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Chapter 16

Posted on Friday, 6 May 2005

Henry Bingley sat in astonished silence as his twin sister Isabella informed him of the true sentiments of Jane Darcy's heart. He stared at his sister - his bright blue eyes widening with open disbelief. She would not have come to Maywood, infant son in tow, simply to make a jest.

"I . . . I had not the slightest inkling that Jane felt this way about me!" gasped Henry incredulously. He took several deep breaths, but could not muster up any more words to elaborate on the subject.

"Henry?" said Isabella gently as she took hold of his hand. "I fully comprehend the awkwardness of the present situation. Your recent declaration of your hopes of marrying Miss Edwina Ferrars has taken us all by surprise. She is a lovely and agreeable young lady, but none of us suspected you of having any particular attachment towards her."

"Miss Ferrars . . . Edwina and I were in constant company of each other this past Season in London. Indeed, James Darcy did his fair share of promoting our growing friendship, since Edwina has such a close bond with her cousin Miranda . . ."

"And you and James are almost like twins," nodded Isabella thoughtfully. "How do you feel about Jane?"

"I have always looked upon Jane as my own sister - as much as you and Emily are my own blood. My love for her is brotherly and chaste, and frankly, I am rather shocked by your revelation." Henry sighed. After a long moment of silence, he added, "I must confess, however, that I once entertained romantic thoughts about Lizzy Darcy, but she intimidates me as much as she fascinates me. I have long resigned myself to being her admirer and nothing beyond."

It was Isabella's turn to be surprised. "You were attracted to Lizzy but not Jane?"

"It was during that long journey from London to Keswick and the Lake District a few summers ago. After our detour at the Ridgemont mines, you became too preoccupied with thoughts of your beloved Alexander to notice anything else around you."

"Indeed!" Isabella blushed at the recollections of that fateful day at Ridgemont when she first realized her love for Alexander. It had come upon her so unexpectedly, but so gloriously clear and strong. The restrained words, the subtle looks and chaste touches they had shared were altogether more powerful than the ardent kiss they had first exchanged under the Great Tree at Pemberley.

"Even if I were to look upon Jane with the fresh eyes of a suitor, it is far too tardy to do so," stated Henry. "I cannot break faith with Edwina. We have mutually pledged our troth to each other, albeit in secret, but I fully intend to ask for her hand formally when I make a special visit to the vicarage at Delaford this Easter."

"I understand you perfectly, Henry. I realized the impossibility as well, but I believed that you should know the truth about our cousin Jane's regard, and mind your future behavior towards her with greater care. You have an open temper, and are very demonstrative of your affections. Overly familiar manners, however honorable and brotherly, may cause Jane greater heartaches."

"I appreciate your advice, Bella," said Henry with a rueful smile. "In retrospect, I cannot think of any specific word or look on my part that could have induced Jane to fall in love with me."

"Perhaps it was done unintentionally," agreed Isabella. "Love can seize one's heart in the most unexpected ways. Alexander fell in love with me over a friendly discussion of charcoal drawings."

Henry nodded appreciatively, and asked, "Considering these circumstances, do you think it wise for me to speak frankly with Jane?"

"It would be delicate and awkward, but you may feel the need to share your thoughts with her. Our families have such close ties and are in frequent company of each other - I hate to see Jane pining away for you if there is no hope of such a future."

"Your sagacity is beyond your years, my dear sister," exclaimed Henry gratefully. "You not only have our Mother's patience and gentleness, but our dear Aunt Elizabeth's foresight and wisdom. Your husband is indeed blessed to have you for a wife!"

"As I am blessed to have such a husband. I wish you equal felicity in marriage, my dear brother. In truth, I would have liked for Jane to be your wife, but I sincerely believe Miss Ferrars is worthy of you as well."

"Thank you, Bella!" Henry bestowed a tender kiss upon her brow. "Now, I can clearly hear my nephew's strong cries. I believe the little tike is no longer content to be with his grandparents! He must be crying for you."

"More likely for his next meal," laughed Isabella as she hurried to rejoin her son and parents in the grand drawing room.

Colonel and Mrs. Brandon arrived at Pemberley on a fine, wintry morning, bearing gifts and great cheer. Their anxiety for their only daughter was evident, but their worries were quickly put to rest when they saw how well cared for Miranda was by the entire Darcy family.

James Darcy was grateful that his in-laws had braved winter travel of such vast distances, because Miranda had brightened significantly upon their arrival. Her current confinement had been a difficult one, and had taken a toll upon her bright spirits and tranquility of mind.

Although Mrs. Darcy had devoted much of her time lavishing care upon Miranda, and placing a retinue of faithful and capable servants at her daughter's beck and call, nothing was quite equal to the presence of her mother, Mrs. Brandon. A glow of happiness came over Miranda as she sat close to her own mother. For the first time in many weeks, she laughed and talked incessantly about all matters, especially over the choice of baby names.

"I am agreeable to any name you may fancy, my love," declared James as he held his wife's hand tenderly. "We still have a few more months to contemplate our choice of names."

"Even if I named the child Shakespeare Darcy?" teased Miranda. "The Bard's sonnets brought my parents together, you know. My own name was taken from a Shakespearean play as well."

Mrs. Brandon blushed at such a revelation, but a bemused smile came upon the handsome face of the Colonel as he turned to gaze at his wife with adoring eyes. The disparity of age did not prevent them from being a devoted couple, and their deep love was apparent to all. Colonel Brandon had aged gracefully; with self-deprecating humor, he attributed his excellent health to his preference for flannel waistcoats and country air.

"Even so," laughed James jovially, "our son -- or daughter -- may have cause to regret such a pompous name!"

A hearty round of laughter ensued. Little Alex, sitting contentedly on his grandfather's lap, clapped his small hands and squealed with his habitual good cheer. Turning to his doting grandfather, he began to babble merrily in baby talk. James and Miranda gazed at their young nephew, their hearts filled with joyful prospects that they would be blessed with as fine a child as well.

Accompanied by the Darcys, Colonel and Mrs. Brandon made a tour of Pemberley. The magnificent woods and the extensive grounds accentuated the classical beauty of Pemberley House, and the Brandons surveyed all before them with an appreciative eye. Their own estate at Delaford was well maintained under methodical stewardship, and they could readily recognize the familiar signs of prosperity and harmony at Pemberley. The gentlemen engaged in eager discussion about scientific farming methods, and the impact of expanding railway systems and new telegraph networks upon the country as a whole. The ladies talked of charity work, education, and related concerns in their local communities, and found many common interests to further cement their friendship.

Still later, James and his father-in-law rode over to the modest estate of Greenhaven for an inspection. James had the air of an eager child taking pride in his prized treasure as he eagerly pointed to the many improvements he had made to the house and to the farms. He was a diligent and capable manager of his own estate, and he had certainly lived up to the high expectations of his parents. It was very rare that a younger son would own or inherit any estate by the prevailing rules of primogeniture, but James was blessed beyond expectation by his loving parents. Indeed, the prospect of having such an estate had freed him from making a marriage based upon monetary concerns, as was customary with younger sons who were often forced into marriages of convenience. Like his parents, he had married for true love.

"It is nothing compared to Pemberley, I know," said James with a bright smile, "but the house is built for comfort, with ample room for raising a family. The annual income from the farms is a comfortable one, and I expect higher profits when my herd size for the sheep increases. Miranda and I are but a stone's throw away from Pemberley, and we are not lacking in either loving attention or luxurious comforts from my parents. Indeed, my mother insists that we stay at Pemberley until the baby's birth, and my younger sisters are good company for Miranda."

"I am well pleased with all I see," replied Colonel Brandon solemnly, but his kind eyes clearly reflected the parental pride for this fine young man whom he now called his son. "I could not have entrusted my daughter to a better husband or family. I must admit, at times, Miranda can be overly demanding and worrisome, and I am guilty of spoiling her since the cradle."

"Miranda has a heart of gold. My family values such virtues greatly and she is well loved by all at Pemberley."

"By your devoted love and prodigious care for her, you have proven yourself a most worthy man," said Colonel Brandon as he clasped James firmly by the shoulder as a sign of approval. "Delaford is not subject to any rules of entailment. By my will, you and Miranda are my heirs. Both of you shall inherit my estate with no legal encumbrances."

"Thank you, sir," replied James gratefully before he added an earnest plead. "I sincerely pray for your health and longevity, sir! Let us not think of wills and inheritance!"

"My dear son," laughed Colonel Brandon heartily. "Fear not! I intend to remain in good health for many years to come, and you shall have the benefit of my tutelage. I can easily see, however, how well your own esteemed father has instructed you already."

"The credit belongs to my mother as well," said James modestly.

"You have exceptionally fine parents, James. I trust that you will raise your own children with the same love and discipline as your parents have done so with you."

"Upon my honor, sir, I shall endeavor to do my best."

"Good!" said Colonel Brandon succinctly, but the single word spoke volumes of the trust and faith he had in James. The two gentlemen talked long and freely about their present concerns and their plans for the future. The older man nodded approvingly at regular intervals, marveling again at the excellent merits of James, and easily imagining the many grandchildren who would grace the halls of Delaford someday.

Mrs. Darcy smiled at the sight of her beloved husband cradling their grandson so gently within his powerful arms whilst humming Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." Lured by his grandfather's deep and calming voice, little Alex soon fell asleep in blissful contentedness.

"What a handsome pair you make! You must pose for a portrait together," murmured Mrs. Darcy approvingly as she bestowed a kiss upon her husband's noble brow.

"I think our son had started on such a painting before he left for Ridgemont," replied Mr. Darcy in a low whisper, taking care not to wake their grandchild. His wife joined him on the settee, and he freed his left arm to draw her close beside him.

"Our little darling seems to prefer sleeping in your arms lately," observed Mrs. Darcy

as she ran a hand very softly over the downy dark hair of the sleeping child before leaning against her husband's broad shoulder. "He must miss his papa very sorely."

"I agree. He is certainly less merry when his father is away from home. It is unnecessary to add, Isabella is a bit melancholy as well."

"I believe Bella is penning a long letter to Alexander at this moment. I saw her briefly after my tête-à-tête with Jane."

"How is Jane?" asked Mr. Darcy with a deep, worried frown.

"Tolerable, considering the circumstances," replied Mrs. Darcy frankly. "She cried a great deal when she spoke to me, but she resolved to be strong. Jane is as resilient and determined as Lizzy. If we support her with love and understanding, she will overcome her heartbreak. In time, I pray, she will find another worthy man to give her heart to."

"Henry Bingley would have made an excellent husband for her," admitted Mr. Darcy. "In temperament and nature, our daughter is more like her Aunt Jane than you."

"Very true," admitted Mrs. Darcy with a heavy sigh. "And Henry is very much like his father. Yes, it would have been a very good match indeed."

"And how is Lizzy?" asked Mr. Darcy. He had been as gravely concerned about his youngest daughter as he had been about the older one.

