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Chapter 10 Posted on Monday, 7 March 2005
Lord Braunfield glanced at his traveling companion, hoping for any snippet of conversation to break the monotonous silence in the carriage. But, to his dismay, he saw that the troubled look on Alexander Darcy's face had increased in its gravity since they left Pemberley. His friend was not likely to emerge from his brooding mood.
The viscount sighed heavily, and gazed out of the window to admire the beauty of Derbyshire. His own mind was entangled with bewildering thoughts as he recalled their interview with Mr. Darcy. The stern countenance of the formidable patriarch loomed over his mind like a giant shadow, and he shivered physically from such recollections.
"William, are you unwell?" Alexander suddenly asked, his deep voice filled with grave concern. Fatherhood had sharpened his instinctive alertness, and he felt the growing uneasiness in young Braunfield. It was apparent that his friend was eager to discuss certain matters.
"Physically speaking, I am well enough," replied William with a rueful smile, "but emotionally, I am quite undone. Being the bearer of bad news and painful revelations was a daunting task - one that I was most reluctant to perform. I still wonder if I should have exposed Ashbourne's secret to your father in such a manner."
"You have chosen the difficult but correct course of action, and you should not reprimand yourself for being upright and courageous in times of distress. My father may not have expressed it in plain words, but he was appreciative of your honesty and consideration."
"Appreciative? I did not expect to be welcomed with open arms at Pemberley, but neither did I envision being in the court of the Spanish Inquisition! Considering my sordid past, I can comprehend your father's hesitation in granting me his trust, but I cannot understand why he was so furious with me! After all, I am not the one who is still dallying with a mistress in Town whilst courting your sister!"
Alexander could not help but laugh at his choice of words. "My father may be stern, but he is not an unreasonable man. He merely wished to gather all the relevant facts from you, and his grave manners bespoke his state of shock. His fury was not directed towards you, William, but towards my cousin. My father has always placed such high hopes and trust in Ashbourne, but the viscount's clandestine affair and lack of honesty is heavy proof of his grave faults and lack of judgment. It astonished my father when he least expected it, and you should not be overly sensitive to his temper. He will consult with my mother immediately, and they will decide on the best way to reveal such disturbing facts to my sister Lizzy. We must leave matters in my parents' loving and capable hands."
William nodded thoughtfully, and added, "I detected the contempt your father held against me - he seemed to place some of Ashbourne's downfall upon my shoulders because of my prior association with Madame St. Pierre."
Alexander Darcy did not know how to address such a complicated issue without judging his father. He could comprehend the agitated state of his father's mind as well as the vulnerability of William Warring. He chose his words carefully, "I expect we shall confront the unvarnished truth when we are in London, and I shall present all the facts to my father without bias or prejudice. You will find, William, that my father is the kindest and most generous of men."
"But once you have lost his good opinion -- is it lost forever?" inquired Lord Braunfield with sudden insight. "Has your sister Elizabeth inherited such a trait as well?"
Alexander Darcy stared at his friend with astonishment, and managed to say, "You never cease to surprise me, William! I never imagined you to have such sharp insight into the minds of others."
"I amaze myself as well!" he conceded with a hearty laugh. "I suppose that bullet in my knee must have ripped through more than just sinew and nerves! I never knew that I was capable of having sensitive empathy and selfless consideration until . . ." He paused with a deep frown, unable to complete his words. He meant to say, "Until I kissed Elizabeth," but he was certain that such a confession would rightfully earn him the wrath of Alexander Darcy.
Fortunately for William, Alexander did not catch the awkward hesitation.
"My mind is too preoccupied by our pending mission in London," said Alexander after a long sigh, "and I must confess that I do not relish being away from my beloved wife and son."
"They mean the world to you, don't they?" asked Lord Braunfield in full curiosity.
Alexander nodded as he confessed with candor, "I take every breath with thoughts of Bella and our son. I used to wonder why a man of such strong will and character like my father needed a wife to make him feel complete - but now, I am happy to say that I fully share his feelings in such matters! With Isabella, I have finally discovered the answer to the paradox of two people coming together as one, yet remaining as two beings."
"And the answer is?"
"In a marriage of true hearts and minds, the husband and wife are the two halves of the same heart," smiled Alexander.
"Well, I am genuinely grateful that my cousin Isabella had turned me down so decidedly when I proposed to her," confessed Lord Braunfield. "Indeed, I believe she loathed me."
"Perhaps she did, but you have certainly gained her esteem now," said Alexander reassuringly.
"I am very glad to hear that. I finally realized that I wanted to meet my own reflection in the mirror each morning without detesting the sight of it," admitted Lord Braunfield.
"Yet . . ." Alexander hesitated for a moment to gather his thoughts, ". . . I cannot put my finger upon it, William, but there seems to be something amiss in you lately . . ."
"My willful temper?"
"Nay, not that. You used to have a certain sense of confidence about you that first drew my attention - a sense of bold assertiveness in your nature that I thought would be a great attribute if you could master it to your own advantage. Now, it seems to me that you are overly mellow and seem quite resigned to your fate. Trust me, William, for I know only too well. I also once had a silent and brooding nature; I speak from bitter experience. Over-prudence might well prevent you from achieving your goals as well as gaining true happiness."
"True happiness?" repeated Lord Braunfield quietly. "Such prospects are quite dim indeed. What woman of sense and worth would look upon me with favor now, considering my dissolute past, overbearing mother, and crippled knee?"
"Heavy burdens indeed," agreed Alexander, "but nothing is surmountable, William. 'Where there is a will, there is a way.' I am a firm believer in that sage proverb."
"Perhaps I should make a full confession now, and pray for mercy from you, Alexander -- I am very much in love with your sister Elizabeth!"
"I realize that much already, William," said Alexander solemnly, "and for reasons which defy rational logic, I can feel it in my sinews that you have never been so sincere in your heart about any other women as you are in regard to Lizzy."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed William, "I know not how you can detect what is buried deep within my heart, but I am in full earnest. It is true that I have known many women -- and liked a few - but I have never loved anyone as I love your sister Elizabeth."
"Is this your ploy then, William, to expose Ashbourne's indiscretion and allow his downfall so that you shall have a fresh chance to woo my sister?" said Alexander with sudden sternness. He looked almost as formidable as the Master of Pemberley, but Lord Braunfield met his eyes unflinchingly.
"Such a thought did cross my mind," he said evenly, "but my paramount concern is your sister's happiness. If she truly loves Thomas Fitzwilliam, I believe that her generous heart is fully capable of forgiveness. Therefore, our current mission in London is to ensure that Ashbourne will have no further distractions from Madame St. Pierre in the future. I can only pray that Ashbourne will not be the kind of callous idiot to embark upon new illicit affairs once he is married to Elizabeth!"
"If my sister will still have Thomas after this!" said Alexander heatedly. "If we do catch him in the arms of his mistress, I may not be able to answer to my better judgment."
"And unleash your powerful fists upon the scoundrel?" asked Lord Braunfield with a tolerant smile. "I shall join you - my cursed knee need not interfere with throwing punches, you know."
Alexander Darcy came close to voicing another opinion - he was now willing to throw his support behind Lord Braunfield as his sister's suitor instead. Despite his flaws, the most redeeming aspect of the viscount was his unflinching honesty. Who could help but admire such integrity? Yet, Alexander's habitual prudence demanded better discipline of words and deeds, and he kept such thoughts to himself.
"Until it is proven otherwise, we should adhere to the presumption that your sister may very well forgive Ashbourne, and your father might still grant his consent to their match," declared Lord Braunfield decisively.
