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Chapter Text

"It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that travelling by carriage is eclipsed only by the gallows in terms of torture."

Miss Darcy Lewis, lately of Westview, blinked her eyes open in time to a particularly hard jostle of the groaning carriage wheels, beams of dusty burnt orange sunlight appearing in her vision like vestiges of magic as she tried to focus on the quiet, amused voice that continued to speak, just barely overheard by the noisy mode of transportation.

"Wanda?" Darcy murmured, blinking as she tried to change her vision's focus on something other than the specks of dust floating in the mesmerizing light to the carriage seat opposite her.  "Wanda---what are---"

“Dear friend, it must be this way," Wanda's soft voice whispered in her ear, far too soft to be heard over the thunderous beating of horses hooves and wheels turning over dirt and stones and yet it was heard by Darcy, soothing and alarming her at the same time.

"No, I know that we can, we just want to help," Darcy's words were slurred with sleep.  "Where is Dr. Agnes? Agent Woo?"

Silence greeted Darcy's question as something that was most certainly not a speck of dust gently danced in front of her eyes before hitting her forehead gently, warmth and a small stinging pain blooming when it met her skin.

"Steve?" Darcy's last whisper floated into the atmosphere, a pretty plea to mix through the beams of sunlight and dust motes over to Wanda, who stared back at her travelling companion with her mouth pinched into a small frown.

"You'll enjoy yourself," Wanda promised her.  She hesitated and took a good look at the young woman who had done her best to befriend her in the last eighteen months.  She was dressed in sturdy but fashionable travelling clothes of the time: empire waist, pelisse, gloves and all.  Her dark brown curls, usually riotous, were tricked up into twists and twirls underneath the understated blue bonnet on her head.  It was a far cry from what Wanda was used to seeing Darcy wear.

She sighed again as Darcy mumbled Steve's name once more in her sleep.  Wanda nodded her head minutely and made the shaky promise, "It'll be...fun.  I'm sure.  You'll be seeing Steve again soon.  It's all very exciting really.  You're right at the beginning."

Wanda peeked out of the small window of the carriage and was happy to see the still lush green grasses of the English countryside, looking beautiful and inviting.  Her resolution grew and any doubt or worry for her friends quickly fell by the wayside.  She remembered the silly  joke her friends would make after they had finally been introduced.  It was funny only to the two of them, but they always shared a snort of laughter when one of them uttered the phrase,

"Netherfield Park is let at last."

"Oh what on Earth is she coming here for!  It is all quite ridiculous if you ask me, although no one would think to ask me.  What am I, but the poor mother of five unmarried daughters and the future widow that will be lucky to have a spot to rest my head under the hedgerows of this very house!"

"Mama, you are not close to being a widow yet---"

"Oh dash to you and dash to your little witticisms, Lizzy! You know not what it is to suffer as I do, and to have this Miss Lewis, and her twenty-two thousand pounds and her connections just as everything was looking so well!"

"Mama, Miss Lewis is our cousin and---"

"HUSH Kitty! She is no relation to us whatsoever, just because her father was a good friend to my sister Gardiner means nothing at all to us, and yet she comes and expects to stay under our roof and steal the attention from my girls!  Just as Netherfield Park is let at last, it is all very vexing and not at all what Jane or Lydia should need to secure the gentleman who has---"

"Mama!" Jane's scolding was blended with an appropriate gasp of shock.  

"We have not even set our eyes upon this tenant of Netherfield," Mary interjected with a well timed roll of her eyes.

"Quiet girl, none of this conversation is for you!" Mrs. Francine Bennet of Longbourn hissed at her oft ignored middle child, her glare icy and foreign on the face of a mother.

It was a glare that Mary was well acquainted with, and she was also well acquainted to enduring it whilst her father and sisters bore witness and ultimately ignored the stinging hurt the glare could inflict.  But today was different.  Miss Darcy Lewis, lately of Westview, distant cousin to the Bennet sisters by marriage was arriving within the hour.  She was a guest of some distinction for the Bennets, due to her fortune and other connections to nobility in the country.  

"Mrs. Bennet, it might be wise to treat poor Mary with a kindness or two in the near future," Mr. Bennet interjected from the other side of the table, deigning to lower his papers a few inches from his face so he could level what might be considered a mildly stern brow at his wife.  "For we all know that Mary has been deemed Miss Lewis' favourite, and it would not be wise to insult the favorite of a young lady who very well may inherit a title through an advantageous marriage."

"Uuueeugh," Lydia pulled a face and thrust her tongue out in disgust before sitting back in her chair in a slump and petulantly declaring,  "Miss Lewis should have chosen ME as her favourite. What kind of blindness must she suffer to have chosen boring Mary."

"I would prefer not to be called anyone's favourite," Mary sniffed as she viciously spread jam on her toast.  "We have only met Miss Lewis the once, it is silly and foolish to deem anyone a favorite."

"Yes, but she sent you all those books of music, Mary," Kitty reminded her sister eagerly, a bright, sunshiney smile pulling at her lips for a moment.  "And you've corresponded with her many times---"

"You've CORRESPONDED?" Mrs. Bennet demanded hotly, ignoring Kitty's hurt pout at being interrupted.  "And you've never told me, you silly, selfish girl!  You have no consideration for my---"

"Pardon me, sir."

Mrs. Hill had been with Longbourn for much longer than Mrs. Bennet, and while she placated the mistress of the house through her many, varied nervous complaints, the housekeeper still surreptitiously kept her from running the household into the ground.  She handled Mrs. Bennet like no other person on the face of the Earth could, all the while keeping her mistress in the dark as to who was truly in charge of Longbourn.  Not one other voice could so easily interrupt Mrs. Bennet's tirades, and Mrs. Hill did not often choose to use this power unless dictated to do so by necessity.

"Yes, Hill?" Mr. Bennet smiled kindly at the housekeeper while his wife sat, mute, confused and blinking very rapidly.

"Three gentlemen have come to return your call," Mrs. Hill revealed, and the air in the room changed, going from quiet and attentive to buzzing in an instant.  The housekeeper gave a quick glance to all the Bennet ladies in the room, and miraculously they held their tongues for her to quickly deliver, "A Mr. Bingley of Netherfield, Mr. Darcy of Pemberly and Captain Steven Rogers are awaiting you in your library."

And then Mrs. Hill did as she usually did, the smartest thing to do at the time. She bobbed her head and quickly ducked out of the breakfast room.  For while the long suffering housekeeper held a certain power over all of the residents of Longbourn, she was not exactly super human enough to contain the rapid fire questions coming from six Bennet ladies all at once.

"Good luck there, sir," Mrs. Hill muttered as she strode back to the kitchens, intent on putting together a tray for the handsome young men she had ushered into the library moments earlier.  And if there was a bit of port to be got, she would not be obliged to say no.

"Pardon the noise, gentlemen," Mr. Bennet said with an air of someone who was not actually apologizing at all. He rather sounded like he was joking as he sat behind his great cluttered desk, his fingers steepled under his chin as he leaned back in comfort.  

Mr. Darcy of Pemberly had been observing this oddity of a gentleman, Bennet of Longbourn, the moment he came bustling into the room, shutting the door to the sound of various feminine voices that appeared to be in some kind of uproar.  Mister Thomas Bennet of Longbourn paid the cacophony of shouting and shushing no mind, and set the precedent for his three male callers to also pay them no mind.

It was Mr. Darcy's advice that had Bingley calling upon Mr. Bennet not one day after the elder man had introduced himself at Netherfield and immediately suggested that Bingley's library was greatly lacking.  

Mr. Darcy had thought it better to get the return meeting out of the way, so that they might ignore the neighbors of Meryton and Longbourn for the remainder of their stay.  Bingley was only leasing Netherfield to see if being a member of the landed gentry was indeed what he should pursue.  And of course, take part in the sport of the season.  From the look of the Bennet estate, Mr. Darcy highly doubted that Mr. Bennet took much care of his own land and property.  There was certainly nothing that Bingley could learn from him.

"GIVE THEM TO ME, KITTY! YOU WOULD LOOK A FRIGHT ANYWAY!" a feminine screech could be heard from directly above the library.

Mr. Bennet looked nonplussed and so the Misters Bingley and Darcy ignored the stomping and screeching as well.  Captain Steven Rogers, however, turned his eyes upward as the plaster dust floated down from the ceiling.  He thinned his lips but could not completely mask the frown that was his natural reaction to hearing one person bully another. The good Captain let his eyes quickly dart to Mr. Bennet, wondering if the man of the house would do anything about the feminine fighting going on above the stairs.

