"Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy dismissed his housekeeper with a curt nod. Everything was, of course, to his satisfaction - exactly so, for his staff knew him well, and kept his London townhouse in a state of perpetual readiness for his return. They had also been warned of his approaching arrival, and so had taken extra care to ensure the property would be welcoming. He smiled, faintly, recalling the fresh bouquet of winter flowers in the parlour, and the fires burning brightly in the few rooms he most favoured: notably, the study. That had no doubt received a particular airing that very day, and the newspapers and his personal correspondence left ready for his perusal on the desk.

He waited for the door close behind him before reaching for the small pile of letters. He could identify the handwriting of his steward at Pemberley, and laid that particular missive aside, not in any mood for business at present. Of his next two, he recognised Georgiana's elegant script, and tucked that into the pocket of his waistcoat, to read at his leisure. The third he did not immediately recognise but broke the seal to discover a short note from his cousin. Richard and Mary had reached Philip's home and would be pleased to welcome him there at any time, as soon as Darcy wished it. He cracked a wry smile, reading Richard's true intention behind the short summons. Do come, he implored. For in visiting my brother I am facing a trial and would welcome a distraction. It was not without self-interest that his cousin inquired after the health of Miss Elizabeth, and queried any potential timeline for Darcy's own upcoming nuptials and the plans of their friends to be in London.

Darcy pulled a chair close to his desk, and slid his writing implements nearer, dashing off a quick, encouraging note to his cousin. He promised they would both be back in London within the week, and should Philip wish him to visit, both he and Elizabeth would be delighted to call on the Fitzwilliams at their earliest convenience. And you and Mary will both attend our wedding, I hope, so we shall see each other again very soon. He finished with a flourish, content that this promise would soothe Richard's mood, and trusting that the newness of wedded bliss would more than make up for the trial of spending the month in such close proximity with the brother he loathed.

The first question, enquiring after Elizabeth's health and the progress of their wedding plans, Darcy considered even after he had sealed the note and set it on a tray to one side, trusting that his valet would dispatch it before the afternoon was out.

He had left Hertfordshire that very morning, grateful that London was but half a day's ride, and glad that he might make the journey between Bingley's home and his own relatively quickly and painlessly. It would make organising things so much easier - not that there need be much organising. Elizabeth had stipulated that she did not wish for a lavish wedding, which he was more than happy to deliver. He had no great interest in fuss and finery, yet he was equally determined that they would not slink away to marry as if they were doing something shameful. Despite his aunt's insistence, he would not apologise for his actions, nor for his desire to marry Elizabeth and not Anne. It would enable Elizabeth an escape from an impossible marriage, and - he could confess the truth to himself, in the silence and solitude of his own study - he loved her, more than he had ever loved any woman before. He could not quite believe how swiftly the feeling had overtaken him but he would continue to swallow it and conceal it from all view. He knew, if he had spoken to her of his esteem it would not have resulted in an engagement, but a refusal, for she would surely doubt his feelings, if not despise him for them. But the simplicity of a convenient marriage, when it would serve them both so amiably, could not be despaired of. She had accepted, and he trusted that she would grow to love him in time. That was a challenge he would happily accept, for the rest of his days, if he might one day win her heart as well as her mind.

Lost in a happy daydream of what life might be like once they were married, Darcy did not hear the knock on his door, so that it took a second and a third before he stirred, and welcomed whoever knocked with a muttered: "Come!"

"Good morning, sir. A visitor." His servant bowed.

"Here?" Darcy's eyebrows raised. Who on earth knew him to be at home today? He had told nobody, save for Charles. Even Elizabeth was only aware that he would be travelling between and betwixt London and Hertfordshire on occasion, but he had not thought it necessary to give her exact dates and times when he was himself unsure of them.

"Who?"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Already?" Darcy could barely keep the amused grin from his features, as he hurried to join his cousin in the parlour. "Richard!" he accosted him. "How came you to know I was here?"

"I called on the off-chance you might be," Richard said. "It is not my first visit to your house this week," he admitted, with a self-deprecating laugh. "Now, cousin, I know there are arrangements to be made, and as my dear wife seems perfectly content with her new sister, and my brother cannot be pressed to discuss a thing beyond business, if he is content to discuss a thing at all, I find myself utterly without occupation. Put me to what needs doing. I am at your service!"