"My sister Lizzy is always advocating aid and better understanding for the down-trodden and the unfortunate; her magnanimous nature may well prompt her to forgive her wayward suitor! My father will grant his grudging consent against his better judgment if Lizzy is determined to have Thomas. He is not one who stands in the way of his children's happiness."
"Against his better judgment?"
"But never against my mother's will. My father has the utmost respect for my mother, and he will certainly discuss such critical concerns with her. Let us hope that my mother maintains her sagacity, and guides my sister's heart and mind with prudent advice."
"I would gladly drink a toast to that," laughed William, "but I am taking your advice seriously and intend to practice abstinence from drinking strong spirits as well as other vile pursuits. I shall curse you most vehemently, Alexander Darcy, if I should die an early death from boredom with my new virtuous habits!"
"There are ample ways to lead an exciting and fulfilling life, my young friend!" admonished Alexander with mock sternness. "Lend me your ears for I shall regale you with tales of connubial felicity!"
Lord Braunfield laughed. Despite the extreme unhappiness induced by his unrequited love for Elizabeth Darcy, he felt astoundingly pleased with this deeper understanding of her brother, Alexander. The final leg of their journey to London passed far quicker and more pleasantly than before. Alexander was a sage mentor, and Lord Braunfield, an avid listener and eager protégé.
Their carriage drew to a stop outside an elegant townhouse in a quiet and respectable London neighborhood. Both Alexander and Lord Braunfield alighted from the carriage; weary fatigue evident upon the travelers who had been in full haste throughout their long journey from Derbyshire to London.
"I had almost forgotten what a pretty neighborhood this is! Although I must confess I was hardly interested in the outside scenery when I was last here," remarked Lord Braunfield with a roguish smile
Alexander eyed his friend with a stern look, and William nodded sheepishly, and said, "Yes, onto serious matters at hand! The sooner we accomplish our mission, the quicker we depart from here!"
Neither one of the two gentlemen had taken their valets along. The less pairs of eyes and ears to bear witness to their mission -- the better. Lord Braunfield lifted the large, polished brass knocker on the front door, and gave it a commanding tap.
A maid of plain features but with eyes that were alert came to answer the door; a smile of recognition came instantly upon her face.
"My lord!" she said in genuine delight. Her manners bespoke of a devoted servant in the service of a generous master. "Such a blessing to see you after so long, my lord! Please come in, sir! Oh, my lady will be so happy! She misses you terribly!"
Lord Braunfield nodded gravely, inquiring in his most lordly manner, "I am sure Madame has other diversions. Is she home presently?"
"Yes, my lord! I shall inform Madame immediately!" Remembering her manners, the maid curtsied politely to Alexander Darcy as well.
Wordlessly they watched as the maid hurried off to find her mistress. Alexander took advantage of the moment to examine the living room. It was handsomely furnished, with a refined elegance.
"Does it meet your approval?" asked William lightly.
"Your . . . uh . . . she has very fine taste," nodded Alexander with artistic appreciation as his eyes rested upon a painting hanging on the main wall. It was a small yet exquisite work of art - a young woman, holding a strand of pearls, whilst admiring herself in front of a mirror. The golden light from the window seemed to take on an ethereal quality - a quiet but powerful moment caught by the brushstrokes of a masterful artist.
"I decorated the place when I first acquired it," admitted Lord Braunfield. "Why the look of surprise, did you expect I had inherited my mother's taste for ostentation?"
"I did," replied Alexander sheepishly.
"That painting is a favorite of mine - by a Dutch master quite well known in his day, but largely ignored and unappreciated since. I acquired it for a very small sum."
"A true gem," agreed Alexander, noting the signature "V" in the corner, "by Jan Vermeer." He turned eagerly to look at his friend with fresh eyes, "Do you paint, William?"
"No," the viscount shook his head sadly, "I cannot paint to save my own life! I have, however, a penchant for collecting art. I have learned to appreciate the works of talented artists. I have seen your paintings at Uncle Charles's home - very impressive indeed."
Alexander acknowledged the praise with a modest smile, and proceeded to ask about the providence of the Vermeer painting. Both men were exceedingly glad to discover a subject of mutual interest, and would have indulged in a spirited discourse on art, but for a soft and sultry voice that called out, "Mon cher!"
Lord Braunfield turned to face the owner of the melodic voice. For a fleeting moment, the passage of three years seemed to vanish in a flash, and he was once again a nervous and innocent lad of barely twenty. Such a moment, mercifully, did not last. It disappeared almost as fast as it had come upon him, and he saw another beautiful face in his mind's eye instead. A face that was infinitely more beloved. One that was full of such honest innocence and beguiling charms, it had dominated all his recent dreams and commanded all his waking thoughts. He knew without hesitation that he was cured of the fever engendered by the exotic French woman standing before him.
"Bonjour, Madame," said Lord Braunfield with a formal bow.
Madame St. Pierre was determined to ignore such stiffness of manners as she rushed to embrace the viscount with the ardor of a long-lost lover. She would have kissed him had her eyes not caught sight of the tall, handsome stranger standing some distance away.
"Oh, you have brought along an Adonis, my lord!" Madame St. Pierre gushed with genuine delight. Her heart, impervious to nearly all men, fluttered wildly at the sight of Alexander Darcy. She had rarely encountered such a splendid masculine form, and she wondered at his presence.
"Save your breath to cool your porridge, Madame," said Lord Braunfield with cold sarcasm. "I would wager my entire fortune that this particular gentleman will never succumb to your charms. There is no chink in his armor."
The incredulous look on Madame St. Pierre's face was not lost upon Lord Braunfield. He laughed heartily, "No, Madame, it is not what you think! My friend here is arguably the most happily married man in Her Majesty's realm. He is here as my witness to a certain business transaction which I shall presently propose to you!"
"Business? How vulgar it sounds!" Madame St. Pierre complained coquettishly, waving her bejeweled hand dismissively. Redirecting her attention upon Lord Braunfield, she reached up to run her hand freely through his thick dark hair, and whispered, "I have missed you so terribly, mon amor!"
"What? Isn't Lord Ashbourne here to entertain you?" The fury in Lord Braunfield's deep voice was clear, but her misunderstanding of him took a deeper plunge.
"He has gone away this morning! Now, mon cher, you can come back to your dear Chloe as if you had never left!" she purred seductively as she caressed his face boldly in front of company. "You hardly said a word to me when you left here - three years ago, non? My poor heart is still broken!"
"You have Ashbourne!" he reminded her bluntly.
"But he is half the man you are in every way!" protested Madame St. Pierre as she toyed with his cravat. Lord Braunfield stood as rigid as a statue, and ignored her small gestures of seduction.
"He is so dull sometimes - he never wishes to take me out into Society! I only cry in his arms because of my loneliness! But I have clung to the hope that you must love me still, mon cher!" She gestured at the luxurious surroundings that he had provided for her, and smiled with an unmistakable invitation in her dark eyes. "Now, you have returned to me!"
Alexander Darcy cringed at the sight of such wanton behavior, and averted his gaze in acute embarrassment.
Lord Braunfield gave a bitter laugh as he warded off her caressing hands. "Love? Love is -- and always was -- a sentiment neither of us can afford. And your memory seems to be very short and inaccurate indeed, Madame. You were entertaining Ashbourne behind my back, thus playing me for the fool. I know all the sordid details, and I wish to hear no more of your lies!"
"Lies?" Madame St. Pierre maintained an air of placidity, but there was a flash of anger in her eyes. "A woman of my circumstances cannot afford to be without a special patron." She had switched to the French language for dramatic purposes, for she was born and bred in England, and could speak her mind with fluency in English. Neither gentleman, however, had any trouble understanding her lengthy laments and tales of woe, which were further embellished by her effusive hand gestures.
