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  “If you would follow me, ladies,” Oliver said. Roger got into Anne’s car and drove away.

  The path had been salted, the packed snow not as slick as Elizabeth feared, so they made their way easily up the six stairs to the front of the house. Crossing over the threshold, they were greeted by a blast of hot air and the warmth of the foyer, a room decorated in light colors and over-stuffed furniture.

  Oliver took the stairs and then led them down a long corridor that took them to the end of the L where, guessing by the doors, three rooms were housed. One sat squarely at the end of the hall with one door on either side.

  He opened the door to their left. “For you, Ms. de Bourgh,” he said and waited for Anne to tell him which bags were hers. When she’d done so, he left them on the bench at the foot of the bed. He then returned to the hallway and made his way across the space.

  “I’ll meet you out here in ten minutes,” Anne said before closing her room’s door,

  “And this is your room, Ms. Bennet,” he said, looking at Jane.

  Elizabeth was last and was surprised to see she was given a room at the end of the L with stunning views of the lake and surrounding grounds. Her room was decorated in light and airy shades of yellow. From the thick comforter on the bed to the overstuffed chair in the corner by the window, the room was so lovely and welcoming Elizabeth thought she might spend the entirety of the party here, reading a book, and shirking all her obligations. Oh, what a glorious daydream that was.

  She thanked Oliver, briefly wondered if she should have tipped him, and then remembered she was not in a hotel. As much as she felt like it. She quickly freshened up and stepped outside into the hallway to find Jane and Anne waiting.

  “This house is beautiful,” Jane said.

  “It is very inviting,” Anne replied and led them down the stairs. They passed through a large hallway and turned a corner. Before them was a set of open double doors, and beyond them the sound of clanking china and crystal mixed with the murmurs of conversation.

  Elizabeth, who’d worn a knock-off navy and white plaid wool sleeveless shift dress over a navy turtleneck, had shucked her grubby, rubber snow boots for classier, leather knee-highs. She ran a hand down her front to smooth the wrinkles and hoped she’d dressed appropriately. She’d always been the coordinator of a matchmaker party, so being on this end was new for her. She would take advantage of it and focus on her two primary objectives: develop a rapport with potentially new clients and convey to William Darcy how truly grateful she was for his assistance with her sister, Lydia.

  They crossed into the room, a solarium with a wall of windows that stretched and curved up onto the roof. Large wood beams gave the room a lodge feeling, and for all the snow outside, the room was surprisingly warm and cozy. The first person Elizabeth saw was Darcy. As if her eyes were magnets and immediately drawn to him, unable to look anywhere else. Instantly, she forgot the words she’d rehearsed so many times in anticipation of this moment.

  He was standing near the windows, head bowed as he listened to something Caroline Bingley was saying. He didn't appear to notice her. Perhaps he wasn't expecting her. Regardless, she experienced a twinge of disappointment. Standing next to Darcy and Caroline was Charlie. Elizabeth reached out and took Jane’s hand. Her sister stiffened beside her.

  “Is this what you want, Jane? To be here and run into him? Because if not––”

  Jane shook her head. “He is nothing to me. I'm not upset by his mere presence. That's ridiculous.” Jane gave Elizabeth’s hand a squeeze and let go.

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said. “For what it's worth, you look beautiful.”

  Jane smiled and straightened her black skirt, a straight form-hugging number with white pinstripes. Her simple black boat-neck sweater was also fitted.

  “Thanks. Incoming,” she said, and with a slight upward tilt of her chin, pointed behind Elizabeth.

  A leggy woman about their age, mid to late twenties, approached them. She was blond with classic features, blue eyes, a straight nose, and high cheekbones. She wrapped Anne in a hug and quickly moved to stand in front of Elizabeth. She was dressed in a tunic with leggings and Ugg boots. Elizabeth's worry about her outfit disappeared.

  “You must be Elizabeth. I’m Emma. Welcome.” She pulled Elizabeth in for a hug. “I’m so excited you’re here. We can match-make together. I already have some ideas.” She winked at Elizabeth. “And you must be Jane,” she said, turning toward Jane. “You’re gorgeous. How will anyone see the rest of us with you in the room?” She hugged Jane as well.

