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Chapter 5

Posted on Friday, 11 February 2005

Lord Ashbourne took full advantage of the last two waltzes with Lizzy Darcy to plead his suit. He realized that it was too late and too cold at night to suggest a moonlight walk afterwards. He glanced briefly at his parents, and found, to his dismay, that he and Lizzy were under their close scrutiny. If he had known that Mr. Darcy's attention was likewise engaged, he would be under greater duress than he already was.

"Lizzy," he said with direct frankness, "I think you already know my affections and wishes for you!"

His words and winsome smile almost caused her to miss a step, but he had the foresight to tighten his hold upon her waist as he spoke, and their harmonious steps remained uninterrupted.

Although she had expected such a declaration from him, she was not prepared for it when the moment did come. She answered him with a discreet nod, her face in the deepest blush.

"Good!" Lord Ashbourne heaved a sigh of great relief. After a moment, he bent his head closer to her and whispered, "I fully understand that you are resolved to place yourself 'on the shelf' for another year or so, but I cannot wait any longer!"

Lizzy finally regained her composure, and protested, "Thomas, this is highly unorthodox. I comprehend the social convention for conversing with one's partner whilst dancing, but one usually chooses mundane subjects. Surely, you are not initiating your courtship in such a manner?"

"Why ever not, Lizzy?" he whispered softly, smiling at her, and willing her to give him an affirmative answer.

"Well, I cannot think properly whilst I dance!" She did not add that his good looks were quite distracting as well.

"Oh, my dear Lizzy, please don't think too hard! Grant me the honor to court you now, my sweet!"

"Can't we wait? I am very fond of you, Thomas, but . . ."

"There! You have admitted it at last! Since you are very fond of me, why should we wait any longer? Come, Lizzy, say 'yes' to my courtship! I beg of you."

She found that she could not give him an immediate answer. Although he was merely asking for the right to court her, and was not making a marriage proposal, they both realized that formal courtship was the first step towards matrimony.

Lord Ashbourne's anxiety was compounded by his parents' growing impatience. The sight of Alexander Darcy, blessed with such a wonderful wife and a healthy son, had prompted Lord and Lady Matlock to make the same demand of him! Indeed, shortly after their return to Derbyshire, they had issued him an ultimatum - he was already eight and twenty, and he must be wed soon. Either he chose his own bride, or they would select one for him!

"Lizzy? Won't you give me an answer now?" he asked urgently.

"May I have a few days to think it over?" she pleaded in full earnest. Lured by the magic of the music and the waltz itself, her mind did not seem capable of making any important decisions.

He knew that she was not being deliberately coy, and in all fairness, he should not expect her to answer him immediately. What harm would a few more days be if a "yes" would be her inevitable answer?

He inclined his head, and smiled in acquiescence. "Come, Lizzy, this will be the last dance of the Ball. Shall we endeavor to be the best waltzing pair, and be the envy of all?"

She laughed merrily, glad of his humor and forbearance, and complied with his request wholeheartedly. The viscount was an excellent dancer, and he allowed himself the liberty to hold her a fraction closer to him as they waltzed so wonderfully together.

Most might argue that Isabella and Alexander Darcy were the best-matched young couple at the grand ballroom, but Miss Elizabeth Darcy and Lord Ashbourne certainly became the envy of one particular personage. From his secluded corner, the Viscount of Braunfield was watching them with bated breath.

The gracious hosts had gathered at the grand foyer to bid their guests farewell. Dawn was almost breaking when the last guests took their leave. Lord Braunfield was amongst them. He had lingered on in hopes of catching a private word with the enchanting Miss Lizzy, but he had waited in vain.

"William, you are welcome to ride home in our carriage," offered Mr. Bingley.

"Your parents have left much earlier - your father was not feeling well," added Mrs. Bingley.

"His gout has been worse than usual," nodded Lord Braunfield.

As he was standing near the Fitzwilliam Darcys, he took advantage to exchange a few words of pleasantries with them. He knew them, of course, but he had never talked with them beyond the customary words of greetings. He found himself much in awe of the senior Darcy, but oddly enough, he felt a warm kinship towards him as well. It dawned on him that father and son were so alike - in character and temperament, as well as in looks and manner - he felt as if he was speaking to Alexander Darcy instead.

Mrs. Darcy was grace itself: her vivacity, her loveliness, and her wit were so enhanced by her genuine warmth and modesty. He found her fine eyes to be as enthralling as her youngest daughter's, and he felt so at ease in her presence. Whilst it was obvious that she was very tired, she gave him her full attention, and inquired about his health with motherly concern. As they conversed, he noted that she glanced at her husband ever so often - discreetly but tenderly. He had witnessed such moments between the Bingleys and especially the Alexander Darcys, but he had never stood in such close proximity to feel the palpable vibrancy of spousal love. What a truly fortunate man Mr. Darcy was to have such a devoted wife, he thought appreciatively.

A sudden surge of envy entered his heart as well. He no longer begrudged Alexander Darcy for his happiness with Isabella, but he felt rather envious of him for having such a mother! The child within his own heart yearned for a lost boyhood that could have been vastly different if his mother Caroline was a woman of grace.

How strange it was, he thought, that he should have such feelings? His Aunt Jane was a lady of equal merits to Mrs. Darcy - and yet, he had never been envious of his Bingley cousins!

Why such feelings now? Lord Braunfield could not think of any reasonable answers!

Miss Elizabeth Darcy found herself tossing and turning in her bed, unable to fall asleep. She felt physically exhausted after such a long night of revelry - dancing all four and twenty dances - but her mind was overwrought with thoughts. Was this how a young woman in love should be feeling, she wondered?

She tried to recall her conversations and the moments she had spent in Thomas Fitzwilliam's company. He was so patient and gentlemanly, and her heart had not been immune to his charms. Yet, she could not leap into his welcoming arms without hesitation! His indifference, or worse, his disapproval, of her political views was a major concern for her. Would it drive a wedge between them if they could not reconcile their differences? Or could she "enlighten" him to understand, if not to support, her views eventually? She was an optimist, and was inclined to believe the latter possibility.

"Are you brave enough to take the first steps of true love's journey?" she asked aloud of herself.

As she was dozing off, another image flashed across her mind. Lord Braunfield's cordiality with the Gardiners had been an amazing surprise. She would not have known him for the same haughty and obnoxious viscount of last summer. The poor fellow, she thought, all alone and looking so forlorn at the Ball. Perhaps, he would do well to spend more time in Alexander's company.

It was upon such a kindly thought that she finally fell asleep.

"Well, son?" demanded Lord Matlock. He was an amiable sort of man, but there was an iron will within him as well. He had high expectations of his eldest son, and he demanded that Thomas be dutiful in his filial obligations.

"I am confident that Lizzy will accept my courtship of her, Father," said Lord Ashbourne reassuringly. "I shall know in a matter of days."

"Very well, son!" he nodded approvingly, "And might I add that I am well pleased that you have chosen a Darcy daughter."

"You would have preferred the more demure Jane, wouldn't you, sir?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Yes, son, but I can well comprehend your fascination with a pair of fine eyes and such rapier sharp wit!"

"To confess the truth, Father, I could not decide between the two sisters at first. Fortunately, Lizzy's bold demeanor that has allowed for a better acquaintance between us," explained Lord Ashbourne. "Jane, ever so sweet and elegant, is always far too taciturn to exchange more than a few words with me each time we meet."

"Well, if Lizzy Darcy is the woman of your heart, I know that you shall find great happiness," remarked Lord Matlock as he gave his son an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Upon such happy thoughts, my dear Thomas, I shall retire to bed. Your dear mother, I assure you, will be equally happy to hear your pending good news!"

Lord Matlock whistled a merry tune as he headed off to his bedchamber. In his fertile imagination, he could envision a new generation of bright and robust little Fitzwilliams - the boys in the image of Thomas, and the girls in the image of Elizabeth.

Lord Braunfield was in too much pain to spare any thoughts for the Ball. His faithful valet Owens had prepared a hot bath with liberal amount of Epsom salt, and he had been soaking in it soon after his arrival back at Maywood. The muscle pains of his damaged leg had eased only fractionally after his bath, so his valet applied more hot compresses to the knee.

"You have overexerted yourself, my lord," remarked Owens. He had been the viscount's valet for so long that he knew every mood and whim of the young nobleman. It must have been a great inducement that caused his lordship to suffer the inevitable pain.

"Bring the herbal oil, Owens," said Lord Braunfield. "It is the only remedy that works!"

As Owens worked the oil into the affected area, the viscount grimaced hard, but fought back his groans. He knew he would be incapacitated for the next few days, and cursed himself for being a fool for standing so long. Now, he would need to stay on at Maywood for a while longer, whether he wished to or not!

"This cursed knee!" said Lord Braunfield angrily. Such a fine Ball, and he could not dance. What he could give to have one waltz with Miss Darcy?

"Perhaps you should try swimming again, my lord - it is very easy on your knee - and a good exercise to build up your strength," said Owens.

"My good man, if I jump into a lake in this weather, I shall catch the chill of death in my lungs!"

"I beg your pardon, my lord!" said Owens sheepishly. "I did not mean to be impertinent!"

"No harm, my good man!" Lord Braunfield smiled at his faithful servant, and added, "Now, tell me the recent news from your sister in Town! Pray, any diversion to take my mind off this pain!" And to ease his mind from the memory of Miss Darcy's bewitching eyes, he added silently to himself.

"Thank you, my darling, for another splendid Ball. I know not what spell you have cast upon Pemberley since your first arrival here as Mistress, but its magical power continues to enthrall our guests with each passing year!" said Mr. Darcy.

"Spells? Magical power?" laughed Mrs. Darcy. "Why, have you taken a witch for wife, my dear Mr. Darcy?"

"Not a witch," he laughed mirthfully, "but certainly a beautiful enchantress. My life with you has been like those 'happily ever after' fairy tales my mother used to tell me at bedtime when I was a small boy."

"Hmmm, I cannot quite conjure up such an image of you! Surely, you were a very solemn boy - silent and brooding?" she teased as she made a face in imitation of him.

He caught her in his arms, and kissed her deeply. After a long moment, he remarked thoughtfully, "The only silent and brooding one at our Ball was Lord Braunfield. I feel rather sorry for him."

"I am sure the viscount does not want anyone's pity," said Mrs. Darcy.

"It is not an easy task - for a man to conquer himself," said Mr. Darcy. "I went through the painful lessons of excessive pride myself! Braunfield has much more to overcome - a personal challenge made more difficult with the ton making such sport of him behind his back."

"I am glad that the false rumors of his courtship of Lizzy has finally been put to rest," sighed Mrs. Darcy.

"Yes," smiled Mr. Darcy, "I shall trust Thomas Fitzwilliam to eradicate any lingering talks to protect our daughter's honor."

"Aren't you being a bit premature with your approval of Thomas, my darling?" asked Mrs. Darcy cautiously. She had learned the harsh lesson of blind trust some eight and twenty years ago, and had never forgotten it.

"Thomas is the son of my cousin Lord Matlock, and the nephew of my esteemed brother Sir James Fitzwilliam. I need to look no further for a young man of sterling character and worthiness. Unless my eyes have deceived me, my love, I do believe that our Lizzy and Thomas Fitzwilliam have reached an understanding."

If Mrs. Darcy had wished to debate the subject further, her wish was not granted. Her husband swept her up in his arms, and said simply, "My dearest and loveliest Elizabeth, ease your mind from such matters, and allow me to divert your attention to a different but equally important matter."

She followed the direction of his gaze, and found the bed in the master's chamber covered with rose petals.

"Oh, my darling Will!"

He answered her with a kiss - a kiss of endearment and lasting promise. There was no other need for words.

Chapter 6

Posted on Monday, 14 February 2005

Lizzy Darcy set out to take a long walk along her favorite path. The past few weeks since her parents' wedding anniversary Ball had been like a whirlwind. Aside from the frequent social calls from their neighbors and friends, many of her mother's relations had stayed on as their house guests for the winter season. She found that she could not walk down the halls and corridors of Pemberley without encountering several relatives at a time. It was perhaps fortunate that her Grandmother Bennet, and the Wickham family did not make their traditional visit this year. Uncle George Wickham - a pitiful, blind invalid - was released from St. Bartholomew Hospital recently, and was now convalescing at Longbourn, under the tender care of his estranged wife Lydia. She could only imagine the atmosphere in that particular household, and found herself counting all her blessings.

The pristine tranquility of Pemberley worked its natural wonders. Her spirits were soon revived, and her mind regained a certain measure of ease. She found that she could examine all her worries and fears calmly and rationally. . .