"The unfortunate death of my noble husband left me in dire straits - a pitiful young widow alone in a foreign land with no family or friends!" she cried dramatically. She clasped the lapels of his coat as if she were clinging to a lifeline. "I was so very grateful for your help, but your attention towards me was... cooling."
Lord Braunfield tolerated her antics, and then patiently corrected her. "You were the consummate seductress and the initiator of our liaison, Chloe. Many warmed your bed before me, just as there were many afterwards. I, unfortunately bear the distinction of being the only gullible fool to set you up so comfortably - without any recrimination against you after your brazen betrayal of my trust."
Sensing a softening of his lordship's proud demeanor, Madame St. Pierre leaned closer to whisper softly, "You never complained of our delightful trysts, mon cher! Surely, you have many fond memories - perhaps enough to rekindle our passionate liaison once more!"
"You flatter yourself, Madame," Lord Braunfield coldly replied as he disengaged himself from her caressing hands. He stepped behind a table, maintaining a physical barrier between them before he resumed his speech. "My main concern today involves Lord Ashbourne -- or rather -- Lord Ashbourne's non-involvement with you in the future!"
Madame St. Pierre looked utterly bewildered by his lordship's words, so he repeated himself in French. He allowed the significance of his words to sink in before adding, "You spoke of Ashbourne's departure from here this morning. Is he gone for good, or will he be returning here again on his next visit to Town?"
She shrugged her slim shoulders nonchalantly, and declared, "I do not know! Lord Ashbourne bid me a teary farewell when he left London at the end of September. He vowed that he would never be here again, but he returned after only a few weeks' absence. He spoke of his impending marriage to a young cousin - of his grave duties and obligations - and begged me to release his heart."
"A request which you did not oblige, I wager!" muttered Lord Braunfield in quiet fury. "You employed all your beguiling charms to entangle him tighter in your web, didn't you? By keeping him here, you have manipulated him like a puppet on a string - as you once did to me!"
Against such strong words, Madame St. Pierre did not answer him immediately. She gave him a demure smile, and gestured vaguely, "Whatever will be, will be. My noble Viscount of Ashbourne will never permit poor Chloe to be so desolate! Just as you will never evict me from here . . . I know you still care for me, William!"
Lord Braunfield stared at his former mistress as if he was seeing her for the first time - a woman of exotic beauty and Continental charm, nearly a decade his senior. He wondered what he ever saw in her that could be regarded as true beauty or noble spirit. Perhaps he had been like every other young fool, and harbored a certain tenderness towards the woman in whose arms he became a man. Such fond regard, however, had translated into misguided generosity, and he had allowed her to abuse his goodwill for the past three years. He looked into her eyes - dark eyes that he had once thought bewitching, but now, he could see clearly they held the calculating coldness of a lioness stalking its prey. If he had ever imagined witchcraft in her rosy lips, he knew now there was but one particular woman whom he ever wished to kiss again. Any lingering sentiments towards this woman or any other mistresses he had kept ended at this very moment. He realized a man truly in love did not need the casual pleasures of illicit affairs. The most seductive powers would not breach his heart for it belonged completely to Miss Elizabeth Darcy. He would do anything within his power to ensure her happiness, whether his love was requited or not. The thoughts of Elizabeth prompted him to declare his intentions immediately.
"My proposal is very simple -- a direct business transaction. I shall pay you to leave Lord Ashbourne and England for good! Fear not, Madame, it will be a substantial amount to make your relocation to Paris worthwhile. I know that you were born and raised in London, but you have always considered yourself French and a foreigner in these parts. Therefore, I can safely presume that Paris will be your preferred choice of abode. I need not insult your intelligence by adding that the English Channel provides a great buffering distance between you and Lord Ashbourne."
After a moment of stunned silence, Madame St. Pierre regained her composure. "I do not comprehend this at all. You are not even related to Lord Ashbourne, so why should you make such a sacrifice for him? You are always so generous with your money, mon cher, and I shall not begrudge you if you want something from me in return!" Her eyes spoke volumes of her private thoughts, and she made a move to be physically closer to him yet again.
Lord Braunfield flinched as if he had been bitten by a snake. He held out his hand to ward off her advances, and spoke firmly, "You have one week to pack your personal belongings and clear these premises. I shall settle all your accounts here in London, book your passage to Paris and send my agent to make all necessary arrangements for your new residence there. It will be modest in comparison to this townhouse, but I have every confidence that you will secure better lodgings and a more generous patron once you have established yourself in Paris. As for your personal maid Hannah Owens, I shall pay her full wages for the next six months as well as her return passage from France if she should wish to return home."
When he saw her hesitation, he assumed a lordly posture and spoke in his most commanding voice, "You have no choice but to accept my offer, Chloe. Lord Ashbourne shall not be returning to you - his cousin here will see to that - and I shall make it very difficult for you if you are stubborn enough to stay in London."
Madame St. Pierre looked intently at Alexander and wondered if he was a Darcy or a Fitzwilliam cousin. Lord Ashbourne had told her a great deal about his family and relations - at times, he simply rambled on endlessly, as if he needed someone to talk to and did not particularly care who his audience was. The noble viscount was a very lonely man, she mused.
"To bar Lord Ashbourne's way? Monsieur Adonis must be a very bold man," she remarked bemusedly as she gestured pointedly at Alexander, "for I should think nothing stands between a man and his beloved!"
"Need I repeat myself, Madame? I shall make it very difficult for you!"
"Are you threatening me, my lord?" she demanded.
"No, not at all," replied Lord Braunfield with a smile that did not reach his stern eyes. "I am merely steering you towards the right direction - the only plausible course of action."
"I must ask one very important question," interjected Alexander Darcy. "Is there any child involved here? A Fitzwilliam offspring?"
There was a long moment of silence. Lord Braunfield frowned in consternation. There had been no mention of a child in the correspondences his valet Owens had received from his sister. Yet, there was always a possibility. . .
"To be overthrown by his young cousin after three long years is a harsh blow! I would have tried to secure my ties with Lord Ashbourne by bearing his child, wouldn't I?" purred Madame St. Pierre as she turned to gaze at Alexander Darcy. It was a sumptuous feast for the eyes, she mused, as she admired him openly.
"Well?" demanded Lord Braunfield. "An honest answer, Madame!"
"Alas! I am barren!" she admitted with a soft moan.
The two gentlemen heaved a sigh of relief in unison. Madame St. Pierre knew that neither man was likely to succumb to her charms. She decided to seize the next best offer instead.
"The money? Do I receive it now?" Her voice was no longer soft and sultry, but was hard-edged and determined.
Lord Braunfield took out a bank draft from his coat pocket, wrote in an amount that was substantial enough to cause Alexander Darcy to raise his eyebrows in surprise and Madame St. Pierre to squeal with delight. He signed the check with a flourish, but withheld it from her. He took out a thick wad of currency instead, and said, "This cash is for your sundry needs. I shall give you the bank draft when you board the ship to Calais. I shall be there personally to bid you a fond 'bon voyage!' Is this clear, Madame?"
"Yes, my lord," she nodded quietly for her mind was already preoccupied with various schemes for Paris.
Lord Braunfield gestured to Alexander Darcy for their immediate departure. He paused briefly in front of the Vermeer painting, and took it off the wall. He turned to Madame St. Pierre once more to give his parting instructions.
"Remember, you have only one week. You may take anything you wish from this townhouse, but I shall take this painting with me presently."
The two gentlemen bowed politely in unison, and took their leave promptly. Alexander was the first to speak as they settled into their carriage once again.
