Beginning, Previous Section, Section VII

Chapter 30

Posted on September 2, 2008

Darcy arrived late afternoon at his townhouse in London after a seemingly long journey from Hertfordshire. Blake had separated himself from the traveling group once they reached London, and the Hursts' carriage turned left onto Grosvenor Street while Darcy continued to Grosvenor Square, where he immediately caught sight of the limestone and terra cotta brick building he called home. Of course, the limestone was from his own mines in Derbyshire.

"At last!" He sighed. "It is good to be home."

His butler and housekeeper, the Geoffries, waited for him to descend from the carriage; they had been with the Darcy family for twenty years. He bounded up the steps, stopping only long enough to offer a few polite words before seeking refuge inside. Taking large strides up the first flight of the staircase, he moved down the hall to the music room.

"Georgiana?"

When no answer came, he turned and bumped into Mrs. Geoffries.

"Miss Darcy is not here." Having followed behind, she had caught up to her master just as he spun around. Before he uttered a single word, she explained, "She is visiting the Countess and Lady Victoria, sir. Colonel Fitzwilliam is home, and they invited her to stay."

"Thank you. Have a tray sent to my room. A simple meal will be sufficient." Entering his bedchambers, he smiled at the new bottle of brandy on the table next to his favorite armchair, alongside the window overlooking the busy Grosvenor Square. "Ah, it is so good to be back."

For his examination upon his return was a pile of invitations from friends and family. After warming himself by the fire, he stripped off his jacket, untied his cravat, and even removed his boots. He tackled the invitations first, discarding any from those he deemed interested only in using his appearance to raise their social standing. The acceptance pile was short in comparison.

Only one letter sat among the invitations, since he received all the others at Netherfield. It had arrived that morning from his cousin Anne. He enjoyed her humorous descriptions of life at Rosings. She had become his confidant over the years, and since she spoke little to anyone else, whether family or acquaintance, he felt his secrets safe with her. Fearing others might read their letters, they wrote in a code developed as children. Had she not been a sickly person, he may well have considered her for a wife, but he needed an heir. Anne held no hidden desire; she understood her fate. They had kept their friendship secret in the hope their public display of nonchalance would lessen any family demands for marriage to one another.

"Enter."

The young servant placed a tray on the table and, without looking up, bid him a good evening and left the room as quietly as she entered.

Now that his meal had arrived, Darcy opened the bottle of brandy. He poured himself a glass and leaned back in his chair. Damn, I wish I took pleasure in cigars like Rawlings. He always seems so relaxed after he finishes one.

Locating his writing paper and pen, he jotted down a quick message to his sister. He also penned notes to Rawlings, Kent and Bingley. Even though he had spoken to Blake about sharing dinner the following week on their return to London, he wondered if he had even heard him or realized he had agreed. Blake had been so despondent. He hesitated for a second before writing a note to him as well. With many small details left to address in advance of Rawlings' journey to America, Darcy started to draft a list. I wonder what the problem was with the Lively? Rawlings will be dismayed if the ship is delayed. He seemed anxious to leave for America.

Darcy rang for a servant. "Please have these sent immediately. No need to remain for an answer. One moment." Darcy found the message to his sister. "Have someone wait for a response to this one." The man nodded and left in haste.

Darcy poured one last drink for the night; he was not a heavy drinker, even in times of distress. Unlike the previous evening when he suffered his own despair, he was not compelled to imbibe tonight. Blake's unhappiness made limiting his drinks easy, even if he did not know the details.

Ahhh. So good to be home. Tomorrow I think I will visit White's. The Black Bull Tavern was not a satisfactory substitute for a gentleman's club.

Rawlings declined Darcy's invitation to meet him at White's, and indicated he had made plans to introduce Kent and Bingley at the Four Horse Club. He did not wish to delay the introduction of his talented friends.

Blake, on the other hand, had arranged to meet Darcy. Arriving first, he waited outside White's, although he attempted to conceal his presence from the members entering and exiting. He hoped to stall the forthcoming congratulations until his friend could help handle the crush of well-wishers. Blake did not mind crowds, but today he did not wish to deal with too many questions about Meryton.

Darcy, as usual, arrived at the exact time specified. Blake seemed to him a little less sad, but he had not returned to his cheerful manner. They spoke a few words regarding the reception awaiting them, both men sensing the members making a fuss over the competitions. With deep breaths, he and Blake ascended the stairs.

As expected, many men gathered around the moment they entered the room. Some popularity was welcome, but neither man had anticipated the degree to which they would be accosted. Several older gentlemen took notice of the flurry of activity from comfortable seats by the fire, lowering their newspapers to watch before muttering to each other about the impertinence of the young.

Darcy and Blake stood in the center of the crowd; the eager members peppering them with questions.

"I lost a bundle, Darcy. I had thought you would be the victor," one older man complained.

"Lord Blake, is the stallion as wonderful as they say?"

"Who is this Bingley fellow? And where is Netherfield Park?" Several other members inquired.

Darcy and Blake spent a good portion of two hours answering every inquiry. Drinks flowed from the well-wishers to them. Finally, the questions ceased and the men moved to the billiards room. They taught the others the game of Twenty Points, and were surprised to find that this tidbit had not been included in the papers, unlike everything else. The two friends had begun to relate the story of the golf game when the members crowding around the billiard players gave way as Blake's father approached the table.

"I need to speak to you." the Duke of Charnwood said.

"Now?" Blake glanced at the cue stick in his hand.

"Now," His Grace demanded. His stare was cold, dark, and unflinching.

Blake's shoulders slumped slightly, but he allowed his father to lead the way. Darcy did his best to regale the group with new accounts of the games, while keeping his eyes focused on his friend.

Father and son found a secluded corner table from which to sit and talk. The club's servants quickly placed a carafe of wine before them and then just as promptly moved to guard their privacy.

"Congratulations on winning the stallion." His Grace said abruptly and without even the slightest hint of feeling. "You are late. I expected you back in town two days ago."

Blake nodded and braced his nerves. Any conversation his father started so brusquely was never a happy occurrence. "I could not leave until yesterday. You did not indicate the reason for the urgency."

"A rumor is floating around that you have become involved with another unacceptable woman." He leaned closer and whispered, "My God, son. A country lass with no money. Is she why you delayed your return to town?"

"Do not worry, father. It is in the past." Blake leaned away from him. He flashed a smile although it bore none of the warmth his friends would have recognized.

"Good. I am pleased you thought about your duty and ended this affair, but will you need to make any restitution to her father, or do I need to get involved?"

"No sir, there is no need for any recompense. Our flirtation never went that far."

"Just toying with her, I see."

"No. I did not toy with her. Well, perhaps at the onset, but I grew to feel much more."

"You were wise, then, to put an end to it before she sought a further connection." His Grace paused a moment before continuing, "I have arranged a dinner party. You will attend."

Blake scoffed as he leaned back into his chair. He covered his glass with his hand when the servant attempted to fill it. He glared at his father, and with clenched teeth, asked, "Who is she this time? How much money does she have?"

"Her portion is ample, and she is exceptionally attractive. She is just the type of woman you like: silly and empty headed, concerning herself with clothes and gossip. Much the flirt, too..."

"I daresay if you know her, she would be experienced in arts and allurements women use to flatter a man. I assume if she has survived your inspection, then she is cunning as well." Blake did not try to conceal his contempt, although any onlookers would have assumed he said something witty by his father's stiff smile.

"Do not speak so. You forget who I am."

"I can never forget. So, what do you wish for me to do? Do I just flirt and toy, or do you desire something more?"

"Son." His Grace sighed. "I am attempting to help. You need to be married and take your place in society. I will not be here forever."

Nor will my inheritance. Blake glanced over to watch Darcy speaking animatedly to the group. He does not comprehend how easy his life is when compared to mine.

"I want you married before long. Time is wasting."

"You mean you want your hands on a fresh supply of funds." Blake narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth again. "Other members here have unreservedly made me aware of your latest misfortune. You bet on Darcy!"

"Everything was in his favor. No one expected you to win. No one. All your friend had to do was come in fourth. I went with the odds. This was not about who I wanted to see win the horse."

"Always the odds. I understand what gamblers do; I have had a lifetime of education in the subject. Compute the odds and bet accordingly." Blake leaned forward and in a half-whisper said, "You care not for anyone except yourself."

"Your words are unkind. The risks I take are for you. I am forever trying to increase my holdings... for you." His Grace reached to pat his son's arm.

Blake jerked his arm towards his side. "No, Father, you do not. You gamble because you love it so. It is the thrill you seek, not the winnings. I have witnessed your expression when the wager is made and then again when the event takes place. Your eyes are sharply focused on the activity, regardless of the danger or conditions of your surroundings. Every muscle in your body is tense. A ruffian could hold a knife at my throat, and you would bet on the outcome. Dinner is often late or your attention is absent whenever you are in the middle of some wager. You speak often of your winnings, but never do you discuss your losses." Blake leaned forward. "Father, you do not think of my future when you wager yet another part of your fortune on a single bet."

"I have not given you leave to speak to me in such a way. What has caused this change in you?" Without losing his smile, he lowered his head, and with his nostrils flared and his eyes boring into his son, said, "I give you fair warning. You will be at my dinner party in four days time. You are to arrive before seven." Standing up, the duke towered over his son. "I insist that you consider this lady seriously."

Blake nodded, and his father left for the card room. Anyone watching would have assumed the two men had just finished a most friendly conversation; both were skilled at smiling while disguising their true feelings in front of others.

Darcy, noticing his friend sitting alone, swiftly brought him a drink. "I thought you might need this."

"No. I thank you, but drinking will not solve my problems. Blake stood. "If you do not mind, I am in the mood for a ride."

"Heracles?"

"Yes. He is a beautiful horse. I am grateful you cannot putt." Blake said with the faintest of smiles as he winked to Darcy. "At least in that I may be happy."

"Another skill I must learn. And I promise you, one day I will beat you at chess. We may be in our old age, but I will be victorious. I will have a chess set made available and I shall be a ready partner at any time." Darcy tried to elicit one of his friend's normal smiles, but sighed when he realized this was not the day for more than a brief bit of levity from him.

For the next few minutes, they continued to speak in more relaxed, friendly manner. Darcy detected the sadness in his friend's eyes and wondered which person was responsible for it today---the Duke or Miss Elizabeth. For a reason he would not admit, he had hoped His Grace had caused the sorrow.

"Before I forget, I want you to know I have renamed the horse." Blake said, abruptly.

"Oh?"

"Netherfield. Of course, I will not correct anyone referring to the horse as Heracles. I wanted you to be aware that I will occasionally call the horse Nether."

Darcy immediately remembered their conversation some weeks ago when he learned Blake had named his brown filly Chesterfield. He wondered if the reason was in recognition for a favorite place he visited, or if it was where he had met a special lady. He doubted he would ever learn the truth, and he was too polite to ask.

The two men soon departed White's, followed by few other members desiring to get a glimpse of the magnificent white Andalusian stallion.

Darcy returned home hoping to find his sister. Her response to his message was short but meaningful. She would arrive in time for dinner, although he had hoped she would come earlier. For some unknown reason, he longed to be with someone he loved, and she was the only family member fitting his need. He was close to his cousin, Richard, as well, but tonight he sought only Georgiana's company. Perhaps he hoped to determine if she had overcome her recent heartbreak. He desired to find someone who had been successful in that regard.

He hid his disappointment at her absence, but when jr caught sight of Georgiana coming up the front steps, he revealed a wide smile that reached his eyes, causing small little wrinkles to appear. Rarely had his servants witnessed anything other than a slight rising of the corners of his lips. His smile weakened when he realized she was being escorted. Well, at least Richard brought his happy ways with him. They exchanged warm welcomes.

"How could you lose, Darcy?" Richard asked. "I had a large wager on you. Most everyone did, in fact. I daresay you may not be popular with most members of the ton. They lost a bundle."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but the moment Bingley announced his game, I worried excessively. Speaking of which, Bingley and I will play a round of golf next week at Royal Blackheath. Perhaps you may like to join us and show me how putting is done?" Darcy smirked to his cousin.

"Unfair cousin, unfair. You know very well I have never played."

Dinner that night was shaping up to be a noisy one for Darcy House, and the servants all took note of it. Darcy had invited Richard to stay for dinner, which he had done with alacrity. Georgiana, having gone to change for dinner after the initial welcome, had been the last to arrive in the dining room.

"Georgiana, you look lovely tonight."

"Thank you, brother. Victoria assisted me in choosing a few new gowns. I hope you like them."

"If they are all as pretty as this one, then yes I am sure I will." Darcy patted her hand. She sat to his right. Darcy turned his attention to Richard as he took his usual seat on the left. "How is your sister?"

"Victoria is quieter these days. But I am more interested in hearing about your trip. Tell us about the tup running! I am positive Blake was surprised. Did he really grab the tail?"

"Yes, he most assuredly did! He did not like it one bit either. It was great fun." Darcy entertained them with stories about all the games. They barely ate as he spoke, enthralled by the competition and his description of the horse.

"Ah, I wished you would have won." Richard sipped his wine. "I could have secured him with a competition of our own!"

"Bah. And what would you have chosen that could best me?"

Before either man could answer, Georgiana shouted out, "Flirting! Richard would win easily."

"Was there no flirting to be had in Hertfordshire?"

Darcy felt the heat rising on his face as Richard spied the color change spreading upwards from his cousin's neck.

"You did not, man, I do not believe it! Well, did you or did you not engage in some flirting? Do tell. I am most anxious to hear if there was any pretty lady watching you grab that ram!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, cousin, but no. There was no one twirling a rose at me."

"Surely there were some pretty ladies. London does not own them all!"

"Yes, of course, there are. The Bennets are known as the local beauties. The eldest two especially."

"Eldest? How many are there?" Leaning back in his chair, Richard studied his cousin's unusual reactions to his jibes.

"Five."

"Five?" Richard sat upright with his jaw dropping and his brow lifting. "All pretty? I must take a trip to Mr. Goulding's horse farm soon! I am in need of a stallion myself. And apparently there is more in Meryton than fine horseflesh. Now, how many of the ladies are out?"

Darcy sighed. "Unfortunately, all five. Only the eldest two would interest you. Their manners are impeccable; the youngest are in need of some stern direction."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is pretty, I am sure of it." Georgiana smirked behind her napkin.

Richard turned his stare at her. "What do you know, Georgiana?"

"I have lately read, and in my brother's own hand, how beautifully Miss Elizabeth Bennet plays the pianoforte, and sings too! He has rarely heard anyone that gives him more pleasure. Is that not true, brother? She giggled when Darcy rolled his eyes. She leaned towards Richard and with a conspiratorial smile, added, "And she is witty and reads the best of books."

