"Anne, you must learn to curb that boy's reading. It is for his own good. Boys should be outside, running and enjoying the sunlight." Lady Catherine looked down at her embroidery and searched through her basket. "Yes. This is the one," she said pulling out a spool of thread the color of the leaves in her work. "Sitting indoors all day, filling his head with useless knowledge — well, it simply won't do. How do you expect him to gain the social graces which will be necessary once he is expected to attend the season?"

"Catherine, that is so far away. Don't you think there will be plenty of time for learning such skills once he is in school?" Anne Darcy bent forward and picked up the tea pot from the coffee table. She looked to her elder sister, Catherine, and lifted the tea pot ever so slightly. Catherine shook her head.

"He will enter school with no social skills if you permit him to remain secluded indoors so much of the time. How will he know how to interact with the other boys when his only friend prior to school has been a novel?" Catherine wore her usual expression of a scowl.

Anne stared intently at her knitting with her jaw set. "His father encourages it," she replied. Since her sister's arrival to the parlor, thirty minutes prior, Anne's needles had started to bend and twist with increasing force and speed.

"His father should be encouraging him in more useful endeavors," Catherine continued. "When was the last time he brought his son hunting?" Catherine paused only a fraction of a second before flicking her wrist in the air as if she were brushing crumbs upward. "Probably never. I can only wonder at father's choice for you. Mr. Darcy is so bookish. He seems better suited for a life in the church than master of an estate." Catherine lifted the edge of her lip up in disgust and turned to her nephew. Her eyes roamed over his body. Anne could not read her sister's thoughts, but experience had taught her that Catherine was looking for fault. "Send him to Rosings Park this summer. Lewis will teach him how to become a man."

Anne stopped knitting but her grasp on the needles tightened. Her knuckles turned white. "George is a very noble man. I cannot imagine father could have made a better choice. He provides our son with instruction in a variety of pursuits. I am quite certain my child will grow into a fine man," Anne said pursing her lips. "Further, my husband believes reading enriches Fitzwilliams' mind, and I agree."

"Phuf," Lady Catherine said with a roll of the eyes and she raised her chin. "Enrich the mind — ridiculous. Boy, what are you reading there?" Catherine addressed the child of nine.

The child had been sitting in the corner with a book on his lap. He raised his large eyes from the page. Their expression was obscured by the massive curtain of chocolate curls hanging in front of them. "The Monk," he replied.

Catherine pressed her hand to her throat and cringed. "That novel where witchcraft is the least offensive act? Anne, what could you be thinking?"

Anne's cheeks grew red. She had not known this was the book her son had selected. She was appalled to hear his answer, but she would not reveal her feelings now. "I was thinking many things, Catherine. One thought was that my child will one day run this estate and that he must learn to make his own choices. Even if he makes an error in judgement, I am confident my child will learn from his mistakes." Anne shifted her gaze and settled an icy stare on her elder sister. "My second thought was that I must be spending far too much time here at Pemberley. I was entirely unaware that it was now acceptable to tell other people how to raise their children."

Catherine's mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened. She sat like this for nearly a minute before speaking. "Why," she blustered with indignation. "That boy will one day be my son-in-law. How can you criticize me…"

The doors to the parlor opened causing Lady Catherine to fall silent. George Darcy entered and crossed the room. He bowed to Lady Catherine and leaned over the back of the couch to give his wife a small kiss on the cheek. Then he turned his attention toward his son and his face lit in delight.

"William my boy," George said as he beamed at the child. He bent down and threw his arms out.

Fitzwilliam closed his book and set it on an end table before running into his father's arms. The embrace was cut short when the boy struggled to break free. As soon as his father released him, William looked up and asked, "Can we go riding, Papa?"

"Of course we can, just, not right now. Your aunt has just arrived and I haven't had the pleasure of spending time with her." George picked up his son, walked around to the other side of the couch. He sat next to his wife while positioning his son on his lap. "Lady Catherine, how was your journey." The words were said with the perfect amount of curiosity and enthusiasm but there was a quality to the exchange that only those most familiar with George Darcy might notice. It was a combination of subtle facial shifts, an almost imperceptible quality to his voice, and a odd stiffness in his form that belayed a hostility hiding beneath the smooth civility.

