Section I, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted on Friday, 28 January 2005

Berkeley Square
London
1839

William Warring - Viscount Braunfield - approached his cousin Isabella with awkward and painful steps. He cursed silently that his right knee had healed so poorly, and that every step he took was agony itself. His doctors had reassured him that the pain would grow duller with the passage of time - but it had been a year since the unfortunate incident, and the pain had not diminished in any noticeable measure.

Zounds! Why did he wish to hobble all this way across the grand ballroom merely to talk to his cousin? He was acutely aware of being the center of attention as well as the source of the excited gossip at the present moment. It was his first foray into the fashionable life of London since his folly last August. The Earl of Matlock's extravagant Ball at the end of the London Season was always well attended by notable personages of the ton.

"Well, not any mere cousin," muttered Lord Braunfield to himself rather sternly as he braved his way towards the new Mrs. Darcy under intense scrutiny. This blue-eyed and golden-haired beauty had been the object of his desire, nay, of his obsession! When she had turned down his marriage proposal, he had been exceedingly shocked! He had willfully ignored the vital fact that Isabella did not reciprocate any feelings of love, and that she had neither invited nor encouraged his advances. He had thought so highly of himself that he did not comprehend the reality of her rejection. Indeed, he had gotten quite mad - bothering the fair lady at every turn, and making a nonsensical fool out of himself.

He saw the look of apprehension in Isabella's vivid blue eyes as he neared her. He gave her a courtly bow, and spoke before she could turn away from him.

"Isabella! Please allow me a moment of grace!" His voice was cordial and earnest - so different from his customary haughty arrogance that it quite surprised her.

"Do not be alarmed, madam, for I have your husband's kind permission to speak to you. If I should upset you in any way, you can fly back into his loving arms in an instant! Indeed, Darcy watches over you like a guardian angel. I must say that I can hardly blame him!"

The viscount gestured vaguely, and Isabella turned to see her beloved Alexander smiling back at her with encouragement. He was watching over her, not jealously but protectively, albeit at a discreet distance. It was well evident that her husband had granted his consent for such a public interview in order to silence the insipid gossip of the ton in regards to Lord Braunfield's lingering attachment to her.

"Yes, my lord?" said Isabella as she regained her serene composure.

"Have you not always called me William?" he asked her softly. To stand so close to her was quite disconcerting. There was such a glow of radiance upon her face - the result of connubial bliss, no doubt. If he had been enthralled by her beauty before, he found himself more bewitched than ever. He took a deep breath to steel his own resolve, and repeated his question in an even tone.

She ignored his question, and spoke coldly to him, "To what purpose do I owe such condensation from your lordship?"

Lord Braunfield noted her formality of address, and remarked upon it. "First of all, allow me to congratulate you on the recent birth of your son. My Aunt and Uncle Bingley have declared him to be the most handsome and precocious babe."

"Thank you. My husband and I are truly blessed beyond measure," she replied politely, hoping that their conversation would draw to a close very soon.

A brief, awkward silence followed, but Lord Braunfield continued, "Isabella . . .my behavior towards you throughout the weeks following your sister Margaret's wedding was unforgivable. I am ashamed of how my words and actions have driven you to such a severe degree of discomfort and distraction. I shall not make excuses for my obsession by placing the blame on your bewitching beauty. Let it be sufficed to say that I should have realized that you neither desired nor welcomed my advances, and that I was unforgivably rude and obnoxious! Please forgive all my transgressions. I humbly beg of you!" Glancing across the room at Alexander Darcy, Lord Braunfield added, "I have since made better acquaintance of your husband. On the various occasions when he faithfully accompanied your father to Paxton Hall, we have had ample time to talk. Darcy is a paragon, and he truly deserves you. I wish you both health and happiness!"

Isabella was quite stunned to hear such an eloquent confession and apology from her haughty cousin. She had not accompanied her parents and her husband on their various visits to Paxton Hall when they were lately in Town. Although they had mentioned the significant improvement in Lord Braunfield, she did not expect such a great transformation!

She was rendered quite speechless, but managed a gracious nod to acknowledge his words.

Lord Braunfield took it as a sign of grace and forgiveness, and bowed very solemnly before he limped away.

Elizabeth Darcy witnessed the brief exchange between Isabella and Lord Braunfield, and her curiosity was naturally piqued. Her attention, however, was being diverted elsewhere by her fellow guests at the Ball. When she could finally spare a moment to seek out her sister-in-law, however, she found herself looking directly into the face of Lord Braunfield.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Darcy," he said in very gentlemanly tone, "as I did not mean to startle you at all."

He smiled at her - a surprisingly agreeable smile. He inclined his dark head, and asked rather formally, "May I have the pleasure of your company for a few moments, Miss Darcy?"

As she was not presently engaged for the next set of dances, and failing to think of an immediate reason to be excused, she found herself nodding her head, albeit very reluctantly.

"I am a guest of this Ball as you are, my lord," she said placidly. "If you wish to speak with me, I have no other alternative but to behave civilly to you."

He nodded in agreement, and commented that Lord and Lady Matlock were very gracious hosts indeed. He made the mistake of putting too much weight upon his right leg, and the sharp pain in his damaged knee caused a pitiful grimace to appear on his handsome face.

"Thank you," he murmured, trying his best not to be distracted by the pain. Gathering his thoughts, he heaved a deep sigh, and spoke his mind directly, without any ceremony. "Miss Darcy, I am on a self-imposed pilgrimage of penance. As such, I am making it my paramount goal to apologize to the ladies I have offended with my intolerable ways."

Lizzy could not resist taking a verbal jab at this insufferable nobleman. "I pity you, my lord, for you would not have enough time in the day to approach all the ladies you have offended thus far in your relatively young life."

"Young?"

"You must be not more than four and twenty?"

"Indeed, I am but three and twenty. I spent my last birthday hovering at death's door." He admitted wearily, but added with a candid afterthought, "Lately, however, I feel decades older!"

She was naturally surprised by his comment. "How it is so?"

"This infernal pain in my knee," he lamented with a bitter laugh, "it is almost like a form of torture a penitent sinner used to inflict upon oneself when making a holy pilgrimage during the Dark Ages! I cannot take a step without being reminded of my injury, or the cause of it."

It was common knowledge amongst the ton that Lord Braunfield was shot by a furious Sir David Lexington. Lizzy almost commented upon it, but found that she could not do so with any measure of grace. She remained silent, and waited upon the viscount to speak again. After all, it was he who desired an interview.

"I am sure all my sins and faults are great indeed," he confessed with a rueful laugh. "I have had many long sleepless nights and painful days to contemplate such matters! This injury itself is a constant reminder of my wasted youth, and the Polite World is unlikely to forget the root cause of my misfortune. I cannot pretend that I was injured in valiant battle serving my Queen and Country, or during some daring feats of sports! I was shot - hunted down like a rabbit. . ."

"Rabbit?" She repeated such a bemused laugh. His lordship saw the ridiculous imagery as well. He shook his head, and added, "Rabbit, fox, deer, nay, rodent? Whatever the analogy, I was unarmed and Sir David had deadly intentions."

"Perhaps if you did not try to meddle with his wife, he would not have used you for target practice?" remarked Lizzy without embarrassment. Despite of his obvious faults, her own generous heart felt a certain sense of pity for this cousin of the Bingleys.

"I was so inebriated that I did not remember making plans for such an illicit rendezvous with the lady in question. Apparently Lady Lexington was very willing, and met me at the appointed hour. Indeed, my valet testified later that I kept calling her by the name of 'Isabella!' In any event, I was too foxed to compromise the lady. Her husband arrived hot upon my heels - immediately after my presentation of a diamond pendant to her as a token of my admiration, or rather, I was under the drunken impression that I was making such a presentation to Isabella herself! I dare say the Lexingtons have gotten the better bargain - she has kept the expensive trinket, her husband did not suffer being cuckolded, but all I have gained for my amorous adventure was a brief kiss, a bullet in my shoulder and a permanently crippled knee!"

"How very fortune for you, my lord! You have one less grave sin to make penance for! You should be grateful that those fateful bullets stopped you from breaking a couple of the Ten Commandments!"

Instead of taking offense at her very frank remarks, Lord Braunfield chuckled, and said, "You are utterly right! I spent agonizingly long hours recalling the events of that night, and I could not find any reason to justify my actions or to excuse myself, however bewitching the lady was!"

It was brief laugh, but hearty enough to make Lizzy stared at him in surprise. She expected various reactions from him - a haughty stare, an arrogant retort, an insulting barb, or an offensive leer - but she did not expect a laugh. And if she had doubted the reality of his humour, he chuckled again - rather pleasantly and amicably. It was not entirely such an unfamiliar sound, as she suddenly realized that Lord Braunfield's laughter was strangely like that of their mutual relation - Mr. Charles Bingley.

"Have I shocked you with my candid confession? Well, I am glad of the opportunity to speak to you presently, Miss Darcy, for I doubt if I shall be so fortunate as to have another chance in the future. Allow me to apologize for all my insulting words, especially in regards to your family. I am truly sorry!"

She acknowledged his remarks with a slight inclination of her head. He stared back at her for a long moment, as if he wanted to speak again. He was well aware of the many pairs of curious eyes affixed upon them, and he did not wish to bring further discomfort to Miss Darcy. She was gracious enough to speak to him - as tempted as he was to prolong their conservation, it was clear that the young lady wished to move on. Therefore, he merely shook his head ruefully, and bowed to take his leave.

"Lord Braunfield?" Lizzy spoke to him at last, very gentle and ladylike. "It took courage to apologize. I thank you."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I know you care not a whit for my opinion, Miss Darcy, but allow me to say that your high opinion is certainly worth earning. This crippled sinner is grateful for these few moments of grace."

"Being honest with oneself is very admirable, but beware of self-pity! Such sentiments can be as insipidly destructive as excessive pride!" she remarked with a genuine smile. "I pray that you do not dwell solely upon your sins of the past and neglect to look towards your future!"