"She is her feisty self again. She is writing letters to members of Parliament, and to editors of newspapers and periodicals. She is making plans for a campaign to raise capital sums to build a new orphanage in London. I saw her hard at work in the study, and Jane was prompted to lend her a hand as well."

"I hope Lizzy did not shock the Brandons too much with her outspoken views," remarked Mr. Darcy.

"The dear Colonel called her views refreshing, and Mrs. Brandon has been duly won over by Lizzy's musical talents and deep love for Shakespeare. Our Lizzy can charm the birds off the trees if she chooses to. Alexander calls her a born diplomat, but I think her wit and open temper, coupled with the innate goodness of her heart, gives her an irresistible appeal."

"I agree with your assessment wholeheartedly, my darling," replied Mr. Darcy. "I find the original Elizabeth Darcy utterly and completely irresistible!"

"How you enjoy making sport of me now! I have taught you too well!"

"I have learned more important lessons from you, my dearest Elizabeth, and I am eternally grateful." He smiled at her before turning to look at their grandson. "He is fast asleep now. I think I should return him to his dear mama presently."

"A few moments, if you please!" came the gentle plead. "This is bliss, Will. I do so enjoy sitting beside you with such a fine babe in your strong and loving arms."

"This certainly brings back the fondest memories of our firstborn child! Except for his brilliant blue eyes, it is uncanny how much little Alex resembles his father," chuckled Mr. Darcy in agreement.

"No small wonder, since our son resembles you so closely," said Mrs. Darcy. Taking great care not to wake their sleeping grandson, she leant against her husband to brush her lips lightly against his before she whispered, "I love you, Will."

"As I love you, Lizzy," smiled Mr. Darcy with such ardent love and admiration in his eyes. "Have I not promised you before, my dearest? Grow old with me, for the best is yet to be."

"Yes, my darling! You have honored such a pledge, as you have done so with all your promises to me. I am deeply grateful," replied Mrs. Darcy.

"Grateful?" repeated Mr. Darcy with a frown.

"My gratitude is well-matched, if not surpassed, by my deepest love for you," reassured Mrs. Darcy. "Surely, after so many years of connubial bliss, you need not worry that my love for you is induced only by my gratitude!"

"As you have once observed, my dear, women need reassurances. I think men need such reassurances as well."

"I must make a special effort to reassure you then, mustn't I?" she said with a teasing smile as she ran a caressing hand through his graying but still thick hair.

"Pray, maintain such a thought in your mind until I am freed of my present duty! As soon as I take this precious child back to his mother, I shall give you my undivided attention. Wait here for me, won't you?"

"As you wish," said Mrs. Darcy demurely. She blushed at the intense gaze he bestowed upon her before he departed from the room, with the sleeping babe in his arms.

Two express riders arrived at the Ridgemont mines almost simultaneously. Alexander Darcy was thrilled to receive several letters from his family in the mail packet. Needless to say, the first letter he read was the one from his darling Isabella. With a happy sigh, he tore open the envelope, and took out the lavender scented parchment with great care.

Lord Braunfield suppressed a hearty chuckle, knowing that his friend would be lost for the duration. He marveled, once again, at the amazing fact of how a stalwart man like Alexander needed a woman to make him complete. Alexander's words echoed in his mind. 'A marriage of true hearts and minds was like two hearts of the same person'. William wondered if he would ever be so blessed to experience such connubial happiness.

The letter that Lord Ashbourne received from his family was terse and succinct. It was in the form of a telegraph, sent from Matlock to the nearest telegraphic station, and dispatched to remote Ridgemont via express rider. Lord Ashbourne's handsome face grew ashen as he read the message.

Hurry home, Thomas! Father in carriage accident. Head injuries! Condition grave. Make haste!

Your sister, Susan

Lord Ashbourne uttered, "Good God!" He was rooted to the spot, and his cry alerted both Alexander and Lord Braunfield.

"Whatever is the matter?" asked Alexander urgently as he came to his cousin's side.

Lord Ashbourne held out the letter helplessly, and said, "I must leave at once."

Chapter 17

Posted on Friday, 20 May 2005

Lord Ashbourne approached the sleeping form on the bed with grave apprehension. Lord Matlock's face was ashen, half of it swaddled in heavy bandages. Even at a distance, the viscount could readily see that his father's breathing was uneven and labored.

Lady Matlock sat as still as a stone statue by her husband's bed, choking back tears as she imagined the worst. Lord Matlock had hovered at death's door for the past several days, showing no significant signs of improvement. Presently, Mrs. Darcy and Lady Fitzwilliam sat close by the countess, keeping a silent vigil together. Throughout the years, the women had shared harrowing moments such as these - when a Fitzwilliam child lay dying from a childhood malady, an aged parent losing the final battle to illness, and numerous other crises that signified how life was precarious - regardless of one's status, wealth and circumstances. Death was inevitable, especially when the doctors shook their heads in helpless resignation, and offered not medicine but prayers to their patients. Although the physician in attendance to Lord Matlock remained hopeful when he made his most recent visit, it was apparent that he had already done all he could for his patient.

The arrival of her son gave Lady Matlock an immense sense of relief. If her dear husband should die, at least their only son and heir would have a chance to bid him a final farewell.

"Mother!" whispered Lord Ashbourne hoarsely as he knelt before her, and kissed her hands. "I came back as fast as I could." He turned immediately to gaze intently at his father, and reached out to grasp his limp hand firmly in his. Alexander Darcy had followed discreetly behind his cousin. After bowing to the ladies present, and expressing his genuine concerns for them, he withdrew to stand at a respectful distance.

Earl Matlock stirred slightly at the warm and strong touch of his son's grasp, and after a very long moment, his eyes fluttered open as he gasped, "Thomas?"

Lord Ashbourne leaned close to his father, and confirmed his presence. "Yes, Father! I am here."

A ghost of a smile came upon the earl's face as he murmured, "I have prayed that you would come, my son." He inhaled several quick breaths, as if drained from whispering those few words.

"Save your strength, Father. You will be well soon enough," said Thomas reassuringly as he offered up an earnest prayer to the Almighty.

"Your cousin Alexander . . . has written to us - of your . . . satisfactory progress at Ridgemont," whispered Lord Matlock. "I am proud of you, son."

"Thank you, Father! Alexander has accompanied me home to pay his respects to you, sir. We have much to tell you! But, I must not tire you now. I shall sit by you...," There was a hitch in Thomas' voice before continuing "We. . . can talk later."

"My dear son," said Lord Matlock urgently, "I may not live . . . to see another day! Give me . . . your pledge now! Say you will . . . honor the marriage . . . that I have arranged for you!"

The young viscount knew not the identity of his intended bride, but he felt it did not matter any more. He would abide by his filial obligations, and honor his father's wish. He was about to speak when the earl sensed his son's hesitation, and added gravely, "My own marriage to your dear mother was an arranged one as well. I did not choose my own bride - certainly not the way my brother James and my cousin Darcy did. And yet, the mutual love your mother and I have shared throughout the years is no less precious if we had married for true love from the very first. I fervently believe that you will find the same with Lady Julia Berringworth, my son."

"I shall honor all your wishes, Father," promised Lord Ashbourne as he grasped his father's firmly. "I shall not disappoint you again." So he was betrothed to the fair daughter of Baron Cecil Berringworth. He knew the young lady slightly, and was grateful that his father had chosen someone lovely and amicable for him.

"Good!" Lord Matlock heaved a sigh of relief before he continued. "James! Darcy! I beg of you to bear witness."

At the mention of the two gentlemen, Lord Ashbourne looked around. He did not realize their presence until then. The heavy curtains had blocked out the bright sunshine from outside, creating a dark and somber atmosphere within the large and luxurious bedchamber. The two gentlemen had been standing in a corner, engaged in a deep but hushed conversation.

Sir James Fitzwilliam hastened to his elder brother's side, and said reassuringly, "As you well know, I stand ready to aid my nephew in every way. You must, however, dispel any morbid thoughts from your mind presently! I speak from my own harrowing experiences in battle, dear brother. If your mind wills it, you will prevail!"

"Ever the brave soldier," smiled Lord Matlock with genuine affection at his brother. "If only I could have half your will and strength, James!"

Sir James's eyes glistened - tears threatened as he placed his own hand over the entwined hands of his nephew and brother. "You are my better self in every way," said Sir James emotionally.

Lord Matlock protested his brother's gracious statement with a weak smile. "A great fool I have been!" he whispered hoarsely as he closed his weary eyes. "I should have . . . appreciated you more, James! I should have been . . . the brother that Darcy is to you! Forgive me!"

"There is nothing to forgive," smiled Sir James magnanimously. "I never felt any regret or slight from you, dear brother."

"Thank you," murmured Lord Matlock gratefully.

Everyone in the bedchamber was rendered silent - each occupied with his or her own thoughts. Lord Matlock soon drifted into a deep slumber, his breathing still labored, but there was now a definite sense of tranquility about him. It seemed as though he had laid down the burdens of his earldom, and embraced a well-deserved reprieve.

At the urging of Lady Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Darcy, the Countess of Matlock gave up her place of vigil to her son, and was escorted to a much needed repast and rest. Before taking leave, she kissed her sleeping husband tenderly on the cheek, fighting back her tears. She could almost see herself in widow's black, and shuddered involuntarily as the horrid images flashed through her mind.

"Come along, my dear," said Mrs. Darcy soothingly to Lady Matlock as she allowed the latter to lean against her as they walked out of the bedchamber. Lady Fitzwilliam lent her steady support as well.

Mr. Darcy reached out to touch his wife's hand discreetly as she walked passed him, drawing strength from her as much as he gave comfort to her. She turned to give him a tender smile, and conveyed her thoughts with a meaningful look. He read her mind perfectly, and nodded. He signaled for their son to leave the room with him, allowing the Fitzwilliam men their privacy.

At the request of her cousin, Lady Susan, Jane Darcy played the piano to alleviate the gloomy mood that hung over the palatial manor of Beauchamp. Dedicated in her efforts, she sat playing for hours. The soft, elegant notes that echoed throughout the grand hallways seemed to carry a soothing balm of their own, and lifted - if not heal the ragged spirits of all who had been keeping vigil by the bedside of the gravely injured Earl.

The Darcys, father and son, stood at the entrance to the grand music room, mesmerized by Jane's music. In style, talent and voice, she was very much like her mother and sister Lizzy; her music weaved the same magic. Mr. Darcy smiled with parental pride, and walked to his daughter's side to bestow an affectionate kiss upon her brow.

"I have seldom heard better music," smiled Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, Papa!" replied Jane with a modest smile. "You are always too kind in your praises of me! As you well know, my talents pale in comparison to my gifted Mama."

"You and Lizzy are younger versions of my dearest Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy earnestly. "Younger, but not lesser in any way."

Jane arched an elegant eyebrow to question her father's effusive declaration, but her elder brother came forward to express his genuine admiration as well. "There is only one young lady whom I rank equally with my sisters in heart, talent and beauty," he added with a bright smile.

"But you must rank her the highest - above all others!" admonished Jane gently. "Your lovely Bella has the eternal gratitude of our family - for bringing you out of your dark brooding moods, and for bringing such joy and blessings to us all."