"I must hear more about the pretty Miss Elizabeth Bennet that plays and sings so well."

"Humpf. Georgiana, you best finish your meal. I am in the mood to hear you play and sing. I have missed it very much." Darcy swallowed the remaining remnants of his wine and offered no further comments about the witty and pretty Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was a long time before his normal coloring returned, which his sister and cousin also noted.

A late night caller to Darcy House found the master sitting alone in his study. Darcy had enjoyed his dinner, had a few drinks with Richard and allowed Georgiana to retire early. He had been sipping a scotch whiskey as he reminisced about his recent trip and a certain pair of fine eyes. When his thoughts turned to his sister and her recent past, he had come to recognize the depth of Blake's sorrow. He had had that same lifeless appearance she did after Ramsgate. While she had not returned to her old self, a sparkle or two appeared at dinner. The announcement of Rawlings' arrival interrupted his reverie, but it did not take longer than a moment to discern his friend's unhappiness nor his slight wobble in his walk.

"Rawlings, let me pour you some coffee. Please sit down and tell me what is causing you such distress."

"The Four Horse Club."

"Your club. Why would you be so angry with them?"

"I am no longer a member."

With raised brows, Darcy asked, "Not a member? What happened? How can that be? You helped start the blasted club and before that even raced with some of these men since Cambridge. What caused the problem? Surely the loss of the competition did not result in this!"

"No. The attitude of the members is what I can no longer abide." Rawlings sipped coffee. "I cannot remain with such a self-important group of men. I must admit my eyes were opened wide today. I could understand Sir Paxton, but Buxton, my neighbor, looked down upon my friends. He has no great lineage to speak of! The same for Mr. Annesley too!"

"I believe they both belong to the gentry, which cannot be said of Kent or Bingley." Darcy waited. He began to sense the problem, but did not wish to speak.

"All my life I was taught to look down on those beneath me, especially tradesmen." He glanced at Darcy. "Do not look at me that way. You and Blake received the same instruction. You remember what they said: You are better than others. You have a right to walk about as if you own the world because, well, you do. Perhaps it was not spoken in those exact words, but the meaning is unchanged. My father taught me to take from tradesmen; never give. Certainly I should not entertain them in my home. I do not know how many times he said they only want our money and our connections. Only do business as one would do when purchasing a pair of gloves. They are shopkeepers, and I am the purchaser. Good God. I believed everything they said."

Darcy frowned. He recalled his own upbringing and remembered hearing some of those exact phrases. I wonder if my father would approve of my alliance. I included two tradesmen's sons as partners. No, my father would never have approved. He retuned his attention to Rawlings, pacing the floor and spouting vile curses.

"Rawlings! Calm down. Tell me what happened."

Rawlings glared at the crystal decanters on the side table until Darcy poured two glasses, one brandy and one scotch whiskey. Rawlings sipped his drink and settled back into the comfortable overstuffed armchair "Kent and Bingley were snubbed. Given the coldest shoulders I have ever witnessed and by every member. They had been welcomed for all of five minutes until their names were given and their background was revealed."

"Did you truly anticipate any other reaction? Blake foretold of the attitude of his club. I foresee the same upshot at mine once they learn of all the partners in the alliance. I wanted secrecy; at least until we were so well established. Others cannot demand we remove the tradesmen. What did you expect would happen?"

"I expected my desires to be respected. If I desired to sponsor Kent and Bingley in the club, the others should have valued my opinion enough to accept them as well."

"Surely you exaggerate their reactions. Come, come Rawlings. These unwritten rules covering class distinctions safeguard our place in society, and you have known of this all your life. Do you remember when Kent had said we owned all the land and all the resources? Well, he was right, we do! However, our attitude is not stopping their class from trying to push us out. I believe we must make room for them, or they will uproot us completely."

"Do not be such a officious foot-licker. How will they do that?" Rawlings scoffed. "Why, they might win it card games!"

"No, but we are on the path to hand it over to them. I said it from the beginning, I cannot rest on my laurels. Look about, Rawlings. Who has the energy these days? Not our class. You were right. Mostly we spend out days gambling, drinking, and seducing, all the while, we wash our hands of any hard work, preferring for our stewards make the effort. We are not the ones with the new visions, they are."

"I suppose you are right. I did not truly believe what I said back in Netherfield Park, but I accept it as true now. Rawlings sat for a few minutes staring into the flickering fire. The room's warmth came not from the flames, but from the brandy he had been gulping.

"Damn, I hate to think of Blake? If I am this angry at my treatment, he will be worse."

"How so?"

"He will back down. He does not possess the strength to go against these people."

"I am not so sure. Hopefully, he will surprise us both."

The two continued to discuss the alliance and found convincing reasons why the inclusion of tradesmen's sons would prove invaluable in the long run. After Rawlings calmed down, they discussed the problems with the Lively. Both men felt uneasy about the lack of a reasonable explanation. The Captain stated the ship needed some repairs. It appeared without a flaw to either him or Kent, but then neither of them were skilled in the shipping world.

In another house a few streets from where Darcy and Rawlings sat, two other men discussed the incident at the club while playing their on-going competition of Twenty Points.

Kent took his shot. "You understand my position now. Do not deny it."

Bingley sighed and remained quiet.

"Come, come. They will never let us enter their little club. You know it. Why did I believe otherwise this past month?" Kent took his next shot. "Two points!"

Twirling his cue stick, Bingley gazed into the distance and then spoke calmly. "Rawlings quit. He glared at them, and resigned. You can see he, at least, is committed to altering the way things have always been done. And I trust Darcy."

"True, I was surprised by Rawlings' actions. But this further supports my thinking. He started the damn club, but they threatened to kick him out. Life will never change." Kent leaned on his cue stick as his friend took his shot. "I did not hear you include Blake as one to trust, which brings up another question all together.

"What?" Bingley stood erect. "Oh, Blake is trustworthy, much more so than some of our tradesmen friends."

"Do we actually want to continue the connection and do business with them? Rawlings was so angry today, but after his relatives intervene, what then? Do not stare at me; you know the earl will intercede. Not even Rawlings will be able to withstand family pressure. Blake will never stand against his father. Now Darcy, well, I just do not know."

"I believed you no longer felt isolated or left out. Remember this is a good opportunity for us as well as them."

I do not need them to be successful. They need my connections more, just as they need yours."

"Do not be foolish. We have signed the partnership agreement. I do not go back on my word. Do you?" Bingley sighed. "No, you do not. Everyone respects your word, Kent. Do not lose that now. You are in danger of becoming the very type of man you despise."

"You are correct. Sometimes I let my anger flow out my mouth when I do not mean what I say. I have a temper."

"Yes, not unlike another friend of mine." Bingley placed two balls in the corner pocket. "Five points total for me. If you stay angry, I will be a guinea richer tonight. You do not shoot straight unless you are calm." The two men chuckled. Sighing, Bingley shook his head. "I will try to talk Rawlings into rejoining his club. He loves driving."

Kent stared at Bingley. "We could start a new one, could we not? Rawlings could lead us."

Bingley shook his head. "We would not be allowed to drive in the streets as the Four Horse club does. They have connections we never will. It is just the way life is."

"Well, I will make the offer to Rawlings, and if he chooses not to start a new club, I will not resent him if he rejoins his old one."

The night ended with drinks in the study while Bingley and Kent agreed to do what they could for Rawlings. That was, once Kent collected his guinea for the win.

Chapter 31

Posted on September 9, 2008

The Darcy siblings had shared breakfast together ever since their mother had passed away, but the tradition had ended following Darcy's arrival in Ramsgate. In her melancholy, Georgiana had found the mornings the most difficult time of day, and wished to be alone to face her schedule of busy nothings: dress, eat, study, practice, eat, play, and sleep. This morning, Georgiana contemplated her situation while she waited for her abigail to finish. At last night's dinner, she sensed her world was changing, as was her brother's. There was the hint of something different that she could not name, but the exact moment she felt it was when she saw him blush.

He had often left her unaccompanied for weeks or months at a time. Of course, they corresponded with each other, but how can words on the paper substitute for the occasional smile, the pat on the hand, or the shared jest, now and then? It could not.

In her loneliness, Georgiana had wished for a sister. William was more devoted and supportive than most brothers, and she would never consider living without him; but a sister's bond may have given her the freedom to speak of her impulsive feelings for George Wickham. Perhaps then, she might have averted the entire muddle she made of her life. Foolish was the precise word to describe her actions, and looking back, she had wished that a sister existed, who would have taken hold of her hands, and with the most soothing voice, convinced her not to be so imprudent. She might have even used good-natured teasing to open her eyes or spoken with the stern Darcy manner to pronounce a forthright, but truthful, opinion, which may have shocked her senses back into some form of coherency. An older, confident girl was the type of sister she had envisioned. Instead, guided only by the deceitful Mrs. Younge, hired by her brother and cousin, she had convinced herself she was in love.

If not for the commanding actions taken by her dearest William, this morning she, as a discarded, poverty-stricken married woman would have eaten a bowl of gruel in silence without a single melody filling her world. She understood it all now.

His return brought it all back again. She had not forgotten the bluntness of her brother's words spoken on that unforgettable afternoon. After admitting the plan to him, she had anticipated his grave countenance and expected to hear him speaking only with a monotone intonation, but on that occasion, his usual calm tone when addressing a problem had deserted him. He had modulated the pitch and beat of his voice, jumping from the crisp and direct sound of his accent to the duller, droning flat timbre resonating from his throat and back again.

Halfway through the discourse, he had mumbled something about turning George into a soprano. Did he think I did not know how that is accomplished? Would he really have done that to George? She shuddered to think what might have happened if he had arrived the following day, discovering them as they embarked on their planned journey to Gretna Green. In her mind, Mr. George Wickham would have ceased to exist, laid out on a floor somewhere with not an ounce of blood left in his body. Instead, William handled the matter through his usual practice when confronted with a problem---by the written word. She had no doubt the letter was long, direct, and clear in his intent. Some days she wished she had received a letter as an alternative to the verbal education of the adult world.

Having expected a crescendo of emotions to build with each of his rising declarations, he had astounded her. Her astonishment had intensified during his talk, having never heard such words spoken in the harsh, discordant tone, which, deficient of any harmony, was a dissonance of sorts. However, it was not until his dolce finale---a melody of expressions so sweet, so soft---that the cloak of shame covered her entire body, crushing her heart and stealing away her breath.

At the climax of his temper, his nostrils had flared in staccato fashion as his rage took hold of his mind. The curve of his ears turned red, an unmistakable, bright shade, and she swore the flashing of the color kept tempo with his thoughts and the furrowing of his brow. Tiny flashes of fire shot outwards from his eyes; well, perhaps she felt the clash of the heat against her cold body, even if she did not in reality see the flame. She had witnessed a fugue that afternoon between his eyes, ears, nostrils, and the sound and speed of his words. Nonetheless, his dolce ending was what cut to her very core. Unable to wipe from her soul the haunting composition of her brother's show of emotion, she had since spent hours attempting to duplicate the highs and lows on her pianoforte; but she could not find the right synchronization of musical tones. She had spent months fighting the wrong harmony escaping through her fingers and overpowering the piece. Each day she had advanced a note closer to perfection. Now that he was home, and after witnessing his positive performance with her at dinner last night, she hoped he brought with him the final chord to make her personal sonata complete.

With the hint of a smile, she rose to join her brother for breakfast.

Darcy began his day sorting through the mountain of estate and business correspondence awaiting him. Occasionally, he stopped to recall the contented feeling overtaking all other sentiments when his sister had shared the morning meal. She had unmistakably overcome her past, and he rejoiced in her success. He now felt comfortable with his plans for her. Returning his concentration to the many tasks awaiting him, he did not hear the knock until the butler opened the door, loudly clearing his voice.

"Mr. Darcy, sir. Everyone is assembled."

Entering the library, he was pleased to see his housekeeper, Mrs. Geoffries, and his secretary, Mr. Rogers, standing comfortably around the fire. Upon seeing the master enter, they nodded slightly; Geoffries promptly moved to stand next to his wife.

Even though Darcy noted the barely concealed quizzical expressions, he pointed to the chairs, smiling as they took their seats. "During the next several months, I will be entertaining four gentlemen friends." He glanced at Mr. Geoffries. "They are to be provided entrance without ceremony, unless, of course, I give you other instructions. They may arrive at my door, day or night."

Next, Darcy turned his gaze onto Mrs. Geoffries. "My friends may also spend the night without notice." When she nodded, he continued, "Have four rooms made ready immediately and reserved for their exclusive use. Mr. Bingley, he is one of the gentlemen, shall be given his normal room. Lord Blake, Mr. Rawlings, and Mr. Kent are the others. Any or all of us will be gathering in the library each day; therefore, I insist the room be kept in an orderly condition as much as possible; however, neither maid nor footman shall enter unless I have granted access. It will be available for cleaning early in the morning or late at night. The door is to remain locked when unoccupied.

Taking a deep breath, he then turned his attention to Mr. Rogers. "You may be called upon to perform services normally reserved for me. I expect your quick attention to their request." His steward nodded as the master continued. "In addition, there may be times we will need your expertise on some matter. Your total discretion is essential." Darcy paused to collect his thoughts. Pointing to a vacant space along the far wall, he added, "And I need a large, locking cabinet to be placed over there with five keys, and not one more."

At this pronouncement, the steward's eyes opened wider than was normal. Darcy stood silently waiting until Mr. Rogers regained control of his expressions, when without warning, he burst into a smile, catching the three employees off guard. "I hope you did not lose too much money on the competition. It could not be helped. Please inform the staff, I am most sorry for my disappointing finish!" He chuckled when they lowered their heads to conceal the rising blush on their faces.

Having followed the games as presented in the newspapers, his entire staff had been dismayed when their master did not win the stallion. Among the world of servants in London society, there had been much wagering. When Mr. Darcy had not won, they felt disappointment at the loss of a supplement to their income, but that did not sting as much as losing the rights to brag.

After excusing the two Geoffries, Darcy turned his attention on Mr. Rogers. "What did you discover of Mr. Cuffage? I know I sent you an express to discontinue your investigation, but still I would like to hear what you had uncovered."

Mr. Rogers' cheek twitched several times. "He was partnered with Mr. Edward Gardiner in the import and export trade."

Darcy nodded for him to continue.

Rogers shrugged. "The partnership has come to an end. Apparently, there are bad feelings between the two. I hesitate to disparage anyone." Rogers paused to gauge his employer's reaction, and when Darcy's pupils turned dark at the hesitation, he added, "My investigation is not yet complete. I..."

"Continue, Mr. Rogers. This is important."