"Well said, Miss Darcy! Aunt Jane always sings praises of you as a venerable font of wisdom despite your youth. It seems that she is correct."

"Our aunt is too kind." She curtsied quickly to Lord Braunfield before she returned to her own circle of friends. "I do wish you well, my lord."

He bowed rather formally. A fleeting look of mirth crossed his handsome face as he grasped her gloved hand to bestow a kiss upon it. "Thank you, Miss Darcy. Your kind wish is like a healing balm. I do believe that I am much recovered already! Dare I hope for another encounter in the future?"

"Such honeyed words, my lord," she exclaimed with a merry laugh. She gave him a penetrating look, and added, "Alas, I am quite immune to such imperious charms! I doubt if our paths will cross again, my lord, except during social occasions such as this! As I love to waltz, and you no longer dance - I fear that our future encounters would consist of merely courtesy greetings, polite handshakes, and nothing beyond!"

Lizzy gave him a dazzling smile, and literally danced away from him, her fine eyes filled with bemusement. She was not thrilled by his terrible injury - her tender nature did not allow her to rejoice in the sufferings or misfortunes of anyone - but she was pleased that the young viscount had learned a hard lesson.

Lord Braunfield stared after Miss Elizabeth Darcy for a long while. As unwilling as he was, he had to admit that the fiercely outspoken and intelligent young woman had commanded his attention from the start. He could clearly recall their first waltz together at the Knightleys' Wedding Ball. Her light and pleasing figure, her bewitchingly fine eyes, her sharp wit and intellect were qualities he had encountered individually in many fashionable misses before, but never were such feminine allurements found in such an extraordinary combination within a single person. He shook his head, as if to dispel the image of the lovely Miss Darcy from his mind.

It was in such contemplative mood that Lord Braunfield limped his way to a large potted plant nearby, and sought refuge beneath its shade. His dark eyes surveyed the ballroom, and his attention was immediately arrested by the very image of happiness before him. Alexander Darcy was waltzing with his beloved Isabella in such harmonious and graceful steps, with the look of absolute bliss upon their faces.

Lord Braunfield stared at the couple with unabashed envy - regretful of what he himself might have attained with such a fine woman. What a treasure - what paragon of womanhood - had he let slip through his grasp? He cursed himself silently. He had always admired Isabella's beauty, intellect, and her generous heart. Of all his Bingley cousins, she had always been the most gracious and patient with him. He knew that he was more than half in love with her even when he was engaged in such reckless indulgences with mistresses in Town. Despite of his profligate ways, he had every intention to honor his marital vows if he should marry, and he had been arrogant enough to believe that Isabella would have accepted him if he simply made the offer. Indeed, when his father deemed that it was time for him to wed, and had selected Miss Elizabeth Darcy as his potential bride, he had protested vehemently and insisted upon the choice of his cousin Isabella Bingley. He never imagined that she would reject him so soundly.

He was keenly aware of the many fashionable young ladies of the ton who would have leapt at his offer of marriage without the slightest hesitation - ready to be his viscountess and glad to enjoy his fortune and worldly goods! Even before he came of age, the ton had lavished much attention upon him. At every Ball, every social rout and dinner soiree he had attended - at home and abroad - there were always willing females eager to grant him favors, scheming matrons ready to throw their daughters in his path, and pretty chits who spoke and acted for his approbation alone. He could have entered into a marital alliance with any of such candidates. Of course, sentiments of the heart did not enter into such an arrangement, and he had been prepared to accept such a reality. His parents' marriage - of which devotion was very much an one-sided commitment on his father's part - as well as the more commonplace marriages of convenience had definitely lowered his own expectations of connubial bliss. It was a poet's prerogative to praise the glories of true love, but it was certainly not a sentiment overly similar to him.

Yet, when the critical moment came, he had held out for hopes of true love. He had imagined that he could make Isabella Bingley happy, and that they could achieve the same kind of marriage the Bingleys and the Darcys seemed to enjoy. He had so much to offer her, and he had surmised that she would not be in want of anything.

Lord Braunfield heaved a heavy sigh of regret. His excessive pride had blinded him to reality, and it took two bullets to teach him a lesson that he should have learned quite painlessly if he had heeded his father's advice! Lord Paxton's stern words rung in his ears still: "I have had such high hopes for you, but you are an insufferable and vain young popinjay! Unless you give up your profligate habits and resolve to better yourself in every way, you may never find a truly worthy young lady as your viscountess!"

How austere his father was! Lord Braunfield kept his gaze steadily upon his cousin Isabella. The very sight of her still tugged at his heart's strings. How alluring she had felt during those brief moments that he had forcefully held her in his arms after her rejection of him - how mistaken he was when he thought he could woo her with his seduction prowess instead!

Such fanciful memories would forever remain in his private thoughts only. Miss Isabella Bingley was now Mrs. Alexander Darcy. He was powerless to alter reality. If he truly cared for her, then he should wish her nothing but happiness. It was imperative that he should no longer lust after the only woman he had ever considered holy matrimony with.

"I hope you have only chaste thoughts in regards to my twin sister," said Henry Bingley as he joined his aristocratic cousin in the secluded corner of the ballroom. He smiled jovially, but his bright blue eyes had a steely look. "I shall not stand idly by, my noble cousin, if you are plotting nefarious schemes to put her precious marriage asunder!"

"If I should be so dishonorable," replied Lord Braunfield heatedly, "I swear by my forefathers that you have my expressed permission to shoot me through the heart!"

Henry Bingley held his cousin's gaze steadily, and was well satisfied that he was earnest in his declaration. He gave him a playful jab on the forearm, and said with brotherly affections, "William, you were quite a rascal! My father tells me, however, that you have made a firm resolution to become a better man!"

"My near-death experience certainly gave me a new perspective on life. My resolution to better myself, however, has been a very daunting task - one which I have constant fear of failure!" confessed Lord Braunfield. "You were on your Grand Tour with your cousin Andrew Fitzwilliam, and did not see how miserable I was! I ranted and cursed everyone during the first few months after my unfortunate folly. By my physician's order, I have been forced to give up my smoking and my drinking! My father has cut off my excessive allowance so I can no longer indulge in other destructive habits as well. Being ensconced in my family estate in the country until recently has certainly helped in isolating me from the various distractions in Town. I must admit that being sober and celibate these many months have been quite an interesting experience - I have not missed my philandering days as much as I thought I would."

"Bravo!" said Henry as he gave him a brotherly pat on the back. "Your reformed habits and more agreeable manners will definitely earned you the top spot on the list of eligibles the dowagers and ton taddies have in mind for their perennial schemes of match-making!"

"Until I find someone equal to your sister Isabella, I shall not think of matrimony," admitted Lord Braunfield candidly. He had once considered himself the prized catch of any woman, but he felt differently now. He still had his handsome looks, noble title and his father's fortune, but he was now a cripple - an unfortunate condition that would give any woman pause.

Unaware of his cousin's inward turmoil, Henry Bingley laughed, and declared in a confidential tone, "There are two such beauties - Jane and Lizzy Darcy are equal to my darling sister Bella in beauty, wit, generosity of heart, and accomplishments. Lizzy is more feisty and determined, but such traits also render her far more fascinating than Jane. Indeed, in temperament and talents, Lizzy is the truer version of my Aunt Elizabeth Darcy."

Lord Braunfield reflected that he had once thought Miss Darcy's beauty not equal to that of fair Isabella, but as he continued to watch her dancing with an attentive partner, he realized that she had certain qualities about her that rendered her more captivating.

"Miss Lizzy seems to command quite a legion of admirers! Are you courting her yourself?"

"No, I am not courting her," admitted Henry with a smile. "I admire Lizzy tremendously, but I am far too intimidated by her! It takes a keen mind and nimble wit to thrust and parry words with her, and I am sorely lacking in talents for such a daunting task! Our steady friendship since childhood has proven as much!"

"Then it is likely that not too many fellows can measure up," remarked Lord Braunfield as he turned to look at Miss Darcy across the ballroom. She was engaged in an animated conversation with her cousin Thomas Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashbourne, as they waltzed so gracefully together. The tall and handsome heir to the Earldom of Matlock was clearly enthralled by his lovely cousin.

"Ashbourne is a fine man with admirable habits and gentlemanly manners," observed Henry Bingley, "as well as being an avid reader and a fine sportsman. His cousin Andrew Fitzwilliam is another paragon."

"Perfect candidates for Miss Darcy, no doubt," murmured Lord Braunfield. He could feel a sudden irritation rising within him, and could not readily comprehend the immediate cause of such emotions.

"Lizzy tells me that Andrew is like her own brother," said Henry Bingley with a bemused laugh, "and that Ashbourne is too agreeable and smiles too much!"

"Such traits are generally considered desirable," remarked Lord Braunfield. "Being Lord Matlock's heir certainly adds much to his advantage."

"Yes, indeed, but my cousin is quite enigmatic in many ways. William, are you interested in her?"

"I fear that Miss Darcy has formed such a vehement dislike of me that it will be futile for me to address her. Against such fine gentlemen as her Fitzwilliam cousins, I have but a ghost of a chance for her to cast a glance my way!"

At that precise moment, however, Lizzy Darcy happened to look in the direction of the large potted plant. She saw Henry Bingley engaged in deep conversation with Lord Braunfield, and was pleased that her cousin was making an effort to keep the viscount company. It must be awful, she mused, for the young nobleman to be the center of ceaseless gossip of the ton. For over a year now, gleeful accounts of his folly still circulated among the Polite World. The poor man could not escape the constant reminder of his folly, could he? No wonder it took him so long to make his first foray back to Society.

Lord Braunfield was acutely aware of Miss Darcy's steady gaze upon him from across the ballroom. He wondered what else Miss Darcy saw in him that had arrested her attention, and had found further reasons to disapprove of him. He felt that he should avoid her scrutiny, but realized that he could not willfully turn away from the sight of her.