Mr. Bennet continued to observe the other three gentlemen with what could only be described as amused interest.  Their gazes met and Mr. Bennet nodded towards Captain Rogers.

"I had not had the pleasure of meeting you yesterday, sir."

"Oh, forgive me," Mr. Bingley said quickly, turning in his seat to Captain Rogers.  "May I introduce you to my cousin, Captain Steven Rogers."

"Retired, Captain Steven Rogers," the Captain corrected.

"Retired?  At so young an age and able bodied still?" Mr. Bennet questioned shrewdly.  "When we are so close to yet another predictably episodic war with France? So young to give up the red coat in pursuit of a gentler life."

Mr. Darcy had to inwardly stop himself from rolling his eyes at the veiled attempt at measuring Captain Rogers per annum worth.  

"I've seen enough fighting for a hundred lifetimes," Captain Rogers assured the elder gentleman.  "I've been told I must find a place to settle by my benefactors. Apparently there is life to be lived outside of service to the country."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Bennet waved his explanation away, having the intelligence to discern that Captain Rogers was just giving trite boilerplate answers.  "I would be remiss, gentlemen, if I did not apprise you of some news.  There is a---"

"She is HERE!  She has come!!" a happy shout echoed throughout the house, loud and clear as a tinkling bell. 

The pleasant sound was quickly washed away as the thundering of what could only be hooves reverberated throughout the stone house, the plaster once again wafting down into the study that the gentlemen had taken refuge in.  

Captain Rogers leaned back in his chair ever so slightly to see through the small crack of the door and saw a flurry of linen and lace and ribbons rush past the study door towards the entranceway of Longbourn.   

"Ah, straight to the point then," Mr. Bennet nodded, rising from his chair just as the footsteps of females were replaced by the distant beat of real horse hooves in the small lane leading up to Longbourn.  "I am to be inundated by another female to add to my illustrious collection of daughters and wife.  If you would follow me I can offer an introduction to Longborn's esteemed guest, a Miss Darcy Lewis, lately of Westview."

Charles Bingley turned an amused glance to Mr. Darcy of Pemberly, wordlessly asking if there was any relation only to be surprised to see Mr. Darcy having been struck wordless and gaping.  Bingley turned then to Rogers, who also seemed to be momentarily stunned.

Left at a loss, the amiable Bingley shrugged and stood with Mr. Bennet.

"It would be a pleasure to meet your guest, sir.  I have never been one to turn down fair and pleasant company, after all."

"Fair she is, quite," Mr. Bennet chortled.  "Pleasant---well, you shall find these things out for yourself, sir."

Captain Rogers was the last to take leave of the Longbourn house, a habit borne of his military training.  he preferred to have everyone and everything in front of him.  He watched as six women, five very young and one not very young at all, rushed to where the small lane met the cobblestone walkway.  A modest carriage, built for speed and durability rather than fashion and pretention came to a stop before the footman jumped down and went to open the door.  

Captain Rogers couldn't discern much, there were too many feminine squeals of delight, eager platitudes practically shouted and overlapping with each other.  The good Captain hung back at the end of the impromptu receiving line.  Next to Mr. Darcy. 

One of the young Bennet ladies inched towards him.  She looked not older than seventeen, brunette curls structured artfully around a pale face.  Her cheeks were becoming rapidly pinker though, and the Captain soon saw why, looking down to see two small feet in just their stockings.

He gave her an amused and puzzled look, to which she blushed a deeper shade of red and dug her chin into her sternum as she whispered,

"My youngest sister took my slippers."

Captain Rogers nodded in understanding, having heard the commotion just moments ago in the study.  The poor thing was deeply embarrassed and was hopping from foot to foot in some inane attempt to disguise her feet.  Mr. Darcy had not noticed the young Miss Bennet, but it was only a matter of time.  

A cough from Captain Rogers accompanied the drop of his tall black hat, which fell directly onto the young Miss Bennet's feet, effectively hiding her shoeless state.  It was just in time, as well, because the young lady was immediately singled out by the new arrival.

"My my, this cannot be Miss Kitty Bennet!" the small woman exclaimed, rushing between Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to wrap her arms around the girl.  

"Miss Lewis, it is so lovely to see you," Kitty sounded so pleased and delighted in her giggly effusion.  "You are even more beautiful than I remember!"

Captain Rogers noted that they were similar in height, in that they were both extremely short, but their physical resemblance ended there, because while Kitty was a young girl, her figure barely altered since her time in the nursery, this new arrival, Miss Lewis, had a well formed, womanly figure.

Captain Rogers could only blink at the small, buxom woman who pulled away from Kitty to look down at the hat covering the girl's feet.  She looked confused, and turned a critical eye to the line of unknown gentlemen that had made up the end of her receiving line.  

Mr. Bingley grinned, Mr. Darcy stared at her as if she were a puzzle he was about to solve and Captain Rogers---

"Miss Lewis!" he exclaimed, taking a step back in shock as his eyes met her started blue gaze.

"Captain Rogers!" she answered back, her mouth pink and pouty and wide open as she stared back.

"Darcy!" Mr. Darcy laughed, stepping forward.

"Darcy?" Mr. Bingley questioned.

"Darcy?" Steve looked in suspicion at Mr. Darcy suddenly, his gaze an arresting bullet, demanding answers from the man who had been his traveling companion for months.  Steve shook off the time appropriate feeling and went back to look at Miss Lewis,  Darcy Lewis.  Their eyes connected once more and they could see the beams of sunshine filtering between them, rust orange and deep scarlet, as if by magic.

"Wanda," each whispered before the connection broke as Mrs. Bennet made an annoyed and inelegant sound.

"Who is WANDA?" Lydia Bennet demanded.  "Are we to have another single, eligible female take up residence?  Because I shall not give up any of my dance partners for Miss Lewis or any Wanda.  And I certainly shan't share a room!"

Miss Lewis took Kitty's arm and turned towards Longborn, calling out behind her,

"I must get out of this dreadful sun before I wrinkle up like an old potato.  Come, Kitty, Mary, girls.  I will tell you all about my unfortunate connection to the stiff and dull Mr. Darcy here after I have had a decent cup of tea, please."

"Why I---I am not," Mr. Darcy faltered, causing Mr. Bingley to laugh in delight and turn to the person on his right side to share a smile.  

Jane Benett smiled back at him demurely before nodding her head in a quick curtsey and eagerly following Miss Lewis into the house alongside her sisters.

"Well Cousin Rogers, let us follow," Bingley suggested eagerly, staring after Jane the whole time.  "I for one, would like to know why our Darcy has taken to calling their Miss Lewis by her Christian name."

Captain Rogers watched as Mr. Darcy quickly hurried back into Longbourn, a place that he had eagerly wanted to quit before they had even arrived. An intimidating glower shaded Captain Rogers’ face. 

“Yes, I am eager to find out as well.”  

Chapter Text

"I'm sure you're all eager to discover how Mr. Fitzherbert Darcy and I are acquainted and---oh thank you Mrs. Hill, you are a delight---and I'll be happy to tell you all about Fatzwilhelm has---"

"Darcy, really?" Mr. Darcy looked as if he were a simmering teapot, red in the face and slightly perspiring around his hairline as he watched Miss Darcy Lewis hold court amongst the Bennet women in the comfortable, if old fashioned parlour of Longbourn.  

"Fatz---Fatz---herbert---"  Mr. Bingley was nearly doubled over with wheezing and gasping in his chair, and Miss Jane Bennet put a gentle hand on his quivering shoulder in concern.  He immediately straightened and it was evident that the cause of his sudden infirmity was laughter.

Indeed, nearly all the inhabitants of the Longbourn parlour were in some state of amusement, aside from Mrs. Bennet who looked very put out indeed.  

"Oh Fitzers, it's fine," Miss Lewis waved off his embarrassment.  "If you had learned to laugh at yourself twenty odd years ago, this would not be such a trying time for you."

"Indeed, learning to laugh at oneself is a great lesson to learn," Lizzie agreed, her dimples on full display as she looked to a still red in the face Mr. Darcy.  

"Hmm, is that a lesson you too have learned Miss Elizabeth?" Miss Lewis arched a brow at the female version of Mr. Bennet, knowing she dearly loved to laugh at others but rarely could accept the gift when it was gleefully given to her.

"Not at all," Mary whispered dryly, causing Kitty to snort with laughter on the other side of Miss Lewis.  

"Miss Darcy Lewis is my cousin," Mr. Darcy blurted, hoping to at least get Captain Rogers to stop glaring at him.  The retired military man was formidable to say the least and Mr. Darcy preferred keeping him as a friend and not an enemy.  

