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Chapter 24

Posted on Saturday, 8 October 2005

Derbyshire, England

Jane Darcy took a long moment to survey the splendid vista before her. She knew she would miss this place, but it was time for her to depart.

"A guinea for your thoughts, my dear cousin?" said Lord Ashbourne as he joined her.

She gave him a friendly smile, and confessed, "I have always loved this view of Beauchamp."

"You know very well that Pemberley does not pale in comparison," he said sincerely.

She laughed, and protested with justification. "Nay. Pemberley may be a great estate, but Beauchamp is like a palace. When we were small, Lizzy and I pretended we were visiting the royal court when we came here."

"Well, it is home - where the heart is," said Lord Ashbourne genial modesty. As the heir to the earldom of Matlock and the vast Fitzwilliam fortune, he had grown up in a world of privilege and luxury - taking most of his blessings for granted - but his recent sojourn at the Ridgemont coal mine had given him maturity and an entirely different perspective on life.

She acknowledged his simple remark with a gracious nod. Being in the frequent company of each other for the past several weeks had enabled them to create a new rapport. Theirs was an open friendship, strengthened by mutual trust and respect, without any undercurrents of emotional entanglement.

"Shall we take a brief turn in the garden?" he suggested cordially, but did not offer her his arm. She nodded her consent, and they began their walk side by side in companionable silence. For several minutes, neither one of them made any effort to speak. Tranquility reigned in the air, and they gladly basked in it.

A certain plant in the well-tended garden caught Jane's eye, and she remarked upon it. This led to a further discussion of herbs and flowers, and Thomas smiled in appreciation at the depth of her horticultural knowledge. Medical herbs had played a vital part in Lord Matlock's recent recovery.

"I have always taken an interest in our home-brewed remedies at Pemberley, but your local apothecary Mr. Kamwell is such an expert!" said Jane. "I have learned so much from him during my stay here at Beauchamp."

"As did we all! I was quite amazed to learn that the roots of the dandelion can treat inflammation and rheumatic joints! I shall think twice before I step on those humble weeds again!"

"Or tread upon Bog Sphagnum when the moss does such effective service in dressing wounds!" she chimed in merrily.

"Ah, I am well familiar with the bog moss - from my numerous cuts and scrapes at Ridgemont - as well as a few selected herbs. I dare say Mrs. Goodwin must have tried out ten different remedies upon me when I had my bouts of fever! One of such remedies was so foul in smell and taste that it literally shocked me back on my feet! Lord Braunfield had a merry old time pouring it down my throat!"

They shared a hearty laugh over this, although ever mindful of the fragility and uncertainty of life.

Finally, Jane said, "It is time for my departure. My carriage awaits me."

Thomas halted his steps as he turned to face her directly. His entire countenance was of solemnity and gratitude as he expressed the sentiments of his family.

"All of us shall miss you so terribly, Jane! You have been like a shield and a haven, giving comfort and hope so tirelessly to my mother and sister. Your music has kept my father's spirits buoyant even in the worst days, and has undoubtedly aided him in his recovery! Indeed, your presence here is like a healing balm itself, and we are forever grateful to you!"

A modest smile graced her lovely face as she acknowledged his effusive words of thanks. "Aunt Georgiana has been more tireless and dedicated than I these past weeks."

"Our aunt did not have to endure my confidential outpourings as you have! You have been a very patient listener to my own tales of woe," he admitted, rather awkwardly now, in the light of the day. It had been so much easier to speak his mind those long evening after dinner - sitting quietly on the terrace together.

"Think no more of it, Thomas! Are we not like brother and sister?" said Jane placidly.

"Yes, we are!" came the appreciative confirmation. He reached out to grasp her gloved hand in his, and bestowed a gentlemanly kiss upon it before releasing it. "My dear sisterly cousin, by your compassionate understanding and sound advice, you have cured me of my blind infatuation towards Chloe St. Pierre. Alas, I have failed to perform a similar service for you. I have not remedied your heartbreak over young Bingley."

"I did appreciate your kind offer to force Henry back from Devon immediately," she said bemusedly, although her dark eyes revealed the sadness in her heart.

"A wild scheme which you rejected," said Thomas with a rueful shake of his head. "I still believe it worth a try."

She placed her hand briefly upon his forearm - a sign of appreciation - but shook her head determinedly. "Like you, I shall be strong! My heart shall mend - in due time," she stated firmly as she squared her shoulders.

Lord Ashbourne realized that this lovely Darcy daughter might be the gentlest of the family, but she was as equally blessed with the iron will and resolute fortitude of her father.

"Henry Bingley is a blind fool - dashing off to a distant county when a treasure such as you is within his grasp, awaiting his claim!" His words reflected his own experience with her sister Lizzy, and he added with full candor, "Zounds! I thought I was the only miserable fool - an utter nitwit - around these parts!"

Jane smiled up at her cousin, stifling back her tears at the mere mention of Henry Bingley. "Hush now! No more wallowing in self-recrimination and self-pity! You should be thinking of your upcoming nuptials with Lady Julia Berringworth!"

"You are right, my wise friend!"

They resumed their steps towards the front courtyard. Jane expressed again her joy at Lord Matlock's recovery from his horrible carriage accident. "Thank God that your father is well again. He informed me that he would dance - every dance - at your wedding!"

"I believe he will!" acknowledged Thomas with a hearty laugh. He was truly grateful that his beloved father had survived such a close brush with death. "Since my father missed attending the royal wedding due to his accident, he is determined to celebrate with great fervor at mine! Lord Berringworth is due to arrive at Beauchamp tomorrow morning - to formalize the marriage contract."

"I believe all your worries will dissipate upon your betrothal's arrival!" It had been decided that Lord Matlock's recovery was still too fragile for him to make the journey to Oxfordshire. The wedding would be held not at the bride's parish, but at the bridegroom's church instead. A special license had already been obtained for such a purpose.

"Lady Julia has yet to return from her Continental travels with her mother and younger brothers, but our wedding date has been fixed, and all preparations will go forth."

"You only need your lovely bride at the altar then. I do wish you both health and happiness," smiled Jane, but she soon grew silent, as she knew not how to comment upon the subject of arranged marriages without being insincere. She realized that great happiness could result from it - the deep devotion Lord and Lady Matlock shared was the solid proof of "marriage first, love later" view of such alliances. Yet, she could never subject herself to such an arrangement, even if she should die an old maiden!

Lady Susan Fitzwilliam was awaiting them patiently by the side of the carriage. At their approach, she rushed forward to embrace Jane, and said pleadingly, "Dearest Jane! Do not go away!"

Jane laughed, and replied, "My dearest Susan, I am merely going home! Pemberley is but a stone's throw from here! You and I shall resume our habit of old - frequent visits and extended stays with each other!"

"But it is not the same!" Turning to her elder brother, Susan said, "Entreat her to stay longer at Beauchamp!"

"I would if I could," said Thomas as he gazed at Jane thoughtfully.

"Thank you both kindly, but I should like to be by Miranda's side as her accouchement is near," said Jane as she kissed Susan affectionately on the cheek. "I said my farewells to your parents earlier, but please send them my love again."

"I shall," promised Susan tearfully as she embraced Jane yet again.

"My parents are returning from London very soon. We shall all be here - to celebrate your wedding fete!" said Jane as she gave Lord Ashbourne a sisterly kiss on the cheek as well.

He would have given her a witty reply if he did not feel a sudden lump in his throat. He nodded his acknowledgment at her kind words, and helped her gently into the carriage. Not entrusting the task to his faithful footman, he tested the latch of the carriage door himself. Satisfied that all was well, he bowed his head to bid her farewell before he shouted a commanding, "Spring them!" to the driver.

Brother and sister stood in pensive silence as the carriage pulled away from Beauchamp.

Finally, Susan spoke, tearfully, with a stern reproach to her brother. "You should have chosen Jane Darcy from the start! She would have answered your every prayer!"

He sighed heavily before he answered his sister. "Even if I did, it would not have mattered. Her heart belongs to another."

"And your heart? To whom does it belong now?" demanded Susan with surprising directness. Perhaps her overwrought emotions at the moment prompted her to such boldness.

"What an impertinent question!" protested Thomas with a good-natured laugh. He put his arm around her slender shoulder to lead her back to the great mansion, and said, "Lady Julia shall claim my poor heart, of course! And I am determined to have none other than my intended bride on my mind from now on!"

London

"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," said Lord Braunfield as he approached her.

Lizzy had been so engrossed by her reading that she was quite startled to find him standing before her.

"Oh, good morrow to you, my lord," she said as she closed her book hastily.

He noted the title of the thick volume in her hands, and said with admiration, "Poems by Keats? A pleasant diversion to your pragmatic subjects of social woes and reforms! Perhaps a poet's romanticism and gentle words will persuade you to view certain things in a different light?"