How exceedingly brilliant her fine eyes seemed even at such a great distance away!

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 1 February 2005

Lord Braunfield gazed out of the window of his study, and saw Alexander Darcy's approach. He smiled with appreciation, as he easily recognized Darcy's white stallion as an Andalusian. How well the horse complimented its master, mused Lord Braunfield, as he noted the stallion's sculptural beauty and regal bearing - fine attributes matched by the excellent temper and reliable disposition typical of this ancient breed.

The sight of such equine beauty naturally led him to thoughts of his father's prized thoroughbreds - the Paxton stables boosted an Epsom Derby champion as well as stakes winners of Newmarket and the Royal Ascot. He also recalled his amateur races at the Jockey Club: he had always best his chums, and had hosted such lavish feasts to celebrate his triumphs. Indeed, to gallop with exhilarating abandonment, with the wind upon one's face, was truly one of life's great pleasures. He would have like to take his favorite horse for a trot along the Rotten Row at Hyde Park during these last days of the London Season. Alas, it was a pleasure he was now denied of because of his infernal knee!

The viscount shifted to a more comfortable stance. He fought hard to curb his vile temper of old - which still threatened to break through in moments of agitation - as he tried to ignore the pain. He saw Alexander Darcy tossed the reins to a waiting footman, and watched him strolled jauntily up the wide granite steps of Paxton Hall. The heir of Pemberley looked like a man in command of his world - confident of his own talents and at ease with his fellow men. His handsome looks served to accentuate all the blessings the Almighty had endowed him with abundance.

Lord Braunfield would have cursed aloud at the cruel reality of fate - of how Darcy should have blessings upon true blessings, but how he himself had squandered his blessings, and had but material luxuries to offer him cold comfort. A loving wife and a healthy son were the most obvious blessings of Darcy's exemplary life; whilst he himself he had had mistresses who gave him pleasure only as much as his gold would buy, and whose faces and names had since faded into hazy memories.

And what of his chums - those self-styled 'Corinthians' who prided themselves as the makers of the ton's fashion and the demi-gods of 'joie de vivre?' Young and privileged aristocrats who had caroused with him, and had sworn such bonds of brotherhood. In his hour of need, however, so few of them had remained steadfast in their friendship.

One reaped what one had sowed, Lord Braunfield muttered wearily as he admonished himself.

"My lord," announced the butler with a courtly bow, "Mr. Darcy to see you."

Lord Braunfield gave a commanding nod, and the butler ushered in the visitor with ceremonial courtesy.

"Good afternoon, Darcy," smiled Lord Braunfield as he extended his hand in greetings.

"Good afternoon, my lord," replied Alexander as he shook his proffered hand firmly.

"I saw your arrival, Darcy. Your fine Andalusian brings Xenophon's treatise "On Horsemanship" to mind immediately!" Lord Braunfield quoted the ancient Greek philosopher with aplomb, "Of horses such as these, even gods and heroes will appear, and men who know how to work well with them look magnificent!"

Alexander smiled amiably, and remarked with modesty, "What Xenophon wrote of this treasured breed in 400 B.C. still holds true to this day. I do work well with horses, but I must beg to differ with his hyperbolic reference to the riders - at least to this present rider!"

They shared a laugh over this observation. Alexander resumed his customary serious countenance, and said, "Please forgive the intrusion. I have come with an errand from my wife and my sister Lizzy."

"From Mrs. Darcy and Miss Darcy?" exclaimed Lord Braunfield in surprise.

"My wife noticed how you favored your injured knee throughout the evening at the Ball, and you had confirmed to my sister that each step you took was agony itself."

"I outdid myself at the Ball," admitted Lord Braunfield. "I rarely venture more than a few steps at a time, and I certainly do not make a habit of standing too long at a spell."

"I am sure that your physicians are very competent in their care of you, my lord," remarked Alexander, "but may I be so bold as to offer you a certain remedy to alleviate your pain?"

Alexander held out a large packet, and unwrapped it to reveal several bottles of herbal oil.

"These are made from a remedy first concocted by our late housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds. I added more ingredients - medicinal herbs from India that my uncle Sir James Fitzwilliam found to be useful for anti-inflammatory use. During my sojourn at the Ridgemont coalmine, I have had many occasions to apply the improved remedy to my injured workers. I discovered that, when applied warmed and rubbed vigorously to the affected area, the oil produced very remarkable results - even to older injuries of muscles, tendons and joints. I do not presume that it may work upon your knee, but my wife and sister insist that it will do you no further harm if you try it."

Lord Braunfield was rendered speechless at this injunction. He was stunned that his cousin Isabella and Miss Lizzy would spare him a thought, and that Alexander Darcy would carry out his errand with such obvious goodwill.

"I must admit that the injuries from Ridgemont are resulted from the hazards of coal mining and not from firearms," added Alexander cautiously. "Nerve damage is irreparable. I do believe, however, if the tendons and muscles surrounding your damaged knee can have some measure of relief, your pain may decrease accordingly. I hope that you shall be able to enjoy your morning strolls without excessive pain. Proper exercise may help in your rehabilitation."

"I did not realize you have such an impressive medical understanding!" remarked Lord Braunfield with genuine admiration.

"My understanding stems not from formal medical learnings, but from careful observations of the human form as an amateur artist, and from practical experiences tending to injuries of our tenant farmers and our miners," he replied with a modest smile. "I have suffered a few injuries myself."

Belatedly, Lord Braunfield recalled the insulting words he had once declared to Lizzy Darcy in regards to her eldest brother. He had spoken disparagingly of the plebian roots of her maternal relations, and he now heartily regretted such words. The taller man, with a powerful physique enhanced by sports and physical work, seemed as solid as a mighty oak; all his family's burdens could rest upon such impressive shoulders, and be well taken care of. It was obvious that the best of the English aristocracy and landed gentry stood before him - a man who took prodigious care of tenants and dependents, who marshaled the resources and sustained the land for the greater good for all. A dedicated and compassionate landlord like Alexander Darcy was not afraid to soil his hands with manual labor if it aided in the prosperity of his family's estate. Such a man could walk amongst kings and the common men with equal ease, and never lose his dignity or grace.

"Lord Braunfield?" asked Alexander Darcy in grave concern. It was apparent that the viscount was distracted by his own thoughts.

"Thank you, Darcy!" replied Lord Braunfield with appreciation as he shook his hand. "I shall try your remedy immediately." He hesitated for a long moment, and added, "More particularly, I thank you for your goodwill and consideration. We have made the acquaintances of each other since boyhood, but circumstances and habits have prevented the formation of a true friendship until recently. All my Bingley relations hold you in such deep affections and high esteem, and my father has constantly urged me to model my life after your exemplary ways. Dare I count you as my mentor and friend, Darcy, as I am sorely lacking in such blessings?"

Alexander Darcy stood in meditative silence. Despite of the many obvious flaws of the young viscount, he could discern redeeming qualities within him as well - qualities which were notable in the viscount's father and were so abundant in their mutual uncle Charles Bingley. As he himself had but a very small circle of trusted friends, he knew the difficulty of securing true, lasting friendships when the ton was populated by so many fair-weathered friends. He thought of his father's sage advice: one needed to risk the necessary first steps in order to forge a real relationship. It was true in love as it was in friendship. He saw the look of earnest plead in Lord Braunfield's dark eyes, and knew the inevitable answer.

"I am honored to be your friend," smiled Alexander sincerely as he extended his hand.

"Thank you!" exclaimed Braunfield, clasping his hand as if he was a drowning man who had found a saving lifeline. "I shall cherish it!"

"As will I," replied Alexander. His generous heart had ample room for an additional person whom he would have to watch over and guide with brotherly concern.

"I . . . my . . . first obligation, nay, confession to you, my friend, is my firm resolve to mend my friendship with my cousin Isabella. Fear not, Darcy! I do not covert your wife, and I shall always honor her with paramount respect! I must admit, however, that she is an extraordinary remarkable woman, and my tender admiration for her will surely linger on, albeit chastely and discreetly from now on!"

Alexander smiled with understanding. "Rest assured that I am not of a jealous nature. My wife and I already shared the deepest trust and understanding of each other, and a love that no vicissitude of fate or fortune could diminish or alter. My parents have always taught me to count the true worth of our fortune in terms of faith, family and friends. You will always be welcomed with open arms, William."

Lord Braunfield felt his own heart swelled with gratitude. He had hoped for a genuine friendship, but had not expected such generosity and forbearance! He knew now that he had been a great fool to see the world around him through his mother's eyes.

At that precise moment, Lady Paxton - an amazing vision of a bejeweled queen in the finest silks and glorious feathers - came into the study with a commanding call to her son.

"William!" Her ladyship said with obvious displeasure. She was about to lecture her son when she realized that he had company.

Alexander Darcy bowed to take his leave. He paused momentarily to seek Lady Paxton's permission for dismissal. The Countess felt the sudden rush of mixed emotions whenever she was in the proximity of the Darcy men - of delight, regret and envy. She still harbored hidden feelings for the senior Darcy, and the striking resemblance of the son to the father did not help matters at all. She felt, albeit fleetingly, as if she was three and twenty again, hoping and plotting to win the heart of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. She never succeeded in gaining anything beyond a courtesy friendship, a grudging tolerance, from Mr. Darcy. Such an honor was due entirely to Darcy's deep brotherly bonds with Charles Bingley, and not for the sake of her own merits. Lady Paxton cursed the day her brother Charles signed the lease to Netherfield Manor in Hertfordshire, and thus, set off a chain of events which she could not neither foresee nor prevent.

"As always, it is a joy to see you, Alexander," purred Lady Paxton with a demure smile. She marveled again at the impressive young man, and found her own son rather lacking by comparison. Indeed, William's crippled knee had robbed Lady Paxton the pride she always felt when she boosted of his exceedingly good looks. Now the ton could speak of nothing but William's drunken folly with Lady Lexington. Beneath their placid smiles and courteous words, she could readily detect the jeers and gleeful jokes her friends were enjoying at the expense of her son's honor and credit! Insufferable! At times, she was much tempted to quit London society altogether and settle in Paris permanently!