"Oh, we are also cousins!" Kitty announced with her usual effusion and cheer, only to be immediately and vehemently hushed by her mother.

"She is no relation to us, foolish girl," hissed Mrs. Bennet.

"Indeed, I am not," Miss Lewis put down her cup of tea and reached both of her hands to grab one of Kitty's and Mary's alike.  "However, we all know that family does not always mean blood relations."

"Indeed!" Mr. Bingley agreed heartily.  "Now, if you will, can you please explain more about Fitz---or Fatsherbert."

"Bingley, really," Mr. Darcy sighed in resigned exasperation before addressing the rest of the room, minutely less stiff than he had been before.  He shared a small smirk with Miss Lewis, who only grinned back at him mischievously.  

Captain Rogers swallowed from his place standing by the fire as he stared at the young woman that claimed to be Mr. Darcy's relation.  He was fascinated with the gap between her front teeth.  It felt like an old fascination, not some thing new.  He had wanted to see the beauty of her smile before.  He had craved and yearned for the sight of it.  He knew that he had.

The question was how?

"It is a tradition in the Darcy family that the first child gains their Christian name from their mother's surname," Mr. Darcy revealed.  "My mother's family name is Fitzwilliam."

"And my mother's family name was Darcy," Miss Lewis continued happily.  "She was Fitzer's father's younger sister.  So you see, we are true cousins and when I was naught one year old, Mr. Fitzer's spilled an entire well of ink into my crib."

"I was barely three years old and you were crying!" Mr. Darcy defended himself, in what seemed to be a familiar routine for the two cousins.

“Is ink a remedy for crying infants, then?” Mary questioned with mock seriousness. 

"My skin was stained for months," Miss Lewis continued to tease, causing laughter to titter amongst all of the other ladies. "My dear mother feared I had been poisoned with it."

"You were fine," Mr. Darcy huffed with what could only be described as adorable vexation.  

"The wet nurse swore an oath that  it stunted my growth.  Fitzers, I should have been so much taller than I am and the blame must be laid at your feet."

Miss Elizabeth Bennet laughed loudly at the exchange between the cousins, and Mr. Darcy looked away from his teasing cousin and was visibly captivated by the mirth on the second eldest Bennet girl's face.

Miss Lewis saw it as well and smirked before looking over to Captain Rogers.  His stare had not wavered from her and she had felt it like a brand on her skin for the past quarter of an hour.  

"Girls, I believe I would like to stretch my legs in the beautiful wilds of the Longbourn grounds, shall we make a merry party of it?" Miss Lewis asked, keeping her blue gaze aimed at Captain Rogers.

"But---I would," Mrs. Bennet spoke up, wanting to question the men further.  She looked very perturbed indeed, for Miss Lewis and to a lesser extent Mr. Darcy had all but commandeered the conversation.  It was hard to discern which of the men should be best for Jane and which of the men should be best for Lydia.

Whomever was left over could be fought over by her other girls, perhaps Lizzy with her cleverness might even catch one of them, but if the party moved out of doors and away from Mrs. Bennet's careful eye, there would be no way of monitoring it.

"Yes, please, traipse about the grounds," Mr. Bennet answered.  "For I'm sure that if you are all to stay for dinner, Mrs. Bennet has much work to be done."

"I should very much like to stay for dinner," Mr. Bingley declared, looking again to his side where Jane blushed prettily.

"Hmmph," Mr. Darcy's inaudible noise seemed louder during a natural lull in the noise of the parlour.

"Girls, did you hear that?  It was the sound of the dastardly ink pot bestower, in his natural state," Miss Lewis grinned again.

"Let us hope it is not a mating call," Mary muttered under her breath, out of ear shot for the gentlemen, but loud enough for her sisters to hear and burst into laughter accordingly.

"Ah, Mary, I have missed you so, come, show me the wilds of Longbourn, we shall make merry plans for my stay."

"Is there any change?"

Dr. Agnes sighed as she stared at the readouts for her patients' brainwaves.  They made little to no sense.  She looked up at the new arrival, unable to keep her mouth from turning into a frustrated grimace.

Agent Jimmy Woo, formerly FBI, currently a member of the newly founded STRIKE agency couldn't help but mimic Dr. Agnes' grimace.

"I'll take that as a no."

"There is absolutely no reason for them to be lying in a comatose state, their brain patterns are currently mimicking what I can only assume is a genius taking a bar exam while beating a super computer at chess while doing an itemized deduction list on their taxes," Dr. Agnes answered, sounding annoyed and defeated as she held up the tablet with her patients' readings on it. “And having a very disturbing serotonin spiking happy time while doing it all!”

"But---they're not?" Agent Woo looked back to the beds the comatose pair were lying in.  “I mean. My serotonin levels wouldn’t exactly DIP during a nice nap.”

"We need to get to Wanda," Dr. Agnes declared.  She looked into the rooms where her patients lay and shook her head in quiet dismay.  "Before they're stuck like this forever."

“Problem with that though,” Agent Woo looked back to Darcy Lewis and Steve Rogers, lying in hospital beds that were separated by a holographic screen showing their vitals.  

They both had nearly identical gentle smiles curving their mouths upwards in their sleep, their eyelids fluttering with the steady, vivid dreams they must have been experiencing. 

“Seeing that they were the last to try to get to Wanda...I’m thinking we’re not going to get many more volunteers to breach the red bubble of Wanda-doom.  Just a guess on my part though, I’ll ask around just in case.”

Chapter Text

Kitty had made it three steps out of the house to traipse after her sisters and the gentlemen when Captain Rogers stopped short on the cobblestone lane and turned to face her, Miss Lewis and Mary.  He steadfastly avoided Miss Lewis' curious gaze and merely glanced down at Kitty's still stocking covered, shoeless feet.  

"What?" Kitty questioned fearlessly, wondering what Captain Rogers was smirking about.

"Kitty!" Miss Lewis scolded gently.  "Your shoes!"

"Oh, that, it's no matter, Lydia took my shoes," Kitty waved her off and tried and failed to move the trio of ladies further onto the lane.

"Lydia seemed to think she could steal the laces for her own, as Kitty's are in much better condition than her own," Mary tattled to Miss Lewis eagerly.  She gripped her younger sister's arm tighter to stop the heedless girl from making a barefooted run for it into the nearby grass.  "Kitty, the grass is wet, you'll catch your death of a cold."

"Oh bother to that, I'll be fine," Kitty puffed up as impressively as her slight frame and five feet and one inch would allow.  

Miss Lewis laughed in response to seeing her very nearly favorite Bennet sister (Mary was just a hair ahead in that race) take no heed of Mary's continued quiet warnings about falling ill, and how poor Kitty was prone to catching a cold quickly and the last time she had coughed till her lungs rattled with each labored breath even as Kitty had claimed she was just fine.

It reminded Miss Darcy Lewis of another story told about a different person of small stature and weak constitution.  That other story had been told with far more improper and colorful language, however.  She looked up to Captain Rogers and their eyes met again, fully and completely and the sun played tricks, the beams of light turning red and burnt orange for their eyes only.

Steve shrugged as Kitty continued to wave off Mary's concern, causing Mary to turn into a hissing, sarcastic harridan as she continued to try to preserve Kitty's health and her own sanity.  Darcy shrugged back at Steve and couldn't help but grin at him.

She remembered that they each had their own favorite of the Bennet sisters and had spent more than a few collective hours extolling their virtues.

"Mary, please take Kitty up to my room, I'm sure Mr. Hill has taken my trunks up there by now, you will find a very new pair of shoes in the smallest trunk," Miss Lewis advised.  "Lydia may steal your old laces, but luckily her feet are far too large and unwieldy to fit into a pair of my shoes."

"Will you please wait for me, though?" Kitty looked out into the gardens, where Jane and Lizzie were already strolling along with an amiable Mr. Bingley and a lost and startled looking Mr. Darcy.  

"Of course, now go," Miss Lewis advised, looking back at Captain Rogers and throwing him a wink, "You wouldn't want to offend Captain Rogers' delicate sensibilities.  I have it on good authority that he's never glimpsed a young lady's ankle before, much less both ankles!"

Steve kept his gaze on Darcy as the younger girls skittered back into the house.  For her part, Darcy did her best, but an annoyed shout from Lydia had her looking to the gardens.

"That girl is a menace," Miss Lewis sighed.  

"Darcy," Steve breathed out.

He was suddenly standing directly in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin through his heavy jacket.  His knee was touching her skirts and she felt her skin flush, from her temple all the way down to her chest.  She looked up at him through her lashes and felt everything lock into place once more.