  “Oh, my,” Jane said. “Well, thank you. That’s not true, but I appreciate the compliment.”

  Emma’s laugh was a soft chuckle filled with friendliness. “And you’re modest. I see now why Anne has given us all up for your small town of Meryton. I would as well if the people are like you all.”

  She gestured to a large buffet-style spread that ran half the length of the room. “Please help yourself to lunch.” She linked her arm through Elizabeth’s and led her to the food. “I hope we can spend some time together. I'd love to share my ideas of who I see well suited and get your perspective. Due to the length of my relationship with many of these friends, I often wonder if my perception is skewed because of all that I know instead of what is the truth. Know what I mean?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I do, actually.” Matchmaking came down to instinct. To a feeling in your bones that two people were a good fit, regardless of the fact they might appear as opposites.

  Sometimes, it was difficult to set aside personal feelings. A perfect example would be Lydia and Wickham. Elizabeth didn't like Wickham. Initially, he had intrigued her, but after Darcy’s letter—her gaze darted to where he stood, his back now to her—well, her perspective had changed for the worse. A judgment about Wickham she struggled to shake. Then Darcy had swooped in and provided Lydia and Wickham a chance at a good life. The outcome remained to be seen, but so far all was going well. Though Elizabeth had little faith or trust in Wickham, she would have to set that aside. Time would tell.

  “I’ll make a confession, and perhaps while you’re eating, you can give it some thought and we can talk about it later. I have long thought my friends William Darcy and Caroline Bingley were perfect for each other. Though I see something of a spark, he doesn’t act on it. As you well know, William is not a man to sit by passively. This has me confused.” Emma stopped at the food table and let go of Elizabeth, giving her elbow a squeeze before saying, “I would love it if you could help me figure a way to push these two together once and for all.”

  Chapter Three

  Thankfully, Elizabeth hadn’t eaten anything. If she had, she might have choked on it. Or worse, tossed it back up.

  Caroline and Darcy?

  Elizabeth couldn't imagine a worse pairing.

  Elizabeth’s gaze went directly to William.

  Caroline Bingley, The One for William Darcy? She shook her head. Inconceivable.

  Every time she looked at Darcy, a surge of emotion plunged through her. In the beginning, she’d always likened it to anger and irritation, mostly because of his forced placement into her business. On days she was honest with herself, she'd concede his presence at Meryton wasn't of his doing. Catherine de Bourgh was the true culprit. Having been swindled by her accountant, The Bourgh, as Elizabeth liked to call her, had become the opposite of a silent partner and brought Darcy in to show them how to make money. However, somewhere along the way, the initial anger and irritation at him had eased. Taking their place was curiosity and confusion. Who was this man that had proposed to her a while back? Why was he so kind to her even after she and her family hadn't been as generous in return?

  Regardless, everything had been topsy-turvy ever since. Now, as she watched Darcy, she was an assortment of mixed feelings, some unidentifiable.

  Elizabeth snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Jane did the same. Elizabeth gulped down a large swallow, briefly wrinkled her nose to ease the tickle from
the liquid's bubbles, and then faced Emma.

  “Darcy and Caroline, you say?” Elizabeth asked. “My initial reaction, my gut, does not support that combination.”

  “Oh, do you not see how perfect they are together?” Emma waved a hand in their direction.

  Elizabeth hoped Darcy didn’t see it.

  “Well, er, I feel a person more… flexible…might be what Caroline needs.”

  “Sure, but William is very amiable,” Emma said. “He’s an amazing brother, too.”

  There was no stopping the scoff that escaped from Elizabeth. “Amiable” wouldn't have been the word she'd use to describe William Darcy. She wracked her mind for a word more befitting since sociable and agreeable weren’t how she viewed William Darcy at all. To her, he was more like the begrudging hero with a chip on his shoulder, forced to bail out the rest of the witless population time and time again. Hero? Elizabeth scoffed again, this time at herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Emma arched one perfectly sculpted brow. “I wonder if, perhaps, you aren’t skewed by the nature of your interactions with William, and possibly Caroline. You did not meet under the best circumstances.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Could be.”