Alexander Darcy bowed politely to acknowledge her ladyship's compliment of him, but refrained from speaking. He knew not how to compliment Lady Paxton without being insincere. As he had great abhorrence for lies and false manners, he made no attempt to converse with her. He bowed again, and made a swift departure from Paxton Hall.

"Well?" demanded Lady Paxton as she turned her attention back to her son. "What was the purpose of young Darcy's visit?"

"He gave me a gift - herbal oil for the relief of pain to my knee," stated Lord Braunfield simply. He clutched onto the large package that Alexander had bestowed upon him, looking as if he was apprehensive of his mother's whims. She would very likely toss everything out with a disdainful sneer.

"Oh, keep your precious herbs!" exclaimed Lady Paxton in irritation. "I have more pressing matters to discuss! Have you any idea what the latest gossip the ton is feeding upon with such tenacious fervor?"

"Uncle Hurst's latest drinking feat? Two cases of French champagne at one sitting and the man can still wolf down a sumptuous feast?" replied Lord Braunfield mirthfully. He laughed aloud at his own joke as he did not have much else to take delight in lately.

"No! No!" admonished Lady Paxton. "You are a rogue, William! You should not make such merriment of my dear sister husband! Poor Louisa!"

"Aunt Louisa does not seem to mind her spouse - as long as Mr. Hurst stays out of her way. Besides, I make atonement for my frequent jests. My aunt is always well pleased with the gifts I lavish upon her," retorted William.

"William!" exclaimed Lady Paxton impatiently. "Do you know that the entire ton is abuzzed with talks of your courtship of Miss Elizabeth Darcy?"

"What?" It was Lord Braunfield's turn to be amazed.

"Due to your injuries, you have been away from Town for such a long time. Upon your first foray into Society, you singled out only one young lady to lavish your attention upon - and at such a prominent social event!"

"Mother, I conversed with two young ladies at Lord Matlock's Ball - Mrs. Alexander Darcy as well as Miss Elizabeth Darcy."

"Well, everyone can see how smitten the Darcys are with each other, and your polite conversation with Mrs. Darcy, conducted with her husband's smiling approval, has put a definite end to all lingering speculations of your partiality towards her," conceded Lady Paxton.

"So you are upset that I spoke with Miss Darcy?"

"Yes! Your lengthy conversation with her and your kiss upon her hand could only be interpreted in one distinctive way! William! You cannot court her! I forbid it!"

"Why ever not?' inquired Lord Braunfield nonchalantly. He had always been curious to find the root cause of his mother's irritability whenever the Darcy women were mentioned. "The Darcys are an untitled family, but they are of an ancient and respected name - indeed, from a cadet branch of a noble family. The current Master of Pemberley enjoys such prestige, social prominence and vast fortune. An alliance with such a worthy family should be considered an honor indeed! Furthermore, both Darcy daughters - Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth - are considered by the ton to be 'Incomparables' - accomplished beauties par excellence. It is a fact universally acknowledged: by their own merits and talents, the Darcy ladies are rich dowries themselves. The generous monetary values of their dowries are but added bonuses!"

"William!" protested Lady Paxton sternly. "Enough of this nonsense! Do I have your word that you will not court Miss Darcy?"

"Mother, I am not courting her, nor do I harbor such thoughts presently. But if I should pursue such a cause, it will please Father immensely. Did he not choose Miss Elizabeth as my potential spouse once before? That I should need such a strong wife to make me a better man? That her vivacious spirit, sagacity and bold character would be an ideal match for me?"

"Your father's judgment has been befuddled by his old age these many years," declared Lady Paxton with a dismissive wave of her bejeweled hand. "I am your mother, and I demand that you put an instant stop to the insipid gossip!"

William shrugged his broad shoulders, and knitted his dark brows in a stern frown. He was not thinking of any particular matter, but he rather enjoyed watching the tormented fury in his mother's eyes. She was never pleased with anything or anyone as far as he could recall. Indeed, it seemed that she took delight in making criticism of people who seemed superior to her in any ways.

"The ton will feed upon its own gossip mills until the next 'seventh day wonder' catches its attention. Mother, there is not much I can do to prevent eager tongues from waggling. Whether I court Miss Darcy or not, the truth is often irrelevant to the gossip taddies!"

"What has happened to you, my dear boy? You are as stubborn as your father!"

"Madam, you protest too much!" he smiled at her winsomely, "It is only natural that I take after my own father! Moreover, I do not believe myself stubborn. For the first time in my life, I recognize my own shortcomings. And I find the stern admonishment I once received from a certain young lady to be fully justified: I do need to look beyond my own nose to see Reality, in all its warts and glories!"

Lady Paxton was too flabbergasted by her son's forthright words to make a retort. He had never spoken to her in such a way before!

"Now, my dear mother, if I may be excused, I should like to have an herbal poultice treatment upon my poor knee before I join my father in a meeting with our stewards. Last month, I made a promise to Father that I would take an active interest in our estates and holdings. Today is the appointed date, and it marks the new beginning for me." He leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek lightly, and quoted the Bard, "Be merry, you have cause, so have we all, of joy!"

Lord Braunfield limped out of the study, as jauntily as his damaged right knee would allow him. He might have whistled a merry tune if his heart did not feel burdened by an extraordinary thought.

How erroneous the ton was! He could not even make Miss Elizabeth Anne Darcy look upon him without arousing her feelings of disdain or pity!

Zounds! Winning the approval of such a woman would be like reaching for the stars in the night sky! He shook his head at the thought, but could not totally dispel the haunting image of her fine eyes staring across the ballroom at him.

Lady Paxton was not a woman to be easily gainsaid. She was determined that her command to her son would not be contradicted in any way, and that her will would continue to hold sway over everyone at Paxton Hall. With grim determination, she marched into the family library, and found her husband ensconced in his favorite chair, with a thick volume in his hands, and a bemused smile on his aged face. He was engrossed with his reading, and his gouty foot was popped comfortably upon a footstool. He looked remarkably serene in his preferred surroundings.

"Arthur!" exclaimed Lady Paxton in a shrill voice, shattering his lordship's tranquility. Whatever the Earl of Paxton had found so amusing in his book had lost its charm. The smile that had brightened his plain, heavy features faded away immediately.

"Yes, my dear?" he replied patiently as he waited for his wife to speak. She appeared to be so agitated that it took several moments before she could speak.

Lord Paxton was a quiet and unassuming man. He reflected how his forbearers had prided themselves of their own patient fortitude and sense of honor. The battlefields of Europe had been soaked with the blood of generations of Warring descendents who had answered the dutiful call of "For England, Our Sovereign, and St. George." The present earl was never a soldier, but he had a warrior's abiding sense of duty nevertheless. If he suffered any regrets of taking the elegant but overbearing Miss Caroline Bingley for wife, he had long resigned himself to his fate with dutiful obligation.

In Lord Paxton's lighter moments, he liked to blame his old friend - the late father of the present Earl of Matlock - and his fiery French cognac as the culprits of his folly. He had proposed marriage to Miss Bingley within hours of their first introduction at the Matlock Ball. He knew, in his slightly inebriated state, that it was not his grossly fat and aging looks that had won the lady's heart. His noble title, palatial estates, and vaults of gold were the primary objects of her admiration.

Yet, in his own way, Lord Paxton loved his wife. It did not matter that such spousal devotion was an one-sided commitment. He was grateful that their marriage had produced his only son and heir William. As long as his wife enjoyed his title and his gold, he did not mind spending his remaining days in the safe haven of his own library, and lately, in the growing delight of his son's company.

"Yes, my dear?" he repeated.

"Our son is determined to be willful and disobedient!" Her angry was palpable.

"Is something amiss? William has been remarkably disciplined and determined in his efforts to reform himself. Has he suffered a relapse?" Lady Paxton was puzzled by her husband's choice of words. She did not think her son's old habits had been too wild or too dissolute. He was merely enjoying himself. So many of his peers in Society indulged in similar adventures as well. Surely, the heir to one of the most illustrious names and fortunes in England was entitled to a few indiscretions and follies!

She voiced such opinions aloud to her husband. The earl shook his head in disagreement, and added, "His title and fortune did not stop Sir David's bullets from hitting home! Now, Caroline, what has roused your vehement anger?"

"The ton is swirling with incessant gossip of the courtship of Lizzy Darcy by our son!"

"Is it true?" asked Lord Paxton with pleasant surprise.

"Of course not! There is no such courtship! William admitted as much!"

"Are you upset that there is none?" inquired Lord Paxton placidly. "If so, you must urge William to woo Miss Elizabeth Darcy! From the first moments I met her, I thought her an ideal wife for our son. Even your splendid niece Isabella, with her remarkable character and merits, would not have suited William as ideally as Miss Darcy!"

Upon hearing his words, Lady Paxton flung back such a heated curse that it quite alarmed him. She told him in no uncertain terms that she forbade such a courtship, indeed, such an alliance of marriage.

"Why ever not?" asked Lord Paxton.

"William is the future Earl of Paxton. His spouse should be the daughter of a peer of the realm!" She raved on, citing various eligible daughters of this duke and that earl, and the mentions of foreign nobility as well.

Lord Paxton mused how conveniently his wife had forgotten that her own background was less exulted than the Darcy family. Nevertheless, he did not seek to remind her of such discrepancies in her own reasoning. Instead, he said firmly, "Our son can make his own decisions. I believe that he has acquired quite an austere sense of judgment lately."

Lord Paxton gave his wife a lordly nod, and dismissed her by turning his attention entirely to his favorite book again.