She had accepted Lord Ashbourne's courtship after three long days of serious contemplation. She considered all his merits, and could think of few defects. He was intelligent and agreeable, a man of sterling character and impeccable family background. Indeed, he seemed to be almost as wonderful as her brothers. If she would choose to attach her heart to someone, Thomas would be the ideal choice. She had seen the looks of approval in her parents' eyes, and their families already held each other in such high esteem and affections. If she could be certain of his heart, and if her own heart should care for him in equal measure, they would surely enjoy a bright future together, as blissful as the marriage of Alexander and Isabella.

Thomas Fitzwilliam was exceedingly pleasure with her acceptance, of course, but his joyous reaction would have been greater if he had not been so certain of her affirmative answer. To his credit, however, he made an outstanding effort to woo her - riding over from Beauchamp to Pemberley daily to see her, courting her with utmost respect and gentlemanly conduct, and charming her with his delightful sense of humor. Their appointed chaperone - usually Isabella or Miranda - was quite sympathetic, and kept a watchful but discreet distance. Thomas, however, did not abuse such trust. Not once did he attempt any improper conduct - there were no stolen kisses or furtive caresses. He seemed well satisfied to bask in pleasure of her company, and asked for very little in return.

This morning, Thomas arrived at Pemberley at the usual hour. He brought her another lovely bouquet of flowers from the greenhouses at Beauchamp, and conversed with her in the usual manner - patient and attentive, but steering warily away from controversial subjects that would bring forth agitation and disagreement between them. They seemed to share such a rapport until she noticed an unusual sense of unease and distraction about him. When she inquired of it, he brushed her question aside with an easy laugh.

"Nothing to worry your pretty head about, my sweet!" he said reassuringly as he lifted her hand to bestow a kiss upon it. "I have . . . certain business I need to take care of in London, and I shall have to leave this afternoon. I simply abhor being away from you, Lizzy, but I need to be in town for several weeks."

"Several weeks? Is it a serious matter?" she inquired with concern.

"No," he smiled, "not a serious matter, but something that requires my personal attention. Trifle business, tediously dull really, but with nagging details. I shall not bother you with it. Now, won't you play and sing for me, my sweet? An aria of romance and love that will pierce my poor heart and seize my mind, so I shall remember to return to you in full haste!"

His choice of words might seem too effusive to ring true, but she had never been courted by anyone before, and she chose not to doubt his sincerity. Her mind quickly recalled the love sonnets her brother Alexander had composed for Isabella during their separation last summer. How Isabella had clasped his letter to her heart, and cherished his every word with happy sighs. Was Alexander not equally effusive, his mind so addled with love for his darling that he could not utter plain words without adding romantic embellishments and endearments? Did she not dub her brother "The Bard of Ridgemont" that memorable afternoon at Gunter's?

Now, she herself - Elizabeth Anne Darcy - was Thomas Fitzwilliam's object of desire. To be courted by someone whom she had long admired was an incredible experience. Her heart could not help but flutter a bit harder when Thomas sat close to her, and her mind could not help but wonder what it would be like to be swept into his strong arms and be kissed ardently! Her imagination had been inspired by what she had witnessed recently. She had unwittingly caught glimpses of Alexander and Isabella - their long walks around Pemberley were often interrupted by tender kisses near tall hedgerows and clusters of large trees - and had felt both envious and curious at the sight of such connubial happiness. She blushed at such recollections. Of course, she was too bashful to discuss such thoughts with anyone else, not even with her own mother! Perhaps, someday, she would have the courage to ask Isabella or talk it over with her sister Jane.

So, she played and sang for Thomas. He listened with rapt attention, and smiled dreamily as she sang of ". . . a lady walking down the garden path . . . I shall love her until I die . . ."

At the end of the song, Thomas had surprised her by coming over to the piano, seizing her hands in his, and kneeling in front of her. Their chaperone Miranda Darcy had left the music room a few moments beforehand - a sudden headache forced her temporary retreat from her assignment - and Thomas took full advantage of the situation.

"Oh, my dear Lizzy! Won't you consent to be my wife? Say 'yes' now, I beg of you!"

She was rendered speechless for several minutes. His marriage proposal had been so sudden and unexpected.

"We have . . . well, you have just begun to court me . . . it has been merely three weeks! Please, Thomas, you cannot propose now! It is not fair!"

"Not fair? Why must you keep me waiting in such suspense?" he pleaded.

"Well . . . I have yet to fall in love with you entirely . . . and I have vowed that . . . I shall not marry except for the truest love!" she confessed with the deepest blush. She wished that she could vanish from the music room in a heartbeat, and not face him at that moment.

He neither laughed nor protested. He simply nodded his head, and said gently, "Lizzy, I am glad that you have such high ideals, and . . . you have made me feel very undeserving of you at this moment!"

She gasped at his frank words, and he smiled back winsomely, "However, I shall be a great fool to give you up! My marriage proposal stands as a valid one, but you are not require to answer me immediately. Ponder over it, Lizzy, whilst I am away, but give me an answer as soon as I return from London." He leaned over to kiss her very tenderly on her lips, and added, "A wedding in the spring would be wonderful."

He bowed and took leave of her before she could utter any words of farewell. She was in such a shock that she walked out of the music room as if in a trance, and came outdoors to seek the woods as her private sanctuary. . .

As she walked, she mulled over their first kiss, every word and every gesture of their conversation in the music room. She knew now that it was his presumptions that irked her so. He was always so sure of himself - was it extraordinary confidence, or was it simple arrogance? Generations of Fitzwilliams had been born and bred to assume their rightful place in the world, to be leaders of men and to be the bulwark of the realm. Thomas Fitzwilliam, Viscount of Ashbourne and the future Earl of Matlock, was the heir to such a proud heritage. Could she have expected a lesser man?

She wished that she knew Thomas as well as she knew her Bingley cousins. Her Aunt Georgiana and Uncle James Fitzwilliam were like her second set of parents, and she loved Andrew Fitzwilliam as her own brother. Lord Matlock's family enjoyed a cordial rapport with the Darcys, but not to the same degree of closeness and understanding.

Should she run to her parents for counsel? To sit on her beloved Papa's lap and pour her heart out to him as she always did when she was much younger? Papa was like the Rock of Gibraltar - unflinchingly protective of his family and steadfast in his abiding love. Mama was equally so. She knew that her Mama would listen, patiently and loving, and her advice would be sage and practical, as well as comforting. Truly, no one could have better parents than she did!

But how would she speak to them without dying from acute embarrassment? If not her parents, whom should she consult? Her sister Jane was always kind and attentive to her. Although they did not share as deep and close a friendship as the one she shared with Isabella, she loved and trusted Jane equally. And yet, Jane had not been herself lately. "Dear Jane," she exclaimed aloud to herself, "I should not worry you with my problems, should I? You seem so introspective lately! I should be the better sister, and inquire about your concerns instead!"

Her brother James would help her if she asked, but he was so overwrought with worries for his beloved Miranda and their unborn child that she knew she should not bother him at all.

She had always shared such perfect rapport with Alexander - her brother, friend, and indeed, her hero. Lately, however, Alexander hardly had a moment to speak to her.

He was always so busy with estate matters as well as the preparations for his obligatory Yuletide visit to Rosings. Her poor brother was probably overwhelmed by Lord Braunfield's frequent visits as well. She could hardly blame Alexander if he wished to spend all his spare moments with Isabella and their baby son. By the same reasoning, she did not wish to impose her own problems upon Isabella.

Surely, she admonished herself sternly, she was fully capable of resolving her own problems! She needed to be calm, rational and analytical - the powers of the mind over her fluttering heart! So, what questions were the most vexing for her? Was it merely Thomas Fitzwilliam's over-confident presumptions? Was she not responding to his tender courtship as she should? Was she taking too long to tumble in love with him? Or was she being foolish in welcoming his attention when she felt so immature and unprepared for serious emotional entanglements of the heart?

Such thoughts became more overwhelming as she pondered over them. All her answers seemed unsatisfactory; more doubts and questions arose instead. She heaved a deep sigh at the sight of the Great Tree near the lake. The two mighty oak trees, with their roots and branches intertwined since time immeasurable, had stood like a giant sentry on the vast estate, watching protectively over every generation of Darcys. The lowest branch of the Great Tree grew horizontally, forming a stout and wide "bench" - an open invitation to passersby who came to seek a moment of repose and contemplation beneath its generous shades.

She almost ran to the Great Tree, as if it was her old and dear friend. She sank down on the "bench" and leaned back against the tree trunk. It was truly the most serene spot at Pemberley, and she closed her eyes gratefully.

Lizzy must have dozed off for she felt greatly refreshed when she opened her eyes again. Presently, she began to read.

Engrossed in her book, she barely heard the approaching footsteps. Her keen ears could discern that for every strong step taken, there was a lighter shuffle in between. She knew the identity of the person before she looked up from her book. Lord Braunfield had been visiting Alexander almost as much as Lord Ashbourne had been seeing her!

"Good afternoon, my lord!" said Lizzy with a courteous smile. She did not wish for any company - certainly not Lord Braunfield's - but she remembered her recent resolution. She had vowed to be civil to all, to improve her manners and curb her tongue. Her brother Alexander had kindly reminded her of her more diplomatic manners, and she knew that she should reserve her more strident demeanor for political debates only.

Civility! She reminded herself sternly. The viscount was, after all, Isabella's cousin, and lately, her brother's very close friend.

"Good afternoon, Miss Darcy," said Lord Braunfield as he returned her salutation with a formal bow.

"Did you not find my brother, my lord?" she inquired, hoping that he would not stay long at the Great Tree.

"I did, but certain matters required his immediate attention, and I thought it would do me some good if I took a turn in the woods." He inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the crisp air and the serenity of his surroundings, before he conversed with her again.

"I see that you are enjoying this fine wintry weather with a bit of outdoor reading. A favorite book of yours, no doubt?"

He had caught a glimpse of its cover. It was "The Vindication of the Rights of Women" by Mary Wollstonecraft.

"I have a wide range of interests - politics, science, history, art, and music," she replied with the confidence of a scholar. "My parents have cultivated such a love of learning and reading for all their children. It only seems strange if you should find one of us without a good book in our hands!"

He nodded thoughtfully, reflecting privately that his mother deplored reading, but his father always sought the sanctuary of their family library.

He leaned against the trunk of the mighty Great Tree, gingerly taking the weight from his right leg for a much needed rest. The long walk from the Pemberley House to the lake was invigorating, but it had caused much pain to his damaged knee.

She saw the grimace on his face, and asked with genuine concern, "Are you in pain? Won't you sit down for a while?"

"Thank you, Miss Darcy," he smiled gratefully as he sat down next to her on the tree "bench." He sighed as he shook his dark head, and said, "The pain in my knee is not as severe as it used to be." He did not add that the pain was definitely not as severe as the gleeful ridicule and slights he had suffered from the ton because of his folly.

"Have you been using the herbal oil we sent you, my lord?" she inquired courteously.

"Yes, indeed! The herbal remedy has done wonders. I must thank you and Mrs. Darcy again for such kind consideration. I use the treatment twice a day, and I can take much longer walks now. I am glad of it because I sorely need the exercise - as I can no longer ride or engage in other vigorous sports."

She noted with surprise at the high degree of formality in his speech. Instead of merely "Isabella," he had referred to his cousin as "Mrs. Darcy." She wondered if such gracious manner would last!

"Walking is good for one's health," she remarked with a demure smile. "I walk two or three miles each day."

"Very admirable of you! Fresh air and sunshine must be very conducive to one's clear thinking," he complimented her with a sincere smile. "Surely, such a book requires sharp wits and an analytical mind."

The conversation that followed was conducted with mutually cordiality. They touched upon general subjects and various interests - like two polite strangers at a dinner soiree, eager to make friends and weary of becoming a foe.

Feeling a growing sense of camaraderie, they began to take on bolder and more controversial topics. They discussed, with articulated vigor, events that had swept through Europe the past year. She was pleasantly surprised to discover how informed he was on current events and political issues. She had thought that he cared for nothing beyond the latest fashion and other trivial matters.

Their debate on political matters, especially on the issue of woman suffrage, took an unfortunate turn towards a very heated argument. She held firm in her beliefs, and he was not shy in letting her know his. Since both of them were of equally stubborn and opinionated nature, neither one would concede the argument to the other.

At a certain injunction, Lizzy declared that when a willful man conceded a point to his female opponent, he generally harbored an ulterior motive behind such a concession.

