“Not to worry, Georgiana dear. It was nothing days of languishing by the fire with a brandy in hand did not cure,” Lord Matlock assured. “Personally, I would rather traverse over cultured lawns and well-tended pathways, such as the Borghese gardens. Hours in the serene atmosphere of the vivarium healed every ache.”

“William, the Galleria Borghese was everything you declared it to be. I spent countless hours wandering the rooms, gazing in awe. We visited often, and it is not that large a museum compared to the Louvre especially, yet I failed in assimilating the full wealth of art and beauty. It touched me so.” Georgiana shook her head, clasping Lizzy’s hand. “Oh, Lizzy! You would have loved it! I thought of you so often. The gardens would have overwhelmed you.”

“Indeed,” Darcy offered, “the gardens are astounding and I daresay put Mr. Clark to shame. However, it is the marbles that I would most adore sharing with my wife. Bernini’s works alone are worth the trip. My grandfather acquired one of his pieces, but I was not so fortunate when I traveled to Rome.”

“I refuse to lament what I was unable to view,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “I struggled with absorbing all the wonders I was gifted to canvass, much of the journey yet dreamlike, so am relieved to stage it gradually over my life.”

“If you two can manage to space out the task of creating inhabitants for every empty bedchamber in Pemberley, you may be able to arrange another trip before the sculptures erode into dust, or whatever happens to marble.”

“I believe, my dearest, that marble is nearly indestructible,” Simone chastised her husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam winking at a blushing Lizzy before smirking at his expressionless cousin.

Lady Matlock smoothly intervened. “I delighted most in the gardens, I must confess. It was a popular locale for artists. The landscape and architecture offered an endless opportunity for sketching.”

“Quite true. An additional trunk was required to haul the creations home.”

“As if you were not delighted by Aunt’s drawings, Uncle. Raved on and on, rightfully so.”

“You do have an astounding talent, Lady Matlock, and I have not forgotten that you promised the Rotunda to me.”

“Nor have I, Simone. As soon as it is framed, it is yours.”

“The little ponds, rivers, and impressive lakes were arguably everywhere. I always thought of you, dear sister.” Georgiana again squeezed Lizzy’s hand. “I know how you adore the water.”

“Adore?” Mrs. Bennet interjected with a nervous flutter. “One would think you half fish the way you immersed yourself in the pond every chance you got. Clumsy, Mr. Bennet would insist to help you avoid the thrashing you deserved, but I never believed that!”

“Indeed I was awkward and clumsy, Mama, as Papa declared. Never as graceful as other Bennet sisters I could name.” Lizzy glanced to Jane, who blushed. “However, when it came to the pond it was simple rationality. It was hot and the water cools. Plus, it is fun to float and swim.”

“We have a large pond near our family home in Berkshire,” Major General Artois offered. “Two of my sisters were ‘fish’ same as you, Mrs. Darcy. They are both married with children now, but I am certain if possible would yet be daily swimming.”

“And why should they not?” George Darcy asked. “Ridiculous notion. Sea bathing is acceptable, why not jumping naked into a lake as men do?”

“Gracious!” Mrs. Bennet murmured with a vigorous wave of her fan.

But Lizzy laughed aloud. “Oh, do not fear, Uncle! Not all ladies are as prim as you imagine. Let us merely say that Rowan Lake has been utilized from time to time, although I shall not elaborate on the bathing attire.” Laughter rang out all around, even Darcy smiling at his wife’s jest.

“Aunt Giana?” Alexander appeared at Georgiana’s knees, arms extended. She gathered him into her embrace, nestling him onto her lap with a soft kiss on his crown.

Darcy’s smile widened, voice tender as he spoke. “Did you practice your painting as well, Georgiana?”

“Sporadically. You know I am not so proficient or enamored with painting. Aunt taught me some and I did improve, but music was what drew me most.” Her eyes grew dreamy. “The wealth of styles and compositions, arrays of instruments and grand orchestras, all unlike anything I have ever heard.” She sighed, “It was wonderful.”

“Georgiana paints beautifully,” Lady Simone said. “But I believe her greatest advancement was in playing and in composing. You will be impressed, Mr. Darcy, at the music she has written.”

“Indeed I know I shall. You must share your new compositions with us, Georgiana.”

Georgiana hid her rosy cheeks in Alexander’s curls. “I wrote nothing spectacular. Where some are inspired by nature to draw or paint, I was inspired to compose. But my skill is infantile compared to most.”

“Georgiana is modest. Mr. Butler found your compositions impressive, and that is high praise indeed,” Lady Matlock noted, turning the conversation smoothly away at that point, no one but Lizzy noting the increased color to her new sister’s cheeks at the mention of the young grandson of Lady Warrow.

The effect of Georgiana’s eight months abroad with culture and Society at its finest surrounding her at every turn was evident, even to Major General Artois who previously had limited exposure to Miss Darcy. He glanced about the room, studying the occupants with a keen eye. He found the differing characters and stations intriguing, familiar, and amusing.

His immediate family was much like the Bennets. Comprised of gentleman stock with a long history of prestige through military achievements with a historical host of field marshals and generals heading the ancestral corps of lesser ranks, they possessed modest familial estates scattered throughout the southern regions of England and were all blessed with incomes and inheritances above sufficient if not grand. The casual upbringing, middling finances, and gritty occupation made for a family that was broad-minded and somewhat boisterous.