"Oh Sweet Baby Rays, she really laid the whammy on us," Darcy whispered.  She looked down at the way her breasts pushed obscenely up above her neckline, the lace she wore doing absolutely nothing to hide her endowment.  

Steve cleared his throat, not letting himself break eye contact as he buttoned up her pelisse.

"Steve," Darcy warned.

"For my own sanity, please," Steve muttered under his breath.

Darcy went bright red all over when his finger blindly brushed the lace against the line of her cleavage.  She knew Wanda, Bucky, Sam, even Agent Woo and Dr. Agnes had been teasing the two of them since they had met at Westview.  Steve and Darcy had instantly connected as friends, but their assorted friends and acquaintances had immediately clamored for more. Darcy and Steve were not in any rush though.  The pair of them had been happy to share their jokes, their confidences, their worries about Wanda's growing depression and disconnect---

"Hill!  HILL!  Please tell me that there is a bit of fish to be got---"

Mrs. Bennet's shout from inside the house had them jumping slightly apart, but not breaking eye contact.

Steve and Darcy had shared a lot, but most of all they had randomly and irrevocably bonded over a book written over two hundred years ago.  

"So, Netherfield Park is let at last," Steve whispered.

"At last," Darcy breathed out.  She could hear Kitty and Mary clamoring down the stairs of Longbourn once more.  "Steve, what are we going to do?"

Steve looked conflicted, and if his face wasn't so transparent, Darcy would not have been able to guess that he was weighing two options.  But she had witnessed this particular expression of Steve's before.  When he was debating on whether or not to eat the last jelly donut or to split it with Bucky.  

He'd crammed the donut into his own mouth at the time and then ran like hell.

"I think we have two options," Steve admitted.  "We try to find Wanda.  She might be somewhere nearby, to keep the illusion up."

"And what's the second option?" Darcy knew that expression on his face.  It was his pre-cramming of the jelly donut into his face expression.

Steven huffed out a small puff of amusement and shrugged, not even blinking that cobalt gaze as he stared at her lest they break the connection that seemed to divert Wanda's spell just a small amount.  

"Or we just enjoy ourselves, Lewis."

"Mrs. Bennet sets a fine table."

Silence reigned as the three gentlemen lounged in the library of Netherfield, Bingley  behind the desk that was cluttered with terrifically blotted paper, Darcy in front of the desk, staring moodily into a glass of port and Captain Rogers was standing by the window next to a nearly empty bookshelf.  Rogers and Darcy had not exchanged one word since departing Longbourn.  The entire atmosphere of the once happy party was stiff and charged with angry energy.

"I am most looking forward to the assembly."

Bingley's declaration was again ignored as the other two men moodily stayed silent and sullen.  

"I have secured the first dance with Miss Bennet.  She is---truly an angel."

The moody silence intensified.

Bingley was at the end of his rope.  Nothing had brought either man out of their sullen temper tantrums.  All had gone well at Longbourn.  Darcy had managed to exchange mildly pleasant words with all of the Bennets, the surprise appearance and connection to his cousin easily paving the way for courteous behavior at the least.  Bingley had been astonished to witness Darcy secure the supper set of the upcoming assembly with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Bingley had never known Darcy to dance in all the years they had been friends.  He often wondered if the well bred Master of Pemberly even knew how to move at more than a sedate walk.

"Your cousin is a delight, Darcy.  I am most pleased to make her acquaintance," Bingley admitted freely.  He highly doubted either of his companions were listening to him at that point.  "I do wonder how someone so jovial, witty and easy with conversation could be related by blood to such a dull log as you."

This again, provoked no response.  Even Captain Rogers, who was fond of witnessing Darcy being teased did not stop his staring out the window in the vague direction of Longbourn.  Bingley had thought bringing up Miss Darcy Lewis would evoke some kind of reaction from his own cousin.  Captain Rogers’ line of vision had not strayed very far from Miss Lewis all throughout dinner, even as he made happy conversation with Mary and Kitty Bennet.  

This clearly called for drastic measures.  Luckily, Bingley had access to such drastic measures.

"I have decided to invite Caroline and the Hearsts to Netherfield, surely they would be delighted with the company of Meryton and Longbourn."

"What?!" Darcy exploded as Bingley cheerfully picked up his badly repaired pen and a piece of paper that was mostly ink and tea stains and cut words.

"Bingley, see here," Rogers said quickly.  "There is no reason to bring them to Netherfield, none at all, let them be in Bath---"

"Yes, let them," Darcy eagerly agreed.  "Please, there is no need."

Bingley set down his pen with a smug smile and looked between his two companions.  Of all the things they had in common as friends, Rogers and Darcy were no more of like mind than in their shared vehemence against his sister Caroline.

"There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" Bingley questioned. "Now, out with it.  This house may be let, but it is still my house that I have let, and therefore I am the master of it.  What has got the two of you so tangled up in your dreariness after a day of delightful and quite beautiful company?"

Darcy sighed and pivoted slightly in his chair to stare at Rogers, who only looked back at him with cool indifference.

"What exactly are your intentions towards my cousin, Rogers?"

"I beg your pardon?" Captain Rogers straightened and took a step towards where Darcy sat.

Rather than shrink away from the formidable man, Darcy stood instead.  Bingley's eyes went as wide as saucers and he looked suddenly very nervous.  His house was a let house, and it would do the lease no good to have two men brawling over a maiden's virtue in it. 

"You understand me perfectly well!" Darcy bristled, looking the most wild that Bingley could ever remember his usually composed friend looking.  He ran a hand through dark brown curls, having them stand nearly entirely perpendicular to his head before he continued on full steam ahead, "You were familiar with her before she was introduced.  How?"

"Leave it to you, Fitzwilliam, to think that no two people can be introduced unless YOU are present for it," Captain Rogers volleyed back.  

"You are not the marrying sort," Darcy accused.  "Traipsing here and there around the world having escapades and intrigues and hidden wars behind enemy lines."

"He's not exactly THAT subtle," Bingley interjected, trying to be helpful and only getting an annoyed glance from both his friend and cousin.

"When the young girls scampered into Longbourn earlier today you---you---" Darcy sputtered, his face rapidly turning red.  

"I spoke with Miss Lewis, yes.  In full view of everyone," Rogers answered back, his tone even and calm, using every ounce of his own skill to keep the blush from appearing across the bridge of his nose.  He knew very well what Fitzwilliam had witnessed.  

At the moment, he could not fathom or explain why he would button Miss Lewis' pelisse.  He was sure he had had a good reason at the time, but the reason was obscured somewhere in his brain and for the life of him he could not access it.

"You touched her intimately!" Darcy roared.  "Tell me why I should not call for pistols at dawn you wastrel!"

"Well, for one, you're terrible at pistols, Darcy," Bingley said with forced cheer, actually hastening his steps to get around his desk and in between a livid Darcy and a coiled and ready to strike Rogers.  "Also, you know yourself that my cousin, YOUR friend, would never on his life treat a lady with disrespect.  You have witnessed with your own two eyes what he is willing to do to stop such treatment."

Darcy blew out a slow steady breath, the reminder of the kindness that Captain Rogers had done for him and his family in Ramsgate, the kindness that he still was endeavouring to perform was indeed proof positive that he was a good man with good intentions.

"Darcy was my closest friend from the time she could walk properly until the day I went to school," the master of Pemberly said somberly, all of his vitriol taken from him.  "She grew up without her mother, and yes she is brash and bold in many things, but she is a maiden and a respectable lady."

"I could never think anything else of her," Rogers promised.  

"Then pray tell me, what are your intentions?" Darcy questioned again, gentler this time.

Steve paused at that, remembering the question, said in different words, more vulgar and sharp, said in another lifetime by his other friends.  He also vaguely recalled his answer being cheerful violence in order to get one particular questioner to leave him alone.  But he had considered the question seriously then, as he did in this instance.

"There is no one else in the world whose company I could enjoy more than her company," Steve said with great feeling.  "But I will not force her hand.  She is an independent woman, of her own fortune and I can only hope that she will continue to want my company."

"Blast, that's a lovely sentiment," Bingley brought his hand up to his chin and rubbed thoughtfully.  "Might I borrow it some time soon, cousin?"

Chapter Text

"Captain Rogers seems to be a remarkably intelligent, good sort of man."