Chapter Three

Posted on Friday, 4 February 2005

"Bravo!" exclaimed Thomas Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashbourne, with exuberance as he gave his cousin Alexander Darcy a brotherly pat on the back. The rest of their team soon swarmed around them, with boisterous cheers of victory for the last cricket game of the London Season. The alumni of prestigious schools often came together at the pristine grounds of White's Conduit Club to participate in friendly games of sport. The spirited camaraderie of mere boys, formed at Eton and Harrow, reaffirmed at the hallowed halls of Cambridge and Oxford, now continued well into adulthood.

"My big brother with his arms of iron!" laughed James Darcy as he jabbed him playfully on the forearm. "Zooks! Those Oxford boys underestimated you, didn't they?"

"For an old married man who has not played cricket for a while, you have not lost your form!" teased Andrew Fitzwilliam.

"Old married men have other ways to stay in our 'fighting trim' form, don't you agree, Darcy?" remarked Anthony Knightley with a good-natured quip. His own marriage to Margaret Bingley, the eldest offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley, was a very happy one.

"Yes, indeed!" laughed Alexander mirthfully. His old chums were more familiar with a silent, brooding Darcy, and were surprised to find such a cheerful demeanor in him since his marriage to Isabella Bingley.

"Nay! The proverbial marital ball and chain must be heavy indeed! How you must be dutifully attentive to your wife, and how you must cater to her every whim!" stated Lord Ashbourne. His own bachelor days might be numbered as well, as his parents had been exerting their pressure upon him to be married soon. The duties of primogeniture could be unduly heavy.

"The burdens must be much less daunting if one is so besotted with love like Darcy," remarked Henry Bingley teasingly. "Alexander's eyes were fastened more intensely upon his darling wife sitting in the spectators' stand than upon the cricket ball!"

"Yet, amazingly enough, such distraction did not prevent him from batting a 'century' and winning the game for us!" added James.

Another round of mirthful jests ensured. The team broke out in jubilant Cambridge songs of old.

Amongst the cheering spectators was Lord Braunfield. He had watched the game by the sidelines in a rather melancholy mood. What he would give to play cricket again? He had a knack for "hat tricks" - bowling out three opposing batters in a row each time - and Cambridge was his alma mater as well.

His solitary musings, however, were interrupted by a clear, melodic voice by his side.

"Good afternoon, my lord," greeted Lizzy Darcy with an amiable smile. She was not overly surprised to see the viscount. She knew that he had been in the frequent company of her eldest brother Alexander these past several days, but she had been very occupied with her charity work in Town.

"Good afternoon, Miss Darcy! It is a pleasure to see you!" Lord Braunfield returned her salutation with a bow, but did not kiss her gloved hand in greeting. His civility was genuine, and not overly ostentatious. He noted that she was not alone. Her companions had stopped to greet other acquaintances nearby, and would soon rejoin her.

Lizzy stayed to exchange a few words of niceties with him. The ton's current gossip of their courtship had not been too distressful to her. She had always been a model of virtue and honor, but it did not prevent her from being the victim of such false tales before. Names of eligible suitors were constantly being put forth by the eager matchmaking dowagers of the ton. From the moment of her "Coming Out" presentation in Society, legions of suitors had showered their attention upon her, and had vowed to win her fair hand in marriage. As this was her third season, Lizzy considered herself quite a veteran of the whimsies of the ton. She knew that every eligible young lady and gentleman of Society was regarded as fair game of the "Marriage Mart." Her cousin Isabella Bingley had suffered such treatment and had to endure the incessant attention of young nobs even when she had put herself "on the shelf!"

She mused that neither she nor Lord Braunfield had ever done anything improper to court the attention of the gossipmongers or to confirm such tales. Indeed, Lord Braunfield's behavior towards her, as well as towards other females, had been exemplary since his return to social life.

He glanced at the book she held in her hand, and his dark brows raised with curious astonishment at the length of the title.

"Appeal of One Half of the Human Race, Women, Against the Pretension of the Other, Men . . ." he pronounced the title aloud. "I sincerely hope that the content of this author's work matches its lofty statement on the cover!"

"Mr. William Thompson makes a very strong appeal for the enfranchisement of women on the basis that a woman's vote is a necessity. His writing is considered rather radical, but it is certainly thought provoking!"

"Published recently?" asked Lord Braunfield politely. The author's name meant nothing to him.

"No. It was written in 1825."

"Ah! You could not have read it then. You were but five? Six? Did you like pink satin bows even then?" In his mind's eye, he could readily recall their first meeting - she was seven and wore such a pretty bow. "But I can clearly see that you have acquired a much finer taste for elegant fashion."

She ignored his jest, and gave him a pretty curtsey instead.

"Good day, my lord," she said with a demure smile. "I must rejoin my family party."

"A moment please, Miss Darcy!" He was searching in vain for words to detain her. He knew that the Darcys were leaving for Derbyshire the next morning. He himself was obliged to accompany his father back to Wessex. The London Season was drawing to an end.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked politely, wondering why he looked so uneasy all of a sudden. He had been quite pleasant and civil until this moment.

"I . . . wish you and your family a safe journey home."

"We shall travel at a very leisurely pace indeed. My brother's child is a mere babe, and requires prodigious care. Little Alex has made such a long journey once before already - when we came into town merely two months after his birth - and it was an agreeable journey. Our return trip should be equally pleasant. My Fitzwilliam relations will be traveling with us as well."

"Quite an entourage!" He remarked with a slight smile, somehow wishing that he could find a reason to travel north as well.

She agreed with an easy laugh. "My brother Alexander has made all the necessary arrangements already - he is a very capable Quartermaster. Indeed, my cousin Lord Ashbourne is to be his apprentice for this journey home!"

"An apprentice?" he repeated in bemusement.

"Well, Lord Ashbourne is a bachelor, and he seldom travels with his mother and sister. He is rather unfamiliar with all the logistics and sundry matters associated with a large household on the move - the extra carriages for luggage and abigail maids, etc. He has decided that he needs to learn how."

"Ashbourne is a capable fellow," muttered Lord Braunfield curtly, barely able to hold back a more cutting remark regarding his peer. The sudden surge of emotions he felt in his heart could be nothing but jealousy. He had experienced envy before - towards Alexander Darcy in regards to fair Isabella, but such envy was nothing in comparison to the intense feelings he felt presently towards his present company!

Was it possible that he cared for Miss Elizabeth Darcy more than he was willing to admit to himself?

He was entirely incapable of finding the proper answer. Lacking any further inspiration for words, he bowed and took his leave.

Lizzy stared after him, rather puzzled by his odd behavior. Her family party soon rejoined her, and in the midst of much merriment, her thoughts of Lord Braunfield were promptly forgotten.

Thomas Fitzwilliam, Lord Ashbourne, smiled tolerantly at his favorite cousin, and said in a very gentlemanly manner, "My dear Lizzy, can I persuade you to allow a much-needed recess to our current debate?"

"Why?" retorted Lizzy with a sweet smile, her fine eyes sparkling with such vivacity whenever her mind was eagerly engaged. "Why should we stop when I am quite certain that you are beginning to see the light?"

"Canst we not speak of more agreeable subjects?" pleaded Lord Ashbourne. "You have been haranguing me with the issue of enfranchisement since we left London!"

"You are too stubborn to admit to the validity of my opinions!"

"Lizzy, if all women were like the Darcy ladies, I should endorse woman suffrage wholeheartedly. I am not prepared, however, to entrust my country's future to the illiterate and ill-informed masses, especially the womanfolk!"

"Therefore, the need for public education of the general populace is ever more urgent and imperative! For our Parliamentary system to be truly effective, and for our nation to remain the premier world power, we need to educate all our people!"

"Now, education is an issue we can all agree upon," interjected Mrs. Darcy.

"The children at our new school at Ridgemont have achieved remarkable results - considering the rudimentary work began by Alexander barely two years ago," agreed Mr. Darcy. "I received a very good report from our school master recently."

"At our Ridgemont school, and of course at Lambton and Kympton, we educate girls as well as boys," added Mrs. Darcy with justified pride.

"That is very encouraging!" conceded Lord Ashbourne. "Pray, tell me more!"

Lizzy's dark brows were knitted into a deep frown, showing her displeasure at her cousin. She knew that he was not truly interested in the local schools her parents sponsored. He was merely seeking a different subject for their discourse. She had requested him company in her parents' carriage with the sole aim of convincing him to support political reforms so dear to her heart. Well, with the added bonus of feasting her eyes upon such manly good looks and charms, she admitted to herself in an honest afterthought.

"I fear that my daughter has a very determined and outspoken nature," remarked Mr. Darcy with a fatherly smile. "And I am guilty of spoiling her!"

Lord Ashbourne laughed jovially, his intelligent and agreeable nature well evident in his handsome countenance. "If I should be blessed with such a daughter, sir, I would very likely spoil her too!"

"I am not spoiled," protested Lizzy. "And, Thomas Fitzwilliam, you have never complained of my forthright ways until recently!"

Lord Ashbourne did not reply to her protest. He merely smiled amicably at her. He had the same patient and affable nature as his father Lord Matlock, and more notably, as his parental uncle General Sir James Fitzwilliam.

"Lizzy!" admonished Mrs. Darcy gently. "Your cousin may be as familiar with your temper as all your siblings are, but you must not abuse his goodwill!"

Upon hearing Mrs. Darcy's words, Lord Ashbourne laughed, "Don't fret, madam. Lizzy has never abuse my goodwill!"

Turning to Lizzy, Lord Ashbourne smiled courteously, "Now, won't you tell me about your new ball gown for the Anniversary Ball? I assure you that I am quite the expert in fashion, as my younger sister speaks of nothing but silks, laces, and jewelry!"

"My cousin Susan speaks of other important matters as well!" protested Lizzy. "I think I shall swap seats with Jane at our next stop! You can enjoy my sister's lovely smiles and discuss more agreeable matters!"

"Whilst you shall continue your political crusade in the other carriage with my parents and Susan?" asked Lord Ashbourne with a bemused laugh. "Lizzy, you know well that my parents adore you, but they do harbor serious doubts about the success of a reformer in petticoats!"

