“Whatever you think best, Charles,” Jane replied calmly, but Elizabeth was frowning faintly.

“Excellent! Darcy and I will ride out there early then and perhaps…”

“Ride!” Elizabeth interrupted with a raised brow and harsh glance to her husband. “Your physician, Mr. Darcy, has ordered you not to ride as of yet.”

“Pardon me, Lizzy,” Bingley spoke quickly, “Poor choice of words. We shall take a phaeton and,” hastily finishing at the look on her face, “I shall drive.”

Jane smiled at her sister's concern. “How well do you know this Mr. Greystone, Mr. Darcy?”

“Somewhat. My father was more familiar as they were close in age. Tragically, Mr. Greystone never sired any children and his wife passed last year. I heard he plans to dwell with a sister who lives near London once he sells the estate. It is a lovely piece of property, Jane. I do believe you will find it more than adequate.”

Lizzy clasped her hand in excitement. “Then, Jane dearest, you shall be nearby. I can reach you in my new curricle in no time at all!” She grinned up at Darcy.

“How is your injury mending, Mr. Darcy? It must be extremely disturbing to not be able to ride your horse. I know how very much you enjoy the activity,” Caroline asked with a familiar smile.

“Nearly one hundred percent. I rather believe my personal physician is being overly cautious.” He patted Elizabeth's shoulder and smiled into her eyes. “Nonetheless, I promised to obey the professionals, including my nurse. I have the remainder of my life to ride my horse, although it is undoubtedly sensible to avoid Parsifal just yet. He will not understand.”

After dinner entertainment was blessedly brief, all individuals in varying states of weariness due to the long trip. Darcy and Lizzy entered their sitting room hand in hand and eager to be alone. The servants diligently managed to unpack the luggage and properly distribute most of the packages. However, they had been flummoxed as to what to do with the contents of the massive trunk which sat forlornly in the middle of the floor. Lizzy laughed, kneeling on the carpet to open the crammed trunk. Within were the presents that George Darcy had brought from India and further abroad.

Darcy sat on the chaise and began removing his boots while Lizzy rummaged inside. Mostly he had brought a stunning array of fabrics of a quality and color nearly impossible to find in England.

“Indian women,” George had said, “are a bold people. The peasants even wear bright colors, but the wealthier wear elaborate weaves of silk.” As he spoke he pulled yards upon yards of vibrantly patterned cottons and silks from the trunk, tossing them randomly at Lizzy and the girls. Then he proceeded to use a grinning and compliant Dr. Penaflor to demonstrate the numerous methods of draping a sari. Raul had posed and pranced while they all dissolved into hysterics.

Lizzy retrieved a particularly colorful silk, and with a flutter of her lashes toward her smiling spouse, draped it over her head. Apparently George had accumulated the odd assortment of gifts over a long period of time, some purchased and others given as payment for medical services. The trunk held a collection of exotic spices and teas; jewelry in an endless array of styles for fingers, toes, upper and lower arms, necks, ears and more in designs simple and intricate made from gold, silver, glass, ivory and copper; incense; engraved glassware; pottery; musky perfumes; hand-woven carpets and wall hangings; an exquisitely crafted silver tea set engraved with roaring tigers; pictures of Indian peoples and scenes both painted or created with tiny pieces of wood or glass or beads; and for Darcy, an English saddle constructed of camel skin with a superbly carved pattern of racing horses over sand dunes.

“We could redecorate an entire chamber as an Indian harem or some such. Perhaps one of the bedchambers, then we could charge for travelers to stay in Pemberley's exotic Far East Chamber of Passion!”

Darcy laughed, tossing his stockings toward the pile of shoes and wiggling toes as he stretched long legs. “Precisely the reputation I have been seeking. Excellent suggestion, Mistress Darcy.”

Lizzy crawled on all fours over to the chaise, gaudy silk trailing over her back onto the floor in her wake. Spreading his legs, she rose to her knees and began untying the knots of his cravat. “Do you know what sounds delightful, my love?”

“I think I can hazard a guess,” he murmured from the top of her head.

Lizzy smiled up at him. “A walk in the moonlight in our favorite garden. Remove your coats and I shall return in a moment.” After a quick kiss she left, but did return within a few minutes with her hair loose and petticoat, stockings, and shoes discarded.

Barefooted and holding hands, they ducked behind a hanging tapestry several feet down the hall from their sitting room door, behind which was a servant's staircase. This hidden door and staircase was one of many throughout the manor that allowed the servants to ascend and descend unobtrusively and speedily from the kitchen and other basement chambers without disturbing the residents. Darcy had revealed this little fact of life causing his wife surprise a month or so after her arrival to Pemberley, when she had innocently commented on how she never saw the servants in the hallways, and how the footmen, especially, seemed to disappear as if by magic. To her amazed curiosity, this apparently was a typical design of large manors, and so common a fact that Darcy was stunned she had no knowledge of it.