"Let the female be forewarned," Lizzy spoke plainly, "for when a man wants to appease a female with certain concessions, he is often motivated by his own desire to curry favors with her! Some men can be such insipid toads!"

Lizzy had not meant her comment to be a direct criticism of her present company. She was merely speaking about her past experience, recalling various unpleasant encounters with young men whom her sister Jane had dubbed as "toads."

Believing that her remarks were barely veiled attacks upon his own character, Lord Braunfield's quick temper of old got the better of him. He had maintained an open mind throughout their heated debate, and naturally felt very offended by her harsh accusation. Before he could master his emotions, he found himself speaking rather bluntly to her.

"Miss Darcy, I have never been one to hide my feelings. Therefore, I shall speak my mind directly. My temper may have improved, and my habits more disciplined than before, but I have not turned into an insipid toad, hoping for you to cast a favorable eye in my direction!"

She was surprised by his bluntness and mistaken presumptions, but was rather pleased that he spoke with such openness. She smiled, and retorted back in a measured tone - neither sharp nor sarcastic - but unflinchingly honest.

"You have taken offense when none was intended! I have never mistaken you for an insipid toad!" She paused reflectively, and added with a mirthful glint in her eyes, "I have thought you a boar at times, my lord, but never a toad!"

"A boar?" he repeated, arching a dark brow. He felt as if he should arm himself for battle.

"Yes, a very arrogant and wild one at that!" She elaborated with a gleeful smile. She would not have poked fun at him if he did not look so indignant. It was irresistible to tease him for the duration.

Lord Braunfield's deep frown reflected his agitation. He was about to fling back a harsh retort at her when he suddenly realized that she was merely making sport of him, and did not harbor any animosity at all. He found himself staring into those bewitchingly fine eyes, and felt an incomprehensible feeling of vitality surging within him. He had never been as conscious as her as he was at that moment!

He suddenly realized that it was more than her beauty that held him in such enthrallment. The very essence of her - her honesty, her unflinching boldness to speak her mind, her compassionate heart, her determination to help the weak and the oppressed and her concern for social justice - had inspired him. He could well imagine that life with this self-assured young woman would never be a dull and placid existence, but a fascinating adventure instead. She could be a feisty, prickly handful, yet her erudite mind held him in such fascination. She was not one to take on things in half measures: challenges would be met with undaunted courage, and responsibilities would be borne with abiding devotion. She would embrace life with exuberance, and would turn sorrows into joys. When he looked into her eyes, he saw his better self.

"Good God," he muttered silently to himself, "I am tumbling headlong in love with her!"

Lizzy could not discern his thoughts beneath his stern frown. She would be stunned if she knew that she was the source of both his discomfort and inspiration.

"Well?" she demanded. "What do you have to say upon this present matter, my lord?" She flung his honorary title at him as if it was a gauntlet - a challenge for a duel. She was clearly upset. Why did he always make her lose her composure?

"Touché!" he conceded this latest duel with a lordly wave of his hand. He smiled back at her, in an unexpectedly winsome manner. "You were equally victorious at our first verbal duel during your parents' Mid-summer's Night Ball last summer. It seems that you have the advantage of me again, my dear Miss Darcy."

She was pleased, but narrowed her eyes at his irksome final words.

He seemed to have read her mind, for he added with a bemused laugh, "Ah, I have quite forgotten! I do not have the prerogative to use such possessive terms, do I?"

"No, you do not," she concurred firmly.

"I shall remember it next time," he promised gallantly. "Yet, I must confess that I have a rather difficult time dispelling the image of you with a large pink satin bow in your hair, riding a fat little Shetland pony!"

The memory of their first encounter could vividly to his mind. He had suffered a fall from his horse, and had lost sight of his cousin Henry Bingley and the Darcy boys during their furious gallop through the woods. He was alone and hurt. The youngest Darcy had been riding at a leisure pace behind them. As soon as she came upon him, she saw his miserable condition, and stopped to help him at once. The sight of blood upon his forehead had shocked her exceedingly - even slight head wounds tended to have such profuse bleeding - but she had undaunted spirit of the Darcys. With grim determination, she had made the stalwart effort to bound up his head wound with her silk kerchief. She had even sacrificed her pink bow to secure his bandages!

Whilst he was pondering over such fond reminiscence, he did not realize that his constant habit of recalling their first childhood encounter at Maywood proved to be an irritant to Lizzy.

"I should think the passage of so many years should have dimmed your memory," she countered his comments with a stern look.

"My memory remains vivid and true. It is not an everyday occurrence - to be rescue by such a resourceful and feisty seven year old chit!" He chuckled in merriment, as if he was determined to prolong this present conversation at all cost, even at the risk of provoking her anger further. Perhaps he was motivated by how her eyes shone with such defiant fire whenever she was upset at him.

"Well, if your memory proves so admirable, my lord, then you must also recall how exceedingly agreeable you were then?"

"Am I not exceedingly agreeable presently?" he inquired with a board grin. "I have yet to lose my temper, despite of your repeated provocations, Miss Darcy. I must admit that my temper can be quite vile at times, but I have endeavored to keep it in check thus far. I should receive a reward - a commendation of sorts."

She met his gaze, and knew that she had been the disagreeable one throughout their present encounter. Everyone in her family had agreed that Lord Braunfield had undergone quite a transformation, turning over a remarkable new leaf. Why was she the lone person who could not tolerate his company with equanimity?

"No, you can be very insufferable! And we do clash whenever we meet," she admitted truthfully. "You seem to bring out the worst in my nature, because I am very amiable to family and friends. I generally prefer peace over strife."

"So I have been told," he replied with a rueful shook of his dark head. "Perhaps it is your propensity to misjudge me?"

"Misjudge you? Your past history still haunts you! I cannot be certain of your character or honor!"

"So you believe that my self-imposed challenge to reform myself is merely a clever act? That nothing of substances and essentials have been improved upon or change for the better these many months?"

"I do not know you well enough to make such a judgment, my lord."

"But you are unwilling to grant me any measure of grace!"

She remained silent, and refused to answer him. He stared at her for several minutes, and finally asked, his voice low and soft, "Why?"

Not only did she maintain her stoic silence, she now refused to meet his intense gaze.

He leaned closer to her, reached out, and allowed himself the liberty to touch her face. He lifted her chin with his forefinger so he could look directly into her eyes.

"Why?" he asked again, his deep voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "What are you afraid of, Elizabeth?"

It was the first time he had ever addressed her by her Christian name, and he had uttered it as gently as a lover's caress.

The silence that followed his simple question seemed like ages. She did not turn away from him this time, but held his gaze steadily. In his eyes, she saw none of the arrogance of old. She saw only warmth and sincerity. He was waiting ever so patiently for her answer. She knew she had to tell him the truth - a truth she did not realize until this very moment.

"Of you," she murmured almost inaudibly.

He looked as if he did not hear her, so she had to repeat herself.

"I . . . I am afraid of you . . . William," she whispered in a trembling voice.

He stared at her in absolute stillness. By her simple confession, both of them realized that their lives had been inexplicably changed.

With agonizing slowness, he leaned down to kiss her, cupping her chin in one hand whilst the other hand cradled her head with infinite tenderness. He gave her ample time to pull away from him, to stop the inevitable moment by her own will.

But she did not stop him! She neither moved nor brushed his hands away. She allowed his lips to brush ever so gently against hers. He kissed her thus, his lips soft and undemanding, as if he was afraid to shatter the exquisite moment with any sudden movements.

He smiled at her reassuringly as he lifted his head away from hers.

"As you see, I am not such a wild boar after all! You have no cause to be afraid of me, Elizabeth!"

She looked at him with bewilderment in her eyes, and she did not answer him.

"Elizabeth? Lizzy?"

"I did not expect such a . . . gentlemanly . . . kiss," she said at last.

He laughed - a deep and hearty laugh that he rarely had the occasion to enjoy. He pulled her gently but firmly into his arms, buried his face in her hair to inhale her sweet fragrance, and confessed aloud to her, "You are far too precious, Elizabeth. Even though I am a boar, I dare not treat you with anything less than my utmost respect!"

"So . . . do I truly inspire such gentlemanly sentiments?" she asked directly, without any feminine artifice. She was not being coy or deliberate. She merely wanted him to be honest with her. She could not explain it to herself, but she realized that he intrigued her exceedingly.

"Oh, my dear Lizzy!" he groaned in protest. "Your very innocence can exact such acute torture!"

He looked at her intensely for a long moment, and gathered her closer into his arms as he brushed his lips tenderly against hers once again. There was a moment of hesitation before she felt the bewildering sensation of being swept away by a tidal wave - her world spun as he finally captured her mouth in an ardent kiss.

Her senses took command over her rational thoughts. She felt such a surge of happiness bubbling up within her, felt the unexpected pleasure of his gentle caresses, and was pleased to find that being kissed thusly was as exhilarating as she had imagined it to be!

Such a kiss could barely hide the ferocious emotions that threatened to overpower him at any moment. An innocent she might be, but she could comprehend the passions that were raging within him. In the swirl of confused emotions, she moved her hands to repel him, but found that they had a will of their own! As her hands reached around his neck, she found herself leaning into him, returning his kisses with equal fervor.

When they finally drew apart, they were both breathless. Elizabeth remained in his embrace until he drew back slightly in order to look at her.

Immediately, he saw the look of apprehension in her eyes, the questions and doubts that she would surely voice. He had not spoken any words of love, but he was fully prepared to do so. He knew of Lord Ashbourne's courtship of her, of course, but she was not yet betrothed. No serious impediment stood in his way if he declared himself now. He would be a great fool to wait any longer.

"Elizabeth," he began, "I know I am undeserving of you, but please allow me to tell you how deeply I admire you! I know that you cannot bear to look upon me without the feelings of disdain or pity, but I humbly offer you my . . ."

She placed her hand urgently upon his month to stop his words.

"William! No, please don't!"

He heeded her plead immediately, and waited for her to speak.

"I . . . I know I have allowed . . . your kisses, my lord, but . . . well, I shouldn't have . . ." she murmured, blushing with acute embarrassment. He noted her formal address of him, and knew instantly that she was giving him a clear indication of her present state of mind. Rationality had reclaimed its rule over raw emotions. She had yielded to his kisses, out of curiosity and irresistible attraction, but her heart was not so easily engaged.

"I should not have behaved like a wanton! I knew not what happened . . .when you . . . held me so closely!" She looked at him with pleading eyes, trusting him to understand, hoping that he could comprehend her confusion, and would not force any imposition upon her.

He looked at her in silence, calming her with the tender concern in his eyes.

"Elizabeth . . ."

"William . . ."

They both spoke at once, and paused at the same moment to allow the other the courtesy to speak first. He gestured for her to take precedence over him.

"I . . . I have never been kissed in such a manner before! I . . . I was quite agitated - by our heated conversation and by my own prior contemplation . . . and I became overwhelmed by my own curiosity! You were so . . . unexpectedly tender . . . and I could not resist . . . Oh, God forgive me! I am not a wanton! Many have begged for a kiss, but I have steadfastly refused them all! . . . A kiss of such intimacy ought to . . . well, you may think me childish, but . . . it ought to seal a troth of the heart. Thomas has yet to kiss me in such a way. . . Oh! Please, William! I can't . . . you can't . . . oh, what have I done? I have betrayed Thomas!"

Lizzy felt utterly helpless. She buried her face in her hands, and seemed quite incapable of coherent thought.

Lord Braunfield was fought against his longing to draw her back into his arms, and to kiss away her anxiety and confusion. Yet, he knew instinctively that a deeper embrace would frighten her instead. For the first time in his life, he placed the needs and feelings of someone else before his own! He took a deep breath, and took a firm grip upon his own feelings.

"I am sorry for creating such an awkward dilemma for you, Elizabeth," he said with compassionate understanding. "I did not mean you any harm, and we have not done anything that may impute your honor. Ashbourne is your suitor, not your betrothed! There is no betrayal, and you should not feel such guilt."

"I do! I do feel it! How can I hope to love someone deeply and completely if I cannot resist you!"

The implication of her words was a hard blow, but he managed an even tone when he asked, "Forgive my rude presumptions. Do you love Ashbourne in such a way already?"

She could have refused him the answer, for it was certainly not a matter of his concern. Yet, she felt rather ridiculous after she had shared such intimate kisses with him. She was equally responsible for what had transpired between them, and she owed him an honest answer.

"I am very fond of Thomas. He is noble and kind, and I do not see why I should not love him as I should!"