Miss Darcy Lewis, lately of Westview, smiled softly as she brushed out Mary's hair.  The two young ladies were seated on Mary's usually solitary bed.  Of all the Bennet sisters, Mary was the only one with her own room, and although it was small, it was warm and welcoming.  The bookshelves were fairly coated with sheet music and small notebooks and journals that Darcy herself had encouraged Mary to keep in order to have her many varied thoughts out of her head every once in a while.  

"My my, Miss Mary," Darcy tried to sound scolding, but only managed to sound delightfully amused.  "I believe I can finally see the familial resemblence between you and your prodigiously skilled mother."

"Hush, please," Mary shivered visibly as Darcy put the brush down and began looking to the new curling rags she had brought, her intentions being to create a new hairstyle for Mary alone.  

"Never fear, lovey, I was only teasing," Darcy promised, putting both hands on the girl's shoulders and giving a loving squeeze.  

"Tease as much as you like," Mary assured her, her hands going up and patting Darcy's own.  "But do so quietly, Mama would have apoplexy if she were to hear I resemble her in the slightest."

Silence stretched so long between them that Mary fidgeted and finally turned on the bed slightly to look at Darcy, who was staring at Mary with sadness written all over her beautiful face and tears glistening in her gaze.  Mary panicked and immediately stood from the bed, pacing and speaking quite a bit more quickly than she usually did.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Darcy, truly, you know that there are times when I forget to take heed of my venomous tongue and I say things that are terrible. I never mean to, but sermons and scoldings and insults just---"

"No, Mary, hush," Darcy assured her, reaching for the girl and despite the fact that Mary was already much taller than the petite older woman, she manhandled her into sitting on the bed again and immediately began attacking Mary's hair with gusto.

"I have been trying to take your counsel, I promise you," Mary whispered earnestly.  "I try to remain honest, but not acidic."

"I never said you had to become less acidic," Darcy promised her, carefully taking a section of dark, heavy hair and wrapping it up expertly in the curling rag.  "I quite like when your words go wicked and you speak truth to any who would listen.  You are a delight, and I would not have you any other way."

Mary couldn't quite understand the sentiment, having never been the recipient of unconditional love in all of her nineteen years.  Her mother had been disappointed in her the moment it was revealed that she was not of the male sex, moments after birth.  Her father had decided that two daughters nearly raised passed infancy was quite enough work for him and decided that a third, fourth or fifth child would only ruin the work he had done on the first two already.  

She had basked in the last two years of her life, being the favorite of Miss Lewis, a young woman of her own independent fortune, who had somehow singled her out and built a loving and caring friendship with her across what had felt like immeasurable time and space.  

"I lost my mother at a very young age," Darcy said very softly as she continued to meticulously set Mary's hair in rags.  

"I know, and it only makes me feel that I should appreciate my parents more.  After all, scripture says---"

"Hang scripture, it was written by men hundreds of years after the original words were said aloud," Darcy said with almost cheerful vehemence.  She playfully yanked on a lock of Mary's hair and said, "When faced with the loss of my esteemed mother, my father who had dearly loved and cherished her, sought to push me away.  I was suddenly a painful reminder of all he had lost, instead of a piece of something left behind."

They remained silent as Darcy rapidly worked on the rags, the sounds of Longbourn late at night amplified in the nighttime still.  They could hear Mrs. Hill's step on the creaky servants' stairs, going over every last inch of the house to make sure all was right.  They could hear the faint sound of Mrs. Bennet in her bed chamber, exalting to the poor ladies maid Sarah all of the triumphs of the day.  Even above that, they could hear the vague sound of Lydia being Lydia, loud, obnoxious and hateful.

"I did not know true affection until much later, after my father had passed, leaving his friends to guide me through my coming out.  Your Aunt Gardiner was absolutely vital to my survival and your Uncle Gardiner essential to my current circumstances," Darcy smiled fondly as she reminisced.  "And then they led me to the Bennets of Longbourn, and even though I have not been able to be by your side, you are my family."

"I feel the same," Mary agreed readily.  

"And though my parents gave me life and for that I am most grateful, I find myself equally grateful and perhaps more indebted to all of those dear friends who helped me once I was living the life my parents had given me," Darcy gave Mary's head a gentle pat before wrapping an arm around the younger girl and squeezing.  "You need not improve yourself for me, Mary.  I will always like you very well, whether you are sermonizing or spilling acidic truth about your esteemed mother."

A timid knock on the door interrupted the hug that ensued, but Mary did not seem annoyed, she looked up and called out,

"Come in, Kitty, you can take refuge from Lydia's harpying with us," Mary announced.

Kitty shuffled in with a small, shy smile that lasted all of two seconds before her eyes lit up at Mary's hair.  She rushed to the bed and inspected Darcy's work carefully before declaring,

"It is mighty fine work, Miss Darcy, indeed, Mary shall look quite pretty on the morrow."

"Indeed she will," Darcy agreed.  "Was Lydia being rude?"

"Well---perhaps," Kitty fretted as the three ladies carefully positioned themselves on the narrow bed, Darcy in the middle with either Bennet girl cuddled close under the covers.  "I do not like to hear her when she is in one of her jealous fits."

"You mean she was being rude about Miss Darcy?" Mary translated.

"Yes---I'm sure she does not truly mean it," Kitty mumbled, her steadfast loyalty to her sister fueling the weak defense.  "She is very young and I'm sure soon she'll realize that she's being silly and mean."

"Hmmm," Darcy sighed, the sounds of Longbourn finally dying down.  "We shall see."

Heavy, comforting silence blanketed them as sleep descended, intent on gifting them a reprieve from their very eventful day.  There were many more plans for the morrow and it would do no one any good to be cranky and tired.

"Miss Darcy?" Kitty whispered tentatively.  

"Yes, Kitty."

"Captain Rogers seems to be a very handsome and kind, very good sort of gentleman, does he not?"

Darcy snorted inelegantly, knowing she was in for it when two out of the five Bennet sisters were angling for a match to be made with herself and Captain Rogers.  It was certainly not the most dismal fate she could think of for herself.  Far from it.

"Yes, Captain Rogers is all that is good.  And handsome.  And wonderful."

"Rogers, you are a vile bastard of the first order!"

Captain Rogers smiled at the insult, garbled as it was by a sleep roughened voice.  He had risen before the sun, as was his practice, and made a quick ride into Meryton, where Colonel Forster's regiment would set up quarters in the next few days.  He had business to conduct, important business, with the fellow before him and the good Captain had no qualms with yanking the younger man right out of bed.

It was not as if Mister Denny didn't deserve it.  Steve knew very well what militia men like Denny got up to at night in a new town, and knew that the younger man had probably only achieved an hour or two of rest before being rudely awakened by being pulled out of his cot.

"What news have you, Denny?" Steve questioned with all the congeniality of a passerby inquiring about the weather.

"I have given my report already to the trusted Lady friend of our superior," Denny promised.

Steve furrowed his brow at that, shaking his head slightly and declaring, "Surely not."

"Surely not," Denny mocked him in a moment of sleepy, hungover weakness.  "Believe me I shall not and could not ever forget the delight of our commanding officer’s esteemed friend putting me to bed last night."

Denny would swear on his life that he was still drunk and had quite forgotten who he was talking to, but he quickly remembered as Steve picked him up by his nightshirt and slammed him against the heavy wood of the door behind him, rattling his brains into a more awakened state.  His large brown eyes were suddenly alert as he stared back at the monster he knew Rogers could become on a battlefield, all clenched jaw and righteous indignation.

"For---forgive me," Denny stammered.  

"You will apologize to the lady the next time you see her," Steve demanded through clenched teeth.  

"I will," Denny promised, his lips thinning as he tried not to look like the frightened boy he suddenly felt like.  

"I will not be able to see the lady until later, so I would like to formally request a retelling of your report," Steve slowly let the slightly shorter man slid to his feet, but didn't give an inch of space as he glared down at him.

"Of course, apologies Captain," Denny nodded, a shaky hand rising slowly to run over the his coarse, dense curls on the top of his head.  "I told Lady Darcy last evening, when she chased me from an alley way to the quarters with her parasol---"

Steve chuckled at that, knowing that Denny would never speak truly ill of Darcy.  She had been his sponsor into the militia even after Darcy's late father had bought Denny's freedom from a slave trader at a young age.  But it wasn't loyalty or a sense of gratitude that kept Denny connected to Darcy and Steve and the mysterious commanding officer who kept them all in business.

It was the adventure of it all.

"Wickham will be joining the militia after all," Denny revealed with his slow, easy grin.  "He suspects nothing."

Steve smiled back and squared his shoulders once more, "Excellent work, Denny.  Wickham will finally meet his match and pay for his misdeeds."