  The trouble was, Elizabeth was at a crossroads in regard to Darcy. Since his buttinsky into her business, Meryton Matchmakers had:

  One—decreased the bottom line because their expenses had increased. Though with Darcy and Anne's presence, the company was exposed to an entirely new potential client base where money wasn't an issue.

  Two—due to their new online presence, they'd taken on too many clients without the staff to support the growth. However, their reach was now farther than the Tri-state area.

  Three—lost as many clients because they couldn’t sustain the quality customer service and attention to detail they used as their cornerstone. Elizabeth accepted some blame here since she was quite resistant to change. Had she pivoted with the change, would they have developed a system to meet their growth while sustaining their customer service?

  Four—had been written up in the gossip columns and not favorably (Though, to be fair, being written up was just as much Elizabeth’s mother’s fault as Darcy’s, considering Joanna Bennett was the name on the byline).

  Yet, it was William Darcy who’d stayed to help when he realized his presence had caused a bit of a mess, to put it mildly. It was William Darcy who had tried to warn her away from George Wickham, and because she wasn’t very good at listening, saved the day when Lydia had run off with Wickham, nearly ruining Meryton’s reputation in the process. It was William Darcy whose touch confused her, whose kiss had left her feeling like a trembling leaf about to fall from the safety of the branch.

  And lastly:

  Five—William Darcy had done the inexcusable. He’d broken up Jane and Bingley because he didn’t believe Jane was sincere with her feelings. The last point made Elizabeth’s chest ache. Poor, sweet Jane. How could he judge her so harshly, give into his prejudice so easily? Then turn around and rescue Lydia and Wickham? And Elizabeth likened him to a hero? She wished she clearly felt one way or another about Darcy. Maybe once she expressed her gratitude, her emotions would sort themselves out.

  Elizabeth nearly groaned with her frustration. She glanced up at him, tuning out Jane and Emma’s conversation. He stood tall next to Caroline Bingley, his hands tucked in his pockets. His shoulders were straight, legs wide enough apart to make him look relaxed, somewhat. He nodded every so often, likely in response to Caroline’s yammering. Elizabeth didn’t know what the woman was saying, but her mouth hadn’t stopped moving since Elizabeth had come into the room, and that was nearly fifteen minutes ago.

  “I’ll give the pairing some thought,” Elizabeth told Emma. Mostly because she knew that’s what their hostess wanted to hear.

  “Please do. Let’s meet up later tonight and discuss our observations. Yes?” Emma squeezed Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Sure.” Elizabeth smiled and reminded herself of why she was here. She wouldn’t have any observations for Emma if she kept staring at William Darcy in his dark blue jeans and green sweater. Or pondering with awe how broad his shoulders might be. Those would not be the observations Emma would want to chat about.

  “Make sure you eat. It’s going to be a packed day,” Emma called as she floated away.

  Elizabeth nodded and smiled.

  Jane placed a hand on her forearm. “I’m rethinking the wisdom of this,” Jane said softly in her ear.

  “Is it because—”

  Jane shook her head. “I think I’m simply exhausted from all the juggling.”

  “We can go if you want.” Maybe she could complain of stomach issues. She felt queasy enough to pull it off.

  “Maybe. I’ll try to suck it up. I’ll let you know.”

  Elizabeth hoped Jane could last ten minutes. Surely, Elizabeth could express her gratitude in that amount of time. “I need to talk to Darcy before we leave. If we leave.”

  Jane picked up a plate. “Maybe I need to eat. Sounds counterintuitive, but I’ll get something and wait over there.” With her chin, she pointed to the far opposite corner of the solarium.

  Elizabeth nodded, her stomach roiling in apprehension. Elizabeth needed Caroline to go someplace else. What Elizabeth needed to say to Darcy was private. Doing so now while she had the courage would be ideal. Elizabeth often had thought about penning him a letter and had actually started a draft a few weeks ago, but a letter seemed cowardly. If he refused to talk to her, then a letter would be more appropriate, but a refusal had yet to happen. Elizabeth tried to mentally will Caroline to leave. Nothing happened.