Lizzy realized that it was his polite way of explaining his parents' disapproval of her political views. She sighed in resignation, and admitted with honest candor, "I do try the patience of Lord and Lady Matlock, don't I? Well, I cannot very well ride with Alexander and Isabella. They are cooing tenderly to their little son from London to Derbyshire, and they certainly have no use for my strident suffragette songs!"

"Lizzy!" It was Mr. Darcy's turn to reprimand her.

She smiled a dazzling smile at her beloved father, and said contritely, "I am sorry, Papa! I shall remember my manners! I promise!"

In reply, Mr. Darcy patted her hand in loving silence.

"There is a proper time and place for everything, dear heart," said Mrs. Darcy. She knew that it was very hard to remain silent when injustice in society was so rampant, and her daughter had yet to master her own vivacious spirit with more temperate discipline.

"Well then, shall we speak of music? Mama, what music program have you planned for your Ball? I should like more quadrilles than waltz! A slower tempo allows one the opportunity to converse more easily with one's dance partner - for the mutual benefit of making a better acquaintance!"

"Perhaps for engaging in more effective verbal skirmishes as well?" asked Lord Ashbourne with such accommodating humor. "Shall I be fortunate enough to put my name twice or thrice on your dance card, Lizzy?"

In the presence of her parents, his remarks skirted boldly upon the flirtatious.

Lizzy ignored his bold remarks, but smiled at him in the most ladylike manner. She proceeded to engage everyone in a discourse of music with equal aplomb. Her parents shared a look of relief, and were thankful for a more amicable leg of their long journey home.

Lord Ashbourne proved to be remarkably well-informed on many subject matters. He was cordial in his manner, and gentlemanly in his conduct. He earned smiles of approval from the Darcys, who held such deep affections in their hearts for all their Fitzwilliam relations. The heir of Lord Matlock, in particular, was a fine young man whom any parent who welcome into the family as their own.

Indeed, Mr. Darcy had been contemplating about his youngest daughter's future in full earnest. He was not one who believed in the meddlesome schemes of willful parents who arranged marriages for their children. After all, he himself had defied the wishes and expectations of his own relations for an arranged marriage with his cousin Anne de Bourgh of Rosings, and married the woman of his heart instead.

Yet, in the quiet moments of his musings, Mr. Darcy knew that it would take an exceptional man to love and appreciate fully this precious and remarkable daughter of his. He realized that if he had to entrust young Lizzy's welfare and happiness to her future husband, Thomas Fitzwilliam would be the favored candidate. He had similar parental worries over his other beloved daughter Jane, of course, but Jane's noted sense of maturity and demurely agreeable nature never required such extraordinary degree of forbearance and understanding from her loved ones.

Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy greeted her husband with a demure smile as he finally came into their bedchamber.

"I was beginning to fear that I should have to endure our first night back at Pemberley alone," she teased him as he drew her into his arms for a tender kiss.

"I did not realize the passage of time, my darling! Alexander and I were having our nightly chat in the study when Isabella joined us with little Alex in her arms. I became quite mesmerized by how cherubic our grandson looked in his peaceful slumber! Oh, my Lizzy! Do you recall how we used to gaze at each of our children, hardly believing that God had blessed us with such miracles of life?"

"Yes, my darling Will. It is incredible that our firstborn is now a father himself!"

"Whilst this beautiful grandmamma has yet to sport a single hair of gray!" he chuckled mirthfully as he kissed her hair and inhaled her pleasing fragrance.

"Is it now your turn to tease and make sport of me, Mr. Darcy?" she retorted in equal merriment.

"No," he murmured against her sweet lips, "I am merely expressing my profound admiration for you, Mrs. Darcy!" He pulled out a small velvet box from his dressing gown, and presented it to her with a gentlemanly bow.

"Oh, Will!" she exclaimed in delight as she opened it and found the most exquisite diamond ring.

"Happy anniversary, my dearest and loveliest Elizabeth!"

"Anniversary?" she replied in puzzlement until she realized that it was past the stroke of midnight already. It was now a new day - the anniversary date of his second marriage proposal. Beneath her husband's dignified countenance was the heart of an incurable romantic.

"Oh, my dearest Will! I scarcely believed that you would return to Longbourn after my fierce confrontation with Lady Catherine de Bourgh!"

"My aunt could be ten times as fierce, but she could never keep me away from you! Now, I wish to commemorate this important anniversary with much fanfare, my darling Lizzy. With your acceptance of me, this date marks the beginning of all the wonderful blessings of our life together! You have enriched my life beyond measure."

"As you have honored and enriched mine by being my devoted husband!" Her eyes were brimmed over with tears of happiness as he put the ring on her finger, an elaborate mate to her wedding ring. They shared a lingering kiss, expressing the ardent love in their hearts.

After a long moment, he said, "My darling, we need to talk."

"Is something the matter?" she asked worriedly as she took his hand and joined him on the comfortable chaise lounge in their bedchamber. As passionate and fulfilling as their marriage had been, it was such quiet and precious moments of perfect companionship that they cherished most. She settled contently within his strong arms, and rested her head upon his broad shoulder to begin their long discourse.

"It concerns our youngest daughter," he began. "She grows lovelier with each passing day, and her outspoken nature gains boldness in equal measure. Her animated talks with Thomas Fitzwilliam during our journey home were memorable! I felt like we were in Gentleman Jackson's boxing saloon rather than our own carriage! And do you recall how she literally held court at Lord Matlock's Ball?"

"Lizzy certainly lacks your taciturn nature. She likes to speak her mind, and her views often amaze the entire room, or in some instances, the entire carriage!"

"I do not object to her strong, progressive views - after all, she espouses rational and feasible proposals for many necessary and urgently needed reforms in our society. I firmly believe, however, that a formal Ball is hardly a place for political debates! As we shall be hosting various autumn and winter celebrations at Pemberley, I should like for Lizzy to enjoy herself with her friends and relations, rather than to be overly concerned with such grave matters. One could not solve the problems of society overnight! Our Jane seems to have better success at finding equilibrium in her social life."

"I have spoken to Lizzy many times on her particular behavior in public. Whilst she is definitely not behaving in any wild or disgraceful manner, there are formal rules of proper decorum and discretion. She has promised to restrict her political debates to a discreet tête-à-tête - and not draw undue attention to herself or her dance partner."

"Well, I suppose Lizzy can hardly be blamed if the young men are willing to brave her rapier wit if they can enjoy her company. " he remarked with a smile. "After all, our youngest daughter is most like you, my darling. From almost the first moments of our acquaintance, I have felt such passionate admiration and regards for you! I have been a willing captive of your entrancing charms and talents ever since!"

"Captive?" She thought herself a willing captive of his as well! She smiled teasingly at her husband, and traced her finger upon the graying hair of his side whiskers. Mr. Darcy had deferred the trimmer "Titan" style that Beau Brummell - the ton's arbiter of fashion par excellence - had set in vogue many years ago. How distinguished her husband looked, she thought, as she gave his cheek a light kiss.

He laughed, a deep and orotund laugh that expressed the tremendous joy in his heart. "Yes, indeed! I am the most happily leg-shackled husband in Her Majesty's realm!"

She returned his fervent kisses with sighs of contentment.

"We keep getting distracted whenever we talk, my dear husband!"

"Perhaps that is the key to our perfect rapport and understanding of each other's hearts and minds!" he replied earnestly.

"Now, concerning our daughter Lizzy. . ." she smiled as she tried to redirect their conversation.

"Thomas Fitzwilliam has my blessings if he asks for Lizzy's hand," declared Mr. Darcy rather unexpectedly.

"Will!" admonished Mrs. Darcy with a stern frown. "We have solemnly promised each other that we will not meddle in the affairs of our children's hearts! Lizzy is far too young to consider matrimony yet!"

"You were not one and twenty when I first proposed to you," he reminded her tenderly.

"Perhaps, that was another underlying reason why I rejected you, my darling," she softened her rebuttal with a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

"Well, I promise again I shall not interfere except under dire circumstances! I was merely stating my approval for the son of my esteemed cousin. I also like Andrew Fitzwilliam very much - in so many ways, he is more like his mother than his father."

"I should think Andrew is an ideal balance of the two, and I love him as my own child. But he is too close in blood - your sister's as well as your first cousin's son."

"Our daughters have many suitors who are entirely unrelated to us, my darling," smiled Mr. Darcy. "Perhaps we should make a trip to various counties. One never knows for certain whom one may encounter at a local assembly dance!"

"Oh, Will! You are insufferable!"

He smiled, taking pride that he could finally tease her as easily as she teased him. After a moment, he asked in a more serious tone, "Did you not notice how young Braunfield spent the entire evening at the Matlock's Ball staring at our Lizzy?"

"Yes, I did. I believe, however, that Lord Braunfield meant no harm," said Mrs. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy added thoughtfully, "Alexander informed me that young Braunfield has vowed to conduct himself with the utmost honor in regards to Isabella."

"It will not be easy if he has truly cared for her," said Mrs. Darcy. "After all, it was his obsession with Isabella that drove him to engage in such follies with Lady Lexington."

"By all accounts, young William was very drunk, and he had mistaken the lady for Isabella! He was not acquainted with Lady Lexington prior to that night."

"This case of mistaken identity still puzzles me!" said Mrs. Darcy with a deep frown. "Why would he believe that Isabella would be agreeable to an illicit rendezvous when she had already rejected him so decisively weeks prior?"

"The confused state of an inebriated mind! As I have no personal experience in such drunken lapse of judgment, I cannot speak with authority on the subject!" admitted Mr. Darcy.

"It is a great shame that this nephew of Charles Bingley should learn his lessons at such a dear price. Proper upbringing should have avoided such an unfortunate incident!"

"Being the son of Lady Paxton cannot be easy," observed Mr. Darcy. "I am ever thankful that I have a very enlightened wife to mother my children!"

"It takes an enlightened husband to appreciate such a wife," replied Mrs. Darcy with infinite tenderness.