Alexander nodded his agreement before he asked curiously, "Where is Lizzy? I should like to see her before I leave for Pemberley. I am most anxious to be with Isabella and my son."

Jane was about to speak when Lizzy came in. The sight of her favorite brother caused her to utter a joyous cry, and she rushed into his welcoming arms.

"Oh, Alexander! We miss you so!"

"As I miss you all," smiled Alexander as he gave her a brotherly kiss before he released her from his embrace. "You look well, Lizzy, but perhaps a tad too cheery considering the present circumstances."

There was a glow of youthful exuberance about her, and she laughingly confirmed his observation. "I hold Lord Matlock with the same affection as you do, but I refuse to shed tears prematurely. Like everyone here, I too pray for his full recovery. If, by God's will, he should depart from us, I shall cry, but I shall also shout 'huzza' to celebrate a life well lived. Rev. Castleton gave such a wonderful sermon last Sunday, reminding us all that 'an individual's life is too fleetingly short in comparison to the grand scheme of things.' Therefore, I have decided to take on life's challenges with hopeful faith and cheerful spirit. I shall not shrink from unpleasant people and circumstances if they happen to cross my path! Speaking of which, where is his lordship?"

"Ashbourne or Braunfield?" asked Alexander with a barely suppressed smile.

"I know well that my cousin Thomas is with his father presently! I am referring to Lord Braunfield." As she spoke, she felt an unexplainable surge of anxiety welling up from within the pit of her stomach. She worried that her composure might fail her if the viscount should walk into the room at that very moment.

"Regrettably, William did not join us. When Thomas and I hurried back from Ridgemont to Derbyshire, William headed north to Yorkshire. His family has extensive holdings in various counties, and an inspection tour of his Yorkshire lands has been too long delayed."

"I see," nodded Lizzy thoughtfully. She could not say whether she was relieved or disappointed by her brother's answer. She had fully expected to see Lord Braunfield standing by Alexander's side when she came into the room earlier, but now, it seemed that they would not meet again for a long while. She sighed inwardly, glad that she did not have to face the viscount when her own heart was in such turmoil. The last time they spoke, she was about to kiss him by her own volition! She had agonized over their potential reunion, but now, it seemed that she would be spared from losing her dignity once again. Yet, why did the image of the handsome viscount come so persistently to her mind?

"I am glad to hear that young Braunfield is learning to shoulder his responsibilities," remarked Mr. Darcy gravely.

"William is determined to succeed," confirmed Alexander with a smile. "His conduct at Ridgemont was exemplary. True to his word, he did complain about a great many things, but he was unfailingly good-natured and hard-working."

"So, Lord Braunfield did not fail this strenuous trial of character?" asked Lizzy curiously.

"No, I should say he passed with flying colors, and has proven his mettle," replied Alexander with a smile of approval. "There wasn't a task that he found too daunting. Indeed, the word 'failure' did not seem to exist in his vocabulary."

That last remark gave Mr. Darcy a disturbing jolt. Lord Braunfield had declared that he loved Lizzy and was determined to win her heart. The prospect of his precious daughter being the new daughter of Lady Paxton was not a fate that a loving and protective father would wish. Instinctively, he put his arm around his daughter, and said, "Go home to Pemberley with your brother. Your mother and I shall stay here - to help the Fitzwilliams in any way we can."

"And Jane?" asked Lizzy.

"I shall stay as well," said Jane calmly. "Our cousin Susan needs a sister's shoulder to cry on."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Lizzy. "Pray, be a good sister to our cousin Thomas as well! He may well require a shoulder to cry upon for he is certainly of a weaker and more vulnerable nature than yours."

"Lizzy!" admonished Mr. Darcy sternly. "Do not be so outspoken in your opinions! Do consider the impropriety of criticizing one's relations in their own house!"

"I merely speak as I find, Papa!" smiled Lizzy winsomely. "Our cousin Thomas has come to terms with his own shortcomings, and I trust that he will be a better man. I do wish him the best."

"Amen," murmured Alexander. If his sister Lizzy could forgive Lord Ashbourne so completely and think of him with such sisterly warmth, there was certainly hope for Lord Braunfield to win his way into her tender and generous heart. He wondered briefly about his friend, but was soon overwhelmed by the thoughts of his wife and child.

"Come, Lizzy! Let us take leave, so we can be on our way home."

"Such haste, dear brother!" laughed Lizzy. "But I shall take pity on thee. Do we have to stop at the greenhouses to gather flowers for Bella? I dare say that one flower for every day that you have been away from her will make a very romantic gesture."

"I am following Father's advice on the secrets of domestic bliss," confessed Alexander softly. "I shall give Bella a far better gift than mere flowers."

Mr. Darcy's habitually stern countenance was brightened by a broad, bemused smile at his son's remark as he remarked succinctly. "Indeed!"

Both Lizzy and Jane frowned at this brief but conspiratorial exchange. As curious as they were, however, they were too well-bred to demand any explanation.

"Fear not, my dears!" said Mr. Darcy with unusual levity, as he wondered what his dearest wife would think of him now, making such sport of his own daughters! "I shall impart the same advice to your future husbands as well."

Lizzy Darcy sat in thoughtful silence during the carriage ride from Beauchamp to Pemberley. Tried as she might, she could not shake the image of William Warring from her mind. Her brother's remarks about the viscount's sojourn at Ridgemont had inadvertently added to further fanciful speculations. She had visited the coal mines before, and had seen her own brother striking a Herculean pose as he yielded a heavy sledgehammer. Whilst Lord Braunfield was of a leaner build compared to her formidable brother, she could well imagine how well he would look after exerting himself in physical work for so many weeks. Had she not felt his muscular chest when he embraced her so closely during their memorable kiss under the Great Tree? The mere recollection of that day caused a deep blush upon her face, and she admonished herself sternly for having such wanton thoughts yet again.

In truth, she did not admire Lord Braunfield or hold him in any particular regard, but the harder she tried to dispel thoughts of him, the more tenacious those thoughts became entrenched in her mind. The most vexing was her secret longings for his kisses, for his gentle caresses . . .

"Lizzy?" said Alexander with great concern as he reached across the carriage to grasp her hand. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, nothing to signify," she said with perturbation as she jolted herself out of her troubled musings.

"Your mind is in distress," stated Alexander directly. "Do not deny it, Lizzy. I know you too well."

"Alas, dear brother, I have nothing to confess presently." She made a face at him, and added mirthfully, "Your sensibilities are too acute - entirely unbecoming in a male!"

"Too acute? Yet you make constant complaints of us men, in general, having the sensitivity of a bull, and a lack of understanding in regard to the subtleties of the feminine mind!"

"Yes, I confess having a severe opinion of men, but my criticisms certainly do not apply to you, Papa, and James."

"Perhaps you do not allow the men of your acquaintance to speak their minds openly to you. You are a formidable avatar of our parents - equal measures of Papa and Mama - and many men are uncomfortable with females of such strong nature and sharp wit."

"Am I overly judgmental? Should I not hold high standards, and expect the same from others?"

"I agree with you entirely on matters of morality and personal values. My advice is meant for an amendment of your manners, Lizzy. If you are less severe, you may well surprise yourself."

"Surprise myself in what way? Surely you do not mean that I shall find someone like you if I smile a bit more, and listen more attentively to handsome popinjays so they can reveal their true selves to me?" laughed Lizzy bemusedly.

"There are sensible, open-minded young men with stalwart natures, capable of meeting your highest standards, Lizzy," said Alexander patiently.

"Name one such paragon and I shall buy you an ice treat at Gunter's when we are next in Town," she retorted with a winsome smile.

"William Warring is such a man," replied Alexander without hesitation.

"Lord Braunfield? Surely you jest!" laughed Lizzy, although her heart fluttered at the mere mention of such a name.

"I am in full earnest, Lizzy!" stated Alexander as he grasped her hands tighter. "On the behalf of my good friend, I hereby ask you to give him a chance."

"Your friendship with Lord Braunfield has blinded you to the many faults of his lordship!" exclaimed Lizzy heatedly. "He may have reformed, but is such a transformation a permanent one? He should have led a disciplined and moral life upon crossing the threshold of manhood, rather than being a vain and obnoxious cad. It took such a public humiliation before he finally renounced his profligate ways! How can I trust a man with such a past? Lord Braunfield has a kind and generous father, but Lady Paxton, to put it mildly, is far from agreeable or gracious! Even if I can overlook his family, can I ever have enough respect and admiration for him? What future would have I with such a man?"

Alexander Darcy could not dismiss the relevant logic of his sister's arguments, and he was still bound by his solemn pledge of keeping the good deeds of Lord Braunfield secret. His own conscious, however, demanded that he make another appeal on the behalf of his friend. "Scoff at my plea, if you must, Lizzy, but I am compelled to reiterate what I have said before. William's past may always haunt him, but I have great trust and faith in him. He has avowed to me that his intentions towards you are entirely honorable. When we are in London, promise me that you shall grant him the same courtesy as you would grant your other admirers."

"You claim that Lord Braunfield is in love with me. If it is true, then I shall be most cruel if my kind courtesy would create false hopes for him!"

"Have not your kisses given him such hopes already?" asked Alexander suddenly.

Lizzy gasped, utterly embarrassed. She could readily pour her heart out to Isabella, but she could not muster up the courage to discuss such a delicate matter with her own brother.

"I refuse to discuss this any further!" she declared as she folded her arms across her chest in a defiant manner. "The more determined you are to be Lord Braunfield's champion, the more I shall ignore his lordship if our paths should cross! Pray, leave me in peace, dear brother!"

Alexander knew their conversation was at an end. He could not, and should not, force the matter any further. He was hopeful, however, that the upcoming Season in London would offer ample opportunities for social encounters between William and Lizzy. A sudden thought struck him, and he marveled at the significant pairing of the Christian names "William and Elizabeth." Thoughts of his blissfully wedded parents filled his mind, and he offered a silent prayer for his sister and Lord Braunfield.

"Elizabeth?" said Lord Braunfield softly as he approached her at the Great Tree, unsure of her reception of him.

She looked up from her book, her fine eyes held a look of surprise at the sight of him. Then, a warm smile slowly appeared upon her beautiful face - a smile that took his breath away completely.

"I hardly recognize you, my lord," she said, a mirthful glint adding much luster to her dark eyes.

"I hope my appearance is satisfactory," he said with a courtly bow, and took a step closer to her.

"Quite," she smiled, a deep blush of crimson complimented her glow of youthful vitality most becomingly.

Before she could arise from the "tree bench," he knelt down before her, and boldly reached out to grasp her hands in his. "I have come back to Pemberley, Elizabeth, to claim the kiss that you were unable to bestow upon me that evening. . ."

Before he had finished his request, she leaned forward to brush her sweet lips against his. He released her hands in order to draw her into his arms. Her lips lingered upon his mouth, shyly but determinedly, enticing him to deepen his kiss. His heart leapt at such an invitation, and he obliged her with an ardor that surprised even himself.