"I did not draw a decent breath the entire time I was there!" he confessed. "Did you have to part with so much blunt to entice her to move to Paris?"
"Chloe is a survivor," remarked Lord Braunfield thoughtfully, "she will do anything to secure her own future. If I did not make it worthwhile for her to relocate, she would never release Ashbourne from her talons. She would scheme and plot incessantly. Even you, my esteemed friend, might be in peril for I saw the way she looked at you!"
Alexander Darcy turned to stare at his friend, and found him in full earnest. He shook his dark head, and declared solemnly, "My marital vows are sacred, and I shall never be unfaithful to Isabella!"
"Have you ever met someone like Chloe?" wondered Lord Braunfield aloud.
"Yes, in my bachelor days on my Grand Tour of the Continent. I did encounter quite a few women with feminine allurements that equaled or exceeded the charms of Madame St. Pierre," replied Alexander with a bemused smile.
"And?" Lord Braunfield's natural curiosity was roused. "It is only fair that you make your full confession now! I have told you all the sordid details of my past!"
Alexander laughed easily, and said with honest candor, "There is nothing to confess. I declined all of them with a polite but firm resolve."
Lord Braunfield gave his friend a penetrating gaze, and found that he was not in jest. "Polite but firm resolve? Ah, you are too well-mannered for your own good!" He added with a teasing smile, "Put away that halo of yours for a moment, Darcy, for its spotless glow is blinding me!"
"You are insufferable sometimes, William, but I do like you!" stated Alexander with brotherly affections. "And you have very good taste in art."
"I shall not keep this painting though - too many memories associated with my past." He paused pensively for a moment, and said, "Do you care for another stop - at Trafalgar Square? I think I shall donate it to the National Art Gallery."
"I shall be glad to accompany you. I must, however, dispatch an express letter to Pemberley as soon as I can. If Lord Ashbourne has already left Town this morning, it is imperative that my father receives word of this latest outcome."
"Remember, you promised not to divulge to your father about my role in this matter!" reminded Lord Braunfield urgently.
"I think he should be told the truth!" argued Alexander.
"No, no!" protested Lord Braunfield. "I do not wish anyone to think that I am trying to buy favors and approval with my father's gold. I know that I have cleared away the critical impediment for a man I do not hold in any particular esteem so that he can be free to woo and wed the woman I do love! But, whatever Fate has in store for me, I shall not be overly worried. My only concern is for Elizabeth's happiness, I trust you comprehend this!"
"I do, William," said Alexander with sympathy. His brotherly affections and admiration for young Braunfield had risen substantially this past hour. "I too made certain sacrifices for Isabella as well when I believed her heart to be engaged by my brother James."
"Well, I am glad that you were so amply and justly rewarded then!"
"Perhaps you shall be as well," said Alexander Darcy as he made up his mind to be Lord Braunfield's ally in his quest for Lizzy's heart.
Chapter 11 Posted on Monday, 14 March 2005
Mrs. Darcy was speechless after Mr. Darcy finished reading aloud the express letter from their son Alexander.
"We now have confirmation beyond a doubt," sighed Mr. Darcy with a heavy heart. He had been so pleased when Lord Ashbourne became his daughter's suitor. "I never imagined Thomas Fitzwilliam such a rascal! I do not condone the habit of bachelors keeping mistresses in Town, but I am not such a hypocrite to expect every young buck of the ton to be a saint. Ashbourne should have been more honorable! He should have severed all ties with his mistress before he began his courtship of our Lizzy!"
"Perhaps our extraordinary domestic felicity has made us a bit too complacent," remarked Mrs. Darcy as she held her husband's hand tightly. "We saw Thomas Fitzwilliam as a paragon because we wished him to be worthy of our daughter."
"You are right, my love," nodded Mr. Darcy grimly. "I fear that young men like our own sons are a rarity rather than the norm. From now on, I shall never be able to look upon any young man without perturbation. You have accused me of being over-protective in the past, now I shall be more vigilant than ever."
"I can well understand your apprehension, my darling, but you can't keep our daughters locked up in an ivory tower either!"
Impulsively, he reached over to gather her into his arms, and murmured softly with a touch of regret in his voice, "I miss those early years, when our daughters were such cuddly and sweet babes."
"Even when they cried so loudly and endlessly, heedless of our coaxing and comforting?" she laughed lightly with fond remembrances of those early years.
"Even so," he replied earnestly. "We never had to worry about their suitors then!"
They held onto each other for a long moment of mutual comfort before Mrs. Darcy spoke again. "Something puzzles me greatly. Alexander barely mentioned Lord Braunfield in his letter - surely his lordship was more than a silent presence at the meeting with Madame St. Pierre? How did our son manage to extract such a solemn promise from Madame St. Pierre? Will she truly keep away from Lord Ashbourne and never meddle with him again?"
"Alexander can be formidable," remarked Mr. Darcy, but added in half-jest. "Perhaps Lord Braunfield has persuaded his former mistress to resume the liaison with him instead!"
"It will be tragic if Lord Braunfield falls back into his old lascivious habits," frowned Mrs. Darcy with motherly concern. "William has talent and wit. If he dedicates himself properly, he has the potential to become a remarkable man."
"It takes more than just talent and wit -- far more than prestige and wealth to become a remarkable man. Strong morals, perseverance and fortitude are the bedrock of a life deemed worthy. I trust your assessment of young Braunfield, but without firm guidance, he remains vulnerable to myriad temptations and frivolous distractions. Old habits die hard, I fear."
"Our Alexander has become a very good mentor to William Warring," stated Mrs. Darcy.
"Yes, but he cannot be his lordship's constant guardian angel!" protested Mr. Darcy. He was quite distressed at the moment, and he cared not for their current discussion of another rogue -- albeit a reformed one. The paramount concern in his mind was the welfare of their daughter Lizzy.
"How shall we tell our daughter? I have great abhorrence for deceits of any kind, but I dread to cause her pain!" declared Mr. Darcy in a deep measure of anguish himself.
"We must tell her everything. Although it may be painful, she needs our complete honesty - no more lies or hidden truths," urged Mrs. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy nodded in pensive silence. They had already delayed long enough. The express letter from Alexander now confirmed Lord Ashbourne's betrayal of their implicit trust beyond the shadow of a doubt.
"Yes, we must tell Lizzy," nodded Mr. Darcy solemnly. "If Thomas Fitzwilliam left London the morning of Alexander and Braunfield's visit to Madame St. Pierre, he may have already returned home. Lizzy needs to know the truth before she sees him again."
The Darcys did not mince words in telling their youngest daughter of the secret life of her suitor. Young Lizzy received the horrible news in stunned silence, thus breaking down completely and falling into the arms of her loving mother. She could not find adequate words to express her shock, the pain, and finally -- her disappointment. When she ran out of tears, she lifted her face from her mother's bosom, and asked in a broken voice, "Why did you not tell me this when Lord Braunfield first came here to Pemberley and revealed such an awful secret about Thomas?"
"We. . . well, your mother wanted you to know immediately, but I thought it best for such an outrageous allegation to be confirmed first. Your brother Alexander, accompanied by Lord Braunfield, went to London on just such a mission and has written a detailed report of his findings."
"What did William . . . er ... Lord Braunfield do? Did Alexander's letter mention William's role in the confrontation with Thomas's mistress?" inquired Lizzy with sudden interest.
Mr. Darcy frowned deeply as he noted her familiar use of Lord Braunfield's Christian name. Suddenly it dawned on him that his own wife had been referring to the viscount by his Christian name during all their recent conversations as well! It was not entirely improper for either women to employ such a familiar form of address - after all, the viscount was Charles Bingley's nephew, and their close ties with the Bingleys had been enforced yet again by the marriage of Isabella and Alexander. He could not rightly fault his wife for extending her motherly concerns towards Braunfield, but it quite unsettled him to realize that his daughter's friendship with Braunfield was less formal than he had expected.