In reply, Mr. Darcy simply enfolded her closer into his strong embrace. Mrs. Darcy had intended to discuss the ton's relentless rumors of Lord Braunfield's courtship of their daughter Lizzy, but their earnest talk seemed destined to suffer yet another inevitable diversion.

Mr. Darcy's mind had already taken a turn for more pleasant and tender matters. His beloved wife did not offer any objections to the change of topics, but willingly indulged him instead.

Chapter Four

Posted on Tuesday, 8 February 2005

The ensuring weeks were filled with days of celebrations and nights of revelry at Pemberley. The family estates of the Darcys, the Bingleys, and the Fitzwilliam clan were in relatively close proximity of each other to allow for the ease of frequent visits even during more inclement weather.

A festive mood prevailed throughout the great halls of Pemberley as Mrs. Darcy directed the preparations of the many traditional autumn and winter fetes with her customary aplomb. Even the most daunting task did not disturb her imperturbability, and her devoted servants carried out their myriad of duties with efficiency and dedication. At night, serene music filled the air as the Darcy children gathered in the music room, and took turns to sing and play for their parents. The music selection might vary from night to night, but Mrs. Darcy would always end with a solo aria for her beloved husband. It was the melancholy "Voi Che Sapete" - from Mozart's la Nozza di Figaro. She had sung such an aria to Mr. Darcy on her first visit to Pemberley in the fateful summer of 1812, and it had become their sentimental favorite. In many ways, the lyrics of the aria mirrored their own journey of love: The burning question of "What is this sorrow naught can dispel" had been fully answered by their deep and abiding love for each other.

As the leading family within the surrounding environs of the villages of Lambton and Kympton, the Darcys had very extensive patronage. The present Master of Pemberley fulfilled such duties of noblesse oblige with greater munificence than any of his predecessors, and his lady wife was equally tirelessly in her duties to the local charities and parishes. Along with her daughters, she took a very active role in the organization and distribution of hot meals, clothing, necessities and seasonal tidings to the needy, aged, and the sick.

For the household staff, tenant farmers, their families and dependents, the traditional Harvest Festival was a great event of rejoicing and thanksgiving. Young and old were treated to a lavish feast, with music and dancing that lasted well into the night. The center of everyone's attention was undoubtedly the youngest Darcy - who made a brief appearance at the celebration in the arms of his proud father. Endless toasts were made to wish the new Master Alex health and happiness, and songs were sung in his honor.

The Bingleys hosted a sumptuous dinner soiree to honor Alexander Darcy for his twenty-sixth birthday. It was his happiest one yet, for this was the first year he had his own child by his side for the celebration. The scene of domestic harmony was a very familiar one, as each member of the Darcy and the Bingley families had such high esteem and affections for one another.

Mr. Charles Bingley, in particular, was very effusive in his praises. He proposed toast after toast to this son of his heart.

"Thank you, Alexander, for love and prodigious care you give to my daughter Bella. I have never seen her happier!" said Mr. Bingley as he raised his glass yet again.

"Then I must raise my glass to thank our dear Isabella," said Mr. Darcy gallantly as he rose from the table to make a toast as well, "for I have never seen my son happier either!"

"Hear! Hear!" declared James Darcy. He grinned at his elder brother with a mischievous look in his eyes.

Alexander knew that he would not escape a brotherly jest from James this night. Surely, James spoke almost at once, "My dear brother is enjoying every smile and every word his darling Bella is bestowing on him tonight. It hardly seems possible that only two years prior, he was in such a brooding mood that he hardly noticed being seated next to her at dinner! Alex's oversight had prompted her to think of herself being as plain as the wall-coverings!"

"I was a blind fool! I needed a sound beating from you to regain my true sight, James!" admitted Alexander with a jovial laugh as he gave his wife a discreet squeeze of her hand beneath the dining table. "If I were so blind again, James, feel free to give me a few heavy blows to my head!"

"I shall be happy to oblige you!" promised James. "Don't worry, Bella, you can rely on me completely in such matters!"

"I shall be equally ready, Alexander, if you dare permit such neglect to occur again!" declared Henry Bingley with a mock frown, but he failed to hold back his jovial laughter.

"Papa, are girls allow to punch Alexander as well?" asked Lizzy eagerly. "I know how to throw a good left hook!"

Jane Darcy and Emily Bingley did not voice their opinions, but behind their demure smiles lurked the look of mirthful mischief.

"Elizabeth!" admonished Mrs. Darcy rather sternly at Lizzy's most unladylike remark.

"But Mama," protested Lizzy indignantly, "it was Alexander who taught Jane and I how to throw punches! He was worried that we might need to defend ourselves . . ."

She almost said aloud the words "against nefarious villains such as Uncle Wickham" when she realized how inappropriate it would be to mention Isabella's kidnapping ordeal of last summer. Fortunately, in the nick of time, she remembered her father's sage advice. One must speak with prudence and common sense. Unguarded words could cause havoc!

She bit her tongue, and murmured contritely, "Yes, Mama."

Mrs. Bingley smiled at her niece Lizzy, conveying her support and encouragement. Lizzy's determined efforts to impose more discipline upon herself in her social discourse were well evident. Spirited and opinionated Lizzy might be, she was not in the danger of becoming another Lydia.

Being a relatively new member to the family, Mrs. James Darcy did not fully comprehend the good-natured teasing behind the feisty banter of the cousins. It was obvious to all that neither Isabella nor Alexander would permit such neglect of each other again, but she felt obliged to voice an advice to her sister-in-law. "Isabella, you must never allow for such a treatment from Alexander again!"

Isabella, ever gracious and considerate, thanked and promised her solemnly.

As the conversation around the table resumed its more cordial and general tone, Miranda Darcy turned and smiled at her own husband James. Their eyes met, and they held each other's gaze for a long moment. She was exceedingly pleased to see the look of adoration in his eyes. She had once feared that her James still cared for his cousin Isabella beyond that of brotherly concern, but she was glad to be wrong. She should not be so demanding of her darling, thought Miranda as she berated herself silently, but she had such a great need for him - for his strength, his gentleness, and for his abiding devotion.

James Darcy could discern the thoughts on his wife's mind. Miranda loved him with such passions, but her need for his reassurances was constant. Such exacting demands were, at times, a bit overwhelming, but he considered such disturbances in his connubial happiness as a small prize to pay for true love. His love for her was enforced by his natural instinct of being her stalwart protector as well. Perhaps, much of his wife's current anxieties were due to the stress of her pregnancy. Miranda was in the earliest stage - they had only discovered that she was increasing shortly after they arrived home at their modest estate of Greenhaven nearby - but she was already suffering from frequent bouts of nausea and headaches.

James could not alleviate his wife's discomfort except by holding her tenderly in his arms whenever she needed him. He prayed fervently that they would not lose this baby. Her last miscarriage had been such a blow to both of them. He was grateful for his parents' immediate and warm invitation for them to stay at Pemberley for the duration. Trusted and reliable help was more readily available at Pemberley than anywhere else. He could trust his mother to ensure that Miranda received the most prodigious care.

Pemberley
November 1839

The joint Wedding Anniversary Ball of the Darcys and the Bingleys were celebrated with greater ceremony and fanfare than ever before. Neighbors and friends came from near and far to attend this auspicious event at the grand Pemberley Hall, and the number of guests assembled was the highest yet. The most honored, and certainly the youngest, guest of this grand ball was Alexander Charles Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The heartwarming speeches of the two Darcy sons earned much accolade. The endless warmth of parental love to which Alexander Darcy gave such eloquent praises seemed to embrace the hearts of all present. The rousing applause grew into a crescendo when Mrs. Alexander Darcy brought forth her little son for his first public appearance since his Christening.

The boisterous cheering was followed by an awed hush. The sight of three generations of Darcy men was a truly inspiring one.

Mr. Darcy took the baby gently from his mother. Little Alex smiled at the familiar sight of his grandfather, and settled comfortably in his strong arms. This newest heir of Pemberley was merely four months old, yet he seemed to possess a regal air of confidence. Instead of crying at the sight of such many strangers, or whimpering for the comfort of his own mother's arms, the little one surveyed his world with alertness and curiosity in those bright blue eyes. A smile of delight played upon his baby features, and after a long moment, he let out a loud and long cooing sound, as if he approved of what he saw. Deep, orotund laughter of approval erupted from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, looking content and proud - as if he held the future of his entire family clan within his very arms. After a few moments, he graciously handed his grandson to the other doting grandfather. Mr. Bingley beamed with equal pride at his grandson. In his mind's eye, he could already imagine more of such wonderful grandchildren in the years to come.

"Darcy and our Lizzy look youthful enough to be the babe's parents! The Bingleys are equally so!" remarked Sir Edward Gardiner, newly knighted by his Sovereign for recognition of his significant contributions to the trade and commerce of England.

His devoted wife smiled in agreement, "Both our nieces - Lizzy and Jane - are truly blessed. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are so devoted to them."

"Surely, it is the gracious wife that inspires such spousal love," declared Sir Edward with an appreciative grin at his own lady wife. He often wondered if the axle of his carriage did not break so near the village of Lambton, and if he did not require the services of the local blacksmith, he would not have meet his dear wife. A chance meeting - he a stranger in Lambton, and she a young woman gathering a handful of chestnuts from the mighty chestnut tree on the village green nearby - resulted in a lifetime of happiness.

"Aunt and Uncle Gardiner!" exclaimed Lizzy Darcy in effusive delight as she joined the couple. "I am sorry I missed you earlier in the receiving line! My cousin Lord Ashbourne made such demands upon my attention since his arrival at Pemberley. He was our first guest."

"Indeed?" smiled Sir Edward indulgently at the daughter of his favorite niece. The resemblance between mother and daughter was uncanny, although the younger Lizzy certainly possessed a more feisty spirit.

"Yes," confessed Lizzy without embarrassment. "He rode ahead of his parents' carriage. He insisted on three dances - of his own choosing." She held up her dance card, which was filled completely with an assortment of names. "I can never fully comprehend his willful mind - he has chosen the first and the last two dances!"