"Oh, my love!" he murmured hoarsely as he reluctantly lifted his head in order that they could each catch their breath. He stood, lifting her up with him in a fluid movement, without releasing his arms from her. To his delight, she willingly remained within the circle of his embrace. She rested her head upon his broad chest, savoring the memorable moment. He held her as closely as he could, lovingly and protectively, marveling at the sense of serenity in his heart.

"How I have suffered this passionate . . . feverish . . . longing for you, my darling!" he confessed to her as he kissed her hair.

She laughed merrily, and leaned back to gaze at him fully in the face. "As I have suffered as well," she whispered softly.

"Be mine, my darling! Never shall we part from each other again!" he declared effusively.

She did not answer him immediately, but the loving look in her fine eyes spoke volumes.

"Say yes! I beg of you!" He pleaded by kissing her again.

She pushed against him in a mild protest. "I cannot think with you kissing me thusly!"

"Say what is in your heart, my love! Be mine!" he whispered urgently.

"My lord!" came the rude interruption. The male voice was low and respectful, yet Lord Braunfield could not suppress a groan of irritation.

"Yes?" he growled.

"You will catch the death of cold, my lord, if you remain in your bath any longer," said Owens urgently.

Lord Braunfield was jolted back to reality by his valet's words. In his agitation, he splashed about in the bathtub, and suddenly, he felt the growing coldness of the water. As he shuddered from the chill, he looked about him like a man waking from a deep sleep.

"Where is my Elizab. . .?" He paused abruptly, finally regaining full awareness of his present surroundings. He had been dreaming, but the dream had felt so real. He could taste her sweet lips, felt the soft texture of her skin, and smell the fragrance of her hair. How wonderful she had felt, leaning so willingly against him, and gazing at him with unequivocal devotion!

"My lord?" asked Owens worriedly. The faithful valet could guess the object of desire of his noble master, as he easily recalled the drunken episode at the Lambton Inn several months ago. It was beyond the shadow of a doubt that his lordship was entirely besotted with love for the beautiful Miss Darcy of Pemberley. Owens was genuinely surprised that the viscount's love had not been requited by the young lady. In the past, Lord Braunfield had had many a willing female at his beck and call; with his good looks and great wealth, he certainly had no great difficulty in securing the goodwill and favors of such beauties.

"Have my carriage ready, Owens! It is time we leave Yorkshire. I have conducted a very satisfactory tour of inspection, and am well pleased with all our tenants here. I am certain that my father anxiously awaits my reports. Make haste, my good man!" commanded Lord Braunfield as he stepped out of the tub, and proceeded to dry himself off.

He could use a goblet of fiery cognac to warm the chill in his bones, but he thought better of it. He had to keep his wits about him. The dream he had seemed too real to be ignored. He had felt the great happiness that was in store for him. Now, the daunting task was to convince her of such a future together. He simply would not fail in his wooing of her!

Chapter 18

Posted on Monday, 6 June 2005

The magnificent vista of Pemberley House and its serene environ brought a smile upon the handsome face of Lord Braunfield as he gazed out of the window of his carriage. As he hastily ran a hand through his dark hair, he rehearsed in silence the words he had been contemplating since leaving Yorkshire. It would not be long until he saw Elizabeth again! Visions of his romantic dream flashed across his mind as vividly as if an actual occurrence. In truth, he had never dreamt of any other women before, let alone experienced a dream that felt so real.

Suddenly, the words of greetings he had prepared seemed utterly inadequate in expressing the depth of his love. With a heavy sigh, he knew that his impending interview with Elizabeth would bear scant resemblance to his fanciful dream. He had taken extra measures to make himself presentable by stopping at the Lambton Inn for a quick wash, shave, and a fresh change of clothing. Yet, he realized well that the lady of his dreams true measure of people was based on one's character and moral values rather than appearances. Mere physical attributes, wealth and status mattered not to such a lady. He was aware of Alexander's recommendation of him in his letters home, but such praise might not be enough to sway her heart. Indeed, she might not welcome him at all!

Lord Braunfield had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the tall figure standing in the main courtyard as his carriage drew near. Hence, he was much surprised to find James Darcy stepping forward to greet him as he alighted from his carriage.

"Welcome to Pemberley, my lord," said James with a formal bow. His deep voice was cordial, but lacking in his usual warmth. "I saw your approach as I was taking a turn in the garden. I trust that you had a safe journey?"

"I did. Thank you," replied Lord Braunfield with equal courtesy as he offered his hand. "The journey from Yorkshire was long but uneventful. I am on my way to rejoin my father in London, but I cannot pass through this particular part of Derbyshire without paying my respects to your family."

James nodded solemnly; his dark eyes measured the viscount with critical appraisal. His mind flashed back to their last encounter. His cousin Lord Ashbourne and the viscount had lunged at each other's throats like two ferocious young lions. There was little guessing to the root cause of the vehement disagreement between the two, thought James with frowning disapproval. He was genuinely grateful that he had had no mistresses to wreak such havoc in his own life or to mar his connubial happiness. Iron discipline and strict probity had just rewards.

"I regret to inform you that my brother and his family left for London earlier this morning. The Bingleys are traveling with them as well. My parents are still at Beauchamp - Lord Matlock's condition remains serious."

"My prayers are with the Earl and his family," said Lord Braunfield earnestly. After a long pause, he said, "I know that I am making a great imposition. By your kind permission, however, I wish to call upon your sister Elizabeth. I . . . er. . . never thanked her properly for the kindness she rendered upon me that evening. I am a guilty party to the fight, and I fear that I have ruined more than her silk kerchief with the spilling of blood."

James frowned at Braunfield's words - if he had his way, he would bar him forever from entering Pemberley. He easily recalled the look in Lizzy's eyes as she knelt beside the injured Braunfield - it was more than courteous concern. James's frown deepened with growing apprehension. Although his youngest sister had not confided in him, he could discern the tangible fascination Lord Braunfield held over her, and vice versa.

Such a realization did not please James at all. He was well aware of his own father's improved opinion of Lord Braunfield, but he had not been overly eager to seek the cause for this recent change of attitude. Furthermore, Alexander's brotherly affections towards Braunfield rankled. Perhaps his sense of jealousy was unreasonable, but he was honest enough to admit as much. He could not readily fathom the reasons why his elder brother had taken such a rake under his wing, and he feared that such generosity would not be requited in kind. Every limping step Lord Braunfield took was a sharp reminder of his dissolute past. Surely, Lizzy deserved none but the best of men!

"I am sorry," said James dryly as he played the gracious host by escorting his guest into the grand house. "My sister Lizzy is also in the traveling party to London."

"Oh," muttered Lord Braunfield in bitter disappointment. Whilst he had prepared himself for a lukewarm reception from Elizabeth, he had not counted upon her absence. "Such an early departure for Town? The Season has yet to begin."

James gave the necessary explanation. "My cousin Margaret is expecting her first child, and the Bingleys are most anxious to be with her. Lizzy shares in the excited anticipation, of course, but she is also very eager to speak to Margaret's husband, Anthony Knightley and his fellow M.P.s before the opening of Parliament."

Lord Braunfield nodded thoughtfully. He could well picture the intelligent and articulate Miss Darcy at dinner soirees, trading repartees and debating politics and social woes with the best of them.

"Do join us for tea," said James. "I should like to introduce my mother and fatherin-law to you, my lord."

"Thank you. I shall be honored to make their acquaintance," said Lord Braunfield as he mustered up a gracious smile despite his grave disappointment. His heart was already racing towards London, but he realized that this was an excellent opportunity to become better acquainted with James Darcy. If he were to win Elizabeth's hand, he could only do so with the blessings of all her family, and he would not risk estrangement with any Darcy. Gaining a true friendship with James might be as difficult as gaining the approval from Mr. Darcy himself, but he would not shrink from such a daunting task. He took comfort in Horace's words: Ni desper andurn. He would never despair.

The visit at Pemberley proved to be a greater success than Lord Braunfield had dared hope. Colonel Brandon, a man of stern and reserved countenance, offered sincere compliments for his lordship's self-imposed reformation since the unfortunate incident with Lady Lexington. Mrs. Brandon's tender sensibilities easily swayed her to regard the young viscount with a friendly eye from the start. Half-forgotten but still bittersweet memories of many years prior of the most unworthy rake - and her first love - stirred her sympathy towards one who seemed to be genuinely regretful of his misdeeds and penitent of his sins.

Miranda Darcy was equally charmed. Her lively conversation with Lord Braunfield on the subjects of music and Shakespeare caused her husband to brood in silence. James's disapproval of Lord Braunfield grew in proportion to the degree of his indignant suffering. He felt it exceedingly difficult to keep his own hot temper in check, for nothing tempted him more than to land a few well aimed blows to the nobleman's face. As the viscount finally rose to take leave, James could barely hide a smile of relief. He muttered a hurried farewell, whilst Miranda and the Brandons sent Lord Braunfield off with their kind blessings.

"So handsome, charming, and amiable," remarked Miranda after Lord Braunfield's departure from Pemberley. "His lordship will be the darling of the ton this Season."

"As a very wise lady once observed - a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. William Warring is heir to one of the most illustrious titles and fortunes in the realm. He shall have a very hard time avoiding the marital leg-shackles and the wiles of artful matchmakers, especially after such a remarkable improvement of character," observed Mrs. Brandon.

"For reasons I cannot comprehend, many women find reformed rakes very attractive and fascinating. Some have even claimed reformed rakes make the best husbands - or at least, that is what some of my old comrades-in-arms have sworn that their wives think!" remarked Colonel Brandon with an amused laugh.

"I, for one, would not prefer a reformed rake. My James is a paragon of men, and he makes the most excellent husband!" declared Miranda as she smiled at her husband with unequivocal devotion. She had sensed his unease earlier when in Lord Braunfield's company, and she was mindful to reassure him of her abiding love.

James smiled appreciatively as he brought his wife's hand to his lips for a tender kiss. "I do wish Lord Braunfield snared in the parson's trap good and well early in the Season." Hence, keeping Lizzy safe from him!

"Only a blessed few find true happiness from the very start," said Mrs. Brandon philosophically. "Most of us are fools in the matters of the heart, my dear son. We do not see the light of truth until it is thrust upon us."

"Very true," conceded James. "I can but pray for Lizzy - indeed, for both of my sisters - and hope that they find connubial happiness equal to my own."

"Amen," said Colonel Brandon solemnly as others nodded their heads in agreement.

Lord Braunfield completed the last leg of his journey to London by rail. He preferred the spacious private rail-car to the confined interior of a horse carriage. He was pleased with the luxurious appointments of the rail-car, and made full use of his time by reading more political treatises. The relatively novel way of travel by railway was fast becoming the preferred choice for many. Whilst the noise and the smoke these monstrous coal-burning train engines produced were barely tolerable, the great economic benefits of such mode of transportation could not be overlooked. Travelers were able to traverse vast distances in a greatly reduced span of time whilst remaining in comfort and safety. In addition, the ever-expanding railway system provided a network of communication and distribution of goods between many large cities as well as remote towns. The nation, as a whole, was reaping riches greater than ever imagined in this Age of Industrial Revolution. Britain was well on her way to imperial greatness.

