The visitor bowed again and said, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy and Miss Anna. Please accept my apologies for not gracing your presence with the decorum it deserves. We had truly expected to have ample opportunity to make ourselves presentable before being in such refined company.”

Miss Darcy blushed, smiled, and responded sweetly, “Mr. Fleming, I am heartily convinced the fault was in no way yours.” Again Georgiana looked daggers at her brother, thus providing her eyes a place to rest other than the direction to which they were involuntarily drawn, namely Fleming’s tantalizing indigo eyes, thick, feathery black hair, exposed neck, and clinging shirt that hugged broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest. “Welcome to Pemberley. I hope you will enjoy your stay, sir. Gentlemen, please meet our delightful new friends, Miss Jane Bennet and her sister, Miss Elizabeth, who are visiting from Hertfordshire with their aunt, a dear friend of Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper.”

Georgiana moved along the row of malodorous young men as she made each of them known to the Misses Bennet. Between each presentation, while those being introduced bowed, curtsied, and made polite small talk, she daintily took a whiff of her perfumed handkerchief to counteract the dank, fusty odour that permeated the air surrounding the gents. When she lastly introduced her brother, Miss Darcy emphasized the fact he had not been expected home any sooner than the evening. Georgiana shot her elder sibling an ominous look that unmistakably implied he was definitely not welcome in his present deplorable state. In his own defense, Darcy tersely explained he had received an express from their parents urging him to hasten the arrival of his party.

Indeed, whenever duty called them away from home, George and Lady Anne Darcy did not like to leave their two beloved daughters without the caring protection of their elder brother, albeit Georgiana was of age and quite capable of running the estate for a few days. Even though Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were totally dependable and Pemberley had an excellent steward in Hugh Wickham, George Darcy was always more at ease when the strong, decisive heir was available to take over the reins in his absence.

The heir was predictably strong and decisive that very afternoon; and the strong odour, Fitzwilliam Darcy decided, would be washed away just as soon as enough hot water for four baths could be made available. He spoke on behalf of the other gentlemen when he said, “Please pardon us, ladies. We must repair to the manor and attempt to, uh, repair our appearances and, hopefully, our sullied reputations. We trust the damage is not irreparable.” He bowed, as did the other fellows, and they made their way across the lawn with as much dignity as they could muster.

Charles Bingley’s sullied reputation suffered further defilement when his cravat slipped from his bundle of clothing, wafted toward his boot, and wrapped itself around his ankle. As Bingley walked, the strip of white linen trailed through the grass, unnoticed by the men.

The four young ladies turned to watch the departure and one after another began to giggle. The menfolk immediately stiffened upon hearing the tittering but refused to be cowed by the offensive sound. They raised proud chins and strode toward the house without a backward glance. They proceeded without incident until Bingley’s vile neckcloth became entangled around his other foot, which caused him to stumble. Without so much as a glance or stutter in his step, Colonel Fitzwilliam grabbed the chap’s arm to steady him and muttered, “Shake a leg, Bingley.” The foursome stepped up the pace and could not reach the safety of Darcy’s home quickly enough.

Warm water, scented soaps, and crisp, clean clothing did much to restore the four gentlemen to rights. They did not give any thought to the number of servants sent scampering to see to their needs. Indeed, many heavy kettles of water had to be heated and lugged up flights of stairs by overworked chambermaids. Then their invaluable valets had to be summoned to assist with hair, barbering, and attire. Most employers tended to take such service for granted; however, these mannerly men were at least considerate enough to thank the workers for their efforts.

Darcy, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, and Fleming regrouped to lick their wounds and quaff alcoholic beverages in Pemberley’s delightfully well stocked library, which benefitted from the work of many generations. The first three gents wholeheartedly agreed Georgiana could be an out-and-out hellcat. However, Fleming defended the lady, saying, “She was quite rightfully provoked by our unseemly appearance and was merely being protective of her younger sister and new friends. I greatly admire Miss Darcy’s pluck.”