Chapter Text

"Captain Rogers seems a fine fellow. Impossibly handsome.  Intelligent too, which I know that we both find to be esteemable qualities in a gentleman."

Miss Lewis looked up from her cup full of tar-like coffee, her mouth full of half chewed bread and cold meat and cheese, slathered in a blackberry jam that Mrs. Hill was renowned for.  The clearly still sleep-addled Miss Lewis stared back at Miss Elizabeth Bennet as if the latter had grown two heads.  She issued no discerning comment or question to Elizabeth's question, but only stared at the second eldest Bennet girl blearily.

"Lizzie, have some sense," Mary ordered succinctly as she sat opposite Miss Darcy at the breakfast table.  "You remember a letter from our Aunt Gardiner, and laughed over the idea of Miss Darcy being unable to string two sentences together before she has finished breaking her fast.

Lizzie coloured and looked back to a shrewd Miss Darcy.

"I did not mean to---I was only speaking of how Captain Rogers seems quite nice," Lizzie attempted to clarify.  "I can see the familial similarities to Mister Bingley and the Captain, both seem---"

"Lord, Lizzie, why are you using such large words with poor Miss Darcy before she has finished her coffee?" Kitty demanded the moment she came into the breakfast room.  She sat next to Darcy and gave her a bright smile before loudly stating a helpful translation, "Bingley and Rogers are good, yes?"

Darcy hummed and took another sip of her coffee, a pleasant smile on her lips for Kitty before she turned and peered at Elizabeth again, less pleasant this time.

"And your cousin, Mr. Darcy, he is not nice, yes?" Kitty spoke loudly and clearly and quite slowly, ignoring Mary's snort of delighted laughter.  For Kitty was not afraid to look foolish so long as it made her friend comfortable, being a good, kind, helpful sort of girl.

"He's rubbish," Darcy nodded, taking another slurp of coffee.

"Miss Lewis!" Lizzie laughed in delight.  "I'm glad to have my opinion confirmed, then.  I found him quite off-putting yesterday, why when compared to the company he keeps, he was rather dour and proud."

"Stuff it," Darcy advised.

"Pardon?" Lizzie's brown gaze went wide and astonished, only getting narrowed eyes in response from Miss Lewis.

"Oh, sorry," Kitty nodded, turning to her sister to translate this time, using the same loud, clear, slow words she had for Darcy.  "Miss Lewis kindly asks that you not disparage her cousin.  You understand, whilst we may speak ill of Lydia from time to time, we do it because she is our sister.  We would never allow a friend or acquaintance to speak ill of her."

At this point, Mary was quite amused and was having trouble taking one sip of chocolate without fearing that it would somehow find its way through her nose instead of down her throat.  Jane soon descended on the breakfast room and nearly backtracked when she saw that Lizzie seemed quite offended and shocked by something either Mary, Darcy or Kitty had said.

"You were able to call Mister Darcy not nice!" Lizzie complained to her second youngest sister, clearly out of her depth in the art of conversing with Miss Lewis first thing in the morning. 

"Yes, because that meant the opposite of Captain Rogers and Mister Bingley," Kitty looked incredibly exasperated as she went about grabbing her breakfast and automatically reaching for the coffee pot that Mrs. Hill had happily supplied when Miss Lewis had stumbled in earlier.  She filled Darcy's cup without having to be asked before going back to smearing jam on her own toast.  "It was not meant to disparage. Honestly, Lizzie, you are slow this morning."

Darcy hummed in agreement and slurped down more coffee as Jane sat next to Mary and smiled at her.  The implacably lovely Jane gave her an angelic smile and said in a softer tone than Kitty, but just as slow and clear,

"Captain Rogers is nice, yes?  Also, Mister Bingley, very nice."

"Rogers, do you realize, by the by, that it would be quite inappropriate for the Bennet ladies and Miss Lewis to return our visit?"

Captain Rogers did not look up from his hearty breakfast.  While Darcy had toast and tea and Bingley had a plate entirely composed of sugar related treats, Rogers preferred a completely different breakfast to the two gentlemen.  Two bowls of sludge-like porridge, a full plate of fried eggs and nearly burnt bacon, an entire pot of bitter coffee and a mountain of whatever fruit was to be got was Rogers' usual morning meal when they were not travelling.  And when they were travelling he ate whatever was on hand at the inns, and quite a lot of it.

He'd laugh it off and say that being a military man had greatly increased his appetite, but Bingley always seemed to recall a much smaller young boy when they were cousins.  If his joining the military had turned the sickly Rogers into this powerhouse of a man, perhaps the military was not so bad after all.  

"Well, I'm sure the ladies have other things to be doing," Darcy interrupted, putting down his toast as if it tasted of acrid lemons and immediately pushing up from the table.

"Yes but---it would be ever so nice to have her here," Bingley grumbled before petulantly pushing a heavily iced biscuit into his mouth.

"Her?" Rogers' eyebrow rose and tried to share an amused glance with Darcy, who was having absolutely none of it.  Instead, the master of Pemberly brusquely walked to the window looking out over the drive to Netherfield, scowling at the sunshine and blue skies of the day.

"No, I mean to say, them," Bingley rushed his words through a full mouth of biscuit and managed to choke.  He did so for a few extended moments, earning more knowing smirks from Steve and a roll of Darcy's eyes.  The youngest man in the room turned red under the scrutiny and the partially lodged biscuit in his throat before slapping his hands on the table with the last clearing of his throat,

"no, I quite mean her.  Miss Jane Bennet is an angel unlike any woman I have ever encountered in my life and I---I am quite determined, I say quite determined to have Netherfield be a place she can visit and if that means having a female under the roof who can host---"

"Don't say it, Bingley," Darcy hissed out, turning away from his morose viewing of the landscape to look at his friend in desperation.

"Please, don't," Rogers agreed readily, even his bottomless appetite souring as he considered what Bingley was about to propose.

"Just think it---we could have the ladies over whilst we shoot and then return to a lovely dinner with them as guests. And then we might have entertainments and opportunities to-well to talk and get to know Miss Bennet better," Bingley made his earnest entreaties, which were quite earnest indeed.  He looked very much like an eager to please puppy, begging for a pat on the head.

"Even saying her name will summon her, surely she'll feel her ears burning and hop on her broom," Steve complained.

Darcy inelegantly snorted and turned to the window again, eager to let Rogers take forceful command of the situation.  Darcy prided himself on his intelligence and good sense, and he knew that no one could command Bingley like Rogers could.  

"Caro--"

"NO," Rogers said forcefully.

"It is a short journey and we could send an express---"

"Absolutely not," Rogers intoned, his voice a deep and unmoveable sound.

"And she would be so busy hosting that she would not be able to get up to her usual tricks."

"Her usual tricks of trying to ensnare me into marriage?" Darcy pointed out.

"Or her usual tricks of insulting everyone around her that isn't the Master of Pemberly?" Rogers questioned.

Bingley sighed and crammed another biscuit into his mouth petulantly, knowing deep down that not only were his cousin and friend right, but were quite justified in their shared, deep aversion of Caroline Bingley.  He rose from the table and took up occupancy in the other window of the breakfast room, staring out as morosely as an eager to please puppy could.

"Don't pout, Bingley, it doesn't suit your countenance as it does Darcy's," Rogers advised before shoveling another giant mouthful of breakfast into his gaping maw.  

"Hold on there," Darcy leaned close enough to the window to place his forehead against it.  "Do you see that up there?  Were you expecting visitors?"

"That's a fine carriage, four black horses!" exclaimed Bingley, before he choked on another biscuit, his next words unintelligible but quite clearly elated.

Steve's fork clattered on his plate and he immediately stood, pivoting and rushing to the window Darcy was peering out of, letting Bingley choke around new, amused laughter.  

"No, no, no, how can that---I don't understand," Rogers mumbled, truly confused as the fantastically crafted black carriage glittered in the morning sunlight as it whipped effortlessly down the road behind the four horses that were nearly as black and sleek as the carriage.

"We shan't need my sister as a host for the ladies, for here, we have Rogers' beloved step-sister," Bingley announced.  "Duchess Alianovna!  We could not ask for a better gift.  Come, let us go welcome her and make sure she intends to stay for quite some time."

Captain Steve Rogers stood at the window for untold minutes as Darcy and Bingley hurried to the front of the house to perform the duties of the welcome party.  Steve stared as the carriage pulled up and the footmen opened the door, watching in equal parts confusion and elation as Natalia Alianovnva Romanova was handed from the carriage, looking perfect as usual, her red hair coiffed to perfection and looking like fire under her sleek black bonnet, her dark travelling clothes impeccable, appearing very much like she had just stepped out of a beautiful painting than a carriage that had been on the road so very long.