Whilst Lord Braunfield could bask as happily as anyone in the glory of his country, he was concerned about the growing woes and sufferings of the poor - especially in the slums of industrial towns. The writings of Charles Dickens had opened the nation's eyes to such horrid conditions, human misery and existence. Lord Braunfield decided to pen another political commentary - this time on the vital issue of child labor. He had been greatly pleased to see his essay on women's suffrage published in the latest issue of Gentlemen's Quarterly, and felt justly inspired to write again. By the time his train arrived in London, he was not only armed with a lengthy and persuasive political commentary, he was entertaining the idea of running for Parliament - in the House of Commons until the eventual assumption of his hereditary seat in the House of Lords.

Lord Braunfield arrived safely at Paxton Hall only to be informed by his butler that his father was ensconced in the Bingley townhouse. As Lady Paxton was still in Paris, the aged earl had accepted the gracious invitation from the Bingleys to remain as their guest for the duration. If the truth be admitted, Lord Paxton enjoyed the domestic felicity of the busy Bingley household, and relished being a part of it.

"My dear son!" exclaimed Lord Paxton. He had missed William beyond measure, and the very sight of him almost brought tears to the older gentleman's eyes. In spite of the pain in his gouty foot, he rose from his chair, and stepped forward to greet his son. Grasping his hands firmly in his, he took full measure of him. He was well pleased with what he saw.

"Father!" replied William with equal emotion. "It is good to behold your face again!" His words of greetings were familiar, but he had never imbued them with such sincerity as he did now. Opening his heart to Elizabeth had made him more appreciative of every blessing in his life.

"Welcome, William!" said Mr. and Mrs. Bingley in merry unison. Lord Braunfield kissed his aunt, and shook his uncle's hand. A broad grin appeared on Mr. Bingley's face as he regarded his nephew with critical appraisal. "Alexander told me how diligent and assertive you were at Ridgemont. I have never seen you looking better! Perhaps I should have dispatched Henry off to the coal mines as well. Alas, he has gone off to Delaford to woo his young lady!"

"Alexander is a stern taskmaster, but I enjoyed my sojourn at Ridgemont, Sir. I have learnt invaluable lessons there," laughed Lord Braunfield. "I shall have to dash off soon - to pay my respects to the Darcys."

"They are staying with us presently," said Mr. Bingley. As if to confirm his statement, a peal of baby laughter rang out loudly in the hallway. In a matter of heartbeats, the youngest Darcy entered the drawing room whilst in the arms of his devoted Aunt Lizzy. His proud parents followed closely behind.

The sight of Miss Elizabeth with a handsome and robust babe in her arms took Lord Braunfield's breath away momentarily. When he saw her last, her precious face was mere inches away from his! He stared openly at her, too dumbstruck for words.

Not for his life would he have guessed the tumultuous feelings he had incited in Elizabeth by his presence. It took her iron will to force herself to appear sanguine, and to meet his unflinching gaze with a bold smile. Her dark eyes sparkled with vitality, and a crimson blush spread across her lovely face. Her entire appearance was bewitching, to say the least, and his heart stirred with feverish longings. Suddenly, he recalled his own manners. He bowed with formal courtesy to the ladies, not daring to kiss Lizzy's hand lest he could not let go once he held it within his own.

During this quiet interlude, Mr. Bingley eagerly took his grandson from Lizzy. He carried him off as if he cradled the most precious treasure in the realm within his arms. Little Alex merrily babbled away in baby talk as Mrs. Bingley joined them. The little tike cooed in delight as his doting grandmother sang a sweet tune for him.

"I can see why you are staying here," remarked Lord Braunfield to his friend. He marveled at the scene of domestic bliss before him, and felt rather guilty that he had not fulfilled his father's fondest wish. He had yet to secure a wife, let alone sire any Warring offspring.

Alexander concurred with a laugh. "As my parents are still in Derbyshire, this arrangement remains the best for us. My darling wife and son can bask in the glory of love and attention from the Bingleys, and my sister can espouse her reform ideas long into the night with Emily."

Bemused laughter greeted such remarks. Lizzy took advantage of such unguarded moments to study the viscount standing before her. Somehow he seemed taller than she remembered, and he was more devastatingly handsome than before. There was a look of unfathomable intensity within his dark eyes whenever he looked upon her, and she found her own eyes drawn involuntarily to those sensuously masculine lips. As she averted her gaze, she saw his fleeting smile, as if he knew that her mind was likewise preoccupied by the thought of the kiss that never was.

Lizzy took a determined step away from Lord Braunfield. She was both embarrassed and dismayed that he could incite such a whirlwind of confused emotions within her heart when she had thought herself cured of this irrational attraction towards him. Moreover, she was acutely aware of the curious scrutiny of those standing in such close proximity to them.

Alexander and Isabella Darcy were the souls of discretion, and they were not so long married as to forget the awkwardness they had once felt in each other's company prior to their mutual confession of love. They were certain of William's overflowing admiration for Lizzy, yet they could not readily perceive Lizzy's true feelings. From their own experience, they knew full well how pride and prejudice could stand in the way of true happiness.

Lord Paxton regarded the young Miss Darcy with fatherly admiration. From the first moments of their acquaintance, he had singled out this remarkable young lady as the most suitable match for his only son. If only William were the worthy man he was now! The earl suffered in silence, lamenting the long years that he himself had wasted - how he had failed to exert his proper authority as a father. He was as culpable in spoiling William as Lady Paxton was. Such a sorry history must still be dogging William, else he would have openly declared his intentions towards Miss Darcy. It was apparent that he was besotted with love, and he was never the shy one to hide his feelings.

"I beg to be excused, my lords," said Lizzy as she curtsied to take leave. "My brother and I journey to Kent on the morrow, and I need to make proper arrangements."

"Of course, my dear," smiled Lord Paxton. He was trying to contrive a reason for his son to accompany the Darcys for their obligatory visit to Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings, but failed to think of any feasible cause. He glanced at his son, and saw the pensive look on his handsome face as he stared after the retreating Miss Elizabeth.

"We shall be gone but for a few days," said Alexander as he patted his friend on the shoulder with encouragement. "And we shall be back in time to attend the launching of my Uncle Gardiner's new merchant ship and the celebratory Ball."

"We have received a gracious invitation from Sir Edward as well," confirmed Lord Paxton. "And we shall be honored to attend."

"A Ball afterwards? I must practice my dancing," laughed William with sudden lightheartedness as he recalled the pleasure of holding Elizabeth in his arms during their first waltz together two springs ago. Their conservation was memorable as well, to say the least!

"Is your knee well enough to dance?" asked Isabella with sisterly concern. She recalled the pitiful sight of William hiding behind the potted palms at the Darcy Ball, a sharp contrast to his being the center of attention at so many a ball prior to his near-fatal shooting by Sir David Lexington.

"I think I can manage a country dance - a quadrille, perhaps - but certainly not a waltz. My confounded knee remains a problem. Alexander might have to bribe the musicians after all!"

Isabella arched an elegant brow at her cousin's last remark. Alexander could not suppress his mirthful mood when he said teasingly, "A quadrille may not be as romantic as a waltz, William, but you will find ample time to think of witty repartees during those eight-step circles if you should engage in a verbal duel with your partner!"

"A likely prospect," said Lord Braunfield with a wistful smile. "In which case, I should polish not only my dance steps, but my mind as well!"

Lord Braunfield arrived home, fatigued and downhearted from his visit with the Bingleys. He had tried, but failed miserably in his attempts to engage Elizabeth in conversation over dinner, let alone have a private tête-à-tête with her afterwards. In his disappointment, he bid a hasty retreat to Paxton Hall, as he needed a quiet refuge for contemplation. His father chose to remain with the Bingleys for one more night, as his foot was inflamed with gouty pain.

Two letters had been delivered to Paxton Hall earlier that evening, and as wearied as he felt, his curiosity was piqued as he took note of the sender's name on the first letter. He smiled as he read the effusive compliments from the editor of Gentlemen's Quarterly, especially the last lines, ". . .my lord, I have honored your wish to remain anonymous with the use of a simple "W" as your signature, but I beg you to reconsider such a decision. Your political message would be ever more powerful if the ton knew who wrote it. . . Sir, I remain your most humble servant, etc."

Lord Braunfield was not so naive to believe that the editor did not harbor other ulterior motives in his plea. If his identity is revealed, it would certainly cause a great stir in Society, and would generate a boost to the subscription of the publication. He cared not what the ton thought of him, but he did not wish to add to his infamous reputation by being controversial. Notoriety was not what he craved.

The second letter was addressed to "Mr. W" in care of the editor of Gentlemen's Quarterly. A note was attached to the linen envelope, which read,

My lord, this letter was delivered to my office by special messenger this morning, seemingly of an urgent and important nature. I took the liberty to forward it to you, my lord. Please forgive my presumptions.

Your most obedient servant . . . etc.

Lord Braunfield was greatly intrigued. He glanced at the bottom of the letter the moment he took it out of the envelope. Alas, the writer signed the letter with the words "A kindred spirit," but nothing else. It was written in an elegant feminine hand. The parchment, though plain, was of the finest quality. He read the letter carefully, impressed by insightful comments put forth by the writer. What had impressed him most was her unflinching honesty in voicing her points of disagreements with him. He smiled appreciatively as he re-read the letter. Something else intrigued him immensely upon this second reading - the writer's turn of phrase seemed strangely familiar. He held up the parchment against the light, and saw a distinctive Palladian column with a fleur de lis as the watermark. Where had he seen such a mark before, he wondered?

He mused about writing a response to such a letter. Although the writer chose to remain anonymous, she had clearly anticipated the possibility of a reply from him. She directed that any future correspondence to be delivered in care of her solicitor's firm. He easily recognized the name of the establishment - old and well-respected - with exclusive clients from the privileged class. He did not need to speculate the family background of the mysterious "kindred spirit" for it was obvious that she was a member of the aristocracy. Miss Elizabeth Darcy was not alone in her determined advocacy for social reforms. There were a few young ladies of the ton who cared more about social woes than the latest fashion of the day. His own Bingley relations - intelligent and well-educated, conscious of their familial obligations, and dedicated in social causes - could certainly pen such a letter if they should feel inclined. He wondered at the true identity of the letter-writer, and decided that the best way to make any kind of discovery was to write back.

Lacking other diversions, he decided to pen a reply. The moment his quill touched the parchment, he found that words seemed to pour forth from him like a raging river. He wrote as if he were writing to an old friend, even expounding upon various matters that were too sensitive in nature to be published in the Gentlemen's Quarterly. He had to force himself to end the letter after several pages, and wondered if he would shock her with his presumptions. In any event, he instinctively felt that his letter would prompt an articulate response from her. He dispatched the letter to the solicitor, and toyed briefly with the idea of finding out the identity of "A kindred spirit" by means of discreet inquiries.