She blushed involuntarily at his remark, and said, "I have interests in many different subjects, my lord. Earlier this morning, I was reading Pope's Essay on Man. "

" O Happiness! Our being's end and aim! Good, Pleasure. Ease, Content! " he quoted Alexander Pope with aplomb. " Whate'er thy name: That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh . . . Zounds! I have forgotten the words!"

She smiled confidently, and finished for him, "For which we bear to live, or dare to die."

"You amaze me constantly, Elizabeth. It is quite against the norm of the ton for a woman to be so well-educated. I presume you are well-versed in the classics?"

"Like my sister, I have a rudimentary understanding of Greek and Latin. I am aware of the deep prejudice against educated women. The belief is that clever women are dangerous creatures, that women who read books on subjects other than mundane, domestic matters are likely to make poor wives and mothers! My dear father, however, believes that constant reading and the improvement of one's mind are the most worthy pursuits - especially for a female. Indeed, such accomplishments would satisfy his ideals of womanhood."

"Please do not mistake my words! I hold the Darcy ladies in the highest esteem, and I admire your father's enlightened view of women. I only meant to confess my own regrettable education with my remarks."

She was grateful for his explanation, and was well pleased to find that he did not share in the prejudices of the ton .

"Thank you," she said softly, feeling exceedingly unsettled by his closeness. She averted her gaze, and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. She suddenly realized the oddity of his presence at such an early hour at her home.

"My brother and his family are staying with the Bingleys. You should call upon my uncle's house if you desire to speak to Alexander."

"Your brother and I had a very enjoyable ride in Hyde Park earlier this morning," replied William with a smile. "And we had a nice chat already. Alexander is with his dear wife now, and I am simply loitering around . . . awaiting the rest of our visiting party for the orphanage."

Lizzy had been so determined to avoid looking directly at him that she did not realize that he was attired for riding. He looked exceedingly handsome in his buckskin breeches, and his riding coat - impeccably tailored to the latest style of fashion -accentuated his tall, manly figure to perfection. She was also amazed to find out that he could ride again - despite his damaged knee.

She murmured, "I am glad to hear it," and proceeded to arise from her seat. Although she had avowed to think of him as a friend, and to conduct herself with proper decorum whenever she was in his company, it was fast proving to be impossible. His mere presence was enough to incite a renewed stirring of passion in her, and she could not hear him speak without her eyes being drawn to those irresistibly masculine lips that had induced such feverish havoc in her!

In her growing apprehension, she wanted nothing more than to be away from him. She felt burdened by the immense awkwardness of the moment - alone together in the library, and now being informed that he would join them for the tour of the female orphanage!

His lordship, however, seemed quite nonchalant about her discomfort. He stood before her with a commanding air. Gone was the tentative air of a forlorn suitor, for he surmised correctly that such an image would not be an appealing one to her. Elizabeth Darcy was a young woman with an intrepid spirit - and a heart that could be swayed only by the deepest love - and he must win her over in toto not by pitiful pleading and meek gestures, but by the strength of his reformed character and bold resolutions.

He moved with graceful ease as he reached out to assist her to her feet. Surprised by his gentlemanly consideration, she nearly lost her balance as she rose.

"Thank you," she stammered softly as he steadied her. In her agitation, the thick volume slipped out of her hands. A linen envelope and pages of parchments tumbled loose, and fell upon the floor. She uttered an audible gasp, and reached down quickly.

Lord Braunfield reacted far quicker than her, and he scooped up the pages readily in his hands. With due consideration, he squared up the loose pages before he handed them back to her.

So, she had been reading a letter tucked within the pages of her book! She was engrossed not by Keats, but by her correspondence! he thought bemusedly.

His fingers brushed against the wax seal on the envelope - and the uneven roughness of it intrigued him. His own family coat of arms was an elaborate one, but like all heraldic insignias, its impression upon the wax always bore a smooth finish. Only a hastily applied wax seal, or one that was smudged while drying, would have such a rough texture.

A cursory glance at the envelope rendered him speechless. A sharp inhale of air signified his tremendous surprise at the sight of the wax seal itself. He scanned the top page of the letter as well, and was astounded to find himself looking at his own handwriting!

Before William could utter any remarks, Lizzy snatched the pages from him. Her face was crimson red as she clutched them close to her bosom. She glanced up at him pleadingly, as if he had been privy to a great secret, and she was demanding his goodwill to be silent on the subject.

"A love letter?" he remarked lightly, the ease of his manner gave no hint of the tumultuous joy in his heart. Elizabeth was Kindred Spirit!

"No! No! No!" she protested vehemently. "It is a scholarly treatise from a brilliant mind!"

"Who is the paragon? Your good opinion is rarely bestowed - so hard in earning - that I am very curious to learn of his identity!"

"I regret that I cannot divulge it, my lord!" she said firmly. Folding the pages with great care, she put the letter back into its rightful envelope, and tucked it away.

"Elizabeth. . ." he began softly, his mind trying to formulate the right words to explain this unbelievable coincidence - this fateful meeting of their minds. But she was already in mid-flight from her escape of his company. She gave him a quick curtsey, and literally ran from him.

"Elizabeth!" he called after her, but to no avail. She was soon out of sight. Somehow, the precious moment of confession had passed before he was aware of it. He was left alone with the unbelievable discovery! Of the young women of the ton who could have written to him, it was Elizabeth Darcy who penned letters that had seized his attention and intrigued his mind!

He felt as if the angels in heaven were watching out for him! Her first letter had caught the attention of the editor of Gentlemen's Quarterly: one letter out of so many addressed to the editor on a daily basis - what were the odds against such a letter ever being forwarded to him via special courier?

He heaved a deep sigh, and sat down heavily, his muscular legs had suddenly lost their strength to support him. He mulled over the critical choices before him - an immediate and candid confession to Elizabeth, or using this clandestine letter --writing to win her heart? He weighed the two divergent courses of action, and found himself swaying towards the latter as he recalled the look of her startled face and her urgent need to hide such a secret from the world. How easily he could imagine himself being held by Elizabeth the same way she was clutching his letter to her bosom!

Yes, he would continue to write as the anonymous "W" to his "Kindred Spirit!" What providential blessing it was for such an extraordinary way to woo Elizabeth's stubborn heart!

William's vivid imagination was carrying him away to bright dreams of the future, and he did not hear the strong, masculine voice calling to him to join the rest of the party.

"My lord Braunfield," came the polite entreat yet again. William was jolted out of his reverie by such formality, and found himself looking at the handsome face of Alexander Darcy.

"Wool-gathering at such an early hour, my lord?" said Alexander mirthfully. He was in a bright mood, and was a firm believer in seizing each day and living it to its full measure. "Pleasant thoughts, I hope?"

William stammered an offhand excuse, and rose to his feet instantly. "I spoke briefly to your sister without a chaperone - a polite but enlightening conversation," he confessed. "I must apologize because I have given my word to your esteemed father that I would not step within an arm's length of Elizabeth without an escort!"

"Well, I shall overlook this grievous offense presently, and issue you a stern warning instead," declared Alexander in mock indignation. He clasped his friend's shoulder in a brotherly manner, and added, "Let us not tarry, my lord. The ladies await us."

The Female Orphan Asylum on Bridge Road, Lambeth, was founded in 1758 to afford a safe haven for deserted and orphaned girls. The institution boasted a large subscription of donors, and its doors were open to the public for general tours and collections of charitable funds. From the warm greetings of welcome by its chief administrator and her staff, Lord Braunfield easily deduced that the Darcys and their relations were frequent visitors at the asylum.

Shortly after their arrival, the orphans were called to assembly. They gathered in the main hall to greet their patrons. Seeing the rows of solemn and well-scrubbed faces, young girls dressed in plain but adequate clothing, standing at attention brought back memories of the Ridgemont children afresh in Lord Braunfield's mind. He smiled inwardly as he recalled the spirited and rambunctious lot, and noted the drastic differences in the countenance of the children standing quietly before him.

The orphaned children had a collective air of apprehension, of timid resignation, and of lost innocence. For whatever circumstances or reasons that brought these young girls to the doors of the asylum, they had suffered tragic personal losses that robbed them of their parents, loved ones, and childhood. Lord Braunfield was quick to realize that however lacking in material wealth or extra comforts the children of Ridgemont might be, they could justly claim the love of their families, and by the magnanimity of the Darcys, the blessings of a warm hearth in their homes, and a rudimentary education to quench the thirst of their eager minds. However stark the environs of Ridgemont might be, there was laughter in the air. At the asylum, a prevailing sense of melancholy dominated instead.

"Pray tell, what are your thoughts, my lord?" came Elizabeth's solemn inquiry. William turned to find her standing close by his side, looking up expectantly at him.

"This institution is better managed than I expected. I must confess that I envisioned more of Mr. Dicken's portrayal of squalid buildings and sordid surroundings; of cruel staff and neglected children. Frankly, I am rather impressed by what I see before me," said Lord Braunfield as his keen eyes scrutinized the surroundings.