"Well, what I have been able to establish is that Mr. Gardiner took money from the company to invest it in some risky scheme. He did so without Mr. Cuffage's knowledge. When the scheme failed, they had to pay out an enormous sum. I believe thirty thousand was the amount."

"And?"

"Mr. Darcy, again I caution you since this information has not yet been verified.

"Go on, what else have you found out?"

"Mr. Gardiner was able to acquire the funds from his brother-in-law. I believe he is a country gentleman from Hertfordshire. You might have met him. His name is Mr. Thomas Bennet."

Darcy jerked his head. So it was true. Mr. Bennet lost the dowries, but only because his own brother-in-law acted dishonorably.

"Until I can determine the accuracy of this report, I recommend you do not do business with Mr. Gardiner. Every word could be a total fabrication."

Darcy nodded. "I have had no plans too, but if it is needed, I shall hire a man to investigate him thoroughly. I had you discontinue any efforts on your part to investigate Mr. Cuffage as I had heard a similar story from other quarters."

"Yes, sir. Many others know of this sad situation, while not the talk of the town, the rumors have been openly discussed."

"I want you to continue your efforts at unmasking the truth about this man. If something different turns up, hire an investigator to probe deeper. But I expect you to be discreet when making any inquiries on my behalf. I do not desire anyone to learn of my interests, and that includes my four friends."

"Yes, sir." Mr. Rogers jotted down a few words.

Darcy gave instructions about the legal documents he had brought with him. This afternoon, he and Mr. Kent planned to meet with his London solicitor on several exporting issues and requested Mr. Rogers to attend. Talk then turned to matters associated with Pemberley and Darcy House. The two men worked for almost a full hour before closing the last account journal.

"Mr. Rogers, please ask Mrs. Geoffries to bring Miss Darcy in to see me in my study."

He did not have time to sip his tea when the two women appeared. Darcy nodded to his housekeeper standing behind his sister. "Mrs. Geoffries, I would like for you to stay as well."

Georgiana twisted a handkerchief in her hands. It was rare her brother called for her in the middle of the day. She attempted to smile. "You wished to speak with me?"

Darcy took his sister's hand in his, patted it several times before leading her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Mrs. Geoffries sat down next to her. Returning to his seat, he spoke in a calm, soft voice. "The next few months will be very busy ones for me. I will need you to act as hostess." He sighed at her fleeting look of fear before she glanced down at her bunched up handkerchief in her lap, concealing her emotions from his view.

When Mrs. Geoffries leaned in to support the young mistress, Darcy smiled at his housekeeper. "Mrs. Geoffries will be available at all times to provide assistance. You will not need to act alone."

"But what shall be expected, Fitzwilliam?" Georgiana raised her eyes as she attempted to control the hesitation in her voice.

"Mostly it will be dinners for my guests and entertainment afterwards.

"Will there be many guests?"

"No, my dear. Not at all. Mr. Bingley you know. Occasionally his sisters and brother-in-law will attend. My other guests include Lord Blake, Mr. Rawlings, and Mr. Kent. They are my particular friends. Oh, yes, of course, our cousin may join us at any time, but you are familiar with his habits."

"How often will you be entertaining?"

"It may be every day." Darcy paused when he heard her gasp. "That is why I have asked Mrs. Geoffries to assist you. Each morning, I expect the two of you to select the menu, but I cannot tell you who will dine with us each night." He watched Georgiana's eyebrows lift upwards. "Mrs. Geoffries will be able to offer suggestions. You merely need to make the selections, my dear." He smiled when the housekeeper patted his sister's hand.

"Entertainment, brother? Do you expect for me to play and sing?"

"Yes. Georgiana, these are my friends. After a long day involved in weighty matters of interest, they would enjoy a little soothing music. You need not be too elaborate, and sometimes we may choose to play billiards, in which case, you will then be excused." Darcy watched as she fidgeted with the folds of her gown.

He inclined his head towards the hallway, dismissing Mrs. Geoffries with just a look. As his housekeeper shut the door, Darcy sat next to his sister, taking her hands into his. "Georgiana, look at me." He waited until she raised her eyes. "You will do wonderfully. No one can play better."

"But singing, Fitzwilliam? Must I sing?"

"If you dread the thought of sharing your beautiful voice with others, then no you do not. But one day, you will need to display your accomplishments. Regard this time, while the guest list is limited to my kind friends, as an opportunity for you to practice your duties as hostess. If you do not wish to play, then I will have no choice but to pull out my violin, for it is the only other form of musical entertainment available to us."

Georgiana's eyes grew wide and her mouth flew open, but just as quick, she composed herself followed by a boisterous laugh. "No, brother, I will play. I would very much like for you to keep your friends. I do not wish to be knocked over as they make a wild dash to the door."

Darcy chuckled before returning to his sympathetic mien and patting her hand. "You can always come to me if there are reasons you feel you cannot play one evening." He lifted her chin and gazed at her with a tenderness only displayed for her. "Please try."

"I will. Is there anything else, brother?"

"I recommend you speak to Miss Bingley. We all recently stayed at Netherfield Park. She is familiar with all the men's favorite dishes and drinks, and she can offer you excellent advice."

"Miss Bingley?" Georgiana held her breath.

Darcy chuckled. "You may ask her brother to obtain that information from his sister, if you so desire." As an image of Georgiana and his friend appeared in his mind, he thought, Perhaps Miss Bingley is right. Bingley would make a wonderful brother. Bahh. She would become a member of my family, and I will not have that.

Georgiana rose to return to her studies. Darcy did not miss her subdued manner as she left the room. He had hoped this morning was an indication of a more confident sister. Sighing, he returned to his stack of papers, and waited for Mr. Kent to arrive.

Kent arrived within a quarter of an hour. The two men spoke about the goals they wanted to achieve when they met the solicitor. When asked, Kent did not hesitate to accept his invitation to dinner. Darcy sent word to his sister, informing her that they would have a guest that evening.

With the Darcy determination, Georgiana took charge of her first dinner, relieved that no other gentlemen would be attending. She spent the afternoon and early evening meeting with the cook and housekeeper. She selected the menu, chose the music she would play that night, and dressed in the most grown up gown she owned. Smiling at her available choices, she imagined all the shopping trips she and her cousin, Victoria, would need to obtain the proper gowns and accessories as mistress of the house.

The time had arrived; her brother and friend had returned. All was ready and she was prepared for anything. Or so she thought.

Kent walked down the stairs with a slow and steady rhythm. Trying his best to maintain his posture, he placed his right hand behind his back. Over the years, he had witnessed Darcy, Blake, and Rawlings do this, while he and Bingley let both arms sway along their sides. I wonder if they teach them this stance as infants? They do make it seem so natural. Reaching the bottom step, he gasped. In the doorway stood a delicate, obviously shy, young lady. With her eyes lowered, she twisted the handkerchief in her hands until there was not a smooth area on it. She is so young, much younger than I presumed. He felt the urge to raise her chin and present her his best smile, but he realized such an act between strangers would not be proper. He cleared his throat and when she lifted her eyes, he smiled as affably as possible.

"Georgiana, this is Mr. Kent." Darcy said as he entered the hallway. After the two exchanged the appropriate civilities, Darcy offered his arm to Georgiana. They led the way to the dining room.

Darcy surveyed his table dressed in its best linen tablecloth, exquisite table settings of multiple porcelain plates, shining silverware, and sparkling glassware. In the middle of the table was an array of jasmine and hellebore flowers mixed with evergreens. He leaned in and whispered, "Everything looks wonderful. You have made me exceedingly proud."

Georgiana nodded, but turned to watch Mr. Kent's reaction. He presented her with another one of his wide smiles and then mouthed the word, "Beautiful."

Waving away the footman, Darcy held her chair as Kent chose the seat across from Georgiana. She barely looked up until Kent complimented her on the table. She sipped the wine, pleased when her brother nodded his approval of her choice, and relaxed a little. The wine was not French. Georgiana was afraid to look at the man that sat across the table. She had always believed her brother to be the most handsome man, even more so than Mr. Wickham, but now she was not too sure. Her heart fluttered when she peeked at him, barely able say thank you when he gave her a compliment.

Darcy squeezed her hand to reassure her. She relaxed fully, and nodded for the meal to commence. Darcy and Kent talked about many of London's museums. Darcy watched as Kent spoke to his sister, noticing how careful he was to include her in the conversation, and even his success at eliciting a few responses. Kent made her smile at a little joke about the London air, but his greatest success came when he asked about music. Georgiana described her favorite composers. Chuckling, Kent admitted he could not tell one composer's work from another.

"Hayden sounds like Bach to me. Not to mention Vivaldi, Mozart, and Pachelbel, although I admit I do like his Canon in D.

"No, surely you can tell the difference." Georgiana's face lightened as she offered Kent her biggest smile.

"Have pity on me; I must be tone deaf. But I do like a good melody."

Georgiana giggled. Darcy stared at his sister with a shocked expression.

With his hand on his heart, Kent leaned in to Miss Darcy. "I request you enlighten me each time you play. Otherwise, I will surely name the wrong composer. Only you can save me from myself."

Georgiana agreed by nodding her head. Without looking up she said, "Tonight I have chosen Johann Sebastian Bach. There was also a Johann Christian Bach, his son, but he was not as good."

"Thank you, Miss Darcy. I shall flourish under your tutelage."

Georgiana moved to the music room while Kent stayed to share a brandy with Darcy.

Darcy poured the drinks. "I thank you for being so kind to my sister."

Kent took a small sip. "I was surprised by her."

"How so?"

"She is so . . . shy. I expected someone much different."

"Well, tonight was a good evening for her." Darcy bowed his head. "You have been most thoughtful.

"My pleasure." Kent placed his glass down. "Now, we should hurry. I am sure she is ready to give me my first lesson."

"Yes. I believe she would."

The two men joined Georgiana, and Kent turned the pages for her as she played. Never having been exposed to such exquisite playing, he was duly impressed. She helped him when the time came by nodding her head. With each turn of the page, he smiled to this obviously fragile young girl. I did not expect to find one so sweet and shy. Damn. I planned on another type of lady all together.

Darcy settled back in his usual chair, enjoying the calming music floating in the air.

The next day was full of activity. Darcy showed all the men the cabinet in the library and presented each one with their key. They were impressed when he displayed the journals documenting their efforts to date, but when he opened the locked cabinet doors, they gasped in surprise. Darcy had wasted no time acquiring the documents, books, ledgers, and other articles necessary to begin. As they inspected the contents, the men murmured among themselves about their own roles. After a careful search, Kent noted several papers from Netherfield Park were missing.

Georgiana had been busy too. She was in charge of her first large dinner, since all the men would be dining. Sighing, she wished she had been able to speak to Mr. Bingley beforehand, but there had not been time. Mrs. Geoffries did lead her through the process, and they were able to accomplish a dinner worthy of Darcy House. Her brother had suggested serving a mutton dish for Bingley, vowing it was his favorite, Darcy went so far as to suggest this dish be served every time it was known Bingley would be joining them.

That night, Darcy again admired the table and found he was pleased with Georgiana as hostess. The meal was to everyone's liking with the wines well matched to the food. He did note how Georgiana avoided the lively conversation, and how Kent did try repeatedly to include her, but to no avail. She was content to watch the others eat, talk, and tease.

By listening, she learned much about the men. Being shy did not make her an unobservant person; in fact she was the opposite. She had discerned both Mr. Bingley and Lord Blake were less animated than the other men were. She did not know Lord Blake, but Mr. Bingley's quietness surprised her. He had always been so friendly before. Although, he did chuckle when the footman served his mutton; and she was aghast when her brother smirked at his reaction.

"You said Pemberley, Darcy. You would serve mutton at Pemberley. This is London."

"I still cannot putt. When you have taught me to putt successfully, I will serve you beef."

The men raised their voices in laughter at Darcy's jest; Kent leaned towards Georgiana, revealing to her the threat her brother made during the golf game. She responded with wide eyes and an open mouth until regaining control.

"I cannot believe you would do such a thing, Fitzwilliam. Mr. Bingley, this is the last time you will be served mutton, I assure you. I will not be misled again by a mischievous brother!"

She laughed at the blush rising on her brother's face. He finally laughed along with everyone else, promising there would be no more mutton for a while.

After a time, Georgiana sensed there was a prohibition of certain subjects. Whenever one of the men recalled certain ladies they met during their trip to Hertfordshire, one of the others would cough and the subject was quickly changed. Lord Blake grew even more restrained at those times.

She did not merely observe the guests throughout the meal. Mr. Kent, having chosen to sit at her end of the table, regaled her with some stories of his own. Now relaxed, she began to engage in conversation with him. Once, her brother looked at her sharply when she laughed a little too loudly. Kent had shared a story of one of his sister's pranks.

"Yes, Miss Darcy, Susan did put a live adder in my bed, but that was not the most horrible part of the story." Kent waited until his young friend pleaded with her eyes for him to continue. "She put mice in the bed as well. You know snakes eat mice? There was quite a battle raging when I retired that night!"

"Tell me about your sister, Mr. Kent. Is she very young?"

"Susan is a few years older than you, and she is very mischievous. We both have mischievous siblings! Now, she is not afraid of anything, which explains how she could handle snakes and mice. It is just the two of us since our parents died."

"Oh, that is the same for Fitzwilliam and me. We share that in common, too, Mr. Kent. I believe she has wonderful older brother too. Where does she reside?"

"She has lived with my uncle and aunt since she was six. That was when our parents died in a carriage accident. My sister will not leave my aunt. They are more like mother and daughter. They even look similar. One day, I hope she will join me in my home and act as my hostess, much the same as Miss Bingley does for her brother, and you do for yours." Kent gazed over Georgiana's shoulder at nothing in particular. Sighing, he sipped his wine quietly. "But for the moment, Susan is contented to be where she is."

Georgiana, experienced at wishful thoughts, allowed Mr. Kent a moment of contemplation. She turned to the other guests and discovered they too were speaking of family.

"Tomorrow I will be shackled to Wolverley House. I have received a command to attend dinner." Rawlings swallowed his wine, and then, inclining his head to the hostess, added, "Now, I would, of course, prefer to dine here, with such a lovely young lady to grace the table." He changed the subject quickly when he spotted Georgiana's blush and realized she had lowered her eyes. Glancing around, he announced with gusto, "Even the men at this table are more entertaining."

"Will your brother attend as well?" Darcy asked.

"He is our father's shadow. Where the earl goes, Thomas follows. Now he, being such a sycophant, did help me though."

"How so?"

"I was free to roam about unimpeded." Rawlings paused and then laughed heartily. "My youth was very educational."

Darcy sent Rawlings a cautioning look as he looked pointedly at his sister.

Quickly Kent spoke up. "Cambridge was an education for us all. I miss those days." Turning to Georgiana, he asked, "Do you attend a seminary?"