Chapter 19

Posted on Saturday, 18 June 2005

Lord Braunfield spent the following week in the quiet company of his father and his amiable Uncle Charles. After a visit or two to his clubs, he decided not to frequent them as he no longer craved the companionship of his old chums. In retrospect, he never thought that he would grow tired of carousing or engaging in idle pursuits with his friends of the ton. During his long convalescence from his injuries, he had hoped to rejoin his friends when he was well again, but now, he found most of them frivolous and trivial. He preferred the company of serious-minded men like Alexander Darcy. His father's extensive library at Paxton Hall became his new haven - a treasure trove of knowledge that he had long neglected, but was now eager to discover its splendid wealth.

The Bingley household was in a heightened state of anticipation for the pending birth of the first child of Margaret and Anthony Knightley. Lord Paxton returned to Paxton Hall as he did not wish to impose upon the Bingleys any longer. His own retinue of servants were loyal and capable, and he had every luxury and comfort at his palatial home. Yet, he found the vast marble halls too hauntingly quiet - what he would give to hear the sounds of youthful laughter in his own home!

"I never knew what I missed here at home, Father, when I indulged myself by staying in Paris for such extended periods of time," confessed William one evening as they sat together in their library playing chess. Lord Paxton was enjoying a glass of excellent French cognac, but his son stoically adhered to his preferred choice of drink - mineral water.

"It is not uncommon for young gentlemen of the ton to sow a few wild oats before settling down," declared Lord Paxton with a gracious smile. "I must confess that I was not a saint in the greener days of my bachelorhood."

"Well, I did more than my fair share of it, and I am heartily ashamed of myself!" sighed Lord Braunfield. "My judgment was poor, and my pride was excessive! If only I had the sense and wit to see that true wealth did not dwell within bank vaults or extensive estates, but in the measure of one's faith, family and friends."

"You are not four and twenty, my dear son," said Lord Paxton reassuringly. "Do not dwell on the past! I am very hopeful that your future will be exceedingly bright - with Miss Elizabeth Darcy for wife, you shall have every blessing of life!"

"Miss Elizabeth for wife?" repeated Lord Braunfield. His mind was so filled with thoughts of her that he made a grievous move on the chessboard.

"Yes! I shall wager my entire fortune that you are very much in love with her," laughed Lord Paxton. His eyes glinted with glee as he saw the unexpected opportunity before him. With triumph he moved his Bishop strategically, "Check!"

"It is true, Father. I have never felt such a way about any woman before - not even when I was so obsessed with my cousin Isabella! Alas, I have doubts about my love being requited by Miss Elizabeth." Vivid images of his beloved clouded out all other thoughts, and his mind was no longer engaged in the game at hand. He barely heard his father's call, and did not move his King at all. Instead, he lifted up his white Knight, and gazed at it as if he had never seen a chess piece before.

"Unless I am blind, my dear son, I can readily perceive that she is much affected by you as well. More than once I saw her looking upon you with more than passing curiosity."

"Well, I do believe that there is an undeniably strong attraction between us, but I think this very fact may serve me ill! She seems determined to fight against having any partiality towards me."

With a victorious smile, Lord Paxton called out, "Checkmate!"

Lord Braunfield conceded his defeat with a sincere smile. "Very well played!"

"You were distracted, William, but I shall savor this win nevertheless!" laughed Lord Paxton. His son was a brilliant chess player, and he could not recall the last time he defeated him in the game. He lifted his glass and cheerily quoted Virgil: "Amor vincit omnia !"

"Love conquers all?" said his son as he shook his head in sudden despair. He spun the Knight piece absently in his hand as he stated, "No woman looks upon the wishing star for a crippled Knight to come into her life!"

"You are not a cripple!" protested Lord Paxton heatedly. "Your limp is so slight now that I hardly notice it anymore!"

"Slight, but enough to remind people of how I got it in the first place. I cannot pretend my limp to be either a battle wound or a glorious injury from sport! As much as I am reluctant to admit it, there are young men of the ton who will make very worthy suitors for Miss Elizabeth and her sister Jane."

"A mere handful of such men, and none as handsome as you!" declared Lord Paxton without hesitation. "Women, in general, are tender-hearted and susceptible to great romanticism. If you press your suit in a persistent but gentlemanly manner, you will remain in the forefront of Miss Elizabeth's legion of suitors. And if Alexander Darcy champions your courtship of his sister, you will have a powerful ally. When a woman is in love, she will embrace all warts and faults of her beloved! Miss Elizabeth will find romance and poignancy in all matters - including your unfortunate malady!"

Lord Braunfield shook his head. "Elizabeth is like no other women. I must find ways other than the conventional to win her heart!"

Lord Paxton could not find any adequate words of advice for his son. His own marriage could not meet any measure of connubial bliss, and all his excessive indulgences towards his wife, Caroline, had failed to win him her heart. Yet, for the gift of his precious son, he was grateful beyond measure, and considered himself a blessed man.

"I shall be diligent in my prayers then," said Lord Paxton. A hopeful smile appeared upon his plain and aged face as he sought divine help. Did not the Almighty spare his son's life when a renowned sharpshooter like David Lexington missed his mark? Surely, such an act of grace carried profound blessings and purpose!

"Oh, my darling," whispered Isabella as she snuggled next her husband. "I fear that I shall never grow comfortable with our current sleeping arrangement here at Rosings."

"You mean you don't like our separate bedchambers?" Alexander chuckled quietly, drawing his dear wife ever closer, "Lady Catherine is merely following the dictates of the ton. Our own preferred way is considered by many to be rather vulgar, you know, but I dare say, I would risk severe censure if it means that I can kiss you thusly whenever I wish to during the night and upon waking in the morning." Alexander laughed heartily before capturing her lips in an ardent kiss. Clearly, he did not care for anyone to tell him where to sleep, and he was determined to reap the benefits of his bold defiance of this particular social convention.

After a long moment, he said, "My parents are subjected to similar sleeping arrangements whenever they visit Rosings, although my father has never allowed the distance of separate floors and wings to keep him away from my mother either!"

"Separate floors and wings?" repeated Isabella quizzically.

"Yes!" laughed Alexander as he explained. "He in the west wing, and Mother in the east! Father confided to me that he cannot sleep anywhere else except the spot next to my dear mother!"

Isabella blushed at the knowledge of such an intimate confidence regarding the habits of her in-laws. She was aware, however, of the exceedingly close bond between the Darcy men, and she suspected that her husband sought frequent advice from his own father on matters of connubial felicity. She herself had confided her secrets to her Aunt Elizabeth long before the lady became her mother-in-law, and their mutual trust and affection had continued to flourish.

"Then I shall complain no longer," declared Isabella mirthfully. "At least you are merely across the hallway from me! No more than forty paces, I dare say!"

"But it is too great a distance for my weary legs to cover, and I shall have a horrid time trying to sleep when I shall miss you so terribly!" said Alexander. "I shall stay here for the duration if you don't mind, my darling wife!"

"Hmm," sighed Isabella contently as he drew her closer, thrilling to the intoxicating kisses he was showering upon her presently. "I shall not quarrel with your decision, my darling! I shall entrust myself entirely to your good judgment!" Melting into his strong arms, she returned his love in full.

"Oh, how I love you!" he murmured against her lips with wonderment in his voice. He had yet to wake from the most romantic of dreams, but he knew that he never would. His parents had been living in similar bliss these many years, and their love remained as fresh and passionate as it was abidingly strong.

"As I love you!" came her unequivocal confirmation.

Lizzy Darcy had been unusually pensive throughout her visit at Rosings. She spent most of her time reading and writing, and scarcely played the pianoforte. Fortunately for all, Isabella's talents easily matched that of Lizzy's. Each evening, the grand halls of Rosings were graced with the melodic music and voice of an angel. Alexander sat contentedly, enjoying his wife's songs whilst rocking their child gently to sleep. He did not surrender the sleeping babe to the care of his wife when she finished her turn at the piano, but continued in his prodigious fatherly care.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh had a special place in her heart for the firstborn son of her dear nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy. She had long wished for a union between Alexander with her own granddaughter, Catherine, but such a wish came to naught, much like the grand plans she once had for her nephew and her daughter, Anne. She could not suppress her lingering disappointment as she uttered rather sternly, "My dear Alexander, your son should be in the care of his nurse and be safely ensconced in his nursery! It is entirely unbecoming for the heir of Pemberley to be taking care of his own child! Allow your wife to do her duties!"

Little Alex stirred, his peaceful slumber momentarily disturbed by the shrill of her ladyship's voice. His father soothed his brow with the gentlest caress. Little Alex cooed contentedly, and was fast asleep again.

"A child born out of love should be nourished by the same," replied Alexander placidly, meeting Lady Catherine's stern regard with unflinching confidence.

He then exchanged a meaningful glance at his sister Lizzy, who promptly roused herself from her pensive mood, and declared brightly, "I am sure that my own parents have long taken to heart your ladyship's advice on the matters of child-rearing. As you can readily see, Aunt Catherine, my siblings and I have greatly benefited from your wisdom." She did not elaborate, of course, that her parents simply did the opposite of Lady Catherine's many rules on child-rearing, and had produced very happy results instead!

As always, Lady Catherine was utterly disarmed by Lizzy's charm.

"My dear child, you have scarcely spoken more than two words since your arrival at Rosings. You are certainly not suffering from any sickness, for your pretty face glows with radiant health. So what is ailing you, Elizabeth?"

"Nothing to signify, your ladyship is too kind!" Lizzy had not thought her preoccupation with Lord Braunfield had been so evident, for even Lady Catherine suspected something was amiss.

The harder she tried not to think of William Warring, the worse it got. Indeed, her vivid imagination seemed to run amuck at night, while awake and alone in her bed, thinking of the inevitable interview with him at their next social encounter - when he would ask for the kiss that never was. She knew it in her bones that he would claim it - the man had a persistent nature - and she would be powerless to resist him! She tried to replace her thoughts of him with images of other young gentlemen of her acquaintance. Surely, if she should think of young men at all, she should not waste her time on reformed rakes!

She forced herself to concentrate on more serious matters. She had been diligent in all her correspondences, but she wondered if a particular letter she wrote last week ever reached its intended destination. Even if it did, she reminded herself, there would be many similar letters written by other concerned citizens to the same gentleman. Her own letter would undoubtedly be lost amongst such a flood of missives; hence, she should not dwell upon the possibility of ever receiving a reply. Indeed, how many of her letters to prominent political leaders and captains of industry were ever answered? Even if there was a reply, it was usually written in a condescending and patronizing tone; she had yet to receive any reply written in earnest.

At this injunction, the Reverend Mr. Collins declared that he should give another sermon on child-rearing for the Sunday following to his congregation. "I have not touched upon such a vital subject for quite some time. By your ladyship's most gracious permission, I should like to expound upon your sage advice with biblical references, so that our entire parish of Hunsford may benefit from your wisdom."