He smiled ruefully at her, and added, "You are, indeed, far too precious to be in an entanglement with someone like me! By comparison to someone like Lord Ashbourne, you must think of me as the worst of men!"

She could debate him on such matters, but her mind was too filled with conflicting thoughts. She only knew that she needed to be away from him in order to think clearly.

"Please forgive me, William," she said at last, in full earnest. "I truly cannot comprehend what has prompted my lack of discipline, my deplorable lapse of judgment!"

"We all make mistakes, Elizabeth," he smiled with compassion. "Which of us is perfect?"

"I am very grateful for your kind consideration," she said earnestly.

He did not trust himself to speak to her anymore. If he had regrets before, he did not feel the full impact of his remorse until this moment. He clasped her hand, and held it very briefly over his heart before he brought it to his lips for a light kiss.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he released her hand from his grasp. He felt as if he had let the most precious treasure slipped out of his fingers. He stood up from the tree bench to take his leave of her. The pain in his knee was nothing compared to the searing heat in his heart.

"William? Lord Braunfield?" She was about to seek a promise from him when he read her mind.

"Fear not, Elizabeth! This has been a sweet interlude - a memory that I shall always cherish. Please rest assured of my secrecy, for I shall never divulged it to another. I can promise you that!"

"Thank you," she murmured. "I am beholden to you, my lord."

He nodded thoughtfully, and said, "Beholden? No, I do not wish it. And now, I must take leave of you, Miss Darcy. I wager that is your urgent wish this moment."

Fortunately for her, it was on such an amicable note that he took leave of her, and limped away slowly.

Chapter 7

Posted on Friday, 18 February 2005

Lord Braunfield was tempted to leave Pemberley immediately, but he could not do so - his parents and the Bingleys would be arriving shortly for the dinner soiree.

Elizabeth! He murmured her name softly to himself, relishing the loveliness of its sound, and the exhilaration he felt when he was in her presence. He knew that the mere use of her Christian name, even in his private thoughts, implied a proprietary claim to her affections, nay to her heart. After those exquisitely bittersweet moments under the Great Tree, however, he could no longer think of her as merely Miss Darcy!

He had held many beauties in his arms before, but none had ignited such a myriad of feelings in his heart as Elizabeth Darcy. Until that unforgettable moment of their very first kiss, he had never put the concerns of someone else before his own selfish needs. Never before in his life had he ever desired to do anything without considering his reward in return. Even the splendid Isabella Bingley had been like a prize to him - he selfishly saw her as someone who would bring honor and credit to his family, and happiness to his life.

When he was with Elizabeth, he felt more than the bestial desires he had experienced with mistresses of his past. It was something far greater than the possessive longings and admiration that he had ever felt for Isabella. His grand passions for Elizabeth were compounded by an overpowering sense of protective tenderness towards her, a fervent wish to discover her dreams and fears, and a desire to do everything within his power to make her happy.

Unknowingly and unintentionally, Elizabeth caused him to see reality with unprecedented clarity. Self-recrimination, fatherly sermons, and painful wounds had resulted in his improvement of manners and adaptation of disciplined habits, but such commendable efforts were not enough to make him worthy of her. He now realized that he needed to improve his mind, to examine his moral beliefs, and to take up his mettle of responsibilities.

If he wished to gain Elizabeth's esteem and win her heart, he had a great challenge before him - his main rival was not Lord Ashbourne, but himself!

Lizzy Darcy's mind was in dire turmoil. The interlude under the Great Tree was both a fantastical dream and a nightmare!

All her encounters with Lord Braunfield had been contentious and annoying. At best, they were barely civil to each other. Most often, he seemed to take delight in provoking her anger with his nonchalant manner and teasing words. Everyone else could endure the reformed viscount's company with equanimity - she was the lone person who could not strike a harmonious chord with him.

If she did not like him, what had prompted her to allow his kisses?

She could not attribute any magical or romantic overtures that induced her lapse of judgment. One moment she was trading barbed words with him, the next moment she was speaking freely to him, and was allowing him to see the vulnerable side of her that she hid so well from the rest of the world. Did his gentleness, so unexpected but genuine, come as such a surprise that it overcame her iron will? Did her youthful innocence and curiosity get the better of her, thus prompting her to experience kisses from a man with a reputation for seduction and artful flirtation?

Her rational mind rebelled at such possibilities.

And yet . . .

There was something about William Warring - a certain look in his dark eyes whenever their eyes met - that gave her pause for thought. Perhaps, despite all contrary appearances, all misunderstandings - stemming from her propensity to misjudge him and from his dissolute past - there was a vibrant and intriguing force that drew them together. Were they kindred spirits yet to be connected? Or did her attraction to him stem solely from pity? Did his challenge of penance and betterment - as he tried to redeem himself from his past - touch her heart? Or did she look upon him with the same compassion as she would with an abandoned child at an orphanage?

Above all, the most puzzling question begged for a reasonable and logical answer - why was she afraid of William?

Lizzy could not find any ready answers to her questions. She was far too embarrassed to confide in her beloved mother. She knew, however, that she needed to seek advice and comfort of someone dear.

She hurried back to the great house of Pemberley, in hopes of finding her best friend Isabella.

Isabella Darcy was rocking her baby in her arms, lulling him to sleep as she hummed a sweet melody. Her devoted husband sat beside her on their comfortable settee, with his left arm lovingly and protectively around her back, and his right hand caressing the soft, downy dark curls of their son's hair. He leaned down to kiss the baby tenderly before he turned to his darling wife, giving her his full attention as he showered light kisses upon her brow and cheek.

"Alexander!" she smiled, but pleaded in a whisper, "Do stop!"

"Why, my darling?" he murmured against her neck. "Since I cannot begrudge our son for wanting to sleep in your arms, I shall have to share you with him presently. This is the best I can do under these circumstances!"

She paused in her song, and looked at her husband with grave concern. "Have I been neglecting you, my love?"

His left arm tightened its hold upon her as he chuckled softly, "No, nothing to signify! After having you solely to myself throughout those long months of our Bridal Tour, it is still quite an adjustment for me to learn to share your attention with family and friends, and of course, with our little Alex since July."

She kissed him lovingly, and leaned closer into him. "These moments, my dearest, are more precious than anything else in the world!"

His heart overflowed with happiness so that he could hardly speak. He nodded in full agreement, and returned her kiss. He brushed his lips against hers, soft and undemanding, so as not to cause any sudden movements to awaken their son.

"Yes, this is bliss itself!" he murmured in confirmation. "I love you so utterly and completely!"

"As I love you!" she replied, her vivid blue eyes shone with such luster.

So enthralled with each other, and with their infant son, they did not hear the soft knock on the door of their bedchamber.

"Bella?" The clear voice of Lizzy Darcy could be heard outside. Alexander got up reluctantly to answer the door. He felt an instant emptiness when he moved away from his wife and child. He shook his head, and wondered afresh how he had lived before he was married! He murmured a quick prayer of thanksgiving, rejoicing in the wonderment of all the blessings in his life.

"Oh, Alexander!" exclaimed Lizzy. "May I see Bella?" She lowered her voice immediately when she realized that her sister-in-law was rocking little Alex to sleep.

"I shall return later," whispered Lizzy, but her brother stopped her retreat.

"Is something amiss?" he asked her immediately, his protective instinct alerted by the unusual look of agitation in his youngest sister's eyes.

"No, not really," she replied in a measured tone. "I merely wish to talk to Bella."

"Lizzy," admonished her brother in a low voice, "you forget how I can literally read your mind! Something is troubling you!" He reached out to touch her face briefly, and said, "You have been crying as well! Come in, Lizzy! You and Bella may talk to your hearts' content. My son sleeps very soundly - through all sorts of noise and commotion - as long as he remains in his mother's loving arms."

"A very wise choice of safe haven for sleep," smiled Lizzy.

"Yes," Alexander chuckled, "it is paradise itself!" He turned to look back at his wife for a moment - ruefully wishing that he was in those arms himself - before he took leave of them. Lizzy bore witness to the tender moment - she could clearly discern the familiar looks, so similar to the ones that their parents shared - and she felt as if she had intruded upon the very intimate moments between a husband and his wife. She averted her eyes as she stepped into the bedchamber.

"Come, Lizzy! Come and sit by me. We can talk freely because little Alex does sleep very soundly," invited Isabella graciously.

Lizzy sat on the spot where her brother had just vacated. She leaned down to kiss the sleeping infant - marveling again at how striking the resemblance was between father and son. Dark hair, noble brow and such handsome features - little Alex was the very image of his father. Only when the child was awake could one see those vivid blue eyes, which were definitely his mother's own.

"Well?" asked Isabella directly. There was no need for polite niceties when such deep bonds of friendship existed.

Lizzy immediately poured her heart out to Isabella, sparing no excuses and omitting no details except for the kisses. She quoted much of her conversation with Lord Braunfield in verbatim, and voiced all the puzzling questions she had asked of herself!

Instead of answering Lizzy's long list of questions or deciphering Lord Braunfield's primary motivations, Isabella proposed more questions instead. She sensed that Lizzy might harbor certain feelings for Lord Braunfield, even though Lord Ashbourne, as her suitor, was obviously the man who occupied her thoughts most of the time. It was indeed a very complicated matter that required a better frame of mind for understanding.

"Despite his dissolute past, the reformed Lord Braunfield is not entirely without merits or talents. Don't you agree, Lizzy?"

"Well, he is a very handsome young man with a commanding presence, but there are many men equally so in our family circle - my own brothers, your brother Henry, Lord Ashbourne, and Andrew Fitzwilliam! Whilst I appreciate good looks, I do not put so much stock upon a person's physical attributes. A man with a sincere heart and reverent soul is infinitely more attractive to me. Anthony Knightley, for example, considered to be plain-looking by the ton's standard, is such a man. I think him very dashing indeed! Your sister Margaret is a very fortunate woman!"

"Ergo, if William has a noble soul and sterling character, his crippled knee will not matter to you?" said Isabella with increasing interest.

"No, it won't," answered Lizzy without hesitation. "But, despite all his recent improvements, are there truly substantial merits in Lord Braunfield? Did you not proclaim that he was not a man who would improve upon closer acquaintance?"

"I did proclaim so - and it was a valid assessment then. But I do believe my cousin William has changed - like night and day - since his near-death experience."

"So he claims," said Lizzy with a dismissing wave.

"Lizzy! I think you are being deliberately unfair in this. William has changed for the better."

"Well, perhaps he has . . . I can discern certain improvements in his lordship's manners and words," conceded Lizzy, careful to maintain the formality of address for the viscount. It would only complicate matters if she thought of him in familiar terms.

"His lordship?" repeated Isabella with an understanding smile. "After such candid discourse with him, you are determined to keep your acquaintance on a very formal basis."

"Under the present circumstances, it seems to be the most prudent choice. I have but a nodding acquaintance with William - er, Lord Braunfield - and I cannot make an accurate assessment of him."

"It is obvious that William has a keen mind. He has acquired an excellent classical education at Cambridge . . ."

"Despite the time his lordship spent away from his books whilst he indulged in sports as well as drinking, carousing and womanizing?" remarked Lizzy in mocking jest.

"William has been in our frequent company these recent weeks. Alexander speaks highly of him, and is particularly impressed with his quick grasp of knowledge once he applies himself to master a subject. On occasion, William has even admitted to ignorance in certain matters and has openly sought the opinions and advice from others as well."

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Lizzy.

"Nor did I when Alexander first informed me or when my brother Henry confirmed it. William has even approached me for advice! I did not think he would listen to a female's words, but he did!"

"Well, Lord Braunfield's dissolute habits are well known! All the ton knows of his exploits, his mistresses, and his frivolous ways!" said Lizzy, determined to remind herself of his many faults. "Thomas Fitzwilliam is a saint by comparison!"

"By all accounts, however, William has been leading an exemplary life since his entanglement with Lady Lexington," remarked Isabella. "He confesses to your brother that it is quite a daunting task to lead a life with no irreligious or immoral habits, and thus far, he has been successful."

"Will such a transformation be lasting?" wondered Lizzy aloud.

"I have never known you to be so critical of someone, Lizzy," remarked Isabella thoughtfully. "Even Lady Catherine de Bourgh receives very kind words from you!"

"Oh, Bella! I do not know why I am so critical of Lord Braunfield. Perhaps, I do see some merits in him, and I am upset that he does not apply himself to reach the full potentials of his God-given talents!"

"Self-reformation is a difficult challenge, Lizzy, especially for someone so wild and spoiled before," said Isabella with a sagacity beyond her years, "but do you not agree that it is our flaws and faults that make us so wonderfully human?"