"No. I have had a governess and masters, Mr. Kent." She lowered her eyes.

"Well, I do not miss Cambridge. I prefer a world beyond the books," Bingley said quietly. For the first time, his grin appeared. "But unlike you, I look forward to tomorrow. I will dine with my Uncle Watt."

"I did not know he lived in town, Bingley?" Darcy asked.

"He does not, he lives in Birmingham. He has come to town to speak to the Royal Society, or perhaps it is to listen to a speech. I do not recall exactly."

Blake spoke up. "Tomorrow I also dine at my father's house. While I do not look forward to yet another one of his boring dinners, I am looking forward to dining next week with my uncle, Lord Harrowby. I shall press him about the---

Darcy coughed and glanced around at the footmen. Blake nodded.

Conversations returned to the more mundane matters normally found at such a dinner. The men even gossiped a little about some of their common acquaintance. When the meal was completed, Georgiana excused herself.

Darcy and the others shared a glass or two of brandy, and for Rawlings and Kent, who smoked, cigars were lit. Without the presence of Miss Darcy, the talk turned to business.

"You said you would be dining with Lord Harrowby," Rawlings asked. "Do you think the opportunity will present itself to bring up the gun orders?"

Blake nodded. "Most assuredly. I specifically explained the need to my uncle. He has invited the crème de la crème of politics. I will also be meeting with my Uncle Attwood soon. I have written to him about my interests in shipping and insurance. He assumes it is just a hobby of mine." He then turned to Kent. "You did not mention your family. Are you planning to see them soon?"

Kent smiled. "Yes, indeed, it is no different for me. My aunt has arranged a large dinner, which includes everyone in the family involved with the import and export trade business. "But, of the greatest interest to us, next week I will be dining with an old family friend---Mr. Samuel Galton. If anyone knows anything about distribution logistics for the guns, it would be him.

"Will he be a competitor?" Rawlings took a deep inhale of his cigar.

"No, he is involved more in the slave trade. His guns are very much inferior. We are not going into that venture, so there will not be any problems."

Inclining his head towards Bingley, Darcy said, "Well, we will proceed with the steam engine pursuits. There are many factories and mines that are not powered by steam engines." Darcy indicated they would also spend some time discovering more about the steam engine improvements and uses. Kent offered to help, since his late uncle Boulton was a partner of Mr. Watt. He had many connections along those lines.

Bingley nodded agreement with commitments Darcy made for him. Fidgeting in his chair, he uttered not a word; his mind remaining far away, on a little known estate in an undistinguished parish.

Rawlings gazed at Darcy. "And you? You did not say earlier if you have plans to spend time with your relatives.

"Tomorrow I intend to visit with my uncle, the Earl of Matlock.

Chapter 32

Posted on September 16, 2008

The bright sun was unusual for a wintry morning in London, where gray skies blanketed the city most days. Before dressing, it was Darcy's usual habit to drink his coffee and read the London Times. He was fortunate that day; the sunlight streamed through the window behind his comfortable chair, making the fine print easier to read. Of all the papers published, The Times had the most subjects crammed onto its four pages. Articles were brief and to the point, providing only the barest amount of useful information. And since it rarely provided society news, he considered it superior.

This morning, he quickly scanned the paper and found several items of most interest.

The Scientific Institution on Princes Street, Cavendish Square, will host its annual lecture Tuesday at eight on the Mechanical Arts by Mr. E Lydiatt. Bingley mentioned this man. Something worthwhile to the alliance may be revealed. I will suggest he attend.

The next scheduled meeting for the Directors of the National Society for Education of the Poor throughout England and Wales is Tuesday next at twelve noon at St. Martin's Library .I must tell Mr. Rogers to place this on my calendar.

Darcy's eyes widened when he read aloud: "The rumor of an embargo in the American Ports was revived again yesterday. We notice it to say it rests on no foundation." He scoffed. When they make promises like this, it is not a good sign. I shall ask Blake to look into this.

Several important publishing announcements caught his eye. The second, third, and fourth part of Lord Coke's 'Institutes of the laws of England dealing with high-treason' were announced. I suppose I need to read these. He chuckled, but made a note to stop in Lincoln's Inn on Portugal Street to purchase the volumes as well as the recently published 'Digest of the Statue Law covering shipping and navigation' by John Reeves, Esq. Most fortunate timing. It appears this work discusses the plantation trade and the commerce with Asia, Africa, and America.

Finally, one last item caught his eye; 'The Kiss' by Stephen Clark, Esq., a five-act play he had seen at the Lyceum, which was now available for purchase at the theater. This play will amuse Georgiana. I am sorry she was not well enough to attend with me last summer. I shall obtain a copy this week and surprise her.

Not finding anything else of note, Darcy finished his coffee and rang for his valet. His uncle had requested he meet with him today, although he had not mentioned the reason.

His journey to his uncle's house was swift, as the roads were quiet. He would normally have left for Pemberley before Christmas, but the responsibilities of the alliance kept him in town. Georgiana had not seemed as disappointed at the news as he had suspected. She explained he needed her in town to act as hostess, and she needed to purchase gowns reflecting her status.

Arriving at his uncle's house, he caught sight of a man leaving, and although he seemed familiar, he could not place either the name, or where he had met him. When the small framed man ducked down to enter inside a hailed carriage, recognition came to Darcy . Why is he here? He had spied the same man slinking out the door of the Black Bull Tavern after the golf game, the one Mr. Staunton said was Mr. Gardiner. Does my uncle do business with that scoundrel? I must warn him."

Darcy entered the house, waited for the removal of his coat and hat, and headed to the breakfast room where the family was gathered. His uncle and eldest son were arguing about politics, Lady Matlock and Julia, her daughter-in-law, were avoiding each other, and Richard was reading the latest society news in The Morning Post, and did not look up until his aunt cried out---

"William. You are here." Lady Matlock smiled. "Come, sit down with us."

Darcy found a seat near his aunt and next to his favorite cousin. "Where is Victoria?"

"She is not feeling well, and will not be joining us this morning. In fact, she rarely joins us anymore." Richard shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Victoria was two and twenty, and still unmarried. She needed to marry soon to avoid the whispers of her approaching spinsterhood. She had no prospects now that she no longer spent time at any social event or the theater. She even refused to accept any at home reception invites. Unlike balls, soirees, and parties, where guests were expected to remain for the evening eating, conversing and being entertained with music or cards, at home receptions required nothing more than milling your way through a crush of people at the host's home before heading to the next one until the wee hours of the morning. Normally the entire effort took no more than fifteen minutes, but it did serve the purpose of presenting oneself as available. Invitations were sent out a full month before, and many times the date was chosen based on the fullness of the moon to allow for the most illumination for roaming the London streets. Hence, many grand homes held their receptions on the same evening.

"She believes her heart to be broken," his eldest cousin said without emotion. "Your rake of a friend was responsible, Darcy."

"My friends are not rakes, Brandy."

Richard could not contain his snicker at Darcy's jest. He lowered the paper to get a glimpse of his brother's reaction.

"Do not call me that. You know I hate being called by that name." Lord Brandon wished Darcy would forget his childhood nickname given to him by his mother.

"Exactly which of my friends are you calling a rake, Brandon." The tone in Darcy's voice deepened when he said the name.

Brandon glared at his cousin. "Lord Blake, of course. He is a seducer of women. I do not think he ever met an unmarried lady that was not to his liking." He relaxed his stare and allowed the ends of his mouth to rise in just the hint of a smile. "Of course, I never minded his flirting as he was very entertaining."

Darcy tightened his grip on his fork. "Oh? I have heard nothing you could accuse him of. You should not repeat ugly gossip."

Brandon's eyes darkened again. "Even if Victoria fell into his trap?"

Darcy jerked his head back and glared at his cousin.

"Yes. Your friend courted her all last season, while you remained at Pemberley. He actively pursued Victoria, staying by her side at every ball, dance, dinner and card party. However, after attending a private ball at Lord Denbry's, he suddenly stopped his attentions, and Victoria secluded herself in her room, and has been hiding in there most of the time ever since that night."

"What did Victoria say about this? Surely you asked her!"

"Yes, I did ask her if there had been any improper behavior by Blake, and every time I asked, her response was the same. She burst into tears without a single word of explanation. I have been unsuccessful in discovering what happened, but I suspect he compromised her in some way, or perhaps engaged in some other inappropriate behavior. Afterwards, he disappeared from town, I suspect in an attempt to avoid her and her family. By now, I assume he found someone more to his liking, or perhaps a lady with more fortune. "

Without attempting to be quiet, Richard folded his paper and laid it on the table, cleared his throat, and presented Darcy with a grin. "You could solve Victoria's problem."

Darcy shuddered. He had no wish to marry either of his cousins, but if he had to choose one, then Victoria would be preferable over Anne. However, his uncle wished for a titled husband for his daughter, in order to elevate the status of any child and grandchildren. As an heir to a dukedom, Blake fit the requirements. Victoria would be a duchess and any son would be a duke.

"And you can solve the other cousin's." Darcy smirked.

Lady Catherine de Bough, Darcy's aunt and Lord Matlock's sister, pushed for the nuptials between Darcy and her daughter, Anne, in her attempt to ensure Rosings would remain within the broader definition of the family. If Anne married anyone outside the family, then Rosings would be lost, since no one believed she was capable of bearing a child. The property would pass to the children of her husband's second wife. If Darcy married her, then he would be free to marry anyone of his choosing after Anne's death, and Rosings would be passed onto a Fitzwilliam grandchild.

Although Lady Catherine had always had her heart set on Darcy marrying her daughter, the earl preferred to put his second son forward as the ideal candidate. Richard would then possess a great estate and fortune, which Darcy did not need. But in the end, he did not care which one wed his niece, as long as the property was not lost.

Brandon, at the age of thirty, had married the daughter of another earl, bringing considerable money into the marriage and a house in London. However, five years after their union, they remained childless, leaving Richard as the heir presumptive.

The earl, wishing to change a subject, which had often been the cause of many arguments, spoke calmly. "I was sorry to hear about your third place finish for the stallion."

Darcy rolled his eyes. Bingley has no idea the problems he has caused. Did everyone lay down money on me? "Did you lose much?"

"No. I bet on Lord Blake. He always won the competitions when you two were at Cambridge."

"Oh!"

"Do not be daft, boy. I most certainly did place a rather large wager on you!"

"Now, Winthrop, do not tease Fitzwilliam. I am sure he tried his best, but golf is not his game. Lady Matlock glared at her husband.

"If he wished not to be teased, he should have won. Darcy, please enlighten me as to who exactly is this Mr. Kent?"

"He is from Leicestershire. The five of us all attended school together and became friends."

"But who is his father? Who is his mother?"

"I believe Mr. Kent's parents died years ago. In fact, all five of us had lost our mothers before we met in Cambridge, and that loss bonded us together: five young men without mothers to civilize the beasts."

"Civilize you?" the countess interrupted.

"Yes, exactly." Darcy nodded his head and smiled to his aunt.

"But still, Darcy, who are his family?" The earl tapped the table with his finger. "I am not aware of anyone of consequence by that name. You have been friends with Mr. Bingley for years, and you know I have never been pleased with that relationship. His family comes from trade."

"As does Mr. Kent's family, father." Brandon snickered.

Sighing, the earl set down his silverware. "Darcy, we need to talk seriously about your choice of friends. Even Lord Blake is a problem; he is not welcome here. You know the Duke of Charnwood is nearly bankrupt."

Darcy nodded, but stared at his uncle through narrowed eyes.

Catching sight of his nephew's displeasure, the earl leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Bingley is headed in the right direction. He purchased the estate, I understand.

"He was uncomfortable purchasing it with so little information, so he leased it for now."

"Well, that is wise." The earl tapped his chin with his loosely balled fist and then pointed to Darcy. Now Mr. Rawlings is only a second son and quite rebellious, if I recall correctly.

"Richard is a second son. I count him as a friend as well as a cousin, even though he, too, has been recalcitrant at times."

Raising his eyes at his name, he recognized the direction of the conversation and returned to hiding behind his paper. He knew from experience when to speak and when to be invisible.

"He is family," the earl said. "You cannot help but be connected to him. I would like you to befriend men of superior consequence. You must broaden your social connections. Surround yourself with others like us. Otherwise, the friends you keep now will drain you. Heed my words, boy."

Darcy preferred to remain silent. He did not choose to argue this morning. If experience proved true, any further debate on the subject would be unsuccessful. Knowing any dissension on his part would merely keep the lecture going, he allowed his uncle to expound his views until the subject was exhausted. He briefly remembered his need to warn him about Mr. Gardiner, but decided to delay the warning when his uncle did not relent from conveying his disappointment in his choice of friends. In addition, he was not about to reveal any hints about the partnership agreement.

"When do you leave for Matlock, uncle?"

"Soon. Why do you not join us? The winter season is so dull. With Matlock so close to Pemberley, Georgiana could spend time with Victoria. She has been most helpful to our girl.

"Georgiana is remaining in town, as am I." Darcy crinkled his nose when taking a bite into his pastry. Definitely not as tasty!

"Oh, yes, I need to ask a favor before it slips my mind." When Darcy nodded, the earl continued, "Would you escort Victoria to the theater Tuesday? She has expressed an interest in the new play at the Lyceum."

"I have no plans for that night, and it would be a pleasure for me as well. I have not had the chance to witness any superior entertainment in a while. Do you know what is playing?"

"The Rivals."

Darcy sighed. "Perhaps the theater at Covent Gardens might be a better choice. I believe Venice Preserved is playing there."

"No. Georgiana has mentioned how they both would like to see this new play at the Lyceum." The earl leaned forward, and with his eyes boring into Darcy, added. "I must also ask that no one else attend with you, especially none of your friends. We need to bring Victoria out slowly, and I do not want her upset. Can I count on you to help her?

Darcy nodded.

The earl settled back in his chair. "Shall you stay for dinner? I would enjoy spending the day in intelligent conversation. I am interested in the competitions, and am anxious to hear more." He noticed Darcy roll his eyes, but continued anyway. "And if necessary, I believe the Fitzwilliams can supply you with enough challenges. I heard talk of some new billiards game?"

"Twenty points, and my friend Bingley conceived the game."

The earl grinned. "There is no competition I cannot win. All it takes is a little sacrifice, and knowing when to make the winning move. I will defeat you, or my name is not Winthrop Fitzwilliam."

"Uncle, perhaps both Georgiana and I can attend dinner another day. I have plans for tonight; nonetheless, I think I have the time to demonstrate my superior skill at Twenty Points. Are you positive you wish to part with a few guineas? I lost the stallion with a golf club, but I assure you I am formidable with a cue stick."