"An annual subscription of a guinea entitles the patron to vote, my lord," volunteered the Matron. A capable, kindly administrator, careworn by having so many under her charge, could hardly be blamed if she was too blatant in her solicitation of a new patron. The young nobleman was a picture of wealth and privilege, and could be induced to make a generous subscription.

"Only a guinea?" William exclaimed in surprise.

The Matron beamed at the viscount with anticipation. The sum was a mere pittance to such an exalted personage. "Yes, my lord!"

"I should like to make a donation," replied Lord Braunfield sincerely. "However, there are certain questions I would like to address presently."

"Yes, my lord?"

"All the girls seem to be of the same age - perhaps eight or nine years old?"

"Very regretfully, due to our limited resources, we cannot admit any girl under the age of eight, or above the age of ten years."

"I see all your charges seem to be in good health - not diseased or deformed children. Are there such children under your care - in the infirmary, perhaps?"

"Again, it is most regrettable that we cannot afford sanctuary to such children," exclaimed the Matron with genuine distress. "I . . . hope these facts will not deter your lordship from supporting our worthy cause!"

"No, of course not!" smiled Lord Braunfield as he pulled out a large handful of gold sovereigns from his pocket to place them in the collection box.

"Thank you, my lord!" said the Matron with effusive gratitude.

William acknowledged her with a lordly wave of his hand. He turned to face Lizzy, and found her looking at him pensively.

"You disapprove of my direct questions, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked her worriedly.

"No, no!" she replied in full earnest. "To admit the truth, I am rather impressed. I am well aware of your generous nature - testified by your endowment gift to the children of Ridgemont - but I never surmised that you would be so concerned about the specific needs of orphaned children. You have surprised me . . . most pleasantly, my lord."

He grinned at her, thrilled that he had earned her approval. He mentally checked off a tiny step on this daunting path of true love with Elizabeth Darcy.

"Where do such orphaned children go? Those younger than eight years old, for instance?" he asked with genuine interest.

"The Infant Orphan Asylum at Dalston, near Hackney. It is the only public charity that welcomes infants of both sexes - from the age of three months to seven years old," replied Lizzy immediately.

He nodded appreciatively at her answer, and declared that he should like to visit such a place in the near future.

"As for deaf and dumb children," she continued, "there is an asylum in Kent Road where such unfortunate children receive instructions on reading, writing, and ciphering, as well as various arts in mechanics so as to gain employment after their discharge from the asylum."

"And children afflicted with physical deformities? Is there a special asylum for them? As a cripple myself, I must admit that I have developed great empathy for those so afflicted!"

"A cripple?" protested Alexander loudly as he caught the last part of their conversation. "Are you not our bowler for the next cricket game at White's? You are still a rogue, William, if you think you can milk sympathy from tender-hearted females for your knee!"

Alexander's candid remark elicited general laughter. Lizzy hastened from William's side, leaving his last question unanswered, for she knew she could not trust herself to be in his close presence for more than a few moments. Their brief conversation, however, had engendered new hope in her. Lord Braunfield could carry on a decent conversation with her without injecting any emotional undercurrents or exhibiting any hint of impropriety. He was concerned and pleasant, and she truly regretted having to dash off in such a cowardly manner!

Their visit soon drew to an end. The young orphans sang a farewell song, and curtsied politely to their patrons before being dismissed. The visiting party returned to their waiting carriages - with the ladies walking ahead of the gentlemen, engaged in an excited discussion concerning the capital campaign drive for a new orphanage.

Lord Braunfield had lingered behind, so he was the last visitor to exit the asylum. As he shook hands with the Matron, he said quietly, "I can see that you are in dire need of a new roof."

"You have a keen eye, my lord!" confirmed the Matron. "But we are short of funds for such a major undertaking. We are coping with other pressing concerns. A new roof, although urgently needed, must be delayed."

He nodded gravely, acknowledging the difficulties in meeting so many obligations with limited resources. "Perhaps you will permit me the opportunity to serve these children by a donation of funds for a new roof?"

The Matron was dumbfounded by such a generous and unsolicited offer. "It will cost a tremendous sum, my lord!" she uttered breathlessly.

"I am familiar with the upkeep and maintenance of my family's estate, and therefore, I have a tentative idea of the potential costs involved here," smiled Lord Braunfield placidly. "In this case, a new roof is a worthy expenditure, and I am fully prepared to bear the entire cost of it."

"I . . . I don't know what to say, my lord!" she stuttered helplessly, searching for words that could express her immense gratitude.

"There is no need for words, madam. I shall instruct my chief steward, Mr. Lambert, to make all the necessary arrangements with you."

"I cannot thank you enough, my lord!" gushed the Matron.

Lord Braunfield smiled, and said dismissively, "Think no more of it, my good lady. Monetary values are relative to a man's income. My gift is no greater than the donation of a guinea from a man who can ill afford it. Indeed, I prefer to remain anonymous in my donation."

"Our Board of Trustees must be informed properly!" she protested. "I cannot accept so generous a gift without informing them!"

"Then, I prefer my name to be kept within the smallest circle of confidents. I am not doing this to seek notoriety or fame."

He bowed politely before he rejoined his party. The Matron stood staring after the handsome viscount, scarcely believing that such a young dandy of the ton could be so liberal with his gold, and yet display such extreme modesty in regard to his own magnanimity.

Wonders never cease, she mused.

Chapter 25

Posted on Tuesday, 25 October 2005

Lord Ashbourne was determined to atone for all the sins of his past. He was truly ashamed for the betrayal of his parents' trust and the cavalier way he had abused Lizzy Darcy's heart during their brief courtship. He had put the memory of Chloe St. Pierre firmly in the past, but he knew he hardly deserved a second chance at happiness. Nevertheless, he was being offered one - literally on a silver platter.

As he awaited the impending arrival of his betrothed and her family to Beauchamp, he made a formal oath to himself. He would endeavor to do all he could to carry out the wishes of his parents, and would pledge himself faithfully, in heart and mind, to the woman destined to be his wife. Lady Julia Berringworth - a virtual stranger to him - was not his free choice of wife, but he was now bound by duty and honor to cherish her as if she held the sole claim to his heart. His promise to his father when he was so gravely ill after the carriage accident was as solemn and binding as any sworn oath. His beloved parents were polite strangers to each other at the onset of their arranged marriage, but love and devotion had taken firm root. He was confident he could live up to the ideal they had set and love and respect his future wife as they had to each other.

Will I ever feel the bliss of true love? he wondered to himself. His heart had been much bruised by the faithless and manipulative Chloe, but his attachment to her had always been more blind infatuation than genuine love. His feelings for Lizzy might have deepened from tender admiration to abiding devotion during their courtship, but he had been too selfish to allow such emotions to flourish. Yet, as of late, why did he feel this constant ache in the deep recesses of his heart? It gnawed at him like no other emotions he had ever felt before, but he could not put a name to it.

How I miss my cousin Jane! Thomas muttered silently to himself. He missed her serene presence, her quiet strength and sagacity. Like her brother Alexander, Jane had proven to be a steadfast friend when he was in dire need of one. When he confided in her, she had been unflinchingly honest with her criticism; fair in her admonishment, kindly in her encouragement, and helpful with her advice. The many weeks they had spent in such frequent company during his father's recovery had become such a habit to him that he now felt a void in the air at Beauchamp without her. As he waited in anxious anticipation of Lady Julia's arrival, he wished for Jane's friendship and advice more than ever.

Zooks! I am behaving like a hapless pup! How Jane will laugh at me when I tell her this! Thomas chuckled as he reprimanded himself. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and decided that he would embrace his fate with good cheer and dedication.

London

After leaving the female orphanage, the visiting party returned to the Bingley townhouse. They found the servants scurrying around in a pell-mell dash to perform various chores. A pair of gentlemen - Mr. Bingley and his son-in-law Anthony Knightley - were pacing the grand hallway in full agitation.

"Isabella! Emily!" exclaimed Mr. Bingley in relief at the sight of his daughters. "Thank goodness you are home! The babe is about to be born! Your Mama is attending to Margaret, and you are urgently needed!"

Both young women rushed up the stairs to the birthing chamber in unison, with Isabella pausing only briefly to request that her husband check on their own son in the nursery.

"The babe is not due yet, not for three more weeks," muttered Anthony in a grave voice, fearful of the potential dangers to both his wife and child. Margaret had removed herself from her own elegant townhouse to be with her parents and sisters during the last month of her confinement. Her condition had been a delicate one from the start, quite unlike the robust health enjoyed by her sister Isabella when she was with child, and she harbored secret fears of losing her baby. Being in the haven of her parents' home had alleviated Margaret's sense of impending doom to a certain degree.

"Has the doctor been sent for?" asked Alexander urgently.

"The doctor arrived moments before you," replied Mr. Bingley as he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. "And your parents are here as well."