Lady Catherine gave her consent with an aristocratic nod, and Mr. Collins was sent into rapturous oratory. Alexander wondered how a man could manage to bow so reverently and speak so insipidly whilst staying seated. Mrs. Collins dutifully sat quietly beside her husband. She had borne their long years of marriage with stoic faith and methodical reserve. Alexander looked upon his mother's childhood friend with admiration. He recalled a biblical verse from the Book of Hebrews that Mrs. Collins quoted to him over dinner. "Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Inspirational words! He was certain that Mrs. Collins found solace and strength in them.

Before long, their visit to Rosings came to a merciful end. The Darcys bid a respectful farewell to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and promised to deliver Mrs. Collins's warmest regards to all their families. Mr. Collins gave them a lengthy benediction for a safe journey. A sense of forlorn regret played upon his mind fleetingly as he blessed the youngest daughter of his cousin Elizabeth. Such a striking resemblance to her remarkable mother - who, by a quirk of fate, might have become a vicar's wife instead of the Mistress of Pemberley.

"I do miss seeing our cousin Catherine during this visit," exclaimed Lizzy as the carriage finally drew away from Rosings.

"The Ashford-Adams family deserves a seaside holiday away from Rosings!" observed Alexander. "They will be in London before they return to Kent. You shall have ample opportunities to take our cousin Catherine to the National Gallery and shop to your hearts' content in the delightful stores in Town."

"And ice-treats at Gunter's?" asked Lizzy sweetly. "You owe me many such treats! Your outstanding debts are almost insurmountable, you know!"

"A lifetime of buying you ice-treats shall never be enough to repay you, my dear sister for your effective role in facilitating the correspondences between Isabella and I."

"I shall forgive all debts if you promise never to subject me to those love sonnets of yours, oh Bard of Ridgemont! Your sonnets were imbued with such nonsensical sweetness that I almost got sick from merely passing them along to our dear Bella!"

A long and hearty round of laughter ensued. Alexander was the first to gain his countenance. "You will not protest so fiercely when you receive love sonnets from the man you finally lose your heart to!"

"Is that a threat or a promise, my dear brother?" retorted Lizzy sweetly.

"A promise," said Alexander solemnly. Somehow, his simple answer unsettled her.

"And as you know, your brother is hardly ever wrong," teased Isabella. She had yet to be fully convinced that her cousin William Warring was the man of Lizzy's destiny, but she was willing to be objective in her observations, and to lend her support if he proved himself worthy in the end. "Speaking of writing, Lizzy, did you receive any replies from your latest letter-writing campaign?"

"Very few, and not yet from the one I am most anxious to hear from!" she said with a sigh.

"Perhaps it has arrived during our absence from Town," said Isabella. "Dear Lizzy, I have not devoted as much time to help you as I would have liked, and I am heartily sorry."

"My dear Bella, you owe me no apology! Your time is more importantly engaged in the loving care of my brother and nephew. Men can be a handful at times!"

"Other men, perhaps, but never your dear brother! I must confess that my husband cares for me with prodigious devotion," declared Isabella blushingly. Her fine blue eyes confessed the rest. She turned to look at Alexander, and found him smiling at her.

The sight of their son sleeping so serenely within his protective arms filled Isabella with rapturous joy. She felt as if she was falling in love with Alexander yet again - her sense of enthrallment had not diminished in any way with the passage of time.

Bearing witness to the quiet scene of connubial bliss caused a sharp pang of envy in Lizzy's heart. Would she ever find such happiness in matrimony, she wondered? Would she ever find a worthy man who loved her so profoundly and completely? Someone whom she could admire and respect, who loved children as equally as she did, and who was as dedicated to social reforms as she was?

Was there such a paragon for her in the divine scheme of things?

Lord Braunfield was not disappointed. A week after his reply, "A Kindred Spirit"wrote back. Her missive was delivered to the editor's office at Gentlemen's Quarterly, and was promptly forwarded to Paxton Hall. With the eagerness of a child opening a birthday present, Lord Braunfield read the letter with bated breath. He was not surprised by her many disagreements with his views, but he was exceedingly impressed by the rational and intelligent way the writer expressed herself. She had a formidable and erudite mind, to be sure, but she did not neglect her social graces. She even apologized for her tardiness in writing as she had been out of Town for several days. Such probity! All the proper graces except one, mused Lord Braunfield. It was highly improper to carry out a clandestine correspondence with an anonymous person - be it male or female - and she was doing so with unabashed enthusiasm.

Lord Braunfield sat down to write a prompt reply. Nameless and faceless the writer might be to him, he felt she knew him as no one else did. Truly, she was his "kindred spirit!" Involuntarily, he began to conjure up an image of her - young and vivacious, with fine eyes that shone with wit . . .

He stopped abruptly at such a thought, and cursed himself vehemently. How can I think of the writer in such a way when Miss Elizabeth Darcy is the woman of my heart? He flung down his quill, spilling ink in his haste, as he shredded the half-finished parchment into bits and pieces.

I must not write to this mysterious woman again! If he had any hope of winning Elizabeth's heart, he must not allow any diversions into his life. A disciplined life with no irreligious and immoral habits must be the foundation stone of building a new William Warring. Whilst this present correspondence was innocent enough, he could not take any risks. One letter would inevitably lead to another, and what would become of it?

At that moment, his butler appeared to announce the arrival of a visitor.

"Mr. Darcy to see you, my lord. He is in the drawing room."

Lord Braunfield leapt to his feet as he inquired with a touch of apprehension. "The senior Mr. Darcy?"

"No, my lord. It is the young master."

"Good!" exclaimed Lord Braunfield eagerly. He glanced again at the letter from "A Kindred Spirit" before stuffing it hastily into his desk drawer. Perhaps it would be wise to burn the letter tonight, he thought, as he strolled out of his study to meet Alexander..

"You are looking well, William," said Alexander as they settled comfortably in his carriage. "A tad distracted, but well."

"Barely ten minutes in your company, and you can read my mind!" protested Lord Braunfield mildly.

"No, I wasn't trying to read your mind," replied Alexander placidly. "My sister Lizzy has had the same look of distraction about her this past week. Perhaps she is thinking about the Gardiner Ball tonight?"

"A likely reason," smiled Lord Braunfield as he recognized the conspiratorial tone of his best friend. "How are all your family, Isabella, little Alex and . . . your sister Elizabeth? How fared your journey home? "

"We arrived home yesterday evening. They are all in excellent health."

"All is well at Rosings then?"

"Tolerably well. My cousin Catherine and her parents were away at Brighton, and it required extra effort to please Lady Catherine. My dear wife bore the brunt of the burden." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "I have a strange inkling that her ladyship has not quite forgiven me for not marrying her granddaughter."

"Love is the essence of life. You have followed the dictates of your own heart, and have chosen the ideal woman for wife."

"Yes, indeed!" confirmed Alexander with a jovial laugh. "And my ideal wife is fast becoming your ally! When Jack Goodwin's letter arrived at our house this morning, we were taken aback by your incredible generosity towards the children of Ridgemont. My Bella winked at me when she declared that such a thoughtful gesture deserved a good turn. Surprisingly, Lizzy concurred as well!"

"She did?" asked Lord Braunfield with sudden hope.

"Let us hope that Lizzy's good turn will translate into a dance with you tonight," said Alexander blithely. "Now, on behalf of the children at Ridgemont, I want to express my most sincere thanks."

Lord Braunfield acknowledged such words with a modest smile. "It was nothing really. I merely forwarded the residual money I had originally allotted to support Madame St. Pierre, as well as the money I received from the lease of my townhouse. I have no further use for any love nest in Town! I terminated the agreement of my financial support to Madame St. Pierre after I learnt she had defiantly broken her promise to me by her secret letter to Lord Ashbourne. Alas, the term of my support was due to expire by the time my instructions reached my agent in Paris. Still, a penny saved is a penny earned. I think the children of Ridgemont will spend the money more wisely than Chloe St. Pierre! By the way, how is Big Jack - and his remarkable Mrs. Goodwin?"

"They are very well, and all at Ridgemont send you their warmest regards."

A festive crowd had already gathered at the docks when Alexander Darcy and Lord Braunfield alighted from their carriage. An enormous canopy was constructed on the docks for this grand occasion - guests were milling about cordially, enjoying refreshments and the liberal flow of champagne beneath its protective shade. The entire Gardiner clan was in attendance, with Sir Edward greeting his guests with gracious ease. His devoted wife of fifty years held onto her husband's arm with justified pride, and welcomed all with the warmest hospitality.

It was a mild but bright spring day. The new merchant ship looked sleek and magnificent, her brow pointing towards the mouth of the River Thames, and the high seas beyond. The natural ebb and flow of the water caused the sturdy ship to rock gently, tugging at its moorings, as if she was growing impatient for her maiden voyage.

The figurehead - a massive and beautifully carved mermaid - cradled a large wooden shield with a distinctive golden "G" within her wooden arms. Her face was unusually lovely for a figurehead, and an observant onlooker might find it bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain Gardiner niece! Large and colorful pennants fluttered proudly in the gentle breeze. Beneath the large embroidered golden "G" were the words: Gardiner & Sons, Merchants and Purveyors of Fine Goods.

Both Alexander and Lord Braunfield stood in awe at the splendid sight before them.

"Very impressive," said Lord Braunfield. "A scene worthy of your artist's brush!"

"Indeed! This newest ship is the crowning glory of the Gardiner fleet. She is very fast - capable of going sixteen nautical knots or perhaps even faster, but such speed does not require much sacrifice to the cargo hold."

"My father and I had the honor of inviting the Gardiners to dine with us at Paxton Hall two evenings ago. Sir Edward gave us the full specifications of the Intrepid Lady. We had a wonderful evening together - I can now appreciate why the Gardiners are held in such great esteem and affection by your family."

Alexander smiled approvingly at his friend, pleased that he had fulfilled the invitation he had extended to the Gardiners last winter.

"Lord Braunfield! Alexander!" exclaimed Sir Edward jovially as he stepped forward to greet them.

"Welcome!" added Lady Gardiner. "We are so glad to see you! The Bingleys are already here, but where is the rest of your party?"

"My father sends his regrets," replied Lord Braunfield. "His gout has flared up again, and he is presently resting at home. He hopes to attend the Ball tonight."

"My parents arrived in Town early this morning," explained Alexander. "Isabella and Lizzy will be accompanying them here."

"And what about your sister, Jane?" asked Lady Gardiner with grave concern. She knew only of the James Darcys staying at Pemberley to await the birth of their child.

"Jane remains in Derbyshire. Miranda cannot travel due to her present confinement, and Jane wishes to be with her as soon as she returns home from Beauchamp. Thank God, Lord Matlock is finally on the mend!"

"Amen!" exclaimed Sir Edward and Lady Gardiner in unison. Their attention was soon drawn by the arrival of a very grand carriage. A tall and formidable gentleman emerged from the carriage with a laughing infant in his arms, followed closely by three elegant ladies.

"Truly a sight for these old eyes," exclaimed Sir Edward after extending his warm greetings to the newest arrivals. "Upon my word, Darcy, for a fleeting moment there, it seemed as if you and my dear niece were bringing your firstborn son to visit us, and I could have sworn that Isabella was sweet Jane herself!"