"My brother Alexander is a paragon," declared Lizzy, sensing that their present conversation was heading too much in Lord Braunfield's favor.

"Dear Lizzy," protested Isabella with a laugh, "this is too much hero-worshipping for him! Your brother has many flaws too - admittedly minor ones. Otherwise I would not love him as much as I do - and vice versa, I am certain!"

Lizzy allowed the meaning of Isabella's words to sink in. She finally approached the heart of her dilemma. "Lord Braunfield asked me if I was afraid of him! I did not know why - but I was!" She hesitated to confess to their kisses as well. She had demanded complete secrecy from Lord Braunfield, and he had given her his word of honor. She felt honor bound to keep the secret as well.

Isabella Darcy, however, was a young woman endowed with a tremendous sense of empathy and wisdom. She could discern what thoughts were left unspoken by her best friend.

"He kissed you?" she inquired softly.

"Yes! And I allowed him," confessed Lizzy in obvious agitation. "Please, Bella! Don't tell anyone else!"

"You have my word," promised Isabella solemnly.

"If you must tell Alexander, I will consent to it," added Lizzy. "I know you have no secrets from your husband, and I can trust my brother without any fear."

Isabella nodded, and asked after a thoughtful moment, "Lizzy, why are you afraid of William?"

"I don't know!" replied Lizzy in agitation.

"Are you afraid of trusting him and finding out later that he has remained an unrepentant sinner?"

"Perhaps! Oh, I don't know!"

"Are you afraid that your verbal duels will never lead to a better understanding of each other or to the creation of a deeper friendship? Are you afraid that your wars of words are indicative of your incompatibility with each other? That a perpetual schism will exist between you?"

"Perhaps! Very likely reasons! Oh, Bella, what have I done? I should be thinking about my cousin Thomas! I have given him my formal consent to his courtship, and with it, an implied understanding for a mutual pledge of our hearts. Why have I allowed Lord Braunfield such liberties?"

"My dear Lizzy, I have one last question - the most fundamental one! Are you afraid of tumbling into love with William and finding out that he cannot, or will not, requite your love with the deepest and most abiding love in return?"

"I cannot answer such a question - not even in regard to Lord Ashbourne!" declared Lizzy. The pieces of the puzzle in her mind were falling very slowly - too slowly - into place.

Isabella smiled in compassionate understanding, and added, "That last question was the most difficult one for me to answer as well! I speak from my own experience, Lizzy. When your brother James made repeated proposals of marriage to me, I could not answer him. I adored James, but I was not certain that we shared such a love. When there were many worthy suitors, I became too overwhelmed and placed myself 'on the shelf.' Even when your brother Alexander declared his love to me in so many ways except in actual words, I fought very hard against my irresistible attraction to him! I was afraid that such breathtaking attraction was merely a physical one, stemming from our ardent first kiss under the Great Tree. I was afraid of Alexander because I was not sure of his true intentions, or of his heart - especially when he had deliberately created such a callous image of himself in his valiant sacrifice to clear the field for James to win me."

"Bella, do you believe that it may be the same for me? That in my situation, Lord Ashbourne is like James, and Lord Braunfield may well turn out to be like Alexander?"

"I don't know, Lizzy! I regret that I cannot give you better advice! I have no intentions of swaying your affections towards my cousin William with all my questions - I merely want you to clear your mind and heart of biased thoughts and prejudices. When I confessed my own emotional dilemma to your mother, her advice to me was to listen to my own heart."

"But I cannot hear my own heart! And my mind is so befuddled now!" exclaimed Lizzy. "There is so much confusion and conflicting emotions! I like Thomas Fitzwilliam very much, and I do not want Lord Braunfield to drive such a diversion into my mind!"

"Or more likely, into your heart?" said Isabella gently. "If he has not already done so?"

"Yes... No!" muttered Lizzy in distress.

"My dearest Lizzy," said Isabella as she grasped her hand reassuringly, "take your own time. It may take months, perhaps even a year or more for you to sort things out! The answer may come to you when you least expect it to, in the quietest moment, and in the most unlikely place. Surely there is no urgency to resolve such matters immediately? You are but twenty!"

"Thomas Fitzwilliam proposed marriage to me before his departure for London," said Lizzy softly.

"He did?" Isabella frowned in amazement. "I wonder why? Oh, Lizzy, do not mistake me for wondering why Lord Ashbourne should propose marriage to you! Any man of sense and worth should be falling in love with you and proposing marriage! My puzzlement concerns the urgency of his proposal. Why did he not propose to you after his return from Town? I should speak to Alexander. Perhaps he would know?"

"Whatever Thomas's motivations may be, he has proposed! I . . . well, I cannot give him a ready answer! I must confess that I am more than half in love with him, but I . . . oh, Bella, what should I do?"

"It is your prerogative to ponder carefully, and you need not answer him until you are certain," advised Isabella. "If he truly loves you, he will wait. Even after our formal engagement, your brother offered to delay our wedding if I should have wished to pursue my own dreams first."

"Well, we both know that there is no one like Alexander, not even dear James!" declared Lizzy.

Isabella laughed, "I confess that I shall not argue with you on such a subject. But, Lizzy, you must not despair of finding your own true love! I firmly believe that God has made someone special for each of us."

"Perhaps my special one is neither Lord Ashbourne nor Lord Braunfield!" Lizzy heaved a deep sigh, "Explain to me, my dearest Bella! What are the signs of true love? Surely, it must be more than exhilarating kisses and fluttering of hearts! It must be more than physical attraction!"

"That splendid moment of revelation? That pivotal moment when your hearts and minds meet in such well-matched harmony?"

"Yes! Yes! Tell me, when did your moment of revelation come in regard to Alexander?" begged Lizzy.

"Some seven months after our first kiss," confessed Isabella. "Indeed, there were several such moments - at Ridgemont and at the Biddle's Inn. They were like a slow sequence of individually exquisite moments, one building upon the other. I did not realize that I was in love with him until I was in the middle of it!"

"But, in the end, you knew for sure?"

"Yes, we both knew. We saw our love so plainly in each other's eyes. There was no need for words."

Lizzy heaved a heavy sigh. "I pray that my moment of revelation would be like yours!"

"Patience, Lizzy!"

"You are right. When Thomas returns from London, I shall tell him to wait patiently!" stated Lizzy with a determined look.

"And Lord Braunfield?"

"I shall be more accommodating towards his lordship," said Lizzy. "I do owe him a certain debt."

"Debt?"

"He has given me a standard to evaluate my future kisses with Thomas," laughed Lizzy mischievously.

"Oh, Lizzy! You can be so incorrigible sometimes!" said Isabella in a mock reproach. "Beware of being a tease and a flirt!"

"I shall try!" promised Lizzy contritely. "Or I shall earn a stern lecture from our Aunt Mary!"

Lizzy's spirits rose again after such a firm resolution. With a cheerful tone, she asked, "Have you read the latest proposals for child labor laws reforms and Mr. Charles Dickens's newest work?"

"No. Do tell me!" Isabella urged with enthusiasm.

Lizzy settled in more comfortably, and began another serious discussion of a vastly different nature.

Shortly afterwards, they joined their family party and guests for the dinner soiree. By the goodwill and lively conversations that followed, it was judged by all to be a successful evening.

Lizzy Darcy was relieved that Lord Braunfield had kept his promise. He was cordiality itself, and did not give any indication that anything of an intimate nature had passed between them earlier that afternoon. He was attentive to all the ladies present, and did not single her out for any special treatment.

However, nothing much escaped the notice of Alexander Darcy. His alert eyes and keen mind led him to an amazing discovery. Despite all of William's valiant efforts to appear as nonchalantly as he could, he was inextricably drawn to Lizzy. When he stood across the room, he gave her discreet but frequent looks. When he was near her, he could not stop himself from lingering in her bewitching presence. Alexander recognized such subtle gestures quite easily. Did he not admire his darling Isabella in such similar ways before she requited his love at last? He shared a look with his wife, and knew instantly that Lizzy had confided a vital secret with Isabella. He was not of a meddlesome nature, and trusted that his wife and sister would seek his advice or aid if they deemed it urgent.

Mr. Darcy was gifted with the same observant eye, and the instinct of a loving and protective father. He could also discern the peculiar looks that young Braunfield tried so hard to hide. His daughter Lizzy, however, did not seem to reciprocate such attention. He decided that Braunfield's warm admiration was a one-sided affair, and that Lizzy was not in any danger of tumbling into love with the viscount whilst her affections were already engaged by Thomas Fitzwilliam.

Even so, Mr. Darcy felt he should discuss the matter with his darling wife later that night.

Chapter 8

Posted on Tuesday, 22 February 2005

Shortly after their return to Maywood, Lord Braunfield requested an urgent interview with his father in Mr. Bingley's library.

"Father, will you enlighten me on a certain matter?"

"Of course, William," smiled Lord Paxton at his son. "Whatever is troubling you?"

Lord Braunfield cleared his throat, and wondered how he should approach such a subject. "Sir, for some time now, I have been rather intrigued by my Mother's behavior towards the Darcys. Tonight's dinner soiree at Pemberley added to my curiosity. Mother is exceedingly gracious towards the Darcy men, but she seems to harbor a severe dislike towards the women of the family, with the exception of Mr. Darcy's sister. I can imagine a personal dispute - perhaps one from many years ago - that might have made Mrs. Darcy the foe of my Mother, but I cannot find any rational justification for Mother's disapproval of the daughters as well."

Lord Paxton took a long swallow of his Cognac before he responded. His aged face took on a philosophical look as he said, "Have you ever wondered why your mother married me?"

"For your wealth and title?" replied William without trepidation. "Oh, I do see spousal devotion, sir, but it is solely on your part."

"Very perceptible of you, son," admitted Lord Paxton ruefully. "Mine is a love unrequited."

William stared at his father for a thoughtful moment, and plunged into the heart of his question. "Was there any . . . particular attachment between Mr. Darcy and my Mother? I know that Mr. Darcy and Uncle Charles have been friends since their Cambridge days."

"I believe that your mother was very taken with Mr. Darcy since their first meeting, and her infatuation seems to have continued unabated. As far as I can discern, however, such sentiments have never been requited by Mr. Darcy - his conduct towards her has been exemplary these many years."

At that moment, Mr. Bingley came into the library to join them for a nightcap.

"Ah, my dear brother! Surely, you are the right man to clarify matters!" Lord Paxton related his son's questions, and waited placidly for his brother-in-law to respond.

"By George, this is awkward!" Mr. Bingley hesitated for a moment before he continued, "When I first met Darcy, I knew I had found the most worthy friend, as well as a man to whom I could trust my younger sister. My naïve reasoning proved wrong, for it was apparent from the first that Darcy only tolerated Caroline's company because of his firm friendship with me. Caroline, of course, thought otherwise. She imagined herself superior to all other women of his acquaintance. Indeed, I fear that she has been making a nuisance of herself in regard to Darcy throughout these years. She is still fawning over him when her tender affections should belong entirely to you, Arthur. You are far too noble and patient to endure my sister's fierce temper and her lack of devotion! You deserve far better."

Lord Paxton smiled good-naturedly, "Rest easy, Charles. I have gained a good son and a fine brother through my marriage, and for these blessings I am very grateful."

"Did Mr. Darcy requite my Mother's affections - prior to his fateful visit to Hertfordshire where he met his future wife?" asked William with a worried frown.

"No," replied Mr. Bingley firmly, "not to my knowledge. I know that Caroline schemed and plotted with our oldest sister Louisa to snare Darcy into the parson's trap, but to no avail. They also tried matchmaking between Georgiana Darcy and me, hoping that one successful union would lead to another! Their efforts proved futile as Miss Darcy and I held each other in such brotherly and sisterly affections with no thoughts beyond. I am exceedingly glad that she has found such connubial happiness with Sir James Fitzwilliam!"

The Warrings, father and son, remained in silence as Mr. Bingley continued his revelations. "I can readily recall how my sisters tried to delay our journey into Derbyshire one particular summer. They insisted upon making overnight stops at every carriage inn, with Caroline claiming one illness or another to solicit Darcy's attention. He finally grew so impatient with her that he rode ahead of our party. Indeed, it turned out to be one of the most fortunate twists of fate - for Miss Elizabeth Bennet was touring Pemberley with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner upon his unexpected early arrival! A chance meeting between Darcy and his beloved Elizabeth that resulted in a renewal of friendship which led them to the holy altar several months later!"