  Standing awkwardly by the buffet, Elizabeth picked up a plate. Then she set it back down. After she finished her drink, she placed the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Then she glanced at her hands and wondered what she should do with them. Twisting them in worry was not the look she was going for. She smoothed them over the wrinkles in her wool shift dress while sucking in a deep, steady breath. She would go over there and ask Caroline to give them a moment.

  The champagne bubbled in her stomach, and the taste in her mouth was foul. The wrinkles on her dress seemed overly large and bulging. Everyone around her looked freshly pressed and like they belonged in a catalog for clothes priced higher than a cool grand. She looked as if she'd been in a car for several hours. Which she had. Jeepers, she was a mess.

  William Darcy listened with half an ear as Caroline complained about the quality of remodeling work being done at his apartment. His apartment, he reminded her when she told him to fire the contractor for the umpteenth time. There was nothing wrong with the work or the contractor. Caroline was upset because the workers had restricted her access to certain areas, for her safety of course, but that fact had escaped her attention. William was seconds from restricting her from his place entirely if she continued with this bemoaning.

  “You can always stay somewhere else, Caro,” he reminded her none too gently.

  “What? Why would I do that?” She looked appalled. Then popped an olive in her mouth.

  Indeed, he thought. He couldn’t imagine why she wanted to stay at his place. He didn’t even want to stay there. The place was a mess, loud and always busy. He couldn’t wait to get out of New York and back to his ranch in Montana.

  Accepting this invitation, a week before the event, had been done out of emotion and not practical sense. Had he used practical sense, he’d be home and happy. Initially, he’d declined Emma’s invitation, as he always did for her February party. Yet, when he’d heard from Anne that she was attending with the Bennet sisters, he’d immediately called Emma. It didn’t take an idiot to see that Elizabeth wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn’t blame her, really. He was, in part, responsible for a lot of the troubles in her life. Whenever the opportunity to correct his misdeeds presented itself, Darcy grabbed it. Like coming to this farce of a party. Truth was he’d rather be shot out of a rusty civil war canyon, naked, then st
ay a moment longer. But he had a few wrongs to right.

  He’d start with Bingley and Jane Bennet.

  The moment Elizabeth walked into the room he’d become aware of her and had quickly turned his back. A confrontation was the last thing he wanted. He was used to her ire, but if he could make amends between Jane and Bingley before that confrontation occurred, her anger might be…less. Dare he hope? William Darcy was not a man who lied to himself. Interaction with her could go either way. He also knew he’d come because he wanted to see her. Not looking at her was eating him alive. He glanced over his shoulder and saw she was distracted by her conversation with Emma.

  She was beautiful. Her long dark hair fell around her shoulders. He didn’t have to be close to see her blue eyes; they were burned in his memory. Mostly glaring at him. He recalled the one time he’d made her laugh and felt his lips twitch upward. Elizabeth Bennet, no woman had more disdain for him than she did.

  Last he’d seen her was when she was crying on the bench in New York City. Her sister had run away with Wickham, her company social had gone off the rails, and she was staring at a potential lawsuit from a client. Granted, he’d warned Elizabeth about Wickham. He’d also assumed Wickham would do the usual and flock to her like a kid does candy. What he hadn’t counted on was Wickham running off with Elizabeth’s little sister or learning the truth and whys of George Wickham’s motivation and actions. Once perceived as a troublemaker, George Wickham, an actor, had used his bad boy reputation to hide a learning disability.

  William hadn't counted on not being able to forget Elizabeth Bennet and moving on with his life.

  “Are you listening to me, William?” Caroline asked.

  Darcy glanced at his childhood friend. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of some business I need to attend to.” He glanced at her brother. Bingley only had eyes for Jane.

  Darcy moved to stand in front of Charlie. “Do you think you should stare?” he asked quietly.

  Bingley pressed his lips together before saying. “I’ve been a fool.”