This particular stairway led to the basement, naturally, but also to a small side door on the ground level that opened onto a private garden on the east side of the house. Darcy frequently utilized this route not only for the evening moonlit strolls, which for years have been a habitual relaxing pre-bedtime activity, but also as a way to sneak into or out of his study and thus the lower level rooms without encountering visitors.

One particular visitor whom Darcy had discovered an increased necessity to use the hidden stair and corridors around was Caroline Bingley. On five different occasions over the years, Miss Bingley had joined her brother, at Darcy's invitation, for a stay at Pemberley. Darcy's prior feelings toward Caroline were mixed. He had not disliked her in any great way, found her rather amusing at times in her arrogance and attempts to display her lacking intelligence, dull wits, and poor humor, and did honestly admire and appreciate her frivolous but inclusive knowledge of gossip and feminine trivialities, which did liven conversation. Of course, it had been readily apparent to him, despite his often retarded awareness of the machinations of the opposite sex, that Caroline had “set her cap” for him, as they say. Sadly for poor Miss Bingley, she was one woman he never remotely entertained the idea of courting. As time passed and her maneuvering became frantic, Darcy began to avoid her in any way possible. Naturally, this was problematical considering his close relationship with Bingley, and Darcy had attained a point of desperation in his annoyance. It was nearly brought to an eruption during his sojourn at Netherfield when he met Elizabeth.

Darcy had agreed to accompany Bingley to Hertfordshire, partially as a friend offering his business acumen, Bingley even then considering purchasing a country estate, but also as a way to avoid Caroline and her ilk in Town for a spell. He had no great desire for or interest in Hertfordshire personally, agreeing to the excursion only to please his friend. Imagine his anger when Caroline insinuated herself into the invitation, a fact he had not discovered until the very day they departed! Of course, there was nothing he could do at that point. Needless to say, between his vexation with her attitude and improperly blatant advances, growing affection and turmoil over Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and concern over his dearest friend falling in love again, the Netherfield trip was an agony on numerous levels. Darcy had never been so emotionally confused upon departing a place in his entire life.

The subsequent winter and early spring encounters with Caroline were distressing and blessedly few. Darcy was an emotional ruin and Caroline's mannerisms were no longer even mildly amusing. In a sad way, it was fortunate that Bingley's own state was a distraught one over the Jane affair, as the two men saw each other rarely in the months succeeding the autumn in Hertfordshire. Otherwise, Darcy was positive he would have exploded in a rage that likely would have severed their relationship permanently. By the time the Bingleys visited Pemberley for the summer, Darcy, grief ridden but at least restored to a state of semi-equilibrium, found that as long as he evaded Caroline as much as feasible without being shamelessly rude he managed well enough. Thus, the hidden stairway was utilized so extensively that the servants often forgot to even acknowledge their Master as he passed them by.

Caroline knew abstractedly of the existence of servant's passageways, but aside from having no intimate knowledge of Pemberley despite her bold assertions to the contrary, it also never would have occurred to her that a resident would employ them. Therefore, she could not fathom how it was that she consistently missed Mr. Darcy day after day considering her carefully arranged location at the second floor landing.

Upon Caroline's first ever stay at Pemberley, she requested the guest chamber located directly across from the top floor staircase. Mrs. Reynolds had prepared a chamber at the far end of the wing, a much larger room with a stunning view of the Peaks at sunrise and the River Derwent. The housekeeper was baffled when Miss Bingley instead requested the smaller room which faced the inner courtyard. She was not a fool, however, and it soon became obvious why Miss Bingley desired the room as she “inadvertently” accosted Mr. Darcy each morning when he descended for breakfast, and numerous other times throughout the day. Darcy was a bit sluggish on the uptake, and it actually required three visits before he figured out her manipulation and began regularly servicing the hidden passageway.

Now, Caroline was yet again residing in the first floor chamber. It was comfortable and spacious, as all Pemberley chambers were, simply not as grand as many of the others and allotted nothing in the way of a landscaped view. Caroline actually rather liked the room, having grown accustomed to it, but the irritation of being so ensconced, without the benefit of engaging Mr. Darcy in private albeit brief conversation and flirtation, was galling. Her aggravation prevented sleep so she quietly snuck down the hall to an east-facing chamber, thankfully empty, to sit on the wide window seat and gaze at the moonlight glimmering on the rippling waters of the Cascade Falls and family gardens.

With a sigh she rested her head against the cool stone, the window open with a gentle breeze blowing, and wondered for the hundredth time why she had asked Charles for an invitation. Yes, the season in London was over and anyone of any importance had escaped the oppressive heat of the city for their country abodes; nonetheless, there were always a few who remained for various reasons. Also, she had received a number of solicitations by her friends, including the sister of Sir Wallace Dandridge of Essex, a gentleman of moderate wealth and prestige who had shown a steady interest in Caroline for the past three seasons.