"This is an incredible tale, Uncle Charles! My Mother must see how well-matched the Darcys are, yet she has begrudged Mrs. Darcy so bitterly these many years!"

"I must interject my own observation here," said Lord Paxton earnestly. "Mr. Darcy could not have married a better wife!"

"An observation which you are rather fond of saying in front of Mother," remarked William with comprehension at last. "The truth of it fuels her anger, and increases her vehemence towards the daughters as well - for they both bear such a striking resemblance of their mother."

"Young Lizzy in particular," added Mr. Bingley. He glanced at his nephew and saw the forlorn look on his handsome face. He asked in fatherly concern, "You are very taken with Lizzy Darcy, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," admitted William, "but as you well know, from her vast field of suitors, she has granted Thomas Fitzwilliam the privilege to woo her." After a long moment, he added grimly, "Ashbourne is very likely to win her hand in marriage."

Mr. Bingley nodded solemnly, "Indeed, my dear nephew, I must mince no words with you in a matter of such grave concern. My brother Darcy may welcome you as a family friend, but not as Lizzy's suitor. Your chances of courting her, if not impossible, are exceedingly slim indeed!"

William sat in gloomy silence as the full meaning of his uncle's words sank in. Even if the field was cleared of Ashbourne and his likes, or by some miracle that he could win Elizabeth's heart, her esteemed father would never grant his blessings. If the Darcys could overlook his past sins, would they willingly allow their beloved daughter to have Lady Paxton as a mother? If he felt disappointment before, he did not feel the full impact of its pain until this moment. Indeed, it was a hopeless situation.

"Arthur! William!" came the shrill voice of Lady Paxton. The very sound of it was enough to grate upon their nerves. She came steaming through the doors of the library, with a whirlwind that would frighten lesser mortals.

"And Charles too! I should have known that all three of you would be hiding in this dusty and moldy room for a late chat!" said her ladyship with an edge of disdain in her voice. "Arthur, you must sign these extra bank drafts for me in case of unforeseeable circumstances! The Parisian banks always put up such a fuss when I draw on your account - our account - there!"

"You are correct in the first summation, my dear. All my overseas accounts are solely in my name," replied Lord Paxton patiently. "Are you not content with your usual allowance? I believe that I am more than generous with you."

Indeed, he was. By the ton's liberal standards, Lord Paxton was the most indulgent husband, and was considered an old fool for such folly.

"I intend to stay in Paris much longer this time," replied Lady Paxton. "Since William is making his inspection tour of our estates, I shall need to make up for the loss of his company. I have invited more guests, and the Hursts are bringing their friends as well."

Good riddance! thought Lord Paxton with an inward smile.

"Well, Arthur?" demanded Lady Paxton impatiently. "I shall be hostess to a very large party, and Paris is notoriously expensive!"

"My dear Caroline," replied her husband patiently but firmly, "you must learn to be more disciplined in your household management. Our son's inheritance must not be squandered away by frivolous whims or excessive indulgences."

Lady Paxton could threaten her aged husband with a vengeance, but he held the power of the purse strings. She regained enough of her haughty composure before she said, "Very well, Arthur! Go back to Rockhurst and sulk in that palatial mausoleum of yours! You are too much in your dotage to enjoy life!"

"I am enjoying life very pleasantly, madam," retorted Lord Paxton. "Your brother Charles has graciously extended his annual invitation for us to stay here at Maywood for the duration of the winter season. I have already accepted, and on William's behalf as well!"

Lady Paxton glared at her husband, but directed her anger at her son. "Pemberley is a stone's throw away, and I have no doubt of your particular intentions! You are determined to be defiant, aren't you, William? I've expressively forbade you to court a Darcy daughter, but you remain willful! Do not think your mother blind, William! I have noticed how amiable you are to Mrs. Darcy lately!"

"Mrs. Darcy is always gracious to all her guests, and I do well but reciprocate the courtesy. I must admit, however, that it is exceedingly pleasant to speak with such an accomplished lady, and I always look forward to it."

"Accomplished?" protested Lady Paxton. "Mrs. Darcy is from a family which . . ."

"Mother," interrupted her son urgently, "I think you should refrain from the utterance of any insults which may well offend my Aunt Jane as well."

'I am merely reminding you of your obligations to your noble name," replied Lady Paxton indignantly. She did not wish to offend her brother, and knew that his affability might not be limitless if she should insult his wife. "A future earl should make a more exulted match!"

"The Darcy family is of the first circle," stated Lord Paxton calmly. "It would indeed be a grand honor for our son if he could secure such a match."

"And I shall be a dutiful son," said Lord Braunfield as he bowed very politely, and bid everyone a courteous "goodnight." He did not wish to rehash his prior argument with his mother.

Lady Paxton turned to her husband, and demanded, "Must you sit there, and not lift a finger to prevent our son from such folly?" Indeed, her aged husband was being complacent with the situation, and her brother Charles, ever so annoyingly cheerful, was smiling broadly at her. She knew that she had lost her audience, and with a final glare, she turned and stormed out of the library. . .

Mrs. Darcy found her husband in a contemplative mood. He was staring at the blank page of his personal journal, and had yet to make his nightly entry.

"Will?" she said softly as she put her arms around his broad shoulders, and kissed his graying hair.

"Oh, I did not hear you come in," he smiled as he reached to pull her onto his lap.

She saw the look of distraction in his eyes. She asked in grave concern, "What is the matter, Will?"

"I am not entirely sure, Lizzy," he replied thoughtfully. "There is something about young Braunfield that has unsettled me tonight."

"The look of unabashed admiration in his eyes whenever he gazed upon our daughter Lizzy?" smiled Mrs. Darcy placidly.

"Yes! And the look of vehement disapproval in his mother's eyes!" remarked Mr. Darcy with surprisingly strong emotions. "If not for my deep affections for Bingley and my respect for Lord Paxton, I would certainly wish Lady Paxton the distances of several counties between us!"

"Caroline's company was not always so objectionable to you, as I recall!" teased Mrs. Lizzy as she kissed his cheek. "You danced two sets with her when you slighted other young ladies at a certain assembly dance."

He drew back indignantly. "I must protest the implications of your words! From the start, I barely tolerated Caroline Bingley! These past three decades have been a severe trial at times. She is, after all, the younger sister of my best friend - I cannot avoid her company or ignore her entirely!"

Mrs. Darcy realized quickly that her husband was truly agitated, and that it was a poor time to make sport of him. She gave him a tender kiss in lieu of an apology, and said, "You are rather overwrought tonight, my love. Surely, young William Warring is not the first gentleman to admire our Lizzy. I trust that our daughter is fully capable of holding her own if such attentions are not welcomed."

"I shall rest easier when Braunfield leaves for Yorkshire tomorrow!"

"You do not like him at all, do you?" asked Mrs. Darcy directly.

"No, I don't!" admitted Mr. Darcy. "I give him credit for being repentant about his sinful past, but he has yet to prove himself a worthy man."

"Aren't you being deliberately unfair, Will? Have you not welcomed young Freddie Wickham back with open arms? Aside from dissolute habits similar to Lord Braunfield's, I should think Freddie's offense was a much greater one - after all, he was a willing accomplice to his father's nefarious plan to kidnap our daughter Lizzy and to compromise her into marriage! When Isabella was kidnapped instead, Freddie was fully prepared to force himself upon her! Thank heavens for Bella's own courage and wit that saved her from a fate worse than death."

"You must remember that Freddie was also instrumental in Isabella's rescue and in shielding me from his father's deadly shot. I extended my hand of friendship to him when he turned over a new leaf in life," answered Mr. Darcy with growing irritation - not at his wife but at the subject of their discourse. "In doing so, he has proved his true worth. By all accounts, Frederick Wickham is honorable and reliable. His recent promotion in the Household Guards is well deserved."

"I am glad about Freddie," said Mrs. Darcy. "My point of objection, Will, is your unwillingness to extend the same courtesy to young William Warring."

"Freddie is family - Braunfield is not," said Mr. Darcy with a finality of tone. He did not want to prolong this discussion. He was out of sorts tonight, and Lady Paxton and her son should rightfully be blamed.

"He is Bingley's nephew - our relation by marriage," reminded Mrs. Darcy.

"Yes, but he is Caroline's son," added Mr. Darcy. "You cannot mean to say that you will welcome such a man as a suitor to one of our daughters!"

"No, Will, you are making all the wrong presumptions! I am not making any plea to welcome William Warring - the Viscount of Braunfield - as a suitor of Lizzy! No more than I shall welcome Freddie to woo her! I am merely pointing out the inequity of treatment you have for the two young men in question. You are willing to forgive and forget Freddie's past wrongs, but you are unwilling to overlook William's transgressions. Our son has welcomed William as his close friend, and we should be respectful of their friendship."

"Well, Alexander can be too generous and trusting! I am not comfortable with Braunfield being so friendly to Isabella either. Is his friendship with our son truly genuine, or is he merely taking advantage of it to be close to Isabella again? After all, Braunfield had fully intended upon seducing Bella when he could not win her hand in marriage!"

"I do not believe that Lord Braunfield has such ulterior motives now. I can discern a genuine sense of remorse and sincerity in him whenever I speak with him. The poor young fellow was especially solemn at dinner when he told me of his future plans."

"Lizzy, you should not be Braunfield's champion. As we both know, my darling, you have a certain propensity to give too much credit to the tales of woe from handsome young men." The moment such words left his month, he regretted them. His words had an unfortunate implication. He saw the angry look in his wife's eyes, and knew that she had taken the literal meaning of his words as an accusation of her favored treatment towards George Wickham. One that resulted in her prejudices against him during the early days of their acquaintance.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy! I have never heard such nonsense from you before!" exclaimed Mrs. Darcy heatedly as she leapt to her feet. She glared at him in a stance of confrontation. "Perhaps your own excellent senses have been befuddled by your worries for our youngest daughter!"

She felt indignant, but also horrified to learn that her beloved husband might still harbor deep resentment against her for trusting Mr. Wickham so blindly. Wickham's lies had caused such misunderstanding between them, and nearly robbed them of their chance at true love and happiness. Was there any residual sentiments of bitterness that might haunt him still?

"I am merely saying that your maternal instincts are being exploited by a very clever and artful young man," retorted Mr. Darcy. "Come, my darling Lizzy, I do not want to fight with you! Let us talk of more pleasant subjects."

He moved to embrace her. He truly did not wish for any discord between them - and he could not recall the last time they had such an argument.

"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Darcy so forcefully that it quite stunned her husband. "We shall not talk of other subjects until you see reason. My sole intention has been a request for you to accommodate Bingley's nephew with greater forbearance and civility at our family gatherings, and I cannot comprehend how you have managed to convolute my words!"

"Lizzy!" protested Mr. Darcy, "Must we fight? Have I not endured your many vexing relations with forbearance and equanimity throughout these years? In young Braunfield's case, I am simply not inclined to extend my friendship beyond that of civil conduct."

Seeing that her husband would not budge on the subject matter, and realizing that their argument would grow more severe if she persisted, Mrs. Darcy wisely bid her husband 'goodnight' and retired to bed.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was in a distressful mood. He could hardly believe that his darling Lizzy had not spoken a word to him since last night. Their marriage had been so harmonious and their friendship had been so firm that they had not been at odds with each other for years.

He ran a hasty hand through his hair as he knocked on the connecting door of their bedchambers. The knock was merely a courtesy, as that particular door was always left open and unlocked throughout their many years of marriage. Indeed, his spacious master's suite was merely a room for writing his nightly journal, and for dressing and personal toilette. It matched the mistress' suite in luxurious furnishings, but lacked its warmth and welcoming ambiance. He suddenly realized how cold and empty he felt whenever he was away from his beloved wife - how his heart ached for her in so many different ways all at once!

He strolled into her bedchamber, and found her already dressed for breakfast.

"Good morning, my darling," as he greeted her with a light kiss on the cheek.

She acknowledged his tender salutation with a genuine smile, but did not make any effort to converse. He frowned at this silent treatment, and lapsed into his brooding silence of old.

They remained thus, each of them replaying last night's argument in their mind. In the harsh light of day, their fight seemed very severe indeed!

"You are still angry with me, aren't you?" he said at last.

"Yes," she admitted bluntly, 'I am. Until you see reason, I shall abstain from speaking with you."

"Abstain from speaking with me on the particular subject of Lord Braunfield, or abstain from speaking to me entirely? Please clarify this critical point for me, Elizabeth."

"Will . . ." as she hesitated, she saw the deeply hurt look in his dark eyes and could not bear it.