And most importantly, she was alive, well and whole.  

Steve felt that red haze shift in his vision again, and he swallowed and whispered,

"Nat."

Chapter Text

"Girls!  Girls!! Oh---Hill, where are the girls, where is Jane?!"

Mrs. Hill did her very best impersonation of a person who had not one idea of where the girls or Jane were.  Even though she did know that the girls had taken a ramble to Meryton.  Miss Darcy Lewis, lately of Westview, had conspired with Mrs. Hill to get a list of all the things the girls had had to go without due to strategic economizing lately.  Both parents had been ignorant to such economizing, as was their wont, but the Bennet girls, save for Lydia, of course, were very familiar with the hardships of tightening one's purse strings. 

It had all been Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's idea, championed by Miss Lewis.  Every Bennet girl save Lydia played a part in the successful endeavor.  Pin money provided  by their parents was spent only sparingly, thanks to an agreement with shopkeepers that the very fashionable and admired Bennet girls would happily buy and make fashionable the less expensive frippery that was sold at a lower price, but a more profitable margin.  Jane Bennet in particular could wear a bonnet from years past, bought for next to nothing, and suddenly it was all the rage amongst every young lady in Meryton and beyond. But economizing on their wardrobe was the least that the girls could do.  

Mary added to the attack with economizing the household budgets that her mother gleefully ignored.  Aided and abetted by Mrs. Hill, she would alter menus and grocer orders to replace indulgent and expensive ingredients with inexpensive ingredients.  Mr. Bennet may crow that his favorite dish of all was turtle soup, but he would be astonished to learn that it was in fact mock turtle soup.

Lizzie had been instrumental at the home farm, and Mr. Bennett was none the wiser that Longbourne Farms was selling a variety of cheeses to a very fashionable grocer in Cheapside who happened to be friendly with Mr. Gardiner.  Every successful tradesperson in town had the cheese in their larder, and it was so delightful and good that even the fashionable members of the ton had sent housekeepers out in search of a wedge or two for their own meals.  The farmers themselves never said a word to Mister Bennet, as they took home a handsome portion of the profits as well. 

Kitty had turned out to be quite brilliant at aiding Mrs. Hill in household chores, specifically in making the candles, soaps and fragrant oils.  These fine items were brought in from the finest London shops, according to Mrs. Bennet.  But neither she, nor her neighbors knew that it was Kitty, who had learnt from the friendly wife of a tenant farmer, that would find the flowers and herbs necessary to create the incredibly fine candles, soaps and fragrant oils.

All the elder girls save Kitty had at first despaired of keeping such things from their parents.    All of the Bennet girls had learnt very well in their youth to honor their parents, but as Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Lewis and even Mrs. Hill had assured them, honoring their parents would have to mean obscuring the truth. Kitty had no qualms about telling falsehoods that were to their benefit, and refused to feel sorry about it.  Eventually Jane, Lizzie and Mary followed suit, as the benefits handily outweighed the sin of spinning webs of obscurification.

So the girls had spent every year since Jane had been the tender age of twelve scraping and pinching, bargaining and economizing, all the while letting their parents believe that they were living luxuriously for their small income.  Mr. Bennet would provide the bank notes to Mr. Hill to go and obtain the indulgent foods, candles and household items.  For nearly ten years, that money had been halved at least, with part of it being socked away and given to Mr. Gardiner every Christmas, while the other half went to running the tight ship that was Longbourne.

Mr. Bennet had never started to lay aside dowries for his daughter, the intent of course, was for him to father a son.  And he and his wife had become so accustomed to their way of living, that even after the possibility of a Bennet heir faded into nothingness, they were hard pressed to stop.  Shortly after Jane turned twelve, Mr. Gardiner married Mrs. Gardiner, and it became clear that their union would prosper, and although he could provide for his nieces should the need arise, those intrepid young Bennet ladies were insistent that they do something as well.

The first year only saw a little under fifty pounds hidden in Mr. Gardiner's Christmas gift from the girls.  An old and used book entitled 'Common Sense' had been wrapped and presented to him, with a note signed by all his nieces (in the very young Kitty's case quite illegibly) with a heartfelt plea for him to invest the funds for them so that they could keep their mother from the hedgerows if harm should befall their father.

The Gardiners not only invested, they matched the funds.  Even when the sums every year began to grow dramatically, so much so that the books they used to spirit the money to Mr. Gardiner had to grow accordingly.  Miss Lewis learnt of the scheme and matched the girls' contributions as well without their knowing it.  She brought her own banker in and the once small bit of money squirreled away in a used book had now quite ballooned into a sizeable sum that would keep the girls quite safe, even if the worst should happen to their blissfully ignorant father and mother.  

The sum of money had grown so large, and the per annum interest folded back in, that by the time Jane had received her first marriage proposal at the tender age of four and ten, she had been wise enough and comfortable in the knowledge of it that she had turned down the much older, quite unseemly and disgusting lawyer.  And she had safely never breathed a word of it to her mother.  Not had she on her subsequent seven secret  proposals from all manner of horrid men.  

She and her sisters were determined to marry for love.  They had quite proven, a hundred times over that no matter the state of their future husbands’ income, they would find a way to prosper.  Meeting Miss Lewis has only reinforced that idea so strongly it would never be shaken. Miss Lewis was a woman of seven and twenty and she was in no hurry to settle for anything but the truest loves.  Jane, Kitty and Lizzy would settle for no less.  And Mary has quite begun to believe she would never have to marry at all if she did not want to.  

However, since Lydia had forced her way into society though, the pin money the girls could contribute became lesser, as the youngest Bennet refused to economize.  She ran up some minor debts in the Meryton shops, knowing her sisters would always take care of it.  This came at the cost to their own modest wardrobes and personal items, and Miss Lewis was determined to address the deficits immediately.

Lydia had cried off of spending time with Miss Lewis, she knew the lay of the land that way and realized that she would never be a favorite of the shrewd old maid.  She instead went to the Lucas' while the rest of the girls went to town, Miss Lewis taking them on a secret shopping spree.  Lydia might have been able to swallow a slice of her humbly flavored pie if she had known that each girl was getting fitted for three new gowns a piece, but she was none the wiser, and not one of the other Bennet girls could say they were sorry for it.

"I believe, ma'am, the girls were showing the delights of Meryton to Miss Lewis," Mrs. Hill answered in her usual way, a tone that somehow appeared to Mrs. Bennet's ears as deferential, but at the same time clearly stated that she had no time to explain any further.

Mrs. Hill was, after all, a true proficient at stopping a tantrum of Mrs. Bennet's before it started.

"Oh, well, there's just that an invitation has been delivered!" Mrs. Bennet cried out before dramatically plopping herself down on a nearby chaise.

A chaise, by the by, that Mrs. Bennet thought was quite new and stylish and also shipped from one of the finest warehouses in London.  And indeed it looked quite stylish and very pretty in Mrs. Bennet's chambers.  But it was not new.  And it was most certainly not shipped from a fine London warehouse.  Kitty, it turned out, was not only terrible at the piano, drawing and every other feminine art but bonnet embellishing, but she was also very very proficient at looking at a drawing of something and managing to recreate it out of the materials she had on hand.  

There was an elderly woodworker that was a tenant on the Longbourn estate, and having no apprentice or children of his own, he had not minded a very young, very little, very curious girl lolloping about in front of his little house.  And he had not minded when she had approached him on his porch one day and asked how he had made the fine carvings of his wooden chair.  And he had certainly not minded helping her through making her own first little doll chair, or the many other doll furniture and human furniture items that had followed.

Jane had then taken a discarded dress of their mother's, deemed unfashionable by Mrs. Bennet, dyed the fabric and applied it to the chaise with expert hands after Mary and Lizzy had made fine cushioning with down feathers and bleached wool that could not be sold.  Their Uncle Gardiner had quoted Mr. Bennet the family price for the chaise, and that twenty pounds that he had received for the chaise went immediately into the girls' accounts.

"An invitation?" Mrs. Hill repeated, although she knew quite well an invitation had been delivered from Netherfield just a little earlier.  And she knew it had been about inviting all of the Bennets to dine at Netherfield before the Meryton Assembly the next day as a lady host had arrived, some relation of some sort to Captain Rogers. 

