Too late. See? This is precisely what comes from presenting a convivial countenance. Now I am obliged to swallow my pride and make the supreme sacrifice of stooping … I mean stopping to chat with a merchant. Not that it matters he is a lowly tradesman. I am, after all, above such prejudice since being on good terms with the Gardiners. It is, however, unfortunate Elizabeth cannot witness my forthcoming sociability.

“Good evening, Mr. Jones.” Affability could be my middle name.

“Mr. Darcy, I am honoured you remember me, sir.”

“Of course. You were of invaluable assistance to both Miss Jane Bennet and myself on separate occasions at Netherfield last year.”

He ponders for a moment, tapping his chin with stained fingertips. “Ah, yes. Tinctura Lavandula composite for your griping guts, was it not?”

Confound it! I am not inclined to engage in time-wasting prattle about medicinal substances with this mammering, hedge-born minnow. Ah, but lavender! Her scent. I would change Shakespeare’s wording from civet to, ‘Give me an ounce of lavender, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination.’ … not that my imagination needs further embellishment where Elizabeth is concerned. It does exceedingly well on its own, thank you. The woman possesses the only healing properties I require at this juncture. Nevertheless, I will keep your remedies in mind, good apothecary. Should my heart be broken later this night, I may find myself in need of a potent purgative potion.

“You will excuse me, please, Mr. Jones. I was just on my way to greet the Bennet family.” I nod to the man, forge forward, and console myself with the fact Affability would be a foolish middle name for Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Anticipation of Elizabeth’s appearance lures me forth like a siren call, and I pray my hopes shall not be dashed upon the rocks. Biddable Bingley has managed to clear a path for us, and I wonder if he employed those lethal elbows to do so. No doubt it was his disarming smile that charmed the masses into doing his bidding.