"We shall see, boy. Now, I wish to offer you a consolation prize to ease your pride in the loss of the Andalusian. Before you arrived, my favorite wine was delivered. I insist you allow me to send over a few bottles. Georgiana has taken a liking to it."

"Why would I decline?"

"I admit my failing to be completely loyal to England. The wine is from the homeland of Le Petit Caporal. I know you have chosen not to patronize anything French at this time, but I must say they do make the best wine." His uncle winked as he finished his coffee before they left for the billiard room where the earl's sons had sped ahead of them.

Dinner at Wolverley House was served at precisely eight. The earl was a punctual man, and expected everyone else to be equally so. Rawlings had made it a habit never to be late when his father sent for him, and so he entered the dining room at the exact time requested.

He immediately grew concerned with the hostility he sensed in the room. "No need for a blaze today. The looks you are throwing at me have enough fire to heat half of London."

"Gerard, be seated."

Rawlings sat with a very loud sigh. He felt the meal would not go well. Today was the first time he had visited since his return from Netherfield Park. At least the wine glass is full. His father, along with Rawlings' brother, sat at one end of the table, with him at the other.

"I am sorry you did not win the stallion. I understand it was a fine piece of horseflesh."

Rawlings nodded but did not speak. It is never good when my father starts out with a compliment. I wonder what it will be this time. Will he lecture me on my drinking, my friends, my lack of competition skills, or on my inaccessibility within the ton?

Thomas coughed. "Brother, I would have fared better in the chess game, but I doubt if I would have bothered with the ram. Your friends are a bit odd."

As the meal was served, the earl dropped all discussion about the competition until the plates were full and he dismissed the servants from the room.

Lord Wolverly cleared his throat. "Gerard, I wish to speak to you about your friends." He held up an old copy of the Morning Post and pointed to an article about Kent, which revealed his background and how he nearly won the stallion. "I am seriously displeased that you are associating with tradesmen's' sons."

Grabbing his wine glass, Rawlings glared at his father. "I did not know you read that sorry excuse for a newspaper. I was under the impression you only read The Times."

"Gerard!"

"I went to school with them."

"Yes, the worthless paper supplied that small bit of information. Now, Buxton told me about what happened yesterday. Did you really take tradesmen's sons to the Four Horse Club?"

"I invited my friends. They did not disguise their point of view about Kent and Bingley. They treated them in a chilly, condescending manner, as if they were decidedly beneath their notice."

The earl slammed his fist on the table. "It was no more than they deserved. If you wish to resign from the club, do so. Driving is such a waste of time, and I have heard all about the wild behavior up at Salt Hill---drinking, gorging on food, and gambling beyond control. Now is the opportunity for you to surround yourself with more serious people."

Rawlings sighed. He had heard this before, but not as forcefully spoken as his father did this time. "You wish me to drop all my associations?"

"Do not be absurd. Lord Blake and Mr. Darcy are better choices, and I have no objection to your continued relationship with those two, even if the marquis's behavior is at times questionable. However, your so called friendship with the other two must end today!"

Rawlings sipped his wine while he readied his words and his strength. "You no longer have a say in my life." He returned his father's glare. "I shall choose my friends without regard to you or the society to which you belong."

The earl pointed his finger at his son. "You have a duty to your family. You know who is acceptable, and who is not. Neither my name nor your brother's can be connected with them. I will not continue to allow you to spend your time with them."

Rawlings put the glass down and sneered at his father. "Why? Why are these men so unworthy to you?"

"We have discussed this many times." The earl shook his head. "Tradespeople are not honest, they only want you for your money or your connections, and they are probably reformists as well." Releasing a long breath, he took a bite of food before sharing a smile with his son. "I want to help you make better decisions."

"Father, they have more wealth than I do."

Leaning forward, the earl glowered. "Do not damage your brother in such a way with these connections. If you are not careful, they will force their way into our clubs, our social life, and our business affairs, and who knows how low our standards will sink then."

"Perhaps they would be better at business than we have been, as well as all the other activities." Leaning back in his seat, Rawlings smirked. "I know Kent and Bingley are better dancers, and both charm the society ladies quite well." With his eyes turned to his plate, he took the first bite of his dinner.

"They would risk any financial connection with you just to sell it to purchase a big estate and become a member of the gentry. The risk would be your fortune and your name. They have nothing to lose. They want to beus. "

"You mean gamblers, drinkers and users of women?"

Slamming his hand down on the table, the earl raised his voice. "You will disconnect yourself."

"I will do as I please." Rawlings caught sight of his brother smiling at him. "You have your eldest son to play the puppet. When does he marry the fair Lady Charlotte, and when will it be announced?"

"The wedding is in four months. I expect you to attend."

Rawlings shook his head. "I will be out of the country."

"Where are you off to now?"

"America."

The earl's eyes widened. "America? What has gotten into you? First some unknown parish in the middle of Hertfordshire, now America."

Thomas spoke up. "Brother, have you no self-respect left?"

"I plan on finding out what life is like in a classless society." Rawlings patted his lips with his napkin before raising his wine glass to his lips.

"There is no such ideal. They may not have a titled aristocracy, but they do have classes. There will always be the distinctions between those with power and those without."

"Well, at least they will not show a penniless duke more respect than a wealthy entrepreneur."

"I forbid your leaving."

"I forbid you telling me what to do. I have my own fortune now."

Thomas cried out. "You mean Margaret's fortune, which would not have been yours had father not secured the marriage for you."

"He did no such thing."

"Yes, he did, my ignorant brother. She would not have you. You are just the second son, and she was after someone titled or rich."

"Like you." Rawlings unintentionally spit towards his brother.

"In her eyes, you were worse than some wealthy tradesmen. She had no interest in a penniless second son."

"Stop," the earl yelled. "I will not have the two of you speak in this manner. This is not the place, nor do I ever wish to discuss what happened. You will not go to America, Gerard."

"Well, it seems this dinner is at an end." Rawlings stood, wiped his mouth with the napkin, and threw it on the table. "Unless you shoot me dead, I will be on the high seas soon." He marched out of the house without a look back.

As he stood on the steps waiting for his carriage, Rawlings thumbed through a book of essays on the American government he had purchased earlier.

"I did not know you were reading these days."

Rawlings snapped his head around at his brother's voice. "I have a long trip ahead of me. What do you want, Thomas."

"I need to talk you out of this madness. You cannot be serious about going overseas. Why would you go there?"

Rawlings smirked. "I am looking for a place where second sons can be just as important as first sons."

"Do not be such an addle brain. You only need to marry well, and there are many fine ladies available for the picking."

"Perhaps they are what you want---women using you for a title---making you a whore of a different sort."

"Gerard. Perhaps your friends find you clever and witty, but to me you are just an ill-bred buffoon."

"Really? You think that? Well, then you should have offered yourself to Margaret. She would have loved your title."

"Do not twist my words, brother. She wanted Darcy, and she ended up with you, which explains why she was so angry that night. I do not understand why you changed the situation!"

"I needed the money, something you do not understand. I know you set Darcy up. Do you wish to confess your sins now?"

Thomas glared back with a wicked smile upon his face. He shrugged, offering no details.

Rawlings scoffed. "May your Charlotte be everything that Margaret was to me. My next wife will be someone entirely different than an ice maiden of London." He turned towards his brother and looked him in the eye. "Do not bother me again, Thomas. I hope I do not see you for a long time. Perhaps, for the rest of my life. I would rather Kent or Bingley be my brother, than you." He slammed the gate so hard the gilded 'W' upon it shook before he stepped into his carriage and did not look back as his brother stood with his hands on his hips.

"Fool. He will learn the hard way which class of people has the power in this world."

Rawlings was still upset when he approached Darcy House. Feeling the need to shake off his premonition that the future was not as bright as it has seemed at Netherfield, he sought his friend's assurance that all would be well. When he arrived, he learned Bingley had shared dinner with the Darcys and had remained for drinks in Darcy's study.

"Good evening, Darcy, Bingley." Rawlings entered the room and instantly frowned when he noticed the serious mien of the two men.

Darcy stood and moved to the sidebar. "Brandy?"

Rawlings nodded.

Bingley sighed. "I thank you for yesterday, Rawlings, but neither Kent nor I expect you to resign from your club."

"Well, I lost my taste for it... or rather the members. I will be off to America shortly, and there is no telling for how long." Rawlings shrugged. "It is of little consequence to me."

Bingley presented him with a slight smile. "Kent suggested we start our own club."

"Perhaps when I return, we can discuss it. Let him know I will consider doing so, as we would surely beat their high class breeches off. They would never race with us though. They could not afford to lose."

"You have our thanks, just the same."

After taking a large gulp of his brandy, Rawlings chuckled. "What is the conversation tonight? Shall I guess?"

Darcy threw Rawlings a menacing scowl.

Bingley leaned back in his chair, and with his eyes directed at neither man, spoke in a monotone. "I mentioned how much I delighted in the Hertfordshire trip. I enjoyed myself more than I ever thought possible and met many fine people."

Rawlings peeked over his brandy glass. "Many, Bingley?"

Bingley nodded. "Well, yes. But it is true, some are finer than others."

"Prettier too. When will you be going back?"

Bingley's shoulders slumped. "I doubt if I will go back. Darcy pointed out some of the problems with returning."

Sitting upright, Rawlings clutched his glass. "Not return. Why not?" He glared at Darcy. "What is this about?"

"We were discussing the Bennets. I explained that Miss Bennet was merely acting upon her mother's instructions."

"And?"

"Well, Miss Bennet is lovely, and was always polite and well mannered, but I could not discern if her heart was touched by Bingley."

Rawlings turned to Bingley. "What did you think?"

He sighed again. "She did enjoy our talks, but it is true she was just polite."

"She gave you a scarf for the race, which is more than being just polite."

"I requested it. Darcy and I talked about that. It seems everything between us was at my insistence."

Rawlings gulped his drink and moved to Bingley. He placed his hand on his shoulder while sending a heated stare towards his other friend. "I disagree with Darcy. She seemed to like you very much, Bingley." He softened his voice and squeezed Bingley's shoulder. "She is not a demonstrative person. You would be the only one to know how she felt."

"She never was more than polite." Bingley diverted his eyes away from Darcy.

"She is a polite girl," Rawlings countered.

Darcy cleared his throat. "But, her mother. . ."

"Yes, what about her mother?" Rawlings continued to glare at Darcy.

Bingley slumped further into his chair and closed his eyes while the other two men challenged one another. He had grown tired of arguing with Darcy.

"Did you not see how she dressed her girls? It was despicable."

Rawlings caught his breath, took another swallow of brandy before returning to his chair. "I am sorry. Was it the quality of the material or the cut of the dress that has you so riled?"

"The cut of the dress! If it was cut much lower---"

Rawlings interrupted. "I beg to differ with you, Darcy. Our own dear Caroline Lamb and the rest of the Carlton House Set have shown more than the Bennets."

"Humph. She only did as her mother demanded, I am sure of it. Mrs. Bennet pushed her daughters on us all. Bingley is just too accepting." Darcy leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I do not understand the problem. If Bingley is happy, and you agree Miss Bennet shows him respect, then your ideals for a marriage have been met."

"Not all. She has nothing to bring into the marriage except her beauty."

"And her manners. They were impeccable. She is not a lively girl, Darcy." Rawlings turned to Bingley. "You must consider her character before you say she is not truly interested."

Bingley lifted his head. "But, Rawlings, she never, well, she never encouraged anything more than polite talk. Her mother was watching all the time. I think Darcy is correct. She is being forced into an alliance with me."

Rawlings rolled his eyes, moved to the sideboard and poured another drink, this time with twice the amount of liquid. The two other men declined when he offered to refill their glasses.

Without looking at Rawlings, Bingley swirled the remnants of his whiskey in his glass "I do not wish to see Miss Bennet forced into a marriage in order to please me or her mother." He shook his head. "I could not bear living every day with someone that married me for security. Perhaps if I felt less for her, it would seem acceptable, but I could not bear to have a marriage with her, where the love was on one side, and it would break my heart to see her compromise herself."

Rawlings glared at Darcy. "You are cruel to do this. It is his life, not yours."

"He needs to understand the ramifications of a loveless marriage, and one that does not bring either financial or social advancement to him. He has an unmarried sister, and his choice of a wife does matter."

"Miss Bingley would find her way. She should not be a part of this discussion."

"It is not a factor, Rawlings. I will not hurt Miss Bennet by making an offer she cannot refuse. With her dowry, she will be able to find someone more to her tastes."

"Dowry?" Rawlings tilted his head with his right eyebrow raised. Darcy merely shook his head and flashed a warning stare to him. Rawlings was not aware Miss Bingley had kept the information of the Bennet loss from her brother. She believed her brother would have immediately proposed had he heard the news. He was always bringing injured kittens and puppies.

"Well, I do not believe you, Darcy. Have you not learned anything from my marriage?"

"That is exactly the sort of thing from which I am trying to save Bingley---a loveless marriage arranged by a mercenary mother."

"Mrs. Bennet is not the most mercenary mother by far. In fact, she waited until her daughters showed an interest, and not the other way around. And if she was mercenary, she would have foisted one of her girls on you or me. But as I recall, not a single daughter was pushed in that way. In fact, I believe Mrs. Bennet could not stand the sight of you. That is not the definition of a mercenary mother."

"Did you not see their dresses? Did you not see what they displayed?"

"Yes, their womanly charms. So? I found it quite seductive. Is this what you are referring to?"

"Yes, precisely. She put her daughters on display as if they were---"

"No, they are not wanton women. They revealed no more than many ladies of the ton. But why is it you have just noticed this about the ladies. Whose womanly charms were you looking at?"

Bingley's eyes grew wide. "You were looking at Miss Bennet, Darcy?"

"No." Darcy scoffed.

"No, Bingley, he had no interest in her charms. I myself fancied a younger girls's charms." Rawlings turned to Darcy. "Bingley will tell you that this is not the first time he has enjoyed the cut of a dress."

Bingley shrugged. Darcy looked at him with wide eyes.

"Rawlings can we change the subject." Darcy could no longer conceal his blush. Bingley shook his head in agreement.

"Bingley, make up your own mind." Rawlings gulped his drink and slammed it down on the table. "I have had my fill today of the machinations of higher society. I know my way out." Rawlings left before either man could object.

Bingley fidgeted in his chair. "What if you are wrong, Darcy? Would I not be hurting her if I do not return?"

"You will have to do exactly as Rawlings said. Make up your own mind. I have given you my views, he has given his. Now you must decide, since you are the only one that ever spoke to her alone. You would know if she gave you that special look or treated you differently than she treated any of us. I am just saying I did not see any indication she favored you."