As if on cue, a bright squeal of baby laughter filled the hallway, followed by excited babbles as young Alex made his appearance in the arms of his proud grandfather Mr. Darcy.

"Dada! Dada!" shouted the little one as he eagerly held out his arms to his father for a joyful reunion. As devoted and attentive his nurses were to him, there was no substitution for parental love. A separation of a mere few hours from his father was far too long for so affectionate a child. A string of words followed, as he gleefully relished the new sounds upon his tongue.

"Such a precocious child!" remarked Anthony Knightley, taking his mind off his worries for a moment as he gazed at the youngest Darcy. "He is learning new words every day!"

"He is indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Bingley with pride. "In a matter of hours, my dear son, you shall be equally blessed as well, I am certain."

"Hours?" groaned Anthony in disbelief. His was a stoic nature, entirely unaccustomed to agitations and complaints. His overwhelming concerns for his beloved Margaret sent chills down his spine as he pictured the physical pain she must be enduring upstairs.

The clear, dulcet tones of Mrs. Darcy's voice floated over the gentlemen as she joined them. "Might I suggest that we retire to a more comfortable room than this foyer? To the library, perhaps?" On behalf of Mrs. Bingley, she had come downstairs to ensure that all was well. Turning to the viscount, she added, "I hope your morning ride and the visit to the orphanage did not wear you too much. Is there anything in particular that you may require, my lord? This household may get more hectic as the day progresses, and my sister has instructed me that none of her guests be neglected in any way."

"You are too gracious, madam," Lord Braunfield replied appreciatively, with a gentle reminder that he was not a guest after all. "All formality should be set aside - since I am family."

Such a simple remark took Mrs. Darcy by surprise. Lord Braunfield had meant that he was Mr. Bingley's nephew, and therefore, her sister Jane's nephew by marriage. However, he had been so infrequent a visitor to the Bingleys throughout the years that Mrs. Darcy had quite neglected such an obvious connection. The lack of opportunity to form any reasonable measure of familiarity was further hampered by the superior attitude and aloof behavior of Lady Paxton herself.

Instead, for a fleeting moment, the idea of son-in-law flashed across Mrs. Darcy's mind. Such a prospect unsettled her more than she could imagine. She glanced at her husband, and saw the same look of apprehension in his dark eyes. It was apparent that he shared her misgivings, and was as taken aback by the light remark as she was!

"Yes, indeed! This fine nephew of mine is very dear to my heart," exclaimed Mr. Bingley, noting the distinctive differences in the way the senior Darcys were treating William as of late. He placed a fatherly arm around the younger man's shoulder to guide him towards the library, walking at a quicker pace to be ahead of the rest of the group.

Lord Braunfield had the premonition that Mr. Darcy had already confided in Mr. Bingley regarding his predicament with Elizabeth. He was not overly surprised, for the two gentlemen shared such close bonds of friendship, allied by familial ties through marriage. He knew that he would need a strong ally in his Uncle Charles the next time he approached Mr. Darcy to beg for Elizabeth's hand.

At such thoughts, he glanced back at his beloved, and caught sight of Anthony Knightley discreetly passing an envelope to her. He was too far away to see either the wax seal or the handwriting on the envelope, and he burned with curiosity. He wondered why an expectant father, so over-wrought with worries, should perform the services of a letter courier. Then, the truth of it struck him. Anthony Knightley - respected barrister and rising star in Parliament - was a member of the prestigious law establishment that W was instructed to send his response missives. It was through this ingenious and prudent manner that Miss Elizabeth Darcy received all her letters without compromising her true identity and her family's good name. W's latest letter to was being delivered into the hands of its rightful recipient at this very moment!

After ensuring that all the gentlemen were well settled in for the long wait, Mrs. Darcy returned upstairs to where she was needed most.

Mr. Bingley managed only a brief chat, and not a lengthy tête-à-tête, with his nephew - yet he seemed well satisfied. As he resumed his place by his son-in-law, he gestured to William to join Mr. Darcy at the chess table - to play a game for diversion.

"Women have been birthing babes since the dawning of time - your dear Margaret is in very capable hands!" said Mr. Bingley sagely, as he tried his utmost to allay Anthony's fears.

"Yes, sir," mumbled Anthony as he paced back and forth relentlessly. A sudden rush of frustration seized him, and he halted his steps to cry aloud, "It is so dreadful - my being of no use to my wife at this most critical time! Instead of holding her and comforting her, I am pacing the floor like a madman! This is sheer agony!"

"Take solace, Anthony! I speak from experience. The torturous wait does not get easier, but you will learn to bear it. After all, the real agony of childbirth is suffered by your valiant wife," remarked Mr. Darcy with compassionate understanding. "Our womenfolk are exceedingly strong and resilient - far superior than men are willing to admit publicly!"

"Margaret is in the best of hands, I assure you, dear son," said Mr. Bingley calmly. After a thoughtful moment, he decided to lighten the mood in the room. "I never encountered a more formidable or intimidating object than Darcy in his own house, pacing frantically as he awaited the birth of his own children," laughed Mr. Bingley amiably.

"Yes, indeed!" admitted Mr. Darcy almost inaudibly. Memories flooded his mind as he recalled how he had behaved like any devoted but distraught husband - keeping vigil outside the bedchamber. Although separated by a stout door, he could feel every stab of pain and every muffled cry suffered by his darling Lizzy as acutely as if he were kneeling by her side.

He remembered, with a chilling shudder even now, how the long hours had dragged on with the birth of their last child, so excruciatingly slow that he instinctively felt that something had gone awfully wrong to delay the birth. His darling's cries of pain had reached a fevered pitch, followed by the whimpering and plaintive calls of "Will!"

Conflicting thoughts had raged in his mind - his upbringing demanded his strict compliance of the rules of propriety and etiquette, but his instincts told him otherwise. He could not bear to hear the ceaseless cries, and not pay heed to them. Like a man possessed, he had stormed the door to gain entry to the birthing room. His sudden presence had stunned everyone into momentary silence. His darling's astonishment turned into a genuine smile of relief, and he rushed to hold her hand over the protests of all present. He firmly resisted any efforts to evict him from the birthing room, bravely withstanding the forbidding countenance and constant glares of disapproval from the strapping midwife. He would remain for the duration.

To be sure, he could not alleviate any physical pain for his wife, but he knew he comforted her with his presence. Indeed, for those long harrowing moments - when he had feared that his dearest one was in grave peril, and their child was lost - he had sincerely regretted that he had not rushed to her side sooner! His strict sense of decorum, however, did prevent him from directing his eyes, not even for a fleeting moment, to witness the actual miracle of birth. His eyes never strayed from the face of his dearest Elizabeth, but he was glad of it. He might not have been able to reconcile himself to his otherwise unorthodox behavior!

"Why should any husband be barred from the birthing room?" protested Anthony vehemently.

"For a very logical reason - to prevent him from witnessing the agony of childbirth," explained Mr. Bingley. "I was told by the midwife that seeing the awful pains of childbirth would horrify the husband so much that he would never seek to impose himself upon his dear wife again!" He muttered these last words almost to himself, his gentle nature in such conflict with his sense of guilt. His sweetest Jane had endured such pain for the fruits of their happiness.

A collective moment of pensive silence descended upon the room.

"A husband need not witness the actual birthing of children to attest to his wife's suffering. His ears serve him well enough!" stated Mr. Darcy plainly to his brother-in-law. In this moment of philosophical reflection, he expressed his private thoughts with uncommon candor, "Your sweet Jane has given you four wonderful children. So has my dearest Elizabeth. How can we ever adequately express our gratitude to our wives?"

"Oh, Papa! You are truly as considerate as Mama proclaims you to be!" The unexpected remark came from the far corner of the library.

All eyes turned to look upon young Lizzy. She had been so quiet that her presence was all but forgotten -- except by Lord Braunfield, of course! The viscount had placed himself strategically across the room from her. Whenever he paused in the chess game to look straight at Mr. Darcy to converse with him, his beloved Elizabeth was within his line of vision. By such clever devise, he had been admiring her at his discretion since they had first entered the library!

Both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were acutely embarrassed as they realized that their very candid conversation regarding husbands and wives had been conducted in the presence of an innocent young lady! To be certain, matters of courtship and matrimony were never far from the minds of young people coming of age, but it was inappropriate for a couple of middle-aged gentlemen to speak so frankly in front of feminine company.

Mr. Bingley turned abruptly to gaze out of the window, hiding his flustered look from his niece. Mr. Darcy, however, appraised the situation silently, and decided that his younger daughter was mature and sensible enough to gain new insights into more serious matters.

Mr. Darcy reflected for a moment before making an astonishing statement. "I must concede that there are extraordinary circumstances that can well challenge the conventional wisdom, and may justify the presence of a husband in the birthing room." Turning to Anthony, he added quietly, "You should keep your present vigil outside the birthing chamber. If your dear wife should have need of you, heed her call. I was present when my youngest daughter came into the world."