"The viscount is a prudent man," smiled Sir Edward Gardiner with approval.

"How so?" inquired Lizzy in full innocence.

"Lord Ashbourne is making sure that whatever sweet-nothings other young gentlemen may whisper in your ear tonight, he will be the first as well as the last one to have your full attention, my dear Lizzy!" confided Lady Gardiner in a discreet whisper.

"Oh!" was all Lizzy could manage to say as a deep blush came over her face.

Her heart raced in every direction all at once - in confusion and excitement as well. Lately, she had been entertaining tender thoughts of Thomas Fitzwilliam. Although she had secretly avowed to place herself "on the shelf" for the next couple of years, the attention which Thomas had been lavishing upon her this past Season in London was rather flattering. Her heart could not help but flutter a bit harder whenever he was near her. His patient forbearance of her outspokenness had certainly won him the approval of her parents. Surely, if he meant to take their firm friendship to a deeper level, he would attempt to do so very soon.

Would Thomas Fitzwilliam pick such an auspicious night, when talks of connubial love were expounded with such jubilant cheers, and the reality of marital bliss was so evident around them to make his appeal to her heart?

"Good evening, Miss Darcy." The deep male voice that greeted her was a voice she did not expect to hear tonight. She had greeted his parents' arrival earlier, but did not realize that the son would be here as well. He had never attended this event before.

Lizzy found herself in a deep frown, and she had to summon up a decent smile as she turned around to greet Lord Braunfield.

"Good evening, my lord," she said with a very formal curtsey. "I did not expect to see you tonight."

"I arrived late - my knee was bothering me a bit," he explained with an easy smile. He took her gloved hand in his, bestowed a gentlemanly kiss upon it before he added, "You are enchantment itself, Miss Darcy?"

His courtly manner was flawless, and he looked very handsome as well - his exquisitely tailored clothes were of the finest fabric and the latest fashion. Quite a preening peacock, thought Lizzy. Indeed, he looked almost the same way he did the night at Margaret and Anthony Knightley's wedding ball.

Yet, there was a certain air about him that was entirely different. Lizzy's mind was quite preoccupied with such musings when Lord Braunfield smiled amiably and said, "Miss Darcy, would you like to introduce me to your friends?"

Lizzy had to stifle the peel of laughter that threatened to erupt from her at any moment. His mighty lordship wished to make the acquaintance of her relations - those with "plebian" roots in trade? What a shock was in store for the viscount when he realized that the old couple standing next to her was not the exulted personages he had presumed them to be!

"Of course! I shall be delighted to introduce you, my lord," she said sweetly, the sparkle of mirth in her dark eyes shone with added luster. Lord Braunfield was so mesmerized by the entrancing sight that he almost did not hear the introductions.

"Lord Braunfield, may I present Sir Edward and Lady Gardiner."

"Lady Gardiner and Sir Edward Gardiner, may I present William, the Viscount of Braunfield, the son of Lord and Lady Paxton," said Lizzy as she completed the formalities.

The social niceties of bows, curtseys, handshakes were duly exchanged.

"Do you hail from these parts, Sir Edward?" inquired Lord Braunfield cordially. Lizzy was contemplating how quickly his lordship would decamp from their company as soon as the words "trade" and "Cheapside" were announced.

"I am originally from Hertfordshire, but I have been a Londoner for many decades now. My wife spent her childhood years here in Derbyshire, in the village of Lambton, not five miles from Pemberley," replied Sir Edward with equally cordially. From Lady Gardiner's easy smile, it was plain to see that she was very proud of her childhood home.

Lord Braunfield was about to ask another question when a startling thought came into his mind. He could almost hear his mother's shrill voice and could see her sneering look of contempt, "Her uncle may have a fancy mansion in Regent's Park now, but he used to live in Cheapside - within the view of his own warehouses! Oh, one can only wonder at the degradations poor Mr. Darcy must suffer for having such relations!"

Why, of course! Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy's maternal uncle! The one in trade! The one that Miss Lizzy Darcy had defended so vigorously when he had insulted her relations during their memorable waltz at the Knightleys wedding ball two years ago, thought Lord Braunfield in sudden realization.

He stared in open amazement at Sir and Lady Edward Gardiner. His mother had conjured up was drastically different from the man standing before him! Her views, he realized, were extremely biased. Miss Darcy's strong words proved to be true testimony indeed!

Sir Edward might be short of stature and rather stout around the waist, but he had a commanding presence. His entire countenance bespoke of intelligence, confidence, and reliability. He was one of the most successful merchants of London, and his accomplishments were achieved entirely through his own diligence, prudent judgment, honor and integrity. His knighthood was the official recognition of his exemplary life and dedication to his country. Standing in the presence of such a man, Lord Braunfield felt very insignificant indeed!

"I have heard much about you from Miss Elizabeth Darcy, sir, and I am very glad to make your acquaintance!" said Lord Braunfield without hesitation. His candid words and amiable countenance seemed to have rendered Lizzy speechless. The Gardiners seemed rather surprised as well - the viscount's reputation of haughtiness had preceded him - and they had expected to meet a younger version of Lady Paxton!

Surely, Lord Braunfield was making a mad jest, thought Lizzy! She could hardly contain her surprise as she waited for the cutting and condescending words that never come.

"Will you be staying at Pemberley for the winter season as well?" inquired Lord Braunfield politely.

"Yes, we shall stay longer this year, until New Year's Day. The Darcys are always so generous! We have enjoyed their hospitality since the first winter season of their marriage. Will you be staying on as well, my lord?"

"No, sir. I am merely passing through Derbyshire. My parents will be returning to Wessex shortly, but I shall be on my way north - to make an inspection of one of my family's estates in Yorkshire."

A pleasant conversation ensured between the two men, with Lady Gardiner adding a word here and there. Lizzy stood in amazement, scarcely believing that Lord Braunfield's ease of manner and jovial smiles were genuine. Except for his very dark brown eyes and hair, he looked and acted very much like his Uncle Charles Bingley!

Before Lizzy could make any remark, however, her dance partner came to claim her for the next dance. Since her dance card was filled entirely, she did not speak to Lord Braunfield again for the duration of the night. Thoughts of him, however, lingered on for a long while. She decided that it was out of natural curiosity that she should be interested in the odyssey of a young rake's reformation. Since the viscount seemed to share such a firm friendship with her brother, it was likely that she might encounter his lordship with greater frequency than before. It would be interesting to see if such a reformation was merely a seventh-day wonder or a truly lasting one.

Lord Braunfield's bright mood suffered the moment Lizzy was swept away from his side by an eager gentleman. He lingered on for a few moments with the Gardiners, but found that his own mind was too distracted. He bowed politely, extracted a promise from Sir Edward to visit Paxton Hall the next time he and Lady Gardiner were back in Town, and took leave. He limped his way, slowly and carefully, to a quiet corner of the ballroom. All around him, young couples were pairing off to dance the waltz, and if the truth be admitted, he felt very miserable indeed.

He had not intended to attend the wedding anniversary ball at all. His parents were, of course, regular guests at Maywood and at Pemberley throughout the years - but he had rarely accompanied his parents on such visits. As a young boy, he did not enjoy very good health, and his mother had kept him in close seclusion at Rockhurst - their family estate in Wessex. He was a virtual prisoner of the beautiful, palatial estate - with an army of servants and no playmates of his own age. There were youngsters living on the estate, of course, but all were children of their servants and tenant farmers. His mother kept such youngsters away from him, as if they bore the pestilence of the plague. Her ladyship's stern rule was dutifully obeyed, and he was never allowed to mingle with them. On rare family visits, when he was deemed well enough to play with his Bingley cousins, his nurse kept such a close watch on him that it always spoiled the fun.

When the prestigious London physicians finally pronounced that he was unlikely to see an early grave after all, he broke loose from his gilded cage like a wild street urchin. In many ways, he was determined to catch up on all the days, nay, years of amusement and games that he had missed out on. Being the only child, with the added privileges of great wealth and noble title, meant that everyone around him catered to his every whim, and answered to his beck and call.

His parents loved and adored him, and spoiled him for their own different reasons. For Lord Paxton, to be blessed with such a handsome son in his sunset years was the answer to his dearest wishes. For Lady Paxton, her darling William was the only treasure in her life which wealth and title could not buy. Her son became an extension of herself - his accomplishments and accolades became her own glories; his exuberance for life, his excesses and lavish habits became the "joie de vivre" of her own imaginings.

Lord Braunfield brooded silently, and finally realized the root cause of his problems. It was parental indulgences, compounded by his own immaturity and sense of self-importance, which allowed him to become such an insufferable and irresponsible rake! He would have berated himself again if his attention was not distracted by the sight of Lizzy Darcy dancing so happily in the arms of Lord Ashbourne.

From their harmonious steps to the agreeable smiles upon their faces, Lord Braunfield quickly realized that Miss Elizabeth Darcy was not conducting another political debate with her cousin. His mind flashed back to his own waltz with her - how harmonious their own steps were whilst they parried such sharp words at each other. No, he reminded himself, he was the one who hurled such insulting remarks in regards to her relations whilst she so deftly parried away all his offensive words with her cutting wit and intelligent repartees. From the first, he was both amazed and intrigued by Miss Elizabeth Darcy. He had never experienced such verbal skirmishes with anyone else - not even with his cousin Isabella - nor had he had such a pleasure since!

He found himself wishing for an opportunity - any chance, any excuse - for a private moment so that he could speak to Miss Elizabeth Darcy again! She might not spare a glance his way, but she was likely to listen to her dear brother Alexander. He wondered if his mentor and friend would put in a good word for him? Perhaps he should accept Uncle Charles's offer of hospitality and stay for a while longer at Maywood. The Bingley estate was within easy distance of Pemberley, and he could make frequent social calls to Alexander Darcy without any undue awkwardness!

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