Nevertheless, he also belonged to an extended family of extreme wealth and high social class. A number of titled gentry graced the secondary and tertiary branches of the Artois tree, capping it all with a great-uncle who was a duke. This, coupled with the strict discipline of the Royal British Army, meant that even the humble members could blend into any social situation capably.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were precisely akin to a couple of his retired military uncles and their wives. Now dwelling at and managing the family estates, they were simple folk who loved the land they had given so much to protect. Mr. and Mrs. Daniels were like a few cousins, and also his youngest brother, Reginald, who were content to be clerks or serve in other noncommissioned capacities.

Mr. Darcy, although far younger, reminded him greatly of his father. General Artois was tall, brawny, and unbending. Unlike all but one of his sons, Randall’s eldest brother, Roderick, General Artois seemed physically unable to relax his ingrained military demeanor. Yet he was wry and witty, his humor and empathy emerging through the regulated discipline so that even his numerous grandchildren knew he was lovable.

The other six Artois offspring were universally ebullient with emotions worn on their sleeves. This fact was primarily why his brother Roland had gravitated toward Richard Fitzwilliam during Academy, the two developing a tight friendship that more often than not lead to rabble-rousing and activities best left omitted from polite conversation! It was also why Randall meshed with the natural gaiety that ruled his fiancée’s relatives. Lord and Lady Matlock, and the widowed wife of the famous Lord Fotherby, were warm in their formality, teasing and laughing frequently. It was an altogether pleasing assembly, and he accepted the situation with his inborn peaceful assurance that it was meant to be. He looked down at Kitty, meeting her eyes and squeezing the hands resting so lovingly on his arm, contentment wrapping his soul.

Later, he would wonder if it was a divine warning of events to come, but at the time Randall merely thought it odd that in the midst of his happiness he reacted so strongly to the interruption. Yet, the instant he heard the raised voice in the outer corridor, before the words consciously registered, his instincts prevailed.

“I tell you we are expected! We are family and do not need to be announced!”

The indignant exclamation rang through the open door, the Major General stiffening before the first words were released. Impulsively, he nudged Kitty away from his side, turning his body toward the door and in front of her while his left arm shot out as a barrier before her to shield. Simultaneously, his right hand swung about in a flash to grasp the hilt of the sword that normally would be hanging on his hip. He squelched the curse that threatened to pass his lips at the realization that, in this setting of familial felicity, he was not armed. He had no time to experience embarrassment at his reflexive response due to the palpable tension that invaded the room when the visitors revealed themselves.

The owner of the brash voice was a young woman dressed in a revealing gown of a fashionable style. She wore a feathered hat cocked to one side, with her brown hair curled becomingly and framing a pretty face. Rouged cheeks and painted lips lent an air of maturity to what was obviously a young face devoid of intelligence or wisdom. All of this the trained military man concluded in less than a second—observing, categorizing, deducing, and dismissing her as not the cause of his hackles being raised.

Rather, that came from the man who trailed behind her. He traveled in her wake but strode into the room as if he owned it. Of medium height, slender-framed with a small paunch, dark blonde hair stylishly cut and curled, and dressed in a fine suit of beige wool, he swaggered in and swept the room with dark blue eyes inundated with condescension. His face was handsome but arrogant, and with a lewd sensuality inherent in the set of his full lips and half-lidded eyes. His gaze rested on Randall, noting the mass of medals and ribbons on the officer’s chest and the rank insignia on his collar before lifting to meet the older man’s return inspection. Steely black eyes pierced the blue ones that momentarily lost their haughtiness to flickers of fear. Randall noted the unease and foolishness behind the bluster in the younger man’s gaze before the haughty survey moved on to inventory each occupant of the room.

“Mama! Papa! Oh! You are all here!” The woman clapped her hands, rushing toward Mrs. Bennet, who had already rose.

“My Lydia! My baby!!” Mrs. Bennet sobbed, embracing her youngest daughter. “We did not know when to expect you! Oh, Mr. Bennet! Is it not marvelous?”

“I could wait no longer, Mama. I told my Wickham we needed to make haste. We only tarried at Longbourn, briefly, so I could freshen up. I wanted you to see me looking my best! Is not this dress divine? And my hat? I told this servant here that we were expected and welcome. Such impertinence treating us so! Oh, Kitty! Look at you all grown up and getting married! An officer too. Well done, Sister, ranked higher than my dear Wickham, but I shall not be jealous! Papa! Have you missed me? I have missed you so. Devon is such a dreadfully long way away. Such a horrid journey it was, and you would not believe what we had to pay to have the coach take us out to Longbourn! As if it is so far away from the Meryton Station! Nonsense! And then we had to wait until Mr. Hill hitched the phaeton, I hope you do not mind, Papa, but I could not walk all this way! We were afraid we would miss dinner. But we clearly did not!”

Lydia Wickham’s voice pierced the abrupt quiet that had fallen. She appeared utterly unaware of the taut atmosphere as she chattered in an endless stream. Mr. Bennet joined his wife and daughter, embracing and attempting to insert normalcy into the situation. Richard’s sunny expression settled into the rarely seen commanding mien of a colonel. Darcy’s neutral face held except for a fleeting clench of his jaw and frigid iciness infusing his eyes. Dr. Darcy’s countenance assumed an identical pose as his nephew’s, Randall momentarily interrupting his appraisal of the overall scene to register how strange it was to see anything other than gay animation on the physician’s face.

Kitty patted Randall’s arm, drawing his engrossed attention back to her. “It is well, Randall. I have told you of my sister and her husband. I apologize again for their attendance at our wedding. Are you so distressed?”