Anthony pondered such words of advice solemnly, and decided to remove himself to a new post upstairs. Leaving the others to reflect upon Mr. Darcy's amazing revelation, Anthony made a quick dash out of the library.

Lizzy was speechless with astonishment! She had heard vivid tales of her close brush with death at her birth, but never knew that her dear father was present in the room. She finally began to comprehend the intricate bonds that bound her parents together.

As he sat holding his young son, Alexander's mind was filled with images of domestic felicity. He muttered softly to his namesake, in a confidential manner, "You are the firstborn of this new generation - an awesome duty but a great honor as well."

"Bella confided to me that you have plans for a dozen of little Darcys!" Lizzy whispered to her brother, with a look that was half-teasing and half-admonishment. "A rigorous brood of children!"

"Well . . . my son is such a splendid child . . . one is rightfully inspired to imagine having a few more . . ." confessed Alexander rather awkwardly.

His sister mercifully saved his embarrassment with a reassuring touch of her hand upon his. "Speak no more! Your darling is of the same mind as you! And yes, being in the company of such a wonderful child does give inspiration to all who crave the joys of parenthood."

Upon hearing her words, Alexander could not help but glance over at Lord Braunfield. By all outward appearances, the viscount was conducting himself in the most gentlemanly manner, especially towards Lizzy. Yet, his dark eyes betrayed the true sentiments of his heart. If one were to scrutinize closely, as Alexander did, one could discern the ardent admiration in the viscount's eyes when he gazed upon her.

Alexander felt a great pity for his friend - a man so besotted, but suffering from the lack of encouragement from his darling. Lizzy's views against Lady Paxton's son must be vehemently strong if she remained unmoved by such obvious admiration.

Amidst such talks of childbirth and family, Lizzy could not resist glancing at Lord Braunfield. Try as she might, she could not quite picture him in the company of children - except for the vivid images of his rescue of her young cousin Joseph. Then, an amazing thought struck her. She realized if she had never met William Warring until this morning - without the burdensome history of his dissolute past - she would know him only for his gentlemanly conduct, thoughtfulness, and generosity. Adding such personal merits to a very handsome visage, the result could be devastating to her heart!

She had considered herself impervious to Lord Braunfield's good looks, for she sincerely believed that physical attributes were mere embellishments to the true worth of a person. Yet, there was an intangible quality about him that had seized her attention ever since their first waltz together at the Knightleys' wedding ball. He was obnoxious and deplorable then, and she had rightfully detested him. Nevertheless, she felt intrigued by him, drawn to him like none other - as if she wished more to argue with him than to be absent from his irksome company! And of late, his presence had been anything but irksome! He had carried her to rapturous joys with the mere touch of his lips, and had proven that he could be an agreeable companion with the utmost sense of propriety.

Her bitter disappointment with Lord Ashbourne had undoubtedly influenced her behavior since, but she could hardly be blamed for being overly cautious! How could she be too obstinate in matters of the most vital nature? Should she not refuse to give her heart until it was induced by the proof of deepest love? The questions that haunted her came into her mind again - did she have the magnanimity to love someone unconditionally and enduringly, to accept his shortcomings as much as she would cherish his strengths? She felt that she was as ill-suited to Lord Braunfield's temperament as he was to hers. Yet, could she, by some strange twist of fate, be the one to bring happiness to his life, and vice versa?

Lizzy's tender reflections might have swayed her feelings towards Lord Braunfield in a favorable way, but unfortunately, she was interrupted by her Uncle Charles's words.

"Parenthood truly forces one to re-examine one's priorities, and often redirects one's orientation towards life rather drastically," stated Mr. Bingley philosophically. "I have known old school chums of mine who abandoned their irresponsible ways, and became quite the models of domestic virtue."

"But there are those who would never change - despite education and circumstances!" added Mr. Darcy quite sternly, as the image of the nefarious villain George Wickham came immediately into his mind.

Lord Braunfield shifted uneasily in his chair, mistakenly surmising such a comment was meant exclusively for him.

Mr. Bingley, being Mr. Darcy's best friend and brother for so many decades, understood him perfectly. "I may well be admonished for my eager approval of the world and everyone in it, but it has been proven to my satisfaction that the world is a very agreeable place indeed!"

"Yes, your own familiar circle of family and friends is very amiable," stated Mr. Darcy gently. "The world at large is, by far, a crueler place."

"And in great need for redress of wrongs and desperate need of reforms!" said Lizzy. Her remark garnered nodding agreement from all present, and left each to contemplate her words in full earnest.

"If I may be excused," continued Lizzy politely, "I should like to resume my letter-writing to the members of Parliament - to urge them to consider the vitally needed reform legislations for orphanages, coal mines and prisons."

"Do not neglect the cause of women's suffrage," added Lord Braunfield softly. She looked at him with disbelief, but found him to be utterly sincere.

He smiled as he continued, "Most people of my acquaintance - even the ones with a liberal bent of mind - consider giving women the right to vote a foolhardy enterprise, but I doubt if they can hold their arguments against so formidable a lady as you, Miss Elizabeth. I, for one, have become convinced about the merits of women's suffrage."

"What of your many fears of the demerits of women's suffrage, my lord?" asked Lizzy directly without hesitation.

"My opinion should be more aptly labeled as grave apprehension, not outright fear," replied the viscount evenly. "As such, I must confess that I am not entirely appeased. Yet, I find myself greatly impressed by your admirable defense of the rights of women, and I am fast becoming a supporter of your cause rather than an adversary. Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, you have made your case more persuasively and rationally than arguments put forth by writers such as Mary Wollstonecraft."

Lizzy frowned in consternation at his candid reply. She recalled their lively debate under the Great Tree about women's suffrage, but could not readily remember any subsequent conversations that could rightfully convince the viscount to cast his support for the worthy cause. When did they speak on such a controversial subject in depth? The brief moments they had ever spent alone together had been so overwhelmed by their mutual attraction for each other that there was scant time devoted to discourses of serious matters.

Lord Braunfield immediately noticed his faux pas, and saw the obvious confusion upon Elizabeth's face. He had unintentionally confessed the content of the first and second missives from Kindred Spirit. He hastened to disguise his mistake by adding, "A recent article in Gentlemen's Quarterly contains rather convincing arguments in support of women's suffrage. Have you read it, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Oh, yes! I have read Mr. W's brilliant and eloquent article as well," exclaimed Lizzy excitedly. It was obvious to all present that she approved of it.

"What article are you speaking of?" asked Alexander in full curiosity. "You so often commandeer my subscriptions, Lizzy, that I am a bit behind in my reading!"

"I shall show it to you later, my dear brother! You will be duly impressed, I promise you!"

Lord Braunfield cleared his throat, debating with himself whether it was a suitable moment to confess that he was the anonymous "W" in question. He decided to test the waters. He ventured tentatively, "So, do you approve of W? His views do echo yours in many ways, Miss Elizabeth. Indeed, W managed to express on paper many of the opinions I have been contemplating rather earnestly as of late."

Lizzy smiled with pleasure, but she added with a touch of indignation, "Are you convinced then, my lord, that I am correct in my strong views? In the end, it took a man's words, and not mine alone, to convince you?"

"Alas, it is a man's prerogative to admit his own faults - but only under duress!" replied William with a winsome smile.

"And it is a woman's prerogative to make sport of such a man - not with an aim to be hurtful, but with the honest intention of improving his humor!" remarked Lizzy sweetly.

"Touché!" laughed Lord Braunfield placidly as he inclined his head with a yielding nod of defeat. "I have met my match in you, Miss Elizabeth!"

Mr. Darcy watched the interchange of words between his younger daughter and the Viscount of Braunfield, and recalled to mind his own verbal sparring with his beloved wife in the early days of their acquaintance. He wondered if his daughter recognized that she had met her own match in young William Warring as well. Here sat a man who did not wish for a woman to cower to him as a submissive, docile female; a man who respected the minds and wills of women, but made of such stern mettle himself, he was not overwhelmed by them.

Lizzy felt the curious eyes upon her - not merely those of her father, but of her uncle, and elder brother as well. She beat a hasty retreat to the desk in the far corner, but not before William caught a glimpse of the letter in her hand. If he had harbored the slightest doubt that Elizabeth might not be Kindred Spirit after all, the sighting of the smudged seal rendered by his own hand eliminated such doubt unequivocally.

Lizzy was, of course, oblivious to William's knowledge of her secret. She made a grand show of pulling out sheets of parchment paper and pens from the drawers of the writing desk before sitting down. With her back towards all those present in the room, she effectively shut them out of her consciousness for the duration.

Lord Braunfield and Mr. Darcy finally resumed their attention upon their friendly game of chess - the opening moves were made some time ago before they became distracted by such lengthy discourse. Both men were excellent players, and the game soon became a fierce contest. One could deduce much of one opponent's character during such a game of skill and intellect. The viscount's countenance was one of stern concentration and confidence. The hint of a smile hovered at his mouth, showing his enjoyment of the game.