"Your brother was rather vague in certain parts of his correspondence - perhaps due to his haste in the dispatch of the letter rather than his willful neglect," replied Mr. Darcy as he reached over to caress his daughter's face tenderly. "We owe Lord Braunfield our gratitude in the exposure of Thomas Fitzwilliam's sordid secret. It will be painful to thank him, I know, but I shall not neglect my manners."
"Oh, Papa!" cried Lizzy as she eased herself from her mother's comforting arms to fly into her father's strong embrace. "I cannot believe that Thomas can be so callous in deceiving me so cruelly!"
"But he has, my darling girl," muttered Mr. Darcy softly, his deep voice shaking slightly with emotion. He truly could not bear to see his children hurt - and this episode reminded him vividly of how his younger sister Georgiana had cried in his arms when George Wickham's faithlessness and devious ploy was discovered in the nick of time that fateful summer at Ramsgate. "Young Ashbourne shall not be welcomed again, I assure you."
"I . . . I still want to hear the true confession from Thomas himself!" declared Lizzy. "I want to look him squarely in the eye, and ask him the questions myself."
"You are not so deeply in love with the scoundrel that you will blindly forgive him and continue to welcome his attentions?" It was more of a statement than a question, and Mr. Darcy's worried countenance could not be mistaken for any other emotions.
"Oh, Papa!" cried Lizzy as fresh tears welled up in her reddened eyes once again. Mr. Darcy was able to clearly discern that his daughter's heart was in peril. If Lord Ashbourne had appeared at Pemberley at that moment, it was most likely that he would have received a very sound beating from the Master of Pemberley himself. It was fortunate for Lord Ashbourne because he did not arrive at Pemberley until the following afternoon.
"Lord Ashbourne, sir!" announced the butler as he ushered Lord Matlock's heir into the spacious study.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy greeted the viscount's polite bow with a curt nod.
"How was your trip to London?" asked Mr. Darcy in an even tone. His dark eyes were stern as he appraised the appearance of the young viscount standing before him. "All is well?"
"Yes, sir," smiled Lord Ashbourne complacently as he took a seat in front of Mr. Darcy's desk. "Dull and tedious business - nothing to signify."
"Dull, eh?" repeated Mr. Darcy as he stood up and walked over to Lord Ashbourne. Mr. Darcy was a tall and formidable gentleman, and he loomed over the younger man with a severe frown. He could barely hold his anger in check, but as he had promised his daughter, he would give the young man a fair chance to explain himself. "Your honored father informed me that he did not send you on any particular errands in Town. I think you owe me - and in particular, my daughter Elizabeth, an explanation."
Lord Ashbourne shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and cleared his throat awkwardly before he spoke again. "What do you mean, sir?"
"You know very well what I mean!" muttered Mr. Darcy rather menacingly.
"I went back to Town to settle certain debts. . ." stammered Lord Ashbourne, ". . . a few wagers that I lost to my chums at White's, a large bill with my tailor and a smaller one with my boot maker. . ."
"And?" asked Mr. Darcy ominously, as if the single word itself was a fencing foil, and he was about to stab at the heart of the matter.
Lord Ashbourne stared hard at his father's cousin, and realized that Mr. Darcy was a man he could not hope to cross without incurring devastating results. He decided to throw himself at the gentleman's mercy, and hope for forgiveness instead.
"I . . . well, sir, I must confess that I had a mistress in Town . . . but the liaison has been terminated - irrevocably and permanently."
"Why did you not terminate it when you left London at the end of the Season?" asked Mr. Darcy in a reasonable tone of voice, but Lord Ashbourne could feel the blazing fury behind his words.
"I did, sir! I had already put it behind me when I proposed to Lizzy!"
"If you had terminated it - irrevocably and permanently - why did you return to your mistress again?"
Lord Ashbourne could not answer him.
"Do you realize that a marriage proposal is the most solemn offer a man can make to a woman - a covenant of binding oaths and sacred vows?" demanded Mr. Darcy.
Lord Ashbourne squared his shoulders, and swallowed hard before he confessed. He had never felt so foolish in all his life.
"Sir, I was unforgivably weak and idiotic! I know now I should not have gone back - not when Lizzy was so kind, lovely, and receptive to my attentions - but my bestial needs overwhelmed my better judgment! I have never indulged in wild sprees or dalliances like so many of my peers. My liaison with Madame St. Pierre was a discreet one - indeed, my only vice. At times, she was more of a confidante than a lover. A man needed . . . well, I . . . needed someone warm and comforting, and she fulfilled that particular void in my life." The viscount was a pitiful sight indeed, as he almost sobbed out the last words, "I swear to you, sir! It will never happen again! Never! I shall do everything in my power to make amends!"
Mr. Darcy's fury had abated somewhat, but his disappointment in Lord Ashbourne was ever increasing. He put a fatherly hand on the young man's shoulder, and said curtly, "I'd toss you out of Pemberley this very moment if I followed my best instincts. However, I shall grant you the measure of courtesy that is due, not to you, but to your honored parents. You owe my daughter Lizzy your most sincere apologies! You will repeat this entire confession to her, and answer all her questions. You are not to influence her mind in any way, do you understand me?"
"Yes! Yes, sir!" answered Lord Ashbourne urgently. It was a good omen, he thought, that he was not booted out immediately! He wondered how Mr. Darcy had found out about his mistress in Town. He had been so discreet and careful - not even his own parents knew of Chloe St. Pierre!
Miss Elizabeth Darcy sat, dignified and impressive as a marble statue, listening as Lord Ashbourne made his full confession to her. He knelt down upon his right knee, earnest in his contrition. Lizzy would have cried again, but the hot tears that had burst forth when her parents made the awful revelation to her had been so copious, she was drained of tears at the present moment.
"Please, my sweet! I beg of you! Forgive me for my stupidity and my transgressions! I never meant to hurt you!" implored Lord Ashbourne humbly. He was not likely to stand up until she forgave him.
"Why did you not tell me the truth?" she demanded. "How could you have proposed to me when there was such an impediment between us?"
"I imagined you would have understood me if I had confessed to you my faults, Lizzy. But, I knew how vehemently your father felt about the lascivious indulgences of so many of the ton's young bucks, and I feared his wrath if he should find out about my secret. I had already vowed never to return to my former mistress when I proposed marriage to you! Oh, Lizzy, there is no impediment between us now! Can't we go forward? Surely we can leave the painful past behind us, and embrace our bright future together?" He pleaded most earnestly.
"Thomas! We cannot build any future on a foundation of lies and mistrust!" she answered him boldly. "You lied to me!"
"My sweet, I told no blatant lies to you," he protested weakly. "I felt the subject of my mistress was already a dead issue, and I did not think it appropriate to be brought up under the circumstances."
"You think you are justified in your omission then?" she cried indignantly. "The line between lies and not disclosing the honest truth is so exceedingly thin that I shall declare it nonexistent! You claim now that the liaison between you and your mistress was already terminated when you proposed to me, yet you left my side within a heartbeat to be with her again! How can I trust you, Thomas?"
"If you had consented to marry me, I would not have left you," he muttered defensively. "If only you knew the kind of torture you put me through, my sweet. You were so alluring, and yet entirely beyond my reach until our wedding day. I could not even claim your lips until you granted me your consent!"
