planning this event since they had arrived in London. “Will you join us in the drawing room? We are waiting on just a few more guests to join us yet before we dine.” She led him upstairs. Evergreen and holly festooned the stair rail and wax candles brightened every corner of the hall. The drawing room, aided by many mirrors, seemed even brighter. Vases filled with tasteful arrangements of laurel and Christmas roses pulled the eye around the room to admire everything. “May I introduce you to our other guests?” Darcy glanced about the room. Thank Providence! It seemed none of those horrid contributors to the society columns were in attendance. What more could he honestly ask of an evening? Still, he hesitated. Acquaintances were a tricky thing. He would be expected to remember and acknowledge these new connections when next they met, something he was ill-equipped to do. Names and faces blurred and fogged in his mind, forever leading him into awkward social blunders. But what greater offense would he cause refusing her simple request? “Darcy!” Bingley appeared out of the crowd. “Simply capital to see you tonight. Come, I must have you meet Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott. He is the most delightful fellow.” Bingley proceeded to describe the pair in question. Sir Andrew had a penchant for fine horses, but was troubled by gout in his left leg, so he rarely rode any more. Horse racing had become his passion, but he tended to bet too much. Miss Aldercott was his daughter and possessed a substantial fortune. She was usually found in the company of her two pugs, who looked rather like her brother and sister—she was the beauty of the family. She was an excellent horsewoman, due to her father’s influence, but preferred to drive than ride. Her little phaeton had recently been repainted and she was hoping to learn to drive her father’s curricle soon. By the time that they actually found Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott, it was as if he had the pleasure of their acquaintance for years. That was the difference when Bingley introduced someone one. His endless ramble offered enough to remember those new acquaintances tolerably well and have some idea upon what to conduct a conversation. Did Bingley know he was so useful or was it merely a happy coincidence? If the latter, Bingley enjoyed more good luck in a fortnight than any man was entitled to in a lifetime. If the former, he was a good deal more clever than any gave him credit for. In either case, he was a very good friend. Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott proved interesting acquaintances indeed. Father and daughter both had distinct opinions on the likelihood of purchasing a matched team of four and the proper price to pay for such. Darcy agreed more with the father than the daughter. Even so it was a memorable conversation to have had with a young woman. Almost as memorable as some of the conversations he had enjoyed at Netherfield. Miss Bingley pushed her way through the milling guests and whispered something in Bingley’s ear. “Capital!” He cleared his throat and raised his voice.” I have just been informed, dinner is served.” “Ladies,” Miss Bingley led them to the doorway. The ladies sorted themselves by rank and proceeded to the dining room. Was it Bingley’s influence that dissuaded her from insisting upon the modern convention of having the gentlemen escort the ladies in? Or did she just prefer more traditional sensibilities? Whichever it was, he was grateful to avoid another potentially awkward situation. Bingley elbowed him on the way into the dining room. “You ought to know Caroline expects you to sit beside her at dinner.” “Have you no knight or baronet or grey-haired gentleman to take that place? Sir Andrew should surely have that honor.” “Sir Andrew is looking for a wife and would prefer to sit beside the widow Garnet.” Bingley chuckled and faded off to address another guest. Perhaps it was not so bad, at least he