"Tiring," she replied. Catherine's disdain for her host was far more obvious. Her eyes slowly trailed from the man's head to his feet. To any casual observer it would be perfectly clear that she was entirely unimpressed. "Anne, I think I would like to shown to my room. I would like to rest before dinner."

Anne retrieved a small bell and rung it. Within fifteen minutes, the Darcy family was left alone in their parlor.

Once Lady Catherine was no longer in the room, Fitzwilliam jumped from his father's lap and returned to the task of reading. George stretched out, crossing one leg over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch behind his wife. "How long will we have the pleasure of entertaining your sister?" George asked.

"Her husband has traveled west to investigate a land development endeavor. She will be staying with us until her completes his business and collects her." Anne folded her knitting and set it in her lap. "He thought he would return in a week's time."

"A land development endeavor so far from Kent? They are not considering spending a portion of the year away from Rosings Park, I hope." The fear and mortification in his own voice finally reached the man's ears and he hastily added, "I mean, Rosings Park is so lovely. It would be a shame not to take full advantage of all it had to offer."

Anne cast a sideways glance at her husband and one side of her mouth lifted in amusement. "I would not be surprised to discover there is no land development at all. It is quite possible he simply hoped to give his wife an opportunity to spend a little time alone with her sister. He may have wished not to burden her, or her family, with the task of providing for his entertainment."

The strain in George's face lifted causing many lines to disappear. He reached forward and poured himself a cup of tea.

Fitzwilliam set his book back down. "Mother, I like spending time with Uncle Lewis. Why would he worry it was a burden for us to entertain him?"

Anne's cheeks colored and her husband chuckled. After a short sigh, she beckoned her son to her side. "This is speculation on my part, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps he simply wished to enjoy some quiet time alone."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "Yes. That would make sense. I felt the same not half of an hour ago." He turned toward his chair and waiting literature, but paused. Slowly he pivoted back to his mother. "Mother, why was it Uncle Lewis married Aunt Catherine?" His mother's expression caused the boy's cheeks to redden. "I don't mean to imply he doesn't love her, but I…."

"It is alright, my dear." Anne lifted her son onto her lap. "I know you to be a very discrete boy so I will be honest with you if you promised never to repeat what I say."

Fitzwilliam leaning into his mother's loving embrace and nodded. "My sister has numerous admirable qualities, but she also has many opinions which she shares more freely than she ought. I, more than most, know that she can sometimes be challenging to live with. But always remember she loves you immensely, as I do, and has only your best interest at heart." Anne pulled her son close and kissed the top of his head.

"Did Uncle Lewis ask her to marry him because he saw her admirable qualities when he met her?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"Not exactly. He hardly knew your aunt when he agreed to marry her. You see, my father arranged for our marriages."

"Did Grandpa arrange for your marriage to Papa, as well?"

George leaned over and pinched his son's cheek. "He did. And it was my good fortune that I happened to be selected for the gem of your grandfather's collection."

"And you learned to love each other?" Fitzwilliam asked. His nose crinkled.

George nodded, "Very much so. Our parents understood us very well and knew what would make us happy. Someday, when you are older, your mother and I will work with you to find the woman who will make you as happy as your mother makes me."

"Then — will you be selecting my bride?"

His mother smiled down on him. "No, sweetheart. We will simply do what we will always do and will act as counsel, if we are needed. If you request our assistance with introductions, we will comply. If we have concerns, we will voice them. But it will be your decision. Just remember, you are not alone. We will be there to help you, you only need ask."

Darcy looked around the ballroom. Silks of bright colors whirled around him. The hum of hundreds of guests speaking was periodically breached by a high pitched giggle or deep laugh. He felt as though the room was closing in on him. He had to get air. He did his best to remain undetected while crossing the room and slipped out a door that led to a balcony. There were at least a dozen other guests enjoying the cool night air, but Darcy did not mind. He could once again breath. Once his heart beat slowed and the pressure in head cleared, he reached into the pocket of his coat. He removed a locket and opened it. The locket held two miniatures: one of his father and one of his mother. He looked at their images imploringly. You promised you would be here to help me with this. The refrain ran through his head several times but when he looked up, nothing had changed. He closed the locket, returned it to his pocket, and reentered the ball room. He would need to find his cousin, Anne. He would be dancing the next set with her.