Bingley drank the rest of his whiskey slowly. After he was finished, he informed Darcy he would see him the next week. He did not wish to be rash in his decision.

Darcy observed his friend leave. He stirred the fire and thought about the many different looks Jane had given to Bingley. Could I be wrong? Could she care for him?

His thoughts drifted away from Miss Bennet to her sister. He imagined her eyes sparkling in merriment at the squirrel burying the nut. The remembrance of a lavender scent that he had noticed at Netherfield Park filled his nostrils and then again when he had his lone dance with her. Images of the supper at the ball invaded his thoughts, and he felt a desire to pull her into his chest and kiss the top of her head, banishing all of her embarrassment.

Absentmindedly, he continued to stir the fire as his thoughts drifted to the other members of the Bennet family: the absent father, the scheming mother, the silly flirtatious younger sisters and then finally, the dishonest uncle in Cheapside.

"Impossible. I cannot attach myself to them."

Chapter 33

Posted on September 23, 2008

Blake studied the guest his father had invited, and found himself, for once, in agreement---she was definitely beautiful. Her hair was dark, but in his mind, not dark enough. It was also straight, which was another problem. He preferred to see bobbing curls brushing the back of the neck. Blake rolled his eyes at the vacant expression on her face. Who was responsible for suggesting a man prefers a woman with no thoughts of her own? He did admire her figure, but he doubted he would find any interesting places to cast his eye. Her gown was of the most expensive silk, and her jewels were large and pretentious. He imagined seeing a simple red cross around her neck and scoffed.

The Duke of Charnwood introduced his son.

"Lady Eleanor, it is a pleasure to meet you." Blake bowed, keeping his eyes focused on her as she performed the perfect curtsey. She did not raise her eyebrow in silent inquiry, nor present him with a mischievous little smile. Her expression appeared as blank as some of the illustrations in the fashion magazines. Perhaps if they hired better artists, the drawings of the models would show some emotion on their faces. As he escorted her into the dining room, he detected a delicate fragrance about her. Wrong flower, my dear. You cannot win me with jasmine.

Blake offered his arm, and once she accepted, they fell behind his father. When His Grace glanced back at him, he nodded and presented the same vacant look his partner did. All of sudden, Blake chuckled with sufficient volume to cause everyone nearby to turn and question him with their startled faces.

"I beg your pardon, I was---

His father interrupted. "Enough, son. Let us sit."

They found their places at the table and waited for His Grace to signal the footmen to pour the wine.

As the final hour drew to a close, the door to Darcy's house was opened to find an inebriated Lord Blake standing on the step. The butler blocked the marquess' entrance, surprising Blake and causing him to wobble.

"I need to speak to Mr. Darcy."

"My master is not available." Again, he blocked the way.

"I demand a word with him."

"Sir, perhaps you should return home. Mr. Darcy will contact you in the morning."

Blake rose to his full height and glowered down at the butler. "I insist you announce me immediately. Inform him a problem has arisen that requires immediate resolution."

"My orders were explicit, sir. You are not to be admitted, not tonight nor any time, until further notice."

"Tell your master I need to speak to him now!" Blake pushed his way into the house, his hands clenched into fists. He glared at the servant, challenging him to touch his body in any way.

"Very good, sir. Please wait here." The man pointed to the chair in the entrance hall as he moved swiftly to inform Mr. Darcy of his unexpected visitor.

When Darcy arrived shortly thereafter, Blake stood to greet him, but instead of a welcome smile from an old friend, he gasped at the furrowed forehead and downturned mouth. He noticed a pair of cold, black eyes aimed in his direction, but before the marquess could speak, Darcy landed a right fist along Blake's jaw.

"Throw him out," Darcy shouted to Geoffries, whose feet seemed frozen in place. He was as stunned as the gentleman lying on the floor was shocked.

Blake propped his body up on one elbow. "What the hell this is all about, Darcy!"

Darcy started to walk off, instructing his man to kick him out if need be, when Blake yelled in his loudest voice---

"Do not turn your back on me. I demand to know what my sin is to deserve such a greeting. I will call you out if need be."

"Ahhh." Darcy turned to the man stretched out the floor. With both his hands held ready to perform bodily damage and every muscle in his body taut, Darcy stepped closer to Blake, his darkened eyes fixed firmly on his former friend. His neck muscles remained tense as he stood over Blake, until he recognized the bewildered countenance of the man rising from the floor.

"I beg of you to explain what happened. What is my sin? If I am to put to right this alleged wrong, then you must divulge the reason for this sudden aversion to me. I insist!"

"As you wish. Take Lord Blake to the study." Darcy barked as he turned to his butler. "You are to return in one hour, and unless I say otherwise at that time, you will throw the blackguard out and never let him grace my house again. Bring as many men as you might need. Big men. Mean men."

The butler assisted Blake to his feet and grabbed hold of his arm.

Darcy quickly reached the study and held the door open for them. "Throw him in the chair over there. No need to be gentle."

Blake collapsed into the seat, gasping for air.

"Are you drunk?" A startled Darcy bellowed when he heard a hiccup. He could hardly believe it, since Blake avoided drinking more than two glasses of any alcohol.

Holding his head, Blake groaned.

Darcy rang for coffee as he watched the marquess slump further down in the chair, resting his forehead upon his hand. "Breathe deeply. I want you alert when I charge you with your despicable behavior. And it is despicable, I assure you. I want you sober when you are tossed out like this morning's refuse."

Blake's breathing was heavy and his eyes were moist. "I am going to become a monk."

Rolling his eyes, Darcy scoffed. He had listened to this pronouncement every time Blake had a problem with either a lady or her parents. He poured himself a whiskey. He had grown fond of Bingley's drink, and planned one day to visit Scotland's west coast to partake of all the fine scotches distilled there. Noting the quizzical expression on Blake's face, he did not conceal his contempt in his voice. "All this time you treated me as a fool! Do not show such false pretense with me."

"You are wrong, Darcy. I do not understand at all. You caught me off guard, and I cannot think of a single thing that would cause such a reaction."

"I am tired and weary of the likes of men like you. Why must your breed of man always find their way to my doorstep? You may have the family name and even some wealth, unlike another person I shall not mention, but rakes you both are." Darcy spit out the words before dropping into his chair with a thud. He fixed his stare on the man sitting across from him.

"I implore you to please just tell me what you have been told. I assure you I do not deserve this... impertinence."

"What do you say about your dealings with Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam? I have heard the most immoral accusations."

Blake sat upright. "Victoria? What about Victoria?"

"Lady Victoria, or I shall thump you again?"

"Yes, of course, Lady Victoria. What do you believe happened? I will share with you my story, if you first tell me exactly what is it that you think I did." Blake waited, and when Darcy did not respond, he said, "Now I am the one not to be trifled with, because only a falsehood made against me would cause you to behave so boorishly."

"Boorishly? I will defend my cousin no matter who harms her. Tell me you did not use your bloody charm to trifle with her feelings. Blast it, Blake, tell me the truth." Grabbing the arms of the chair, Darcy leaned forward, his face drawing near to Blake's.

"Trifle -- I did not trifle. Is that what you heard? Then Lady Victoria is no lady."

"Be careful, Blake," Darcy squeezed the arms of the chair. "A pummeling would do you good."

Rolling his eyes, Blake massaged his chin. "You are wrong. It will not help me at all. So what exactly did I do to Lady Victoria?"

"Trifled with her feelings, broke her heart and then moved on to your next victim -- I know it all -- first Lady Victoria then Miss Elizabeth. Why do women fall for rogues like you? You and your father are nothing but scoundrels."

"Miss Elizabeth, did you say? How is she involved with my affair with Lady Victoria?"

"I was correct. You did trifle with Victoria." Darcy rose from his seat and stood over Blake. "I shall send you from this house immediately!"

"Darcy, calm down, calm down. I will tell you the truth, but you must be willing to hear my side." Blake stood quickly. The two men glared unblinking at each other. A spark from the fireplace jumped towards them, breaking their gaze.

Darcy agreed and relocated to his familiar, comfortable spot -- the window overlooking the courtyard. He waited for Blake to begin, but his body remained taut while he viewed the image of the marquess in the reflection of the glass, glaring at his back.

Shaking his head and exhaling loudly, Blake poured a brandy. He needed fortification, not to aid him against Darcy, but against himself.

Darcy called out while maintaining his stance at the window. "Did you name a horse Matlock after her as well?"

"No, I did not. What has caused you to be so angry, Darcy? Ask any question about Lady Victoria. I will tell you anything you want, since I have done nothing that I am ashamed to reveal."

Darcy turned to Blake. "Tell me about your flirtations with Lady Victoria."

"Would you be willing to listen to the whole story and not interrupt or pummel me?" Blake chuckled.

Without responding to the lightness of Blake's comment, Darcy nodded and they both returned to the seats. Darcy accepted the scotch poured for him, but did not divert his eyes from Blake. He sipped a small amount, set the glass down, and crossed his arms. "Go on."

"Well, my father is a failed and broken man. Yes, I admit it. I had to remain silent as he plundered the family vault, sold items secretly to pay for his gambling, and even his seductions and debaucheries. Were you aware he keeps several mistresses?"

"No, but I did spot him with inappropriate women at times. I am fully cognizant of his habits at White's." Darcy relaxed his shoulders slightly, although his arms remained crossed.

"Well if it was just White's it would be a simpler problem. He has racked up gambling losses in White's, Waiter's and even at lowly Crockford's. Do you know what it is like to belong to such a family? No, do not answer. I am as well aware of your background as you are of mine."

Darcy decided there was probably more to this story than the bare facts his cousin had revealed. All he indicated was that Blake trifled with Victoria's feelings and left her broken hearted, and implied he had compromised her at Almack's. He held up his hand, poured himself another drink, and informed his servant that under no circumstances were they to be disturbed. He returned to his chair and encouraged Blake to continue.

While he composed his thoughts, Blake stared at the glass as he swirled his brandy.

Darcy had often seen his calculating expression as his eyes darted at nothing in particular. Realizing the man was silently berating himself, he leaned forward, tapped Blake's arm and spoke in a half whisper. "Please, go on. I promise to hear you out completely before I pass any more judgments."

"Thank you, I do not ask for more." Blake lifted his head, leaned back into the chair. "Where was I? Oh yes, my family. When my mother passed away twelve years ago, my father---who to my knowledge had remained true to her, but I could be wrong---took up companionship with an actress. An actress, Darcy. She connived to gain jewelry, bonds, a house, a carriage and continued to bleed him dry. He began to gamble at her direction. I suppose my father was just acting out of grief; I do believe he truly loved my mother."

Darcy whispered, "Yes, I am sure he did. I remember your mother, and how your father doted on her."

Blake took a sip of his brandy and slumped in his chair. "He was a typical eldest son that inherited great wealth---arrogant and selfish to all his wants and needs. This is the way with every eldest son, with the possible exception of Bingley."

"Excuse me, Blake. You find me arrogant?"

"Yes, you are. You come and go as you please. You look down on anyone not of your circle. Think about how you treated the society in Meryton, but I do not care. You have a right and good reason to be proud of your heritage and to be aloof to those beneath you. I understand your attitude better than most; these people generally only speak to you to gain favor. They always want something. If not money, it is the connection. But I digress; allow me to continue with my story."

"Please do." Darcy quickly stored away this information for later reflection. He looked at Blake and noticed he had a cold and distant look in his eyes.

Blake glanced at Darcy, caught his breath, and mumbled, "What should I say?"

"The truth," he answered, catching Blake off guard.

"As I said, my father spent years gambling away the family fortune. He has not the talent for creating wealth, just spending what already existed. Many of his tenants left for the cotton mills and other industries in the country months ago. They have, in some cases, improved their lots and in others fared much worse." Blake paused and then stared at Darcy. "You have faced the competition for the laborers, I assume?"

"I have, but please continue."

"Very well, I know this cannot be delayed. We were near bankruptcy. My father married off my dearest, sweetest sister to a viscous Austrian commoner. Of course, he obtained a fortune for her hand and no doubt, it was extensive. The Austrian received a pound of flesh for every pound given to my father. Did you know she died last summer?"

Darcy shook his head and sat quietly while Blake composed himself.

"No one was permitted to visit her. I suspect the secrecy was to conceal her bruised and broken body. Her husband monitored all her letters, incoming and outgoing. Her maid sent me word of her condition, but it was too late, or perhaps it was the reason my sweet sister succumbed to the final beating. At least she is out of her misery." Blake closed his eyes and sunk further into his chair.

Darcy gripped his arm. "I am most sorry for your loss, Blake."

Blake nodded. "Well, the money kept us afloat for quite a while. When my brother Edward married Miss Madeline Thornsby, another amount of cash appeared. Yes, money can be made through land, trade, banking, industry and marriage. Madeline was at least of like mind. She thought she was marrying up, since she was but a baron's daughter. Unfortunately, now she has no money to spend on gowns, jewelry or balls. My wonderful younger brother spends more on his mistresses than on her. He follows father around like a shadow attached to his feet. Well, Margaret has the social connection she wanted, but I often wonder how she likes her arrangement now. My family is incapable of making money, except through marriage. I suppose you can figure out where this is heading?"

"I suspect Victoria was to be your arrangement? She possesses a great fortune."

"Well, before we get that far in my story, let me explain a little about me, well, maybe just a little. You remember how I was during our time at Cambridge. I studied hard and I tried to fashion myself after the most successful students. You were one of them. I noticed how everyone always treated you with the greatest respect, although many feared you as well. That fear was due to your wealth and standing in society. One bad word, one cut from you, and many trying to improve their status would lose their acceptance in the ton. Did you know that, Darcy?"

Darcy sipped his whiskey.

Shrugging, Blake continued. "I doubt if it ever crossed your mind. Well, I tried my best to emulate you. You are honorable in all your dealings, and you do believe in truth above all else. You are my ideal of the best of men, even with your faults." Blake chuckled when he added, "We all have faults. Do not look so shocked."

Blake paused as the breath he inhaled caught in his throat. He poured yet another drink, which seemed to have no effect on his abilities. Darcy continued to sip his whiskey, and waited for Blake to speak. Blake stared at the fireplace and noticed the embers were growing dim. He tended the fire, collected his thoughts, and sent Darcy a slight smile as he returned to his seat.

"Yes, you did surmise correctly. He demanded I ally myself with Lady Victoria. You must believe me when I confess I did not want to do this. Yet, you know how it is in our society. Marriage agreements are made all the time. I was a coward, too. I had never gone against my father in my entire life. They instill in us that we must honor our parents. No one ever adds, we only need to do so while they remain decent. Nevertheless, he said I was to marry a reputable lady from a respectable family and one with a great fortune. He arranged for my introduction to her. With only the thought that a marriage to Lady Victoria would make you my cousin, I agreed."