"So the onerous responsibility was mine after all?" she cried heatedly. "My hesitation in accepting you drove you back into the arms of your mistress? You are but a spoiled child, Thomas!" She was seeing a shallow and pitifully weak side of Lord Ashbourne -- one she had never imagined before. Should she thank Lord Braunfield for such a service, she wondered?
"Please, Lizzy, I beg of you! Let us not quarrel! I am truly sorry, and I swear I shall never lie to you or hurt you ever again!"
"I cannot accept you, Thomas! Not after such deceit!"
"How can you say you love me, and not forgive me, Lizzy?" he cried with great agitation - his mind swirled with questions. Many a pretty chit would have leaped at the chance to be the future Earl of Matlock's wife; yet, he had singled out Elizabeth Darcy as his first choice of bride - for reasons that defied his own logic! Lizzy was very lovely indeed, but not a classical beauty like her sister in law, Isabella Darcy. She was intelligent and witty, but her political views bordered on the radical on women's suffrage, and she was far too outspoken to be considered demure and refined. Her overall attraction, however, was irresistible - the phalanx of young beaux surrounding her at every rout and ball was proof enough. He had considered the winning of her hand in marriage a triumph over all the other young bucks of the ton. At this heartrending moment, he finally appreciated her as someone he could truly love for a lifetime.
"I do love you, Thomas, but perhaps not deeply or strongly enough to trust you again." She answered him with honest candor. "I must ask you an equally vital question. Are you truly in love with me?"
"My sweet darling! Why do you doubt me so?"
"A simple answer would suffice. There is no need for effusive endearments!" She gave him a penetrating look, and a vision of her formidable father loomed before him. At that moment, there was no doubt that she was her father's daughter. She might resemble her mother in looks and manners, but she certainly had her father's stern character.
"I admit I am very, very fond of you, Lizzy. I know I shall learn to love you deeply if you give me more time! Oh, my sweet, I have tried so very hard - to tumble into love with you, but my mind. . . my heart. . . has been so full of someone else. But, I swear to you -- I shall forget her soon enough!"
"Your mistress." she stated evenly. Somehow, she did not feel shattered over his confession. She felt disappointment, sadness -- but not heartbreak. Perhaps, she had known all along that he did not love her, and his open declaration was not unexpected. "Why don't you marry her?"
"Chloe is . . . French... a widow. . . Catholic. . . and . . .she has a past with . . . other gentlemen. My parents would never allow such a marriage, and Chloe would never be accepted into Society."
"So you callously settled your choice upon me as a suitable bride! Someone worthy of your noble name -- and with the stamp of approval by the ton?"
"No, no, never callously! I have the most honorable intentions regarding you! You must believe me! The sole indiscretion in my past is this one mistress - my only one. There are many in the ton who lead such wild and profligate lives, it is nothing to them to have one illicit affair after another! Take Lord Braunfield, for example. . ."
She interrupted his words with a cutting remark. "Let us leave other gentlemen of the ton out of our discussion. I have no interest in the habits of Lord Braunfield or any others for that matter. Oh, Thomas! You should have held yourself to the highest standards - there are countless virtuous and disciplined gentlemen in the ton you could have emulated - many with no irreligious or immoral habits."
"Well said, Lizzy, you are right," nodded Lord Ashbourne with comprehension. "I suppose the final answer from you is now quite clear."
"I am sorry, Thomas. I cannot accept you. Only the deepest love will commit me to matrimony - a love that I once dreamt possible between us. I have finally realized how wrong I have been. True love cannot be forced upon or willfully implemented - it seizes one's heart when one least expects it, taking such firm roots that the most severe tempest cannot make it falter or waver. My parents share such a love, as do Alexander and Isabella and my brother James and his Miranda. Neither you nor I feel that way about each other, Thomas!" She sighed deeply, and added softly, "My heart is bruised by you, but it shall heal again."
Lord Ashbourne took her hand in his, and gave it a lingering kiss. He now realized that Chloe St. Pierre, the temptress of exotic charms and his confidante of three long years, paled greatly in comparison to the young woman sitting before him. Elizabeth Anne Darcy was a rare gem, and he was a fool not to be as violently in love with her as he should be. He did not want to lose her at the very moment when she turned him down so unequivocally. His demeanor appeared grave and sincere as he stood. "A great fool stands before you, Lizzy. I cannot tell you the deep regret I feel in my heart. I hope - nay, I pray most sincerely that you shall find someone who is truly worthy of you."
With a deep and reverent bow, he took leave of her. The Viscount of Ashbourne had arrived at Pemberley in a jaunty spirit, but now left in the deepest doldrums. He had overthrown a treasure that could easily have been his to claim; but his own selfish needs and willful ways had caused him to cast such blessings aside. Moreover, he would now have to suffer his parents' interference and the foreboding prospect of an arranged marriage. He wondered briefly if there was a more miserable fellow in England at this present moment.
Lord Braunfield stood alone in the magnificent portrait gallery at Paxton Hall. He began to walk very slowly down the length of it, studying each one of the ancestral paintings. Stern faces, with plain, heavy features of warriors, statesmen, and nation-builders as well as their equally solemn spouses. His father, Lord Paxton, was the living avatar of such revered personages. The young viscount felt each pair of painted eyes staring down at him with wrathful judgment and reproach, as if it was unlikely that the last of the Warrings would ever live up to such a noble and proud family legacy.
He was weary - physically tired and emotionally drained - and he was alone. Alexander Darcy had continued on his journey to Kent - an obligatory Yuletide visit to Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings Park. He himself had spent the past few days making arrangements for Madame St. Pierre's relocation to Paris. As she had been his former mistress, there were very few raised eyebrows when he outlined his plans to his solicitor and his bankers at Barings. He could detect, however, their barely suppressed sighs of disapproval - as if they were quite dismayed to see him falling back into his extravagant ways of old. He could not confide in them the true purpose of his mission, and resigned himself to their silent criticism. He had also hired a reliable and capable agent - one who had performed an invaluable service to his family in the past - to conduct this new business on his behalf in France. Once he had set matters into motion, they went as smoothly as clockwork. He dispatched a trusted servant - another sibling of his faithful valet - to help with the packing at Madame St. Pierre's. It would not be long before he would bid Madame St. Pierre "adieu" from the harbor at Dover.
He missed Alexander Darcy more than he realized. Being in the constant company of such a man, these past several days had been like basking in the warmth of the summer sun. Alexander Darcy was a tower of strength - in mind, spirit and body; a man with intrinsic goodness and sterling character. There was such humility and graciousness about him - he never shied away from admitting to his shortcomings and faults, and he never failed to extend a helping hand or words of kindness or encouragement. The raved about tales of happy miners from the successful Ridgemont coal mine continued to enthrall the ton, and indeed, had inspired the proposals of labor reforms during the last Parliamentary session. The world did seem a brighter place because of men like the Darcys.
And women like the Darcys. He readily recalled the image of all the ladies in the family. He had but a few passing words with Miss Jane Darcy and Mrs. James Darcy, but he had formed a good rapport with Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy and a better friendship with his cousin Isabella.
His thoughts, of course, rested upon Elizabeth, and he felt a surge of bittersweet emotions within his heart. He loved her so desperately, but how would he win her heart? She had enjoyed his kisses, but had made it clear that his attention would not be welcomed. He was impatient for the news from Pemberley. Lord Ashbourne would be in Derbyshire already - and he had no doubt that the viscount would call upon Elizabeth in the first instant. Surely, Mr. Darcy must have disclosed the truth to his daughter already! Elizabeth must have been verily hurt, yet there was a real possibility that she could forgive Ashbourne and allow his courtship to go forth as before. Would Mr. Darcy's fury be appeased enough for him to grant his blessings to their union?
