lieutenant Southland.”