Mr. Darcy smiled at the younger man. "You play very well, William."

"Thank you, sir," he said courteously, and made another bold move.

Mr. Darcy saw the gambit, and smiled appreciatively. As he contemplated his own strategy, he noted the discreet way the viscount kept looking at Lizzy - or more precisely - at her back. Such a view, however, did not seem to discourage him. To be in the mere presence of Lizzy seemed enough to satisfy her fervent admirer for now. He wondered how long William could struggle to repress his feelings before making his declaration to her. The only impediment to such a course of action must be his fear of rejection, and Mr. Darcy could well sympathize. However, his fatherly concern for his daughter's well-being and happiness exceeded such feelings of goodwill towards Lord Braunfield. As much as he was prepared to welcome the company of this greatly improved young gentleman, he was far from entertaining any plausible thoughts of having such a man as his son-in-law! The haughty image of Lady Paxton seized his mind, and he rid himself of it with a vigorous shake of his head. He would not allow his precious, beloved child to suffer the fate of being Caroline's new daughter!

Lord Braunfield forced himself to concentrate on the chess game at hand, but to no avail. He was burning with curiosity - wondering if Elizabeth was reading his latest letter clandestinely, under the guise of letter-writing! How he wished he had addressed her indignation with greater insight, and had comforted her with intimate words from his heart rather than with such formal gallantry. Had he known her as "Kindred Spirit," he would not have closed his last missive with a biblical verse and a signatory "W," but would have added "Yours to Command" and a promise to write her again. He prayed fervently that she would not follow his advice to put the "unworthy cad" out of her mind immediately!

He knew he could remedy his mistake as soon as he could pen "W's" next letter, but he could not help but bemoan the loss of another golden opportunity to woo her! With a heavy sigh, he moved his queen to counter Mr. Darcy's move, but failed to realize the fatal flaw.

"Checkmate," declared Mr. Darcy as he successfully evaded William's challenge, and turned it into a victory for himself.

William acknowledged the defeat with a gracious smile, and extended his hand. "Very well played, sir."

Mr. Darcy accepted his hand. "Your mind was on other matters," he remarked with a smile, inwardly thinking that his own was likewise distracted. As he wished to take further advantage of the game to improve his acquaintance with William, he added, "Shall we begin another?"

Before Lord Braunfield could answer, he was once again distracted by Elizabeth. She had abandoned her place at the writing desk, and was strolling across the room with a determined look upon her lovely face.

She stopped to kiss her father before she excused herself from the room. As she glanced over at William, their eyes met. She boldly held his gaze for a long moment, and flashed a bright smile at him as she turned away. She clutched onto W's letter - drawing strength from his thoughtful words of comfort and advice. She agreed with his assertion that any man who diverted her attention from noble causes was a cad indeed. If she were to endure the frequent company of Lord Braunfield, she must endeavor to forget his searing kisses. She must rule over her heart with an ironclad will!

William knew not what to make of this unexpected gesture of goodwill. He could only hope for the best, and he was determined to take advantage of it at the earliest opportunity!

After several hours of exhaustive and painful labor, Mrs. Anthony Knightley gave birth to a small but healthy son. Her devoted husband rushed immediately to her side, and fell upon his knee in deep relief and gratitude.

Shedding joyful tears, the new parents thanked all present for the safe deliverance of their child. Mrs. Bingley, beaming with the pride of a grandmother, led the tiny group in a heartfelt prayer to the Almighty for His many blessings. The newborn babe rested contentedly in his mother's arms, oblivious to the fawning attention being lavished upon him presently.

Mrs. Darcy, ever sensible of the unspoken needs of others, gently shepherded everyone out of the bedchamber - including Lizzy, who had come in to catch a glimpse of the newborn. Thus, the new parents were allowed to become acquainted with their precious child in private.

All the gentlemen, except for the new father, had abided by the courtesy rule of staying far beyond the vicinity of the birthing chamber. They were impatient for a glimpse of the newborn, of course, but they lingered on in the library to await the formal presentation of the child in his proud father's arms.

"All is well?" inquired Mr. Bingley as his wife rejoined him in the library.

"Yes, we have a new grandson!" sighed Mrs. Bingley happily as she embraced him. "It was an ordeal! Fortunately, both Margaret and her son are strong, and the doctor is well pleased with his patients. Rest and good nourishment are the prescribed remedy."

Mrs. Darcy rejoined her husband as well. Mr. Darcy grasped her hands firmly in his, relieved by the jubilant news. His dark eyes lingered upon her face for a long moment, grateful for her nearness and anxious to reassure himself that she was well. She was truly the most important person of his heart, and his earlier recollections of their daughter's difficult birth had renewed his unspoken fear of losing her. He lifted her hand to bestow a tender kiss upon it before he murmured, "Thank God! Let us pray that the next birth in our family will be as felicitous as well!"

"I shall say Amen to that!" replied Mrs. Darcy earnestly, her face radiant with the glow of health and happiness. "We must return to Pemberley as promised. I know James and Miranda are most anxious for our presence at home."

"We shall leave London tomorrow," confirmed Mr. Darcy. Turning to Alexander, he continued, "My dear son, I shall entrust you to review all lease-hold contracts for Pemberley, as well as Ridgemont matters with our solicitors. You have fared exceedingly well under my tutelage, and you are more than capable of shouldering such responsibilities entirely on your own."

"Indeed you are, dear heart," Mrs. Darcy touched her son's arm tenderly. "Moreover, you and Bella ought to enjoy a full Season in London."

Mr. Darcy added an unspoken command with his eyes, but his son knew his mind perfectly, and nodded in confirmation.

Kissing his mother affectionately on the cheek, Alexander whispered reassuringly, "Fear not. Lizzy is safe with Bella and me."

Isabella quietly confirmed Alexander's promise with a meaningful nod. Her husband had placed his arm around her waist, and she discreetly leaned closer to him as she listened to her in-laws for pertinent instructions.

Lord Braunfield witnessed the domestic scene before him, and was struck by a pang of melancholy. He was the lone bachelor in the room, and was excluded from such moments of whispered endearments between each of the couples present.

The only other solitary figure in the library was young Alex Darcy. The tike had been dozing in his father's arms earlier, and was now resting comfortably on the large chaise lounge nearby.

I am robbed of the presence of Elizabeth thought the viscount with a deep frown. She had dashed upstairs to the birthing chamber, and had yet to return. Her bright smile at him had given him such fresh hopes, and he was impatient for the chance to speak to her. Surely, such celebratory joy in the household will enhance her feelings of goodwill towards me, mused Lord Braunfield. An unexpected hard tug at his trousers and an insistent little voice saying, "Booo! Booo!" brought his attention back from his ruminations immediately. He looked down to see young Alex clutching his legs for support.

Somehow, the child had awakened without the notice of anyone, and had crawled his way silently to him. With fierce determination, the young boy began to pull himself upright, and succeeded admirably on his first try. A string of childish words followed the initial "Booo," but unfortunately, the viscount could not comprehend any of them.

"Yes, son?" said Lord Braunfield gently as he leaned down to speak to the boy, instinctively yet unknowingly using the generic word son as an affectionate salutation, much the way his Uncle Charles was fond of addressing him.

Young Alex stared back at him in silence, no longer babbling away with childish glee. His bright blue eyes had a look of wisdom that was beyond his tender age, and he seemed to take full measure of him with his steady gaze.

William froze - standing as still as a statue, fearful that he might trigger off a torrent of tears if he spoke again or made any sudden movements.

Such fears, however, were quickly allayed by the brightest of smiles from the precocious child. Apparently, young Alex had found something in the viscount's countenance that pleased him greatly. His smiling approval was confirmed by a sequel of mirthful laughter.

By now, all eyes in the room were upon this strange pair. Alexander was the first one to speak. "I think my son likes you," he said with a light chuckle.

"His tender age obviously prevents him from being an astute judge of character," Lord Braunfield remarked dryly, with a self-deprecating smile. His good humor was infectious, and elicited a general round of laughter around the room. Young Alex squealed in delight, and made small, bouncing motions whilst he clung to the viscount's legs.

"I believe he wishes to be lifted up, my dear William," remarked Mrs. Bingley sweetly.

"I . . . well, I cannot . . .," said Lord Braunfield in embarrassed consternation. "I . . . have never held a child before!"

Alex was getting impatient. A growing frown appeared upon his face as he let out a string of incomprehensible words that suggested a firm demand for his simple request to be obeyed - immediately.

"You best give it a try, William," urged Mr. Bingley, "lest you earn my grandson's displeasure! He has a very strong set of lungs, I can assure you, and can let out a loud holler if his mood so pleases him!"