Lord Braunfield's troubled thoughts were interrupted by his butler. "The books that you have ordered from Hatchard's are here, my lord. I have placed them on your desk in the study."
"Thank you, Tyler," he nodded solemnly. He sorely needed some diversion, and the books would help keep his mind of other matters.
"Embolden your spirits, William! Your life is your own - make it a worthy one!" The words of Alexander Darcy echoed in his mind as he limped his way to the study. His knee had been improving lately - the herbal oil was working wonders - and he could walk further and longer without intense pain. He realized that his friend was right. Who but Alexander Darcy would have the gracious patience to make friends with someone buried beneath a mountain of regrets and guilt for his past sins? If he wished to gain the esteem of Miss Elizabeth Darcy, he must regain his own sense of worthiness and pride.
William felt a strong sense of foreboding as he reached for the first book from the large selection that he had purchased from the bookseller. He felt an urgent need for a goblet of brandy as he read the first pages of "The Vindication of the Rights of Women" by Mary Wollstonecraft. He smiled ruefully and half bemusedly as he realized that reading through such books would be a great challenge indeed. He poured himself a glass of Schweppes soda water, musing that if it was widely regarded for its medicinal value and granted a Royal Warrant, then it should serve well as an alternate choice of drink for him. It would certainly help keep his mind sober and his senses alert. Although, the fine eyes of Miss Elizabeth Darcy, were more than adequate inspiration.
Lord Braunfield settled back into a comfortable chair by the hearth, book in hand. He was a man in love and he knew what he must do.
Chapter 12 Posted on Monday, 21 March 2005
Lord Ashbourne tried to clear his mind of turmoil as he took a solitary walk amidst the expansive and wooded grounds of his family's estate, Beauchamp. Since Lizzy's rejection of him, his life had been under a dark cloud. He had yet to inform his parents of the termination of his courtship because he simply could not find a graceful way out of his dire situation. He cringed at the prospect of an arranged marriage, and he felt the loss of Lizzy much harder than he had ever imagined. He now realized, her vivacity, strong will and abundant confidence, which were so different from his weaker nature, would have been his saving grace. How could he have been so selfish to think that she would love him if he was unwilling to render her a sincere heart?
Until this moment, he had never admitted to himself that the heavy burden of primogeniture and familial expectations were, at times, too overwhelming for him. He had tried to emulate the dedicated will of Alexander Darcy to shoulder certain responsibilities of estate management, but his father's stewards were very capable and diligent in their work, thus leaving him ample time for idleness. The lack of any male siblings forced the responsibility of the perpetuation of the senior Fitzwilliam line solely upon him - a lineage that had passed from father to eldest son since the first Thomas Fitz William was elevated to the peerage by William the Conqueror. The current Lord Matlock was a proud man, and he would not brook the idea of entailment of the earldom to a cadet branch of the family, however worthy Sir James Fitzwilliam and his son, Andrew.
How he longed for a confidante - someone who could listen as patiently as Chloe St. Pierre once did. Someone who would not pass harsh judgments upon him! Visions of sensuous allurements flooded his mind until he shook his head vigorously, anxious to dispel such thoughts. He must force himself not to think of his former mistress lest he be tempted to dash back to London and find solace and comfort -- yet again -- within those fragrant arms. The deep guilt he felt about breaking Lizzy's heart was compounded by the regret he had for the abandonment of a faithful mistress. It would be cruel, he thought, if he made further demands of Chloe if he could not promise her a secured future. At their last parting, she had been in a flood of tears; he agonized over her obvious desolation. Poor Chloe! Life was certainly harsher upon her, he mused, with growing heaviness in his heart.
The sight of James Darcy riding in full gallop towards the front courtyard of Beauchamp brightened Lord Ashbourne's mood substantially. He called out loudly to gain his cousin's attention, and waited in eager anticipation as James turned his horse in his direction instead. James was always good company - a younger brother in many ways. Briefly, he thought of the tragic loss of his own brothers who perished over the years due to still births and dreaded childhood diseases. Wealth and noble titles could not always ensure health and happiness.
"Hello there, James!" He waved and smiled broadly as James drew near.
Instead of his habitual greeting of jovial smiles and witty quips, James Darcy vaulted from his horse, and lunged at Thomas Fitzwilliam like a Bengal tiger catching its helpless prey. He seized hold of the viscount, and growled fiercely, "You despicable cad! You have broken my little sister's heart! You shall answer for her tears!"
Before Lord Ashbourne could utter a protest, James swung a hefty blow to his face, followed with a barrage of furious punches to the torso. After suffering the initial shock of pain, the viscount gathered his wits, and put up his own fists to defend himself. Although physically fit and well-built, he was no match for his burlier cousin, James. Before long, he found himself in a bloody heap on the ground.
James towered over him, nursing his sore knuckles as he uttered another oath. "Stay away from Lizzy!" he warned. "If you value your well-being, do not set foot at Pemberley unless you are in the company of your parents!"
Lord Ashbourne moaned an inaudible reply. James ignored his obvious pain, and muttered another threat instead. "Be grateful that our familial ties have prevented me from using full force today. Alexander is due home in a matter of days, and he may not be as merciful as I!"
At that moment, their mutual uncle Sir James Fitzwilliam came upon them. He was utterly astonished to find his nephews in such a state.
"James! Thomas! Whatever is the matter?" demanded Sir James sternly as he knelt down to examine the latter's injuries.
"Do not distress yourself, sir!" replied James Darcy earnestly. "I was merely teaching my cousin a lesson in honesty and faithfulness. It was obvious that he did not heed those solemn Sunday sermons, so I thought a sound beating would teach him well. I hit hard, but not enough to break ribs!"
Sir James looked intently at his namesake for a long moment before he turned to his other nephew. Thomas nearly sobbed out his confession, and ended with an urgent plea. "Please don't abandon me, sir! I cannot hide the truth from my parents now!" The bruises on his face alone would excite their inquiry.
"You have not told your parents?" exclaimed James incredulously.
"I . . . I meant to . . . only I have not found the suitable opportunity, and I did not wish to spoil my family's Christmas cheer," lamented Thomas.
"You have most certainly spoiled ours!" stated James with a deep measure of resentment. "The only one in my family with genuine laughs is my nephew, Alex. Being a mere babe, he knows no worries, and relishes the bliss of laughter." Turning to his uncle, he said, "Sir, I must return home presently. Miranda was not well this morning, and I promised to return as soon as I could. When I found out about Ashbourne's callous treatment of Lizzy, I had no choice but to tear myself away from my wife to come to Beauchamp."
"I can well understand, James," nodded Sir James gravely, "for I would have taken the same course of action. Please send my regards to your parents and family."
Since the entire Fitzwilliam clan was invited to dinner at Pemberley on the Feast of Epiphany, it would be merely days before they met again.
"Thank you, sir," bowed James reverently as he took leave of Sir James. As an afterthought, he turned back and shot another fierce look at his cousin. "Stay away from Lizzy -- and from Jane as well! I will not answer for my temper if you do not heed my warning, Thomas!"
With that, James Darcy remounted his horse with confident grace, and galloped away.