"My young nephew as my brother, Alex, and Isabella as her mother, Jane? Pray tell, who am I supposed to be?" teased Lizzy as she gave Sir Edward an affectionate kiss before she embraced Lady Gardiner.

As Sir Edward searched for words, Lord Braunfield stepped forward to pay his respects to the senior Darcys. He bowed gallantly to Isabella and Lizzy, again restraining himself from taking the latter's hand to bestow a kiss lest he could not let go of it.

"How did the years go by so quickly?" asked Sir Edward with a slight touch of sadness.

"Upon eagle's wings, sir," said Mr. Darcy philosophically, a bright smile lighting up his serious face. "The best years, I firmly believe, are still before us. I have brought my grandson to witness this historical moment."

Sir Edward patted little Alex gently on the head before he gestured for everyone to follow him. He led them to the forefront of the crowd already gathered near the Intrepid Lady.

Little Alex, ever amiable and social, squealed with delightful laugher at the sight of so many guests. He adored outings, especially when he was being hoisted high in his grandfather's strong arms so he could survey all before him.

Amidst thunderous rounds of applause, Lady Gardiner, aided by her dear husband, mounted the platform constructed to stand before the stern of the ship. Their two sons stood closely beside them - both Philip and Thomas were now equal partners in the family business after Sir Edward's recent retirement.

Holding a bottle of champagne in her hand, Lady Gardiner gave the new ship a solemn benediction.

May calm seas and fair winds be your constant companions across the Seven Seas.
May all who set foot upon thee, for voyages near or far,
Find easy passage and a safe journey home to their loved ones.
Godspeed, Intrepid Lady, and God Bless all who sail with thee!

Soon afterwards, the guests were invited to climb aboard for a tour of the ship. Close friends and relations were the vanguard party, and conversations between all present were filled with high praise for the fine ship and her owners.

Lord Braunfield was amongst the first guests to reach the deck of the Intrepid Lady. He chose to stand alone, leaning against the sturdy wooden railing as his eyes scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Lizzy. He saw her almost immediately, and allowed himself the rare luxury of watching her with unabashed admiration, albeit at a respectful distance. She was engaged in animated conversations with her cousins, and was entirely unaware of his scrutiny.

Her every movement and gesture enthralled him. Even at a distance, he could perceive the lively sparkle in her fine eyes, how he longed to hear the sweet music of her voice. He felt inextricably drawn to her, and decided he would devise some excuse to be near her.

As he was about to step away from his chosen vantage point, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of one of the young Gardiner grandchildren. The boy - the most rambunctious of the lot - was a short distance away from him, climbing boldly onto the railing, alone and unattended!

Before the nobleman could shout out a commanding "Stop!" the child teetered precariously for a brief moment before tumbling overboard!

Lord Braunfield reacted instinctively, tearing off his elegant coat and kicking off his leather shoes in one fluid motion. He grasped the railing for leverage, and took a leaping dive in pursuit of the young boy. He moved with surprising agility and speed for one who suffered a damaged right knee. As he sped downwards, his quick eyes sought the location of the child in the watery depths. His body hit the cold water with a graceful entry, and he swam with powerful strokes towards the drowning boy - or rather, towards a golden head that was fast sinking beneath the blackness of the River Thames.

The sudden commotion and noise of splashing water gave the instant alarm. Someone on deck cried out, loudly and frantically: "Overboard! Overboard! Man and child!"

Another shouted, "Over there! Dear God! The boy is sinking!"

Amidst such awful declarations, hysterical screams were heard, and several ladies swooned in distressful faint. The crowd on the deck rushed as one towards the starboard side of the ship. The people standing on the docks likewise moved quickly to the edge in order to get a better glimpse of the drama at hand.

Alexander Darcy, standing at the opposite direction when the excitement occurred, had to push his way forcefully through the anxious crowd before he reached the railing. He stripped off his coat, and was about to dive in when he saw, in great relief, that Lord Braunfield had the child securely within his right arm, and was already swimming back towards the ship.

The young nobleman was an excellent swimmer. He had never performed a rescue before, but his keen instincts and physical abilities guided him. His powerful strokes cut through the murky water and floating debris with ease. As the ship was closer than the docks, he swam purposefully towards it.

Alexander called urgently for help as he grasped a line firmly in his hands, and climbed over the railing. He began to repel himself downward to meet his friend and young cousin, his superior physical condition a great asset at this crucial time. By now, several able seamen were at hand, manning the lines under the direction of the ship's captain.

"Joseph!" cried the boy's parents, half in agony and half in relief, as they watched Lord Braunfield hand over the boy to Alexander. Tucking the child securely against him, Alexander gave the signal for the sailors on deck to hoist them up together.

Halfway up, the boy lost his earlier fears. Secured within such powerful arms and reassured by fatherly words of comfort, little Joseph began to squeal with excited laughter as he felt the novel sensation of almost flying through air. Lord Braunfield secured the second line around his own waist, and was hoisted up in a similar fashion.

When Lord Braunfield reached the rail, he felt several pairs of eager hands reaching over to help him climb aboard. Such hands, however, released their hold as he cleared the railing. He landed gracefully upon the deck, and as he looked up, he found himself standing almost face to face with Miss Elizabeth Darcy! This unexpected surprise made him almost lose his footing. She reached out instinctively to help steady him, and did not release her surprisingly firm hold until he regained his equilibrium.

He stood in rigid silence, staring at her as he tried to catch his breath. His heart pounded violently, even though he was no longer taxing himself with any strenuous physical activity. He touched where Elizabeth's right hand had been to help steady him - the spot on his side - and felt the electrifying sensation of her grip still. His ears heard none of the thunderous applause and joyous cheers on the deck as well as dockside, and his eyes saw no one else but Elizabeth. Her beautiful face and mesmerizing eyes held him captive. He dared not move or speak, lest he break the spell of the moment.

Lizzy, likewise, was utterly dumbstruck. William stood so close she could feel his presence envelop her. He was thoroughly wet - water dripping from him like tiny rivers. He carried the smell of the Thames with him, but she noticed not. The vitality that he exuded felt like a powerful magnet, drawing her dangerously closer to him, hemmed in as they were by the gathering crowd. She saw how his wet hair seemed almost like a crown of dark curls, framing his handsome face in the most appealing way. She felt a great urge to run her fingers through his thick hair, perhaps . . . downwards to caress his face, and . . . to touch those sensuously masculine lips that still begged to be kissed by her!

It seemed that he had lost his waistcoat during the rescue. The fine lawn cotton shirt he wore was soaked through - and it clung tightly and translucently against his lean but well-defined body. Unable to meet his eyes, she stared fixedly at his neck and broad shoulders. As she tried to avert her gaze, she found herself entranced by the sight of his long muscular legs, encased in trousers which now plastered wet against him as a second skin. She felt an involuntary trembling surge through her own body, followed swiftly by wild flutterings in her heart. She knew her face to be crimson red, for his face was equally so.

She knew not how long they had been standing in such a manner, mutually staring at each other, measuring time only by heartbeats. Time itself seemed to stop as everything else around her faded from her consciousness. She saw only him, and his inspiring presence thrilled her like nothing she had ever experienced. It might have been ages or mere seconds when she suddenly felt others crowding around them with heartfelt exclamations of "well done!"

"Bravo, William!" said Alexander proudly as he placed an arm around his shoulder for a brotherly salute. "Thank God for your keen eyes and alert mind."

Philip and Rachel Gardiner came forward to express their deepest gratitude for his heroic rescue of their son. The feisty tike was bundled in blankets, and was enjoying the excitement of the moment. He repeated to Lord Braunfield the words his parents were whispering in his ear, and could not understand the scolding he suffered prior to being brought face to face with the tall nobleman.

"Thank you. . . !" said little Joseph before he added with childish glee, "It was more fun than . . . seeing Grandmother smash the bottle against the ship."

Stern words greeted the boy's irreverent remark. His parents and grandparents began to admonish him fiercely when Lord Braunfield reached out to grasp the boy gently by the shoulders before he leaned down to speak to him eye to eye.

"You put yourself in grave peril earlier, Joseph. Promise me that you will keep clear of such dangers in the future, and you must endeavor to master the necessary skills for swimming! Even then, never lose your respect for the sea!"

Young Joseph nodded his head vigorously, and gave his word of promise in as solemn a manner as a seven-year-old child could muster. "Yes! I shall! I promise! I will!" He continued to stare up at Lord Braunfield, his new hero, with a look of awe on his face.

Other members of the Gardiner family - young and old - stepped forward to thank Lord Braunfield as well. Sir Edward declared in earnest that he should rename the ship The Intrepid Lord in honor of the viscount, and Lady Gardiner was weeping openly with tears of relief.

Mrs. Bingley put an overcoat around Lord Braunfield's shoulders - a thoughtful gesture that earned her his brilliant smile of gratitude.

"Well done!" said Mr. Bingley approvingly. "And I am much impressed by your kind but instructive speech to young Joseph." He turned to ruffle the boy's golden hair affectionately, "You must never forget such advice!"

Lord Braunfield laughed - a clear and hearty sound that dispelled the grave tension that had grasped everyone since the frantic cries of "Overboard!"

"I was merely quoting Mr. Darcy!" he confessed to all. Turning to the elder Mr. Darcy, he explained, "Perhaps you have forgotten, sir, but you dove in to fish me out of the lake at Pemberley on my first visit there as a child. I was an unruly child of eight, and I nearly drowned that day. Indeed, I owed you my life, sir !"

Mr. Darcy acknowledged him with a solemn nod. "But I see that you have taken my advice to heart, and have mastered your swimming skills since that fateful day!" He glanced at his daughter Lizzy as he spoke, and was not unduly surprised to find her eyes staring fixedly upon a spot somewhere between Lord Braunfield's neck and shoulder. Fond memories of his own awkward encounter with his darling that fateful afternoon of her summer visit at Pemberley came flooding back in his mind.

"Very impressively so!" exclaimed Sir Edward, placing his hand upon the viscount as proudly as any father would.

"And most fortunate for the Gardiner family! I declare that your lordship must be the best swimmer of the realm!" gushed Philip Gardiner with hyperbole, understandably so, for the nobleman was the savior of his precious child.

"Now, we must get you out of those wet clothes, my dear Lord Braunfield, lest you catch a chill!" said Lady Gardiner as she took the young viscount's arm and led him away. Their families and friends followed them in excited chatter. As they came down the gangplank to the docks, spontaneous applause broke out, much like a parade for a triumphant hero.

Lizzy Darcy had allowed everyone else to precede her down the gangplank. She stood in thoughtful silence, her eyes trailing the back of Lord Braunfield, her heart still fluttering, and her mind churning with confusing and conflicting thoughts. She dreaded the thought of attending the celebratory Ball that evening. If she should find herself in his lordship's company, she feared that she might lose her iron will and forget herself entirely! But, more importantly, she was afraid that she might not even care!

Continued In Next Section