Bingley sniggered and said, “Hah! Pluck reminds me of a chicken, which is just how I felt while being berated by her. I say, Darcy, your sister is absolutely lovely. All the same, if she ever eventually sets her cap at someone, I shall undoubtedly pity the poor chap when she is in high dudgeon. Miss Darcy can definitely raise a breeze. That said, she cannot hold a candle to my sister Caroline for being a harridan.”

Darcy apologized on his sister’s behalf and added, “Georgiana is a dear girl, though I must admit she has frightened off an alarming number of eligible suitors lately. Nevertheless, those blokes ultimately proved unworthy by not possessing sufficient intestinal fortitude to withstand a bit of temper from a mere chit. Regardless, I rather doubt she will end up as a tabby. Georgie’s dowry, accomplishments, and beauty ensure her eventual marriage. Most importantly, she is a wonderful young lady; and I do not say so only because she is my sister. Truthfully, she is a treasure.”

“Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Darcy is absolute perfection,” Ellis Fleming was quick to agree.

The other three gentlemen shared amused looks; then Charles Bingley enthusiastically asked, “Speaking of absolute perfection, did any of you happen to notice her two new acquaintances?”

Fleming snorted, Darcy raised his brows, and Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, “We have eyes, Bingley; so how could we possibly not notice when so much beauty was before us? The Bennet ladies are undoubtedly diamonds of the first water, and I cannot believe I made such a complete mull of meeting them. I would have cut a much finer figure in my red coat than in the green slime I wore today, and you chaps would have been quite invisible to the ladies had I been wearing regimentals.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and said, “I rather imagine invisibility would have been preferable over our earlier indecorous appearances. Be that as it may, I happen to know for a fact that I was quite embarrassingly visible to the pretty brunette with the sparkling, intelligent eyes. Miss Elizabeth is obviously not shy,” Darcy said with a smirk. Although he grinned, Fitzwilliam Darcy silently reproached himself for the lapse in judgment that had resulted in such an improper encounter with members of the opposite sex. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable to the idealist, and he usually attempted to avoid situations in which he might appear to be flawed. Darcy felt the need to be above criticism; and although he would not admit it, Georgiana’s public censure had wounded him. He was quite resolved to do everything in his power to project the image of a perfect gentleman if ever again in the company of his sisters’ new friends.

Charles Bingley interrupted Darcy’s self-castigation when he said, “Miss Elizabeth may not be shy; however, her angelic sister is perfectly proper and demure.”

“And once again, Bingley, you are making a claim based upon a mere moment’s observation. Are you such an exceptional judge of character your first impression cannot be mistaken?”

“You saw Miss Bennet, Darcy; she is the most exquisite creature, and I think … ”

A knock upon the library door was answered by Darcy’s command to enter. A footman announced, “Mr. George Wickham to see you, sir.” Smiles lit up the faces of the four friends as the visitor appeared in the doorway.

“George! Come in, come in, you mangy scoundrel,” Darcy invited. “Gentlemen, look what foul vermin the accursed cat dragged into the house.”

With a swagger and a wide grin, Wickham entered the room and exclaimed, “Cripes, man! How could you thus pollute the shades of our beloved Pemberley with the likes of this trio of depraved reprobates?”

“Yes, sorry, old chap. As the estate’s future steward, I know you only have its best interests at heart. So we must see about having such unworthy degenerates evicted immediately from these hallowed halls,” Darcy bantered. Greetings and more teasing ensued as the quintet of comrades settled into the easy friendship of many years’ standing.

At five and twenty, the same age as Bingley and Fleming, the devilishly handsome George was the son of Pemberley’s steward, Hugh Wickham, a widower. He was also George Darcy’s godchild and namesake and had the privilege of being educated alongside the other occupants of the room. They had all attended Cambridge for one overlapping term and became quite a formidable coterie. Wickham was being trained by his father to take over the reins as Pemberley’s steward as soon as the elder relinquished the position later that same year after decades of service. Like his parent, the young man was of an honest and hard-working character; however, unlike his father, the son was a skirt-chasing roué.

“Would any of you chaps happen to know the identity of two gorgeous females, a blonde and a brunette? I noticed them stepping into a carriage out front over an hour ago and have been speculating on the purpose of their visit. I suppose they must be the latest conquests of two of you fortunate, although undeserving, blokes.”