Darcy sat up, tightening his grip on his glass. "Go on, and I want the whole story, regardless of my reactions."

Blake nodded. "I attended the same parties, balls, and every theater event. I presented myself to her family as a man in pursuit of marriage with their daughter. Yes, I did everything in order to court, woo, and win Lady Victoria. But believe me when I say this. At no time did any improper actions take place between Lady Victoria and myself. Not one kiss, not one misleading word, not even a hint of impropriety. Once, I stood a little too close to her at Almack's and cast my eyes over her body in suggestive manner, but that was my worse offense. There was one problem, however."

"And that was?" Darcy relaxed with the knowledge no compromise existed.

"One day I asked myself what you would do in this case. You understand, I had no desire to actually marry her. Lady Victoria is a very pretty, young girl. She has acquired all of societies' requirements of what a lady should be. But, please stay calm because you may not like what I say next."

Blake waited until Darcy nodded.

"I find her shallow and empty headed, and with not a single thought beyond anything she read in the fashion magazines or society pages of the newspapers. I want more than this from a wife. She admires all the wrong people, merely because of their status." Blake paused and composed his thoughts. "Like my father for instance. I no longer hold him in high esteem, but you and your family do. In fact, as the Duke of Charnwood, everyone does. The situation has become so horrid now; perhaps we have even lost that."

Darcy looked away as he recalled his uncle's admission the previous day.

"Well, lately I would rather a tradesman was my father than him. Perhaps then, I could have been prepared for the barely veiled disgust thrown my way. In the end, I told Lady Victoria the truth. I did not love her, and I only courted her because my father deemed the alliance desirable. I even told her he was after her money. But I swear to you, I never desired her fortune. I am only guilty of being a dutiful son. Now hate me, if you will, for disappointing her dreams, but it was done for the best. Lady Victoria needed to know the truth, and one day, I pray she may just find the right person. It is not me."

Silence filled the room.

Blake leaned towards Darcy. "But what was this you said regarding Miss Elizabeth? You alluded that I was trifling with her."

"I was wrong. Forgive me, Blake, about my accusations concerning Victoria. But Miss Elizabeth is a different story. You pursued her and, yet, you concealed your designs. You would not admit to me what your plans were, leaving me to doubt your intentions were honorable. Until this moment, I had suspected you wanted an arrangement that did not include marriage. Why did you hide your intent from me and lead me to believe the worst? You did it deliberately, and it caused me no end of worries."

"First, what I do is truly none of your business, nor is Miss Elizabeth under your protection. You were causing me no end of worries. I was desperate for you to remain disinterested and allow my ruse to work. I had forgotten how you feel responsible for your particular friends and acquaintances. Sometimes, Darcy, you overstep your authority and take charge when it is not appropriate, whether it is Cambridge or Netherfield Park. But to answer your question, and I did agree to be truthful and forthcoming, my father was the reason for my actions."

"Oh?"

"If one single whisper about my attentions to Miss Bennet reached his ears, he would have arrived in Meryton with the sole purpose of badgering her to seek her future elsewhere. He would threaten her in any way he found to be successful. I refused to place her in that situation. He can be most formidable."

"I do not think she would have cowered from him."

"You do not appreciate how vicious he can be. If she proved unmovable, he would hurt her family. Mr. Bennet is not, shall we say, formidable. No, he could not withstand the demands of a duke pounding at his door. My father would do anything to stop the marriage. Even her lost seven thousand pound dowry would have been too deficient for him, not to mention her lack of those connections he deems necessary for his heir. Neither connections nor fortune matter to me. I had to maintain a sort of duplicity; but the pretense was to protect her. I required that no one believed I would pursue marriage. I only thought of her, and I care not what anyone thinks of me. Let them call me a scoundrel or rake or any other disrespectful name. I know the truth, and when we wed, all suspicions would disappear."

"I witnessed how attentive you were to her and how she responded. I am surprised you did not express your intentions to her."

"We had plans to meet the day after Bingley's ball. Remember, you interrupted us on the balcony as I was about to reveal my feelings to her, but I caught sight of you opening the door."

Darcy sensed the heat rising on his cheeks.

"I waited all day for her to arrive. I intended to offer marriage. I was ready to explain the situation with my father. I had hoped she would, with the blessing of her family, marry quickly, or even elope. Once done, my father would have little recourse. I would have even given up my title for her. I care not to be called Lord Blake."

"Oh."

"I often dreamed of her calling me Robert and others addressing her as Mrs. Robert Allen. I do not believe titles were important to her. Of course, when my father dies, his title would be bestowed upon me, but until then, I could be content to while away the hours in her company. I needed nothing else---not money, title, nor business."

"May I ask what happened?"

"She never came, so I went to Longbourn late that afternoon."

Darcy sat up straight and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. His brow felt damp and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"She ran away from me. Her mother explained how she left for London with her father that morning with the sole purpose of avoiding something. That something was me." Blake's voice faded out on the last word.

Darcy remained silent.

"I had even been prepared to propose marriage in front of her mother. She would not have allowed Miss Elizabeth to reject my offer. For the second time in my life, I was found to be unworthy."

"Second time?"

"Lady Beatrice from Chesterfield."

"Oh."

"I never had the opportunity to offer for her either; a friend divulged my intentions to my father, and he immediately took charge. I refuse to forgive Lord Atterton to this day for his officious behavior."

"Why?'

Lady Beatrice did not have the fortune he deemed necessary, hers was a mere twenty thousand pounds. He informed her that she was not acceptable, and he would never condone or approve of the marriage. He threatened to take away my title and remove me from his home, without revealing my own holdings. He convinced her she would be better off seeking another. She had cared for me, but like so many others, sought security over happiness. My father threatened her family until they relented. Now I am glad I did not offer for her. I was young and inexperienced. She turned out to be just like all the other London social climbers. This is why I know what he would have done to the Bennets."

Darcy stared at the fire dwindling down. He felt a dull pain flowing through his body, causing him to ache all over.

"But it is all for naught."

"Are you positive she would refuse you if you spoke directly to her?"

"Yes. There can be no other explanation. She clearly understood the reason for meeting me the next morning."

"But you may be wrong. Why not seek the truth from her? If she is in town, what keeps you from seeking her out?"

"I assumed she heard of my family situation, and then coupled with her own financial loss, I suspect she just avoided having to give me an answer. I had never revealed my personal wealth. I have broken off any connection with her, and I do not wish to see her again. "

Darcy studied the flames flickering in the fireplace as they leapt towards him. He had his doubts about her running away. He had witnessed how she gazed upon Blake whenever he entered the room and how delighted she was when the two of them spoke. He hesitated for a brief moment as he debated whether to challenge Blake's assumption. He began to offer a rebuttal when Blake held up his hand.

"Do not say another word about her." Blake narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips.

Darcy nodded. Blake seemed resolved, and he decided any further discussion would be cruel. So be it. All of us are better off without the Bennets.

"By your expression, Darcy, you appear to want to ask me something further. Is there anything else you need to know?"

"I would still like to call you friend. Will you call me one as well, even though I know I do not deserve the name?"

Blake saw the sincerity in his eyes and quickly nodded. He massaged his chin. "I hope never to be in fight with you again. You should have chosen boxing as your game."

His servant returned precisely one hour later; Darcy waved him away and then turned to stare at Blake with a confused appearance. "Why did you come here tonight?"

"To report to you that my father is demanding I drop all association with Kent and Bingley."

"Is he aware of the alliance?"

"Not that he said. But he did read about the games in the newspapers. Bingley and Kent were identified, as were their backgrounds. He had heard rumors of my attraction to someone there. I believe it passed along with the report I had danced the Waltz. That is why he introduced me to a new lady, one he hopes will replace my thoughts of Miss Elizabeth. She is a very wealthy woman who fits his criteria of a perfect match."

"What will you do?"

"I decided to ignore my father and create my own fortune. I will continue with your alliance without regard to, or complaint about, the tradesmen's sons. You know, mingling in business is just not done in our sphere, but I do not want to miss this opportunity. I want some way to retain my lifestyle. My estate is producing well enough, but even you must fear for the future. Trade may be beneath us, but it can be good and honorable."

Darcy nodded. "I agree. Bingley and Kent are perfect examples of that presumption."

"I understand you would prefer not to be involved with tradesmen, and as such, feel the need to conceal the partnership from our peers. We are above them, and that is what makes this so difficult. But I warn you, I cannot withstand much more adversity."

Again, Darcy squirmed in his seat as he contemplated this new piece of information aimed at him. Tradesmen. Have I always been so above these people?

Blake rubbed his jaw until Darcy settled back into his chair. "Oh, and I will not marry this latest dressed up bag of coins. That is definite. Unless I find another woman as worthy as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I will not marry at all.

Chapter 34

Posted on September 30, 2008

Bingley approached Somerset House, home of the Royal Society, where his Uncle Watt was attending a meeting of its Fellows. The Society met weekly to discuss the exciting discoveries of the day, rehash old assumptions, or serve as witnesses to experiments and demonstrations.

Bingley was mindful that his uncle had presented many of his theories on the power of steam engines inside the walls of this particular building. Pride surged through his body as he envisioned a member of his family expounding on the future benefits of steam to all those men of knowledge. His chuckle escaped unfettered as he imaged his uncle rambling about the subject that had imprisoned the man's heart.

Entering the room, Bingley searched the attendees for his uncle, finally locating him sitting alone in the third row. James Watt, at that exact moment, turned towards him, almost as is he could sense his arrival. Waving, Bingley joined him as the presentation began, not wholly comprehending the subject under discussion. However, his uncle leaned forward in his seat, enthralled by the activity. The room hushed as the man expounded upon scientific theories and terms foreign to his ears, forcing Bingley to wait until the experiment ended before they could sneak away for refreshments and conversation.

He and his uncle found their way to a coffee shop not far from the Royal Society.

"Did you see those strutting peacocks, walking around as if they were true men of science and knowledge? Ridiculous."

"Pardon me? I do not follow you."

"Ever since Sir Joseph Banks became president of this group, he has allowed wealthy amateurs full membership, with pretentiousness filling the air and subjecting the true Fellows to unquestionable drivel and poppycock. Banks thinks we need patrons. I know we do, my boy, we do; but to allow them to think they are equal? Well." Watt closed his eyes as he held his breath. "Fortunately there was no gibberish today." Watt caught sight of his nephew staring beyond him with a familiar blank expression. "Beg your pardon. I do go on sometimes. Why did you wish to see me?"

Bingley made his request. "Uncle James, I... would... like..."

"Charles, take a breath. Spit it out, boy. You have not spoken so slowly since the first time you stared at a young lady."

"May I bring Lord Blake and Mr. Darcy to your next Lunar Society meeting?" Bingley exhaled loudly. "I understand you will be holding it in London this month."

"Lord? Did you say you want to bring a lord to the meeting?"

"Yes. Lord Blake and Mr. Darcy. They are my friends."

"I have heard you often refer to Mr. Darcy, but I do not recollect a single mention of Lord Blake." Watt studied his nephew's reaction. "I fear the other three members may object. You know we are a bunch of old Whigs! I am positive they are Tories."

"I do not know. We do not discuss politics. We became friends at Cambridge. Lord Blake may at times be conscious of his status, but he has never shown anything but friendship to me."

"You were in an educational environment, where the barriers between students are often blurred. You know, Charles, men born of rank are not always willing to socialize with those below their station. Will he not look down upon my group? We are not nobility, or even estate owners. We are not of those circles."

"Lord Blake has never shunned or cut me at any ball or other social function. Lately, we were together at Netherfield Park."

"Oh, yes, I read about the competition, and I was prudent not to wager on my own family member." Watt chuckled when his nephew lowered his head to conceal a fast spreading blush. "You know, my boy, I may risk funds on risky endeavors of scientific nature, but I never risk it on games of chance. Now tell me, what else occurred at your country home? You went there primarily on business, I recall; something about the rifle."

Bingley proceeded to explain what had transpired during his stay in Hertfordshire. He laid out the entire enterprise and the roles for each of the members. His normal grin switched to a wide smile as he announced they had signed agreements for a true partnership, and laughed loudly when he revealed how desirable his friends had found the Baker rifle.

Watt remained quiet as Bingley spoke, occasionally smiling at the stories of the games, and even releasing a snort of pleasure at the description of tup running. As the young man's recital continued, Watt witnessed his animated and grinning nephew gradually transform into a noiseless man with slumped shoulders, downturned lips, and eyes grown dull and lifeless.

"Who is she, Charles?"

"No one, sir."

"Nonsense. You are sporting that forlorn expression again."

Bingley sighed. "Her name is Miss Bennet. I am only dismayed because she did not return my feelings."

"I am sorry, my boy. I hope she was at least gentle when she turned you down."

"You mistake me. She did not turn me down since I did not make her an offer. I would never put her in an awkward position of that nature. I... respect her too much."

"Oh?"

Bingley sighed and returned to staring at some invisible point far away. "She is the most handsome lady of my acquaintance. She deserves a marriage to someone of higher status. She is a gentleman's daughter and possesses all the grace and beauty of a countess. I am nothing more than a tradesman's son."

"Perhaps you are mistaken in your understanding of her feelings. Her inclination may be aligned with yours?"

"I have little hope. I assure you, there is one unmistakable influence... her mother."

"Oh?"

"As my friend Darcy said, she is as mercenary as any huntress anywhere. She pushed her daughter towards me at every opportunity. Miss Bennet was always polite but never..."

James Watt fiddled with his cup of coffee as Bingley retreated even further into himself.

"Invite your friends to the next Lunar Society meeting, Charles. In particular, you should encourage Mr. Darcy to attend." Noticing his nephew's eyes had lightened and his grin returned with his approval, Watt patted his arm. "However, I warn you not to get your hopes up. I suspect they will be busy with some previous commitment or have ready some other excuse for not attending."

"I believe they will come."

"Perhaps you should not mention it is a meeting, and just invite them to a dinner party."

Kent glanced around the area surrounding his Uncle Daniel's home. The streets were clean, the houses well maintained and the neighbors were all successful tradesmen. His uncle's home was near the Kent family warehouse in Cheapside. Kent's home, left to him when his parents died in the carriage accident, was a few houses further down the street. Although he preferred living in his late mother's old home in Leicester. It was not a great house, by any means, but a comfortable, well-kept home with a fine stable filled with thoroughbreds of all types. One day, he promised himself, he would live on Grovesner Street in a grand house with many servants, and buy his own Andalusian stallion to parade through Mayfair.