Therefore, she gladly tuned out Mrs. Bennet's explanation, which was quite a bit louder and more intense than it needed to be, as was Mrs. Bennet's nature.  Mrs. Hill automatically went to the little box on Mrs. Bennet's vanity.  The decorative jewelry box had been a simple wooden box used to transport port, but it had been painted very beautifully by Jane, and was then sold at the family price back to Mrs. Bennet by Mr. Gardiner, which had added five pounds into the Bennet Girls' coffers.

She plucked out a vial of smelling salts (made by Mrs. Hill and Kitty) and waited patiently for the mistress of the house to need it as she went into exaltations of the men of Netherfield coming to rescue her poor girls and herself.  The excellent smelling salts were wafted in front of her nose when she feigned swooning, and then were replaced back into the box.  Mr. Bennet budgeted an astonishing ten pounds a year for Mrs. Bennet's smelling salts, from one of the finest apothecaries in England (otherwise known as Kitty and Mrs. Hill, with a fine label concocted and drawn on by Mary).

"Oh, but they have nothing new to wear, not a stitch!" Mrs. Bennet wailed.

That was soon to be not quite true, but Mrs. Hill dare not say anything of Miss Lewis' generous plans to expand the girls' wardrobes.

"Well, ma'am, I know the girls have been working on some embellishments and such to their gowns for the assembly," Mrs. Hill stated calmly, happy to lay the groundwork for the new dresses that would certainly appear for the girls before the assembly.  "And you know, your girls are very handy at making their wardrobe over new."

"Oh, yes, to be sure Jane and Lydia are quite clever with a needle, but oh, Hill, I despair of Mary!" Mrs. Bennet complained.

Hill rolled her eyes as she reached for one of Mrs. Bennet's 'imported shawls' from the continent.  The needlework was very fine indeed, and Miss Mary had spent nearly thirty hours total on the lace edges.  The poor dear had strained her eyesight something terrible, but she had not complained, because that bit of economizing had been sizeable for a piece of frippery, as lace was so very dear, not to mention 'imported' lace.

"Miss Mary is clever--"

"TOO Clever by half if you ask me, but no one does!" Mrs. Bennet wailed.

"And now, with all these fine prospects for the girls, I do believe Miss Mary should want for nothing," Mrs. Hill said smartly, and something in her tone managed to stop the caterwauling coming from her mistress.

Mrs. Bennet sniffed into her handkerchief (another bit of lace from the aforementioned Mary), and clearly had to think very hard on what to complain of next.

"Oh, but if the girls do not come back soon, we cannot plan properly---why they need to secure dances with the fine gentlemen as many as can be and---"

"Oh, that was the bell, ma'am, I shall go and fetch you tea," Mrs. Hill announced, cutting off a vexed Mrs. Bennet, who still had very many complaints to air.  But Mrs. Hill no longer had the patience to endure them. 

"How long do you think it will take for Jane and Lizzie to stop their demurring and accept Miss Darcy's lovely gifts of gowns?"

Mary looked up from sheet music she had been perusing idly to see Kitty looking quite bored and dangerous.  Mary had spent a very good time of her life, from the ages of seven and nine, doggedly following her younger sister here and there as the penultimate Bennet daughter was endlessly curious and had far too much energy to pour into her curiosity.  Kitty could also claim to be the most fearless Bennet sister, for as fearless as Lydia was, she still eschewed society she deemed beneath her (most society).  And whilst Lizzy was fearless in the words she brandished as swords, she had never gotten into half of the adventures Kitty had gotten into.

Therefore from the age of seven to nine, Mary would follow Kitty quite closely as the girl rambled about Longbourn and its tenants fearlessly.  Kitty had no qualms about traipsing right up to a tenant and asking what they were doing or about.  Mary feared that her younger sister would be snatched up one day by vagabonds and sold to a rich family somewhere on the continent, or some other such scandalous story like Lizzy had read in her silly novels at so early an age.

And while Kitty was curious, she was also unfailingly kind in a way that seemed to charm nearly everyone (but their mother and father, of course).  She had no pretense in her manners, and never had such a thing, making it easy for the child to walk up to an elderly woodworker or a tenant farmer's wife or a locksmith and ask them countless, never ending questions.  People of all walks of life were charmed by Kitty's effortless, artless manners and Mary realized by the age of nine, that her little sister had gained quite a few protectors wherever she had flittered off to.  

"I'm sure at least another half of an hour, Kitty," Mary sighed, putting all the sheet music back.  There were no new selections that Miss Lewis had not already provided to her and neither of the Bennet girls present would linger about the shop if they were not buying anything.  "You know very well that Lizzy has a silly sense of pride, even if you lack it."

Kitty's grin lit up her face.  She had taken no convincing to be fitted for new gowns funded by Miss Lewis.  She may be very frugal with her own funds, but she would not turn down a lovely gift of new gowns for anything.  Kitty wrapped her arm in Mary's, waved farewell to the shopkeeper before going back out into the main street of Meryton.  

"Lizzy should be careful of her pride," Kitty looked all about the street before nodding her head and setting off at a slow, lazy walk towards the east end of the main street.

"Very true, Kitty.  It does goeth before a fall," Mary arched a sardonic eyebrow, an expression that every Bennet girl had inherited from their never too serious father.

"Oh, yes, there is that," Kitty acknowledged as she turned their walk off of the main street.  "I was thinking more along the lines of Mr. Fatzherbert Darcy, though.  If she is so prideful and silly, she will not see how very handsome he is---nor how he stares at her so, as if her smile was some kind of exciting mystery."

"You are entirely too observant, and NOSY for your own good," Mary admonished, albeit half-heartedly.  "They have only just met, they do not know that they would suit."

Kitty gave Mary her own sardonic lift of her left eyebrow.

"Fine, yes, they probably would suit," Mary admitted.  "He is entirely too serious, and Lizzy loves to laugh, especially at those entirely too serious.  He might do well to be laughed at, just so he does not over esteem his own self worth."

"Indeed, also, he rolls his eyes quite nicely," Kitty exclaimed cheerfully as they turned down another corner and walked towards a large building that had been quite empty for many years.

"What do you mean by that?" Mary wondered.

"Well, his eyes are large, and very nicely brown, and so when he rolls them, it is quite noticeable," Kitty reasoned, her voice going quieter and quieter as they got closer to the building.  "And you know how Lizzy is quite immune to censure of her own self worth.  It seems to me that she would not be able to miss Mister Darcy's very large brown eyes rolling at her and maybe she might take heed and stop being so high and mighty all the time."

"Kitty!" Mary laughed, only to have her sister hold her hand over her mouth.  She tried to mumble out a question of what Kitty was going on about, but it was muffled.

"A very suspicious looking man had been prowling the main street, and he came back to this building, which is quite unoccupied as you know," Kitty whispered.

Mary scrunched up her nose as Kitty dropped her hand from her mouth.

"Please Kitty," Mary shook her head, feeling very much like she was once again, between the ages of seven and nine and had to look out for her little sister, who had delved into Mary's own complicated hairdo (courtesy of Miss Lewis), and pulled out a pin gently.

Kitty took no heed of the pale pink linen of her gown and knelt on the dirty front stoop of the building and immediately began attacking the lock.  Mary wished somehow that her own eyes were bigger and brown so that her own sister could see them roll them very definitively.

"You promised Mister Baldwin that you would never use his lessons for ill," Mary reminded her in a surprisingly calm whisper.  

"I am PROTECTING Mister Baldwin, as well as all the other tradespeople and inhabitants of Meryton by ferreting out what this stranger is doing," Kitty calmly explained away her sisters concerns as she continued to use the skills the locksmith had taught her to break into the building.  It was the work of a mere moment, for Kitty was more adept at lockpicking than she was even at woodworking, and the audible click of the lock seemed to echo in the silence.

"Now what?" Mary wondered of her impetuous, overly curious little sister.

"Well, now we find out who that was," Kitty nodded.

Impetuous, overly curious and foolhardy.

Kitty placed her hand on the doorknob to leverage herself back up to standing when very suddenly, it was wrenched open and the young girl pitched forward, followed quickly by Mary, who had tried and failed to catch her sister's shoulders before she tumbled.  The tangle of Bennet girls looked up from under the brims of their bonnets only to see the amused face of Captain Steven Rogers.

"Your admirers, I think, Captain?" a handsome dark skinned young man in a red regimental coat asked from behind Captain Rogers, sharing a smile with another young man standing next to him, dressed very fine in a dark great coat and high top hat.  

"Admirers that are handy with a lockpick," the aristocratic young man said to the soldier whose grin was quite handsome.  "Why am I not surprised?”

"Ladies, while it is good to see you, I must ask," Captain Rogers bent down and easily helped both Bennet girls to their feet.  "What on Earth are you doing here?"