She reached out to caress his noble brow, and said urgently, "My love, you know that I do not like to quarrel with you. I enjoy our witty repartees, but never such sharp arguments. Let us be sensible!"

He reached for her, and pulled her tentatively towards him. He did not wish to resolve their differences by overwhelming her with physical comfort, but he felt so drained at the moment. He missed her warmth next to him when he woke up this morning, and he would not allow this new day to begin without making amends, or at least, reach a new understanding with each other.

"Yes," he nodded his head in full agreement, "we violated one of the golden rules of our marriage, and we went to bed being very upset at each other. I could not sleep a wink, and spent much of most of the night reading in my own bedchamber."

"I am sorry, my love, but I did not fare much better," confessed Mrs. Darcy. "We must talk and find a plausible solution!"

"I am still convinced of my own arguments, but I am prepared to listen to yours again - this time with a calmer and more open mind."

"After our breakfast, shall we take a long stroll around the woods?" suggested Mrs. Darcy. "I think you and I have been indoors too much. Fresh air and exercise will rejuvenate our spirits."

"Thank you," he smiled with grateful appreciation. "I would like that very much."

Mrs. Darcy had to attend to some important household matters with their housekeeper after breakfast, and Mr. Darcy found himself waiting impatiently for her. His wife was correct; he thought as he paced back and forth in the courtyard, they had not spent enough time in each other's exclusive company lately. The demands of family and friends, and the daily burdens of estate matters had been quite overwhelming, and they had unintentionally neglected each other since the Anniversary Ball. A simple yet pleasant stroll along one of their favorite walks around Pemberley would surely revitalize their spirits, and would allow them to regain their equilibrium in their connubial happiness.

The approach of Lord Braunfield's fancy carriage put Mr. Darcy in a foul mood again. The young viscount was the root cause of his argument with his beloved wife last night, and he wondered about the purpose of this present visit.

"Good day, sir," greeted Lord Braunfield respectfully as he alighted from his carriage.

Mr. Darcy returned his greetings with a formal bow but remained silent.

"I have come to pay my respects, sir," explained Lord Braunfield, "as I shall be away for several days - making a tour of my family's northern holdings." He was in high hopes of seeing Miss Elizabeth Darcy again - even the pleasure of her company for a few precious moments would be enough to gladden his heart and to keep certain hopes alive.

Mr. Darcy, however, did not extend any invitation for him to stay, and seemed determined to send him on his way with a flea in his ear!

"Well, I wish you a safe journey then!" said Mr. Darcy curtly as he shook his extended hand. "And I shall deliver your warm regards to my family."

"Thank you, sir!" said Lord Braunfield in a polite but disappointed tone. He lingered on for a moment longer, hoping that he would evade such a curt dismissal from the formidable Master of Pemberley by some stroke of luck. No one else came through the front door to join them at the courtyard, and he soon realized that any prolonged wait would be futile. His small glimmer of hope was instantly dashed by the stern look of disapproval in Mr. Darcy's eyes.

William had allowed himself the luxury of fanciful imagination, and had convinced himself that winning Miss Elizabeth's hand would not be entirely impossible. Suddenly, the entire matter seemed quite hopeless. He felt the crushing of his romantic hopes as forcefully as if Mr. Darcy had administered a physical blow to him.

"Until we meet again, sir, God keep you and your family," he said with a formal bow before he took his leave.

"And God be with you also," acknowledged Mr. Darcy with genuine grace as he reciprocated with words of blessings. He realized that he was being rude to the viscount, but he felt that it was a necessary precaution that he was obliged to take as the head of his family. If he did not protect his beloved ones, who would do so on his behalf?

Chapter 9

Posted on Monday, 28 February 2005

"Where is our guest?" asked Mrs. Darcy as she joined her husband in the main courtyard.

"Which guest, my love? We have a houseful of guests!" said Mr. Darcy with a smile as he tucked her hand in his elbow and leaned down to kiss her forehead. He was impatient to begin their walk, and proceeded to lead her along one of their favorite paths - the one that they took with the Gardiners on their first visit to Pemberley.

"Unless my eyes deceived me, I thought I caught a glimpse of Lord Braunfield only moments ago," replied Mrs. Darcy evenly.

"Oh, young Braunfield left promptly after his farewells," said Mr. Darcy dismissively.

"You did not invite him in?"

Seeing the stern look in his wife's dark eyes, he added sheepishly, "Yes, it was very rude of me to send him away without ceremony. Seen in a prudential light, however, I have rendered him a good favor."

"Pray, explain to me! What favor?" said Mrs. Darcy, making a valiant effort to keep her temper in check. She had promised him that they would try to find a plausible solution to their quarrel, and it would not help matters if she started a fresh argument instead.

Taking a deep sigh to gather his thoughts, he began, "Before we discuss Lord Braunfield again, allow me to apologize for my insufferable words last night. I brought up the subject of George Wickham without provocation, and I caused you pain. Forgive me, my love, for you know well that I'd give my last breath to ensure your happiness!"

"Do you harbor any lingering resentments - of my blind trust in Mr. Wickham?" she asked in a worried whisper. Their understanding of each other had been so complete and profound since their wedding day that she rarely had such fears of not knowing her husband's mind.

"You were blameless, my love! My resentment was directed exclusively towards Wickham," he smiled at her reassuringly as he bestowed a loving kiss upon her hand. "Now, we must address our present dilemma. I must concede that last night you spoke the truth. My prejudices against William Warring stem more of his being Caroline's son than from the man himself. If Alexander and Isabella can trust in the sincerity of his friendship, then I should cast aside my own doubts as well."

"I am glad to hear this," said Mrs. Darcy.

"Our mutual point of agreement, therefore, must be reiterated. Neither you nor I wish for Braunfield to court our Lizzy."

"I can readily reaffirm such an agreement," nodded Mrs. Darcy.

"Good!" said Mr. Darcy solemnly, "I sent Braunfield away to avoid raising any false hopes for him. I would wager that he came with a fervent wish to see Lizzy and to plead his suit for her. I know not to what degree our daughter's tender heart is engaged by Thomas Fitzwilliam, but it will complicate matters if Braunfield enters the fray unwelcome and unsolicited. Moreover, I do not believe it wise for our daughter to ally herself to Braunfield whether or not Ashbourne is in the current scheme of things or if Braunfield should become a worthy suitor after all. Lizzy may well hold her own against Lady Paxton, but do you honestly wish for such a fate for our youngest darling - to be married to a man who has made himself the laughing stock of the ton by his ill-fated amorous indiscretion?"

"Lord Braunfield has reformed," reminded Mrs. Darcy.

"Yes, but with such a prominent injury, his past will always haunt him."

She knew that her husband had yielded to her reasoning as much as he could under the circumstances, and she could not rightfully blame him for being so protective of Lizzy. He had borne the burdens of fatherhood from the early days of being his sister's guardian. George Wickham's nefarious schemes had stiffened his vigilance. Lest his judgment was wrong, he was determined to err on the side of over-prudence and cautiousness.

"Now I can comprehend your reasoning," said Mrs. Darcy as she tightened her hold upon her husband's elbow. Such a touch conveyed her deep emotions as much as a kiss would, and he smiled happily.

"I am glad that we are on a harmonious note again, my love," he muttered softly.

"I hate to be a naysayer, my dearest, but I can foresee more discord between us in the near future. Until both of our daughters are happily married, I am afraid that we may argue over the merits and defects of all their potential suitors!" Mrs. Darcy stated sagely. A mirthful glint came into her eyes as she added in a much lighter tone, "Unless they both follow Mrs. Collins's advice, and marry total strangers!"

The look of surprise upon her husband's handsome face prompted her to elaborate upon the subject. "My friend Charlotte once joked that 'there will always be disappointments and vexations in a marriage, that it is best to know as little about the defects of one's future spouse as possible!' Charlotte was being critical of the absurdity of meeting people at assembly dances and other venues for the marriage mart. One was afforded such scant opportunity to know heart and true character of others in such restrained circumstances."

"For a woman of sense, she erred in marrying Mr. Collins. From the first glance, one could discern that he was, and remains, an insipid and obsequious fool!" said Mr. Darcy as he shook his head ruefully.

"Charlotte was never a romantic, and she asked only for a home of her own. In her quiet and resilient ways, I believe that she has achieved a certain level of happiness with Mr. Collins," stated Mrs. Darcy.

"Mrs. Collins has my true admiration," smiled Mr. Darcy, "for her courage and abiding perseverance in putting up with her husband and my formidable Aunt Catherine at such close proximity!"

"Not every woman is fortunate enough to have a husband like you, my darling!" laughed Mrs. Darcy.

"And vice versa!"

Seeing that they were already at the Great Tree, Mr. Darcy invited his wife to sit beside him on the tree "bench." He smiled winsomely as he held her hands, "If you and I are destined for more quarrels, may I be so bold as to claim, in advance, one of those kisses that would be lost in our future tempests?"

Mrs. Darcy leaned into his embrace demurely, and whispered, "If you insist upon such a token of goodwill, I shall grant it."

"Indeed I do, my dearest and loveliest Elizabeth!" he murmured as he captured her lips.

"William!" said Alexander Darcy as he gave Lord Braunfield a rigorous shake. The viscount responded with a loud groan, followed by a soft whimpering "yes?"

Dissatisfied with such a meek response, Alexander literally lifted his younger friend clear off his feet to force his attention.

"By George! You are strong!" grunted Lord Braunfield.

Alexander grimaced at the smell of liquor upon his breath, and demanded harshly, "William, are you foxed? I thought you were already well on your way to Yorkshire."

"I stopped here at the Lambton Inn for a drink after I left Pemberley," confessed Lord Braunfield as he put up a half-hearted struggle to be free of Alexander's firm hold, "Nothing to signify, for I've had but one brandy. I can hold my own, you know!"

"No you can't! You are drunk already!" said Alexander firmly. A thought flashed through Alexander's mind at that moment - no wonder the poor fellow had mistaken Lady Lexington as Isabella during that fateful night. If he could not even tolerate one goblet of brandy, what chance did he have after a long night of drunken binges at his club and later at Almack's?

Turning to the viscount's valet, Alexander said, "Brew the strongest coffee you can. Make haste, my good man! His lordship needs to clear his head!"

"Clear my head? Whatever for?" murmured Lord Braunfield as he put his hands to his throbbing head. "Zooks! This is a whale of a headache!"

Alexander did not speak again until he could force a cup of black coffee down Lord Braunfield's throat. Satisfied that he could command his attention for longer than a few seconds, he allowed him to sit down again.

"Your valet summoned me here with an urgent message," explained Alexander. "I thought it was a matter of life and death, and I made great haste to get here. What did I find here at the Lambton Inn? You -- in a drunken stupor! You have lost some of your senses, indeed, for you were not at Pemberley this morning. Why did you stop at Lambton after you left Maywood?"

Lord Braunfield stared at his friend through weary eyes. "I stopped briefly at Pemberley, and spoke only to your father. I cannot comprehend why my valet should bother you."

Both men turned to look at the valet for an explanation. Owens stammered, "My lord, you were calling endlessly for 'Darcy,' with frequent words like 'hopeless' and 'impossible.' I took the liberty to send a message to the younger Mr. Darcy because I presumed you were calling for him, and that it was a matter of grave importance."

The faithful valet did not elaborate that the name "Elizabeth" was mentioned along with the surname Darcy. Owens was a loyal servant with great discretion. He did not think it wise to disturb his lordship's privacy. He had taken care of Lord Braunfield for many years, and had nursed him through all his wild adventures. He had never seen the viscount so perturbed over a young lady before, not even those long weeks when his lordship was so determined to win the hand of the fair Miss Isabella Bingley.

"The curse of a pair of bewitching eyes and the hopelessness of it all," muttered William, more to himself than to present company.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Alexander, not comprehending his mumbled words.

Lord Braunfield heaved a deep sigh, and repeated himself.

"Women and wine!" muttered Alexander severely. "It is the downfall of so many men!"

"One drink does not break a man's firm resolve," replied Lord Braunfield in full earnest. His head did not hurt as much, and he was thinking more clearly now. He drank another cup of black coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste.

"Listen William, I am not overly concerned about whose pair of bewitching eyes you are suffering from! At this moment, you have other pressing matters to worry about. I want you to regain your sobriety, and be on your way to Yorkshire. Do not allow yourself to fall back into the precipice, William. You have made such tremendous progress, and it will be a great shame to suffer a relapse into your old dissolute ways."

Lord Braunfield moaned pitifully as he cradled his head to nurse his headache.