When Kent's father died, his will specified that his son could not take charge of the business until he was thirty, and instead to enjoy life before assuming the heavy burden of responsibility. Until then, his father's brother, Daniel, would continue to manage everything. However, Kent, not a man who favored leisure over work, chose in its place to spend his free time working alongside his uncle in preparation for assuming his place, now only two years away.

The Kent family was on the rise with a significant fortune increasing daily. They all appeared to prefer working to leisure as they gathered strength from the business dealings and contracts made. A member of the Kent family dominated in every aspect of commerce: import, export, shipping, textiles, manufacturing, architecture, and most recent, transportation enterprises. A Kent was involved in the building of the canals and improvement of the roads after a family member had convinced the politicians of the necessity for upgrading the highways and the profitability of doing so. Ever since he and Darcy rode the Catch Me if You Can train, Kent recognized rail as the solution for the future of transportation, and had considered building his own line to Leicester.

In two years, Kent would inherit the largest of the family fortunes. His family referred to him as the heir, and since his position within the family was well known, every tradesman in England treated Kent with proper respect. He, in turn, maintained the honorable and trustworthy reputation his excellent father had established.

Throwing his shoulders back as he strode inside the house, Kent steeled himself for the coming arguments he knew his family would foist upon him. Tonight, he was dining with the most vocal believers of the reformation of society---his uncles, Daniel and Milton and their families. Dinner discussions always turned into a heated debate over individual rights and the problems with class distinctions. Entering the parlor, he spied one of his uncles quickly approaching him.

"Good evening, Uncle Daniel." Kent bowed, relieved when he noticed his smile. Good! They have not yet begun their bickering.

"Good evening to you, Son. Pour yourself a drink. Your Uncle Milton is helping himself, I see." Daniel nodded his head towards the far wall, where two men stood---one older gentleman and one young man, nearer Kent's age.

He joined his uncle and poured himself a full glass of whiskey, just as Milton's eldest son slammed his glass down. "I do not want to think of commoners in complete control. They are unschooled and ignorant in the way of the world," Elliot shouted.

Kent chuckled. He was in agreement with his cousin, but when an argument broke out between father and son, he tried to stand out of the way.

Uncle Milton poured his son another whiskey and shoved it to him. "Whigs do not want to go that far, Elliot. You must own property in order to participate."

"True." Elliot shook his head. "Yet the Tories have been in charge for a long time and have accomplished much. Are we not the world's greatest nation? Why do you not praise them for our standing in the world."

"How the hell did I raise a son to be a Tory? And you..." Turning, Uncle Milton directed his stare at Kent. "Are you a Tory as well? My God, even the Irish know what they are. Tory is the word for outlaw in Ireland. Yes, sir, they do indeed steal from everyone."

Kent caught his breath and sipped his whiskey before responding. "I believe what Elliot says has merit. You must admit that the Tories have accomplished a lot." Kent offered his uncle a slight smile. "In Scotland, Whiggamore means raiding party! I suspect the Whigs do want to raid the Tories of their power."

The men held a staring contest as Uncle Daniel suggested they finish their drinks in comfortable chairs.

Taking his seat, Elliot crossed his legs and glared over the top of his glass. "Father, I am not a Tory, but unlike you, I do not wish to destroy them."

Milton smirked. "No. You merely want to use them to elevate your own status. We have watched your ambition to become members of highest circles of society increase each year." He turned to Kent. "You are the same---just like your cousin."

Kent raised his brows. "Is that wrong? I wish to advance myself to a better life. I cannot find fault with it."

His cousin Elliot nodded in support.

"You two do not understand. They will never let you join."

Elliot sat tall in his seat, with his chin raised, imitating the same haughtiness he witnessed from some of his university friends. "All it takes is money. I plan to enhance my earnings in such a way that I will be rewarded by acceptance into their world. I will work with the Tories who will help me advance."

"They will use you, Son. They will take all your hard efforts and leave you with nothing. As I sit here today, I can guarantee you will never be invited into their world."

Kent cleared his throat. "Well, there are other ways to be accepted."

"Marriage? Do you speak of marriage?" Milton waited for his nephew to speak, but he merely nodded his affirmation. Milton shook his head. "In order to obtain their acceptance, you would have to connect yourself to someone in the upper levels of society. And they would never let their daughters marry a tradesman, mercantilist, or industrialist like ourselves. It is just not done."

"Some are more open to inclusion of men of fortune. Many aristocrats are Whigs, is that not true? You cannot place all the blame on the Tories."

"Saving the plight of the poor and opening the doors to the Catholics is vastly different from bringing us into their homes."

"I am not poor, and I am not Catholic."

"No, and you are not gentry either."

"I will prove you wrong. I have made friends---"

"Bah. The men you have been associating with will leave you behind. They might occasionally include men such as yourself, such as this competition I read about, but have you been invited to their homes when they are hosting an important dinner?"

Kent remained silent.

"Have they introduced you to their marriageable sisters or cousins? Or do they keep you separate from that part of their world."

Again, Kent remained silent. An image of Miss Bingley sitting on a bench in a far away garden came to his mind.

"You understand you are not on their level. They included you in a shooting party in some meaningless place; they allowed you to join them because there was no opportunity for you to connect yourself to their families."

"Perhaps the trip to Hertfordshire was not all leisure?"

"Ah ha! So they did bring their sisters! I must assume we can announce your engagement any day now."

"No. I referred to other opportunities."

"Nephew." His uncle Daniel glared at him. "Are you doing business with these men?"

Kent shrugged.

"Unless you have a signed contract protecting you, they will steal everything you own. Never do business with them. Always do business for them." Daniel tossed back the rest of his wine.

Uncle Milton added, "And even then you must understand that they may not pay on time, or if they are a member of the noble class, they may not pay at all." The two uncles laughed. "Remember you cannot bring charges against anyone in the House of Lords. They are above the law."

"You mean they are the law." The older men guffawed.

"I have no fear of my dealings with my friends. Even Lord Blake has invited me to his estate."

"For what, sport? Has he invited you to a ball? You need not answer. I see the truth on your face."

"I do not believe you understand the young people of today," Kent replied, his voice rising. "This is the nineteenth century, and times have changed. Bingley and I attended Cambridge. We were included in their group, and now in their business. And we will be invited in their social life as well. You are too old and cynical, Uncle."

Milton shrugged his broad shoulders. "I am just experienced. Hmmm. Business you say?"

"Yes, tell me more. Is there some way we can benefit?" Daniel asked. "Is this why you questioned me regarding trade laws?"

Kent relented, against his better judgment, and explained their plans. Only Daniel, the uncle in import and export, believed there could possibly be honorable actions on the part of Kent's friends. He agreed to help his nephew.

Milton, the shipbuilder, listened carefully, and when the evening was over and Kent left, he prepared a message and had it sent immediately. I hope the Falcon appreciates this.

"Good Morning!" Rawlings announced as he sauntered into the breakfast room. In front of him were two men deep in conversation---Kent was talking, and Darcy listening with intensity.

"Join us! Did you just arrive?" Darcy asked as Kent nodded his acknowledgement.

"Straight from Cavendish Square." Rawlings patted his pocket. "I have brought with me the signed contracts from Mr. Cuffage. What is the plan for today?

"Kent and I are headed out to view some warehouses, meet with importers and visit an official from the East India Company."

"What do we know about the company other than they are the mother and father of all trade in the East Indies and beyond?" Rawlings filled his plate and joined his friends.

Kent placed his fork and knife down. "What is it you wish to know?

"Will we need to be involved with them for our trades?"

"Most definitely. We will not be successful in the worldwide plan until we employ a strategy for trading in the East Indies and China. We must deal with the East India Company."

"Do they have a monopoly?" Rawlings took a bit of ham. "Darcy, I am disappointed there are no sweet pastries this morning."

"You finished eating them yesterday, except for this one." Darcy bit into the treat he held in his hand, and then smiled as he wiped his mouth. "Mmmmm. This is one of the best tasting pastries of all. Extremely good, really."

Rawlings jerked his head toward the doorway, causing Darcy to look. Rawlings speared the remnants of the pastry and popped it into his mouth before being caught. "Yes, Darcy, quite tasty. Now what were you saying about the monopoly?"

"The East India Company is more complicated than just being a monopoly. Kent is the best one to explain."

"The actual transactions are between the company and merchants." Kent sighed. "I suppose that is why I have such an extensive knowledge. My family has been dealing with them forever."

"Well, Kent, go on. I suspect I may need to be fully educated on them before leaving for America."

"True, even America cannot avoid them. They came into existence in 1600 when Queen Elizabeth provided a charter to a select group of merchants and businessmen in an attempt to break the rival Dutch and Portuguese trading companies in the East Indies."

"What did they purchase back then?"

Kent held up his forkful of eggs. "Spices. The charter empowered the company to build forts and trading posts, properly referred to as factories, maintain armies, and even conclude treaties with Asian rulers. They control all the trade since they own the factories, creating a monopoly in a way. If any merchant wishes to establish an export arrangement in India, they must do so through the Company.

Darcy set down his coffee cup. "Could not some other country take over one day and compete with the British posts?"

"Perhaps, but the East India Company also controls competition through pricing, since they are the only ones that do not pay custom tariffs. And they, in fact, make money through taxation of the land within established territories, and can tax any amount to a competing seller.

"I presume that is why there are such riches to be made in Indian goods."

"Cotton, silk, indigo dye, saltpetre and tea are the main commodities, all of which are very profitable. But China tea is the most sought after of all teas. The East India Company does have one product available for trading that is desired by the Chinese, but I do not know if you wish to participate in that occupation."

"How so?" Rawlings asked.

"Opium is what the Chinese want, even though it is banned by the Chinese government and has to be smuggled into the country. Nonetheless, vast fortunes can be made from it."

Darcy cleared his throat. "I am not of a mind to enter the drug smuggling world. There must be some way we can break into the China trade. Kent, perhaps you can do further research.

Kent nodded. "My Uncle Daniel is well versed in China, but I will admit, we have not been successful yet."

"Does the monopoly still stand?" Rawlings asked

"There are efforts in Parliament to open up competition."

"Blake!" Rawlings and Darcy shouted in unison and then shared a laugh.

"Yes, I will ask him to query his uncle," Darcy announced.

The men finished breakfast and headed out to meet with an official at the East India Company. They planned to apply for the necessary trading license. The official was pleasant, and methodically explained the process for trading with the Company, repeating much of what Kent had said earlier. As the men listened, Kent kept his eye on the assistant sitting behind the official.

Darcy filled out the required papers after the others agreed. The official carefully placed the documents in his desk drawer and waited patiently until the three men departed. He summoned his assistant and handed him the application.

"Take these documents to this home at Grosvenor Square. Do not allow anyone to detain you. This is most urgent.

The assistant read the address and said, "The Peregrine? Yes, sir. Immediately."

Kent had remained at the entrance to the official office with an alibi to his friends of having to retrieve his gloves left behind. When the assistant appeared, the two men slid away from the door as Kent inspected the address. "The Falcon is involved?"

"Yes. And this is your application."

Kent handed the man a guinea along with the message and sent him on his way.

The three men spent the afternoon visiting with other tradesmen in Cheapside. Kent introduced him to the very persons handling goods from, Russia, British America, the West Indies and Africa. Kent's connections were located in every port in the trading world, with the exception of China. Kent took them to all the best warehouses, including the East India Company Warehouse, where the three men spent the rest of the day browsing and making notes of the types of products sold.

"Will you both stay for dinner? " Darcy asked as the men settled into the carriage and headed back to Grosvenor Square.

Rawlings shook his head. "I am sorry, but I cannot. I must finalize some affairs before I leave. I received word from the Captain we will sail on Tuesday, next week."

"Well, I accept. I need to record some thoughts from today's outing in our journal. If I wait, I will not be able to remember them tomorrow.

Darcy nodded. "Dinner will be a little early tonight. I am taking my sister and my cousin to a play."

"Which one?" Kent asked.

"The Rivals at the Lyceum."

"I am not familiar with it."

Darcy stared at his hands as he rubbed them together before lifting his eyes. "Kent, normally I would invite you to join us, but tonight I cannot. I do beg your pardon." An image of Lord Matlock demanding no other guests be included filled his head. Kent nodded, but Darcy noted his blank expression, and that his lips had turned down slightly. Sighing, he returned to the notes he had written on their day's outing.

The carriage remained quiet as it moved through the busy streets, first stopping at Rawlings' home and then winding its way to Grosvenor Square, where the two remaining men separated for a time: Kent left for the library; Darcy to his bedchambers to prepare for the evening.

"Miss Darcy! You look lovely tonight." Kent bowed, and as he raised himself upright, he cast his eyes on another lady descending the stair. He offered a small smile before returning his attention to Georgiana.

"Oh, Mr. Kent. How are you today? Did you keep my brother busy all day, or did he tire you out?"

Kent nodded. "Your brother never stops. I will admit I am famished and look forward to dinner tonight." He glanced again at the other lady walking towards them.

"Oh, I do not believe you know my cousin. Let me introduce her to you." She turned to the lady dressed in a pale blue evening gown that matched her eyes. Victoria stood next to Georgiana and nodded. May I present Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam? Victoria, this is my brother's friend, Mr. Kent of Leicester."

Kent bowed as Lady Victoria curtseyed.

"Mr. Kent is an expert on piano composers." Georgiana raised her brows and released a giggle.

Kent chuckled and then tipped his head towards Georgiana. "Any knowledge I have is because of you, Miss Darcy. I am hopeless without your help." Kent bowed and rewarded Darcy's sister with his practiced smile before glancing at Victoria. "Lady Victoria, are you an expert on the pianoforte, too?"

"No, Mr. Kent. No one is as proficient as Georgiana. Do you play at all?"

"I believe I can honestly say I cannot play one note! My endeavors are limited to the turning of pages."

"That I can do as well!" Victoria laughed. "Georgiana is favored then with two page turners, while we are privileged to hear her beautiful playing."

Darcy joined the threesome. "Oh, thank you for entertaining the ladies." He smiled at his sister and cousin. "Dinner awaits." The group moved to the dining room where the discussion remained focused on music, composers, and humorous childhood stories. Kent continued to draw out not only Georgiana, but Victoria as well. Darcy noted how easily his friend was able to engage the ladies in frivolous talk, and elicited their smiles and laughter at silly stories.

At the end of the meal, Darcy rose from his chair. "We must be off, if we are not to miss the first act. Kent, you have the library to yourself."

Kent rose from his chair, bowing politely as he watched the three depart. The longer he stood, the more flush his face became, the deeper his brows furrowed, and the colder his stare became at the closed door. Nostrils flaring, he snarled aloud through a jaw clenched tight, "And perhaps, Mr. Darcy I should build the fire, clean the floor, and empty your chamber pots. Or, perchance, I will one day leave you standing alone while I go off with the ladies."