Lizzy Darcy shed her final tear after telling her brother James of Lord Ashbourne's betrayal. She reflected again on her own situation. Whilst it was true that she had felt more humiliation than actual heartbreak, it was a traumatic experience nevertheless. She had never before attached her heart to anyone in particular, and she had wrongly presumed Thomas Fitzwilliam was someone worthy like her brothers. Isabella was correct in her warning after all. The hero-worship she held for her brothers - the eldest in particular, exceeded reasonable measures, thus leading her to misjudge. She had imagined herself in love with Thomas, filling her mind with romantic images, even though she had vowed she would not rush into any hasty decisions in regard to his marriage proposal. As sensible and rational as she had prided herself to be, she knew now that she was very young still, and vulnerable to girlish romantic notions. The connubial happiness of her parents, and in particular, of Alexander and Isabella, had prompted her to indulge in fantastical dreams. She yearned for a beau of her own who would bestow upon her the same kind of devoted love and companionship
Reality came as unexpectedly and harshly as a thunderbolt, shattering her youthful innocence forever. With firm resolve, she made a solemn oath to herself that she would never attach her heart so easily and willingly again. Never would she be so foolish as to allow good looks and charming manners to deceive her again -- or to let her heart rule over her rational mind. Isabella was correct in her sage advice - she was still too young and unready to think of making the commitment for a lifetime.
Alexander Darcy was impatient to be home; the last few miles of his journey seemed much longer than they actually were. Whilst he did not begrudge his familial duties, he did not relish being away from his beloved wife and child for so many days.
The confrontation with Lord Ashbourne's mistress in London had left him with a lingering feeling of bitter disappointment. He could hardly believe that his cousin Thomas was such a cad -- and a fool as well. The woman was certainly not a fair damsel in distress, but rather, a cunning schemer whose loyalty was as deep as the amount of gold any gentleman was willing to bestow upon her!
His visit to Rosings had been more stressful than any previous visit there. None of his siblings or Fitzwilliam cousins had accompanied him, and he could do little to alleviate the monotony of Lady Catherine's incessant monologues or the Reverend Mr. Collins's, insipid remarks in his unfailing quest to please her ladyship. The only saving grace was, perhaps, his young cousin Catherine Adams. Still shy and soft-spoken, Catherine had gained a certain measure of confidence since her last summer visit with the Darcys. She had taken much interest in music and reading, and was becoming a proficient chess player. From her frequent inquiries about his cousin, Andrew Fitzwilliam, Alexander could easily discern that young Catherine harbored tender sentiments for the only son of his Aunt Georgiana and Uncle James. He smiled upon reflection, musing briefly about the prospects of such a match.
The sight of the magnificent Pemberley House ended any speculative thoughts. The approach of his carriage roused the attention of the under-gardener, and he could see the eager youth rushing into the great house to announce his arrival. A welcoming party had already gathered at the front courtyard as his carriage passed through the archway. A broad smile appeared upon his handsome face - the first genuine smile in many days - as he caught sight of his darling Isabella.
He was out of the carriage before it halted properly. He acknowledged the chorus of "Welcome home" with effusive greetings of his own. Upon sight of his own father, little Alex squealed with delight, laughing and babbling excitedly in baby talk. Alexander scooped his son from Isabella's arms, laughing with fatherly pride as he hugged him close. He leaned down to kiss his wife tenderly on the cheek before he turned to his parents to exclaim, "It is good to be home!"
The feeling was mutual as Mrs. Darcy gave him a motherly kiss in greeting, and Mr. Darcy clasped his shoulder firmly and said with fatherly concern, "I am sure there are matters of importance you wish to attend to first, now that you are home. We shall talk later."
At these words, Mrs. Darcy thoughtfully reached for her grandson, and took him from Alexander. Her son smiled appreciatively at his parents and took his wife by the hand. He could hardly wait to greet Isabella with a proper kiss in the privacy of their own quarters. Although he was well aware that his parents would not have objected, he was cognizant of the impropriety and would not breach the general rules of decorum. Public displays of passion were considered unacceptable conduct, and he was grateful for his parents' kind consideration.
"My darling Bella," Alexander murmured happily as he closed his bedchamber's door behind them. He gave his wife a lingering kiss before speaking again. "I missed you so terribly! I could hardly sleep at night - thinking about you."
Isabella caressed his face lovingly. "Our separation was very hard on me as well, but I was more fortunate than you, as I had the company of our family to comfort me."
"How is Lizzy?" asked Alexander worriedly as he washed his face and put on a fresh change of clothing.
"She is well enough, considering the circumstances. Lord Ashbourne visited here a few days ago. Your letter arrived prior to his visit, and thus your parents and Lizzy were armed with undeniable evidence to confront him. It seemed that he tried to deny the existence of a mistress at first, but broke down and made a full confession afterwards."
"My father must have been furious."
"Indeed! And everyone else has been in a melancholy mood ever since. As a matter of fact, our son has been the only one in the family with bright smiles and laughter."
"Allow me to remedy a bit of your melancholy, my darling," said Alexander as he pulled his wife back into his arms for another passionate kiss.
They held each other for a long moment, savoring their exquisite reunion. Finally, Isabella took a reluctant step backwards, and tugged at his cravat to remind him that his parents and family were awaiting his company.
"I cannot claim travel fatigue and feign the need for rest, can I?" he laughed bemusedly as he finished tying his cravat.
"No," replied Isabella with a smile. "Everyone is anxious for the news from London and Rosings Park."
"Well -- almost everyone. I believe our son is only anxious for his 'horsy ride' on my knee!"
Isabella laughed merrily as she confirmed his assessment. "Very true. His Grandpapa and Uncle James have been excellent 'horses' during your absence, but our son truly missed you."
"As I missed him," said Alexander as he embraced his wife once again. "I never knew fatherhood could be so fulfilling. I should like to have many more children if it is agreeable to you, my darling."
She did not answer him immediately, but returned his kisses with infinite tenderness. "Your request is entirely negotiable, my love, but since it is of such a vital matter, I believe it will require a considerable amount of attention." she replied demurely before she opened the door to the hallway. He smiled contently as he drew her hand through his elbow, and escorted her to rejoin their family.
Lord Braunfield struggled through the last pages of "The Vindication of the Rights of Women" and heaved a sigh of relief when he finished reading it at last. Whilst he was not entirely convinced by the authoress, he had to admit that the book was thought provoking. He smiled with admiration as he recalled how engrossed Elizabeth was with such reading material. Although he was yet to support the strong arguments put forth for women's suffrage, he could at least begin to comprehend the feelings and convictions of their advocates.
He readily recalled Alexander Darcy's advice - of how he earned the trust of the miners of Ridgemont by gaining an understanding of their concerns and circumstances. Well, he could apply just such an approach to win the trust of Elizabeth Darcy. At the thought of trust, he couldn't help but wonder if she had already forgiven Lord Ashbourne. For his own selfish reasons, he hoped that she had thrown the cad out of Pemberley, but if she truly loved Ashbourne, then he would wish for their happiness instead. Indeed, even if Elizabeth should become Lady Ashbourne someday, he would still like to gain her friendship and esteem. She was the source of his inspiration. For that reason alone, he would always be grateful to her.
It was in such a reflective mood that Lord Braunfield took up his quill, and decided to write down his own thoughts on the issue of women's rights. He kept at his task, and wrote long into the night, relishing in the flow of words, amazing even himself at the productive results of his own musings. He read his essay over again, and quite suddenly, he reached a decision.
The best course of action, he surmised, would be to dispatch his essay to the appropriate audience. He wondered briefly if it was the wisest thing to do, but he felt an urgent need to make the attempt.
Those with faint hearts never won any laurels, he reminded himself sternly, as he sealed the envelope and applied his signet ring to the hot wax. He rang for the butler, and gave instructions to post his letter.
Lord Braunfield poured himself another glass of soda water, and reached for the second volume atop the stack of books beside him. He glanced at the ominous title, and braced himself for another long ordeal.
As he wondered about the merits of his self-imposed task, the vision of a pair of exceedingly fine and intelligent dark eyes appeared in his mind. He felt, yet again, the renewed sense of vitality surge within, as he proceeded to read with an open mind.