Alexander reached over suddenly, and demanded in full earnest, "Unless you are speaking about my wife?"

"No! No! No!" protested Lord Braunfield urgently. "Not my honored cousin Isabella! I dare not! I have only immaculate thoughts!"

"William!" exclaimed Alexander with growing impatience. "Then explain yourself! If this drunken relapse is caused by a mere woman, I am very disappointed in you. I had believed you to be a better man than what I see before me."

"A better man?" asked Lord Braunfield with sudden coherence. He seized his friend by the lapels, and stared into his dark eyes. "Do you have such trust and faith in me? It is not through pity that you are my friend? Or did my Uncle Bingley beg you to be my mentor?"

"William!" It was Alexander Darcy's turn to speak with urgency. "Pity alone would not motivate me to have such brotherly concerns for you! I must admit that I would not have tolerated your presence in the same room with me before your amazing transformation, but I am proud to call you my friend now. Indeed, I worry over you as I do my own siblings."

"With all my flaws? My dissolute past?"

"We have to embrace our loved ones with all their warts and glories, don't we? Which of us is without flaws and faults?"

Lord Braunfield was moved to tears by such candid words. "If only another Darcy would think of me as you do!" he lamented softly, almost speaking to himself.

Alexander did not notice the use of a singular term. He answered his friend in a general way, on the behalf of all his family. "As my family gets a chance to become better acquainted with you, William, I am sure everyone will feel the same way as I do."

Lord Braunfield nodded wordlessly. Alexander gazed at him for a long moment, and suddenly, realization dawned upon him.

"Bewitching eyes . . . another Darcy . . . you are speaking of my youngest sister Lizzy, aren't you?"

"Yes," muttered Lord Braunfield. "Elizabeth - the brightest star beyond my reach."

"She is truly beyond your reach!" stated Alexander with a compassionate smile. "As much as I like you, William, I must confess that I approve of my cousin Lord Ashbourne as her future spouse. Thomas has proposed to her already, and pending her consent, I believe that they will announce their engagement in the very near future! My sister has confessed to my wife that she is more than half in love with Thomas Fitzwilliam, and his current absence may well induce fonder sentiments in her heart as she pines for his company."

"Is Ashbourne away?" said Lord Braunfield in surprise. He had noted the viscount's absence at the dinner soiree last night, but no one had mentioned that he had left for London. No wonder Elizabeth was so agitated about her "betrayal" of Thomas after their long, maddening kiss under the Great Tree - Ashbourne's courtship had gone further than he had expected. More than halfway in love, Lord Braunfield thought in bitter disappointment. It was imperative that he protect her - now that her heart was at risk - even at the chance of incurring the wrath of the Darcys.

"Yes," confirmed Alexander, "he's in Town for some urgent business, but we expect his return by Christmas."

Lord Braunfield looked up incredulously "To be absent from your sister's side for so many weeks -- and after a marriage proposal?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," smiled Alexander. "I can certainly relate to it from my own experience."

There was a long moment of silence between them. Alexander was reminiscing of his own courtship days of Isabella, and did not notice the deeply troubled look upon his friend's face.

"Is Ashbourne seven and twenty?" asked Lord Braunfield suddenly.

"Eight and twenty. He is two years my senior. The disparity of eight years between my cousin and my sister do not pose such difficulties between them now - at this stage in life," remarked Alexander with a bemused laugh, "By his own admittance, he has been waiting patiently for my little sister to grow up!"

"An agonizingly long wait, I suppose! Quite a daunting challenge for any man - even for Lord Ashbourne!" replied Lord Braunfield, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated in this matter," frowned Alexander.

Lord Braunfield stared at his friend for several minutes, as if he was unsure of what he would say. "You hold Ashbourne in very high esteem, don't you?"

"My cousin is a man of exemplary virtues," declared Alexander Darcy firmly.

"Such accolades! Are you certain that he deserves such praises?"

"I detect a measure of contempt in your voice. What kind of insinuations are you making against the name and honor of my cousin?"

Alexander's words seemed to have cleared up William's indecisiveness. The revelation that followed hit Alexander like a thunderbolt.

"Lord Ashbourne and I shared . . . a mutual friend . . . some three years ago," muttered Lord Braunfield soberly.

"Shared a mutual friend?" repeated Alexander incredulously. He did not like the implications behind such ominous words.

"I had believed my friendship with the lady to be exclusive, but I found out that she felt otherwise. I had more gold, but she seemed to prefer Ashbourne's maturity to mine. I was barely twenty, and she was a sophisticated temptress."

"You both had the same mistress - at the same time?" asked Alexander bluntly.

"Yes, we did. Although I must clarify that neither Ashbourne nor I were wise to it in the beginning. Chloe was, shall we say... very resourceful."

"Chloe?"

"Yes, Madame St. Pierre. The lady is French. Her ancestors fled France during the Revolution, and eventually settled in England." Lord Braunfield added with a rueful shake of his head, "Her late husband was from a family of minor nobility, but one that had fallen on very hard times."

Alexander Darcy was too stunned to speak, albeit grateful to find that he was alone in the room with William. The faithful Owens had long excused himself.

Lord Braunfield took a deep breath, and continued his explanation, "I bowed out of the affair as soon as I found out about Ashbourne."

"Why are you telling me this?" demanded Alexander. "An affair over three years ago?"

"They are still together - Lord Ashbourne and Madame St. Pierre - snuggly ensconced in a delightful townhouse I bought for her in London!"

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Alexander.

"What? Of my generosity in letting my former mistress keep our old love-nest for enjoyment with someone else? Yes, it is a shameful fact that I was quite liberal with my father's fortune in my wild days," confessed Lord Braunfield with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Fear not! Since last August, I have voluntarily put myself on a very meager allowance, and I prefer it better. My bankers at Barings are very pleased as well. Perhaps, I should evict Madame St. Pierre from my premises and lease it out for a handsome income."

Alexander did not hear Lord Braunfield's musings. He was astounded by the shocking revelation, and he could do nothing but protest, "I have never heard of such outrageous stories about my cousin Thomas! Never!"

"Quiet habits and constant discretion have allowed many a gentlemen and quite a few ladies of the ton to lead double lives. Many are careful to evade prying eyes and gossiping tongues, and their affairs often go undetected even by those closest to them. Such matters happen in the best of families. In more profligate cases, the wives often choose to turn a blind eye to such discretions. Alexander, I am not so dishonorable that I seek to fabricate lies about anyone - especially Lord Ashbourne. I am not foolish enough to believe that an assassination of his character would prompt your sister Elizabeth to fly into my arms instead! If I am lying about Ashbourne's mistress, then I deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered!" Lord Braunfield declared rather heatedly. "Ask my father if you need confirmation of my facts. Lord Paxton can attest to my affair with Madame St. Pierre -- and the subsequent termination of it. Indeed, my esteemed father has kept a list of every light-skirt I have tumbled with. He knows of every gift that I have bought and every extravagance I have indulged in - a list compiled by my alert and diligent valet."

"A list of your affairs?" asked Alexander in bewilderment. He had never once set foot in any of London's infamous pleasure houses. Unlike many fathers, Mr. Darcy had never taken either of his sons to a brothel to be "initiated" into the rites of manhood.

"Actually, it was a very short list of courtesans," admitted Lord Braunfield with honest candor. "I was not the reckless devil many seemed to believe that I was! Since this seems to be turning into an open confessional and a detailed inquiry into my sordid past, I must state for the record, that I had never meddled with comely maidens or asserted my droit du seigneur at my family's estates. Nor have I sired any illegitimate little Warrings!"

"Well . . . I am glad to hear it," muttered Alexander after a long awkward silence. His deep voice barely concealed the fury that was inside him.

"I am not being boastful of my sinful past; I simply wish to forewarn you about Lord Ashbourne! I know the Darcy men never indulge in such dissolute habits, but many others in the ton do!" said Lord Braunfield, feeling rather sorry for his friend's dilemma. "Although many men give up illicit liaisons for good after they are married, there are more than a few who simply carry on in their old ways, with or without their suffering wives' consent. Before your parents welcome Lord Ashbourne into the family with open arms, I think they should demand a full confession from him!"

"How do you know that . . . the liaison is ongoing?"

"My valet's sister is the personal maid of Madame St. Pierre. Indeed, it was Owens who first discovered Ashbourne's association with my mistress, and the ensuing history thereof."

Alexander Darcy was speechless. In stunned silence, he sank heavily into a nearby chair. . He frowned in deep consternation before finally saying, "Perhaps my cousin has already resolved to give up this affair. Perhaps such ties with his mistress are already severed! It must be for this purpose he has returned to Town. He may well be on his way back to Derbyshire as we speak!"

"Perhaps. . . but if Ashbourne is not due to return until Christmas. . ." Lord Braunfield shook his head with such a look on his face that belied his true thoughts, "I hardly believe saying 'Adieu' requires so many weeks! Three years of attachment may well imply more than a passing fancy, don't you agree? Madame St. Pierre is a woman well-endowed with feminine artifices and allurements. Perhaps Ashbourne is obligated to his mistress in ways that are difficult to sever."

"Would you give up mistresses and all illicit affairs if you married my sister?" demanded Alexander Darcy suddenly. He was not quite certain why he voiced such an abrupt question, and it seemed urgent enough to be asked.

"If I could ever win your sister's approval, her esteem and her heart, would I be such a fool to jeopardize such precious blessings?" replied Lord Braunfield solemnly as he met his friend's penetrating gaze. "I have already given up all my vile and despicable habits, and my penance is real. Do you doubt that I can be as devoted and faithful a husband to Elizabeth as you are to Isabella? Or as your father is to your mother? And if I should ever be tempted, would not my damaged knee serve as a permanent warning to my own conscience? Surely it will ward off any spells from seductive temptresses!"

Alexander stared at the viscount, realizing that there was complete sincerity behind his words of bravado. But, he also thought he knew his cousin Thomas well, now everything had been put into grave doubt.

"I believe that Lord Ashbourne is capable of no less than what you have declared for yourself," stated Alexander with a firmness that did not quite match his private thoughts.

"For your sister's happiness, I pray that it is so!" nodded Lord Braunfield in sympathy. "As Elizabeth's heart is already engaged, I sincerely hope that Ashbourne will not be a callous fool and break it!"

"I must have a word with my father," said Alexander at last. "This matter of Ashbourne's mistress cannot be swept aside with a blind eye."

"Good luck, my friend," said Lord Braunfield. "Both of your sisters are very precious young ladies. Guard them with care against all rakes and scoundrels! For as you know, there are many who disguise themselves with their charms, good looks and titles."

"As you once did?" chided Alexander with a brotherly smile.

"Nay, I never wore such disguises! I was utterly rotten, and the entire ton knew it! Even now, as a reformed rake, I still have this confounded knee to remind everyone of my past sins!"

Alexander clasped Lord Braunfield firmly upon his shoulder, and commanded him, "Pull yourself out of the doldrums and embolden your own spirit, William! Your life is your own - make it a worthy one."

"And live happily ever after?" remarked the viscount with an incorrigible smirk.

"I cannot promise you that, William! No one can! I do advise you to follow my mother's motto: Pray, and do all things - great and small - with love."

"Mrs. Darcy is a very wise woman!" smiled Lord Braunfield. "I envy you for having such a fine mother." He was reminded of his last dinner conversation with Mrs. Darcy, before adding, "I profoundly regret that I shall not be in her company for a long while."

Suddenly springing to his feet, he grabbed his friend by the lapels. "One moment please! Lend me your ears, Alexander, for I have an incredible idea!"

"I am not in the mood for any wild schemes, William!" warned Alexander sternly.

"No, nothing so wild! Merely half a day's detour in London before you go to Kent for your annual Yuletide visit with your great-aunt." After explaining the outline of his plan, Lord Braunfield was in full haste. "Come, Alexander! I shall accompany you on this particular mission! Now, we must be off without further delay! My carriage stands ready!"

Alexander eyed his friend in full earnest. He nodded his head gravely, and said in a firm voice, "We must speak with my father before you and I dash off to London. I think it is wise to inform him first, in case my cousin arrives back at Pemberley before my own return from Kent."

Lord Braunfield nodded, and added somberly, "When you speak to your father about Lord Ashbourne, I beg you not to elaborate on my plans in regards to Madame St. Pierre. I shall not know for certain the course of my actions until I reach London. Even then, I must demand absolute secrecy from you."

"As I have scant knowledge in such matters, I shall trust you in this, William," said Alexander as he shook hands with the viscount, and sealed their oath with brotherly honor.

Continued In Next Section