Isabella took pity on her cousin, and tried to lift her own son back into her arms instead. The little tike, however, had a mind of his own. He uttered a strong cry of protest as he tightened his hold upon the viscount's legs. Those tiny hands had an amazingly firm grip. His bright blue eyes met and held Lord Braunfield's gaze. It was clear that he would not be appeased except by having his request fulfilled.

Alexander had a difficult time holding back his laughter at the sight of William's consternation. "Come now, my friend, it is not such a daunting task! Put your hands here thusly, and lift him up!" he said helpfully. "Take caution that my son may wiggle - so hold onto to him firmly but gently."

Lord Braunfield took a deep breath before he made his bold attempt. He lifted the boy up, but held him at arm's length - much the way one would pick up a puppy.

For a long moment, young Alex frowned at Lord Braunfield. Being held in such a manner was uncomfortable, and he was about to express his disapproval with a loud cry when Mr. Darcy thoughtfully reached out to guide the viscount's arms to the proper position.

"Hold him as you did when you rescued young Joseph, and all will be well," advised Mr. Darcy, recalling how he had once been just as awkward with babies and small children. William obeyed his instructions, and adjusted his stance accordingly.

A broad grin appeared upon the boy's face as he settled comfortably into the nobleman's arms. This sure sign of approval was followed by a string of childish babble. His excited applause was an eloquent expression of pleasure.

William marveled at the child's natural sense of ease. He himself was as nervous as if he was standing on pins and needles. Gradually, however, he too seemed to gain a new feeling of confidence, and gathered the child closer to him.

"Now I shall know who to turn to when his nurse is busy with other chores!" Alexander teased his friend with a good-natured quip. "You have already shown your natural rapport with children at Ridgemont, but now, I am duly impressed by your conduct with younger tikes!"

Seeing his father's smiles, young Alex laughed jovially as well. He had taken a definite liking to the viscount, and had apparently decided to grant him his trust. He leaned closer, clutched his lordship's elegant lapel firmly with his small hand, and rested his head upon his broad chest for a quiet rest.

The child must have been very weary, for within a few heartbeats, he was fast asleep!

"How splendid!" whispered Mrs. Bingley as she looked upon the pair with smiling approval.

"Yes, certainly a scene of domesticity worth capturing on canvas!" confirmed Mr. Bingley. If the truth be told, he could scarcely believe his sister Caroline's once wild and arrogant son was the same gentlemanly and earnest young man standing before them.

As Lizzy rejoined her family in the library, she came upon the amazing sight as well. Whatever words she was about to speak died upon her lips as she stared at Lord Braunfield and the small child slumbering so tranquilly in his arms!

Chapter 26

Posted on Wednesday, 9 November 2005

For the first time in her life, Lizzy Darcy found herself at a complete loss for words. She stared, with her pretty mouth agape, at the sight of her small nephew sleeping so contently in the arms of Lord Braunfield. If she had failed earlier to conjure an image of William in the company of children, she was now spared from making further efforts at such imaginings.

Fortunately for Lizzy, her return to the library was not immediately noticed. All attention was centered upon the viscount and little Alex. Words of approval were expressed by the Bingleys. Whilst Mr. & Mrs. Darcy refrained from voicing their thoughts aloud, it was clear that they were equally enthralled by this domestic imagery as well.

Much to his own surprise, Lord Braunfield found that he was enjoying this novel experience immensely. As his initial apprehension faded, he realized that he would not mind holding onto the child for the duration. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, how differently a newborn babe would feel in his arms, compared to this sturdy tike of almost a year old.

Isabella Darcy was the first to notice Lizzy standing by the door. Being privy to Lizzy's secrets had made Isabella sensitive to her emotions. She smiled encouragingly as she gestured for her to join them.

By now, everyone else had turned to look at Lizzy. The steps across the elegantly appointed room never seemed so long as they did for her then, but she mustered a bright smile for the sake of politeness. She stood next to Isabella, within arm's reach of Lord Braunfield. She smiled demurely, but refrained from making any remarks.

If truth be told, Lizzy could only think of how exceedingly handsome William looked, but such an observation was not suitable for any proper young lady to voice aloud.

William looked over the child's head to gaze at her steadily. The slightest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his countenance remained serious and purposeful.

"It is wise of you to practice on my dear nephew, if you wish to hold your newborn cousin later, my lord," said Lizzy at last, in a soft, amiable tone.

William smiled back, not trusting himself to speak at all. He did not wish to spoil the pleasant moment with any sly quip or bold declaration. In his mind, he could well imagine holding his own child - his and Elizabeth's child - in the same manner, basking in the warmth of familial love.

"Margaret and Anthony invite you all to see their darling new son," continued Lizzy. She could feel the deepest blush coming upon her face. The nursery! she thought suddenly. Surely the safest sanctuary in the house, and the most unlikely room William would ever visit!

Turning to William, she averted her eyes to avoid meeting his, and said purposefully, "Please allow me to take my dear nephew to his nurse."

He leaned towards her obligingly, easing the sleeping child into her waiting arms. This simple transfer of responsibility was made complicated by the tenacious hold little Alex had upon his lordship's lapel. Even in sleep, the child's grip was firm.

To William's delight and Lizzy's consternation, their arms became unavoidably entwined for a lingering moment. Strangely enough, no one offered them any assistance! The Darcys and the Bingleys had already turned to leave the room when Lizzy first offered to take her nephew, and accordingly, they entrusted the duty of chaperone entirely to Alexander and Isabella. Alexander stood in dignified silence, watching over his sister like a forbidding centurion, but allowing the young couple to have a moment of privacy. Isabella was fascinated by the most unlikely scene she could have ever imagined seeing her once-haughty cousin William involved in!

"He is very strong," murmured William admiringly, reluctantly freeing his arms from Lizzy's in order to unclench each tiny finger gently. He was much tempted to prolong his present task - she was standing so close to him that her hair - a few loose strands from her fashionably braided coiffure - whisked against his clean-shaven chin as he worked to free himself. He breathed in the fragrant scent of her, and knew his senses were in danger of being overwhelmed by such exceedingly pleasurable sensations! From the rigidity of her stance, he could feel her acute embarrassment as well.

Indeed, it was a delightful scene, to say the least - the kind of vignette that one would recall with pleasure over the years. For a young man who never held a small child in his life prior to this day, William Warring had acquired the attentive manner of a doting uncle, nay, the tenderness of a devoted father, in the briefest span of time!

When Mrs. Darcy turned her head for a backward glance as she was leaving the room with her husband, she saw the exquisite scene of the viscount with her grandson. If the idea of having Lord Braunfield as a son-in-law had unsettled Mrs. Darcy earlier, this simple but considerate gesture of his did much to sway her opinion in his favor. In her mind, it revealed his true nature more eloquently than his other fine deeds - his rescue of young Joseph Gardiner and his unselfish extraction of Lord Ashbourne from his French mistress. A rich man could afford to be generous; a brave man could be relied upon to be intrepid; but thoughtful consideration and kindness could only come from a sincere heart!

As young Alex Darcy slept contently in the warm cocoon of the nursery, his nurse Mrs. Prentice busied herself with various chores. She kept a vigilant eye upon her young charge, whom she adored as if he was her own. Now and then, she glanced at Miss Elizabeth - discreetly but in full curiosity. Her motherly instincts were sharpened by her keen understanding gained from her many years in the caring of children. Miss Elizabeth, sitting pensively near the window, was obviously in distress. It was not difficult, however, for Mrs. Prentice to guess at the probable causes of the young lady's agitation.

The Polite World was lately abuzz with speculations about Lord Paxton's only son and heir. Lord Braunfield's mere presence at social gatherings caused such a stir, all talk inevitably involved his matrimonial future. Whether the young nobleman himself was truly in need of a wife was an irrelevant issue, for the ton itself had already deemed the vacant title of Countess of Braunfield a worthy goal for many a young miss to aspire to.

Mrs. Prentice might spend most of her time caring for Master Alex, but she was not excluded from news of the outside world. Through one's fellow servants, one would hear daily tales - imagined or otherwise - of courtship, proposals, and the latest betting odds for potential pairings. The staff below stairs - like those at the Darcys' household - was fiercely loyal and devoted to their employers, but they loved a secret as much as the next person! The frequent visits of Mr. Bingley's noble nephew had excited many a whispered speculation. The Bingleys still had one unwed daughter, and the Darcys had two - each esteemed by the ton as highly desirable catches.

Who could blame Mrs. Prentice for her curiosity in such interesting matters, especially when Miss Elizabeth - so very much like the Mistress of Pemberley - was secretly her favorite?

Lizzy felt as if she were caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that would not cease. She had no sooner made her firm resolution to bar thoughts of Lord Braunfield from her mind than to find his lordship looking so undeniably handsome and . . . well, enthrallingly domestic!

In this latest encounter, she had not trusted herself to look at him directly, and had kept her eyes determinedly upon his hands as he worked gently to free himself. She was reminded vividly of that memorable night at the Gardiners' Ball - how quickly her headache had been eased by his strong yet soothing touch, and still later, what tantalizing fires he had ignited with his caresses! She had but scant experience in the art of kissing, but she was certain that William was exceptional in his seductive prowess. Stories of his wild ways had provided plentiful fodder for the gossip tabbies of the ton, and one would have to be deaf not to have heard a risqué tale or two!

To be fair, Lord Braunfield had eschewed his profligate habits of old, and was leading an exemplary life thus far. Those around her had been singing the praises of his remarkable reformation, and she had witnessed vivid samplings of it. He was now welcomed even by her stern father! She would have a heart of stone if she did not feel the stirring of much warmer sentiments towards him. She now realized the root cause of her present dilemma with William. His very handsomeness was a hindrance! Their peculiar friendship began with sharp sparring words, and they somehow tumbled headlong into passionate kisses without the benefit of establishing a mutual rapport in the conventional manner!

There were, however, serious impediments which prevented her from losing her heart to William. Misgivings continued to gnaw at her. Her better judgment cried out - insistently and indignantly - against the folly, nay, the danger of following one's passions blindly. She could no longer deny that the viscount had a powerful hold upon her. She knew he desired her - he had declared such sentiments aloud after he kissed her - but did he harbor more profound sentiments beyond desire? If he were a perfect gentleman, would he take such a liberty to kiss her so passionately - not once, but twice? Would he grow impatient with her indifference towards him, and turn to other proper young ladies, flirt with them and kiss them for diversion, inciting the same torrent of emotions in them as well?

Yet, she trusted her elder brother in his judgment of character - that beneath the flamboyant façade of Lord Braunfield was a reformed soul, worthy of her affections, if she would grant him a fair chance to prove himself. Despite her apprehensions, she longed to trust William, to bestow upon him her unquestioned faith.

The odds, however, remained stacked against his lordship. He could not rewrite his regrettable past, but potential hazards loomed largely in his future. With scores of fawning females throwing themselves in his path at every turn, and Lady Paxton herself, ready to battle any young woman who did not pass her forbiddingly high standards for a daughter-in-law - the prospect of allying her future with Lord Braunfield was not very enticing for a young woman like Lizzy, who otherwise had the world at her feet.

Stop! Cease such foolish musings! Lizzy admonished herself in silent fury. How can I expect to better myself - to become a truly accomplished woman - if I persist in clouding my mind with triviality or with thoughts of Lord Braunfield!

Lord Braunfield wasted no time penning a new letter as "W" to his "Kindred Spirit," but its delivery into the hands of its proper recipient suffered a slight delay as the letter-courier himself was far too preoccupied with his role as a new father to mind other matters. Fortunately, the special letter courier resumed his duty the following day.

William had taken preemptive steps to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness regarding this clandestine correspondence with Elizabeth Darcy. Since his discovery of Kindred Spirit's true identity, he no longer needed to send his missives in the care of the editor of "Gentlemen's Quarterly." Indeed, to continue doing so would arouse unnecessary curiosity. Instead, he entrusted his faithful valet, Owens, with the delivery of "W's" letter to The Honorable A. Knightley, MP and Barrister, at the proper Inn of Court. From there, Anthony could be relied upon to carry the letter to Elizabeth herself.

He waited in anxious anticipation for any signs that his beloved had received his latest letter. It was vital that she should read it as soon as possible, for he wanted to clear a way for his other self to tell her the truth! He was torn between his desire to woo her at any costs and his unflinching sense of honesty. His conscience gnawed at him, finding disguise of any kind abhorrent. It demanded a full confession to Elizabeth.

If she will give me but a sign! A meaningful look or a significant word! lamented Lord Braunfield to himself in silent agony. He saw his beloved constantly at the Bingleys, but to his chagrin, he was never alone in her company to speak privately with her.

With the return of her parents back to Derbyshire, and her brother Alexander and his family already comfortably settled in at the Bingley townhouse, Lizzy welcomed the invitation from her Aunt Jane and Uncle Charles to be their house guest as well.

Lord Braunfield fell into the easy habit of being a daily visitor to the Bingleys. Rain or shine, his lordship was ready for a morning ride in the park with the gentlemen. He was an amiable companion to his cousins in all their outings - visits to various orphanages and book shops, ice-treats at Gunter's and evenings at the Opera. Many a dinner soiree with close relations such as the Knightleys and the Gardiners found him in attendance - but he studiously avoided most of the social gatherings where he would be inevitably swarmed by scores of unattached females.

Over friendly games of chess, Lizzy found that she could bear Lord Braunfield's presence with growing equanimity. To be certain, her good spirits were made buoyant by an unexpected missive from her kindred friend "W." Indeed, she had perused his letter so many times that she could now quote it verbatim from her memory!

To Miss Kindred Spirit:

My dear lady, I must beg you to overlook my presumption in penning this latest letter to you. Do not be alarmed, madam, for I have no intention of intruding upon your privacy. If the contents of this letter should offend you in any way, however, do not hesitate to toss it instantly into the fire.

I wish mainly to address my unsolicited advice to you in my last letter. In retrospect, I fear that I spoke out too hastily in my judgment of the fellow who had offended you. I knew none of the circumstances or history of his friendship with you. Indeed, I ignored the most basic of our noble laws - that a man is innocent until proven guilty! My harsh reaction towards this "unworthy cad" stemmed mainly from my concern that you had been offended by his ungentlemanly conduct.

If the fellow only wishes to toy with your tender heart, then he is an absolute rake, and deserves every censure and punishment. However, it is also likely that he is a man of good character and honorable intentions, whose ardent admiration for you caused him to exhibit such a gross lack of discretion. I do not mean to say that his action was excusable; but seen in a prudential light, I believe that there may be valid reasons for forgiveness and reconciliation.

I speak from experience. I am well acquainted with the sting of criticism and the daunting task of regaining one's reputation. Good opinion, once lost, is irretrievable in certain circumstances. Therefore, dear lady, I urge you to ignore what I have written before, and reconsider the entire situation without my undue influence. You should never allow someone else to judge for you!

I am a nameless and faceless stranger to you. Out of respect for you, and in adherence to strict propriety, I shall remain in this anonymous state for the duration of our correspondence. I dare not aspire to anything beyond a platonic friendship formed by ink and parchment.

Yours to command,
W.

Postscript:
I am always honored to receive your letters. If you grant me leave, I shall continue to reply to your missives accordingly. Else, I do cease all further contact as of this moment.

Lizzy sighed deeply as she recalled W's words. Such eloquence and sincerity! How he worried over the welfare of others! If only those popinjays of her acquaintance spoke and acted in such a manner!

She mused about the identity of this enigmatic man. It was highly unlikely that she and "W" would ever meet face to face, let alone learn of each other's true identity. Their frank tête-à-têtes would be restricted to the realm of written words. They could speak to each other more openly than the accepted norm, since they were protected by the shield of anonymity.

She did not venture to imagine how "W" looked - young or aged, lean or stout - physical attributes mattered not to her. From his words, she knew he spoke from the depth of his heart, without artifice or guile. She longed to know him better, and was impatient to pen him another letter so she would hear from him again!

She was amazed that his direct words had touched her heart so effortlessly - more so than long stanzas of a forlorn love poem could! It was very foolish, yet it felt strangely liberating to indulge in harmless musings without the dangers of emotional entanglement! She wondered if "W" felt the same way towards "Kindred Spirit," but dismissed the idea immediately. "W" seemed too serious a scholar and too proper a gentleman to indulge in frivolous ruminations!

Whilst her mind dwelled upon the mysterious "W," Lizzy went about her days with a renewed spirit. Never for a moment did she have to worry about entering a room to find herself face to face with "W" the way she would with Lord Braunfield. At first, she was much disturbed by the constant presence of the viscount at her uncle's house, but it grew into such a habit that she found herself missing him if he were not there.

She would be loathe to admit such feelings openly, but she began to see William in a different light. She had known him to speak his mind openly on all matters, but now, she noticed the unfailing sense of good humor behind his strong words. Whilst he still engaged in spirited verbal duels with her, she no longer sensed any feelings of animosity between them. A mutual camaraderie was forming - although she would not call such feelings the rapport of kindred spirits, she was relieved that William no longer made flirtatious remarks or gestures to spoil their budding friendship. He was truly living up to his solemn promise to her, and was behaving like a perfect gentleman! She finally realized if she stopped clouding her mind with visions of his lordship's searing kisses, she could perceive the many worthy qualities that her brother Alexander spoke so highly of.

If the truth be known, Lizzy was falling in love with Lord Braunfield! She did not do so by leaps and bounds - but ever so slowly and unknowingly - imperceptible even to her own keen mind! Her words to him became sweeter, her gestures kinder, and her general countenance brighter whenever she was with him.

On his part, William received every small measure of grace from her with gratitude. He dared not give himself any false hope of Elizabeth being in love with him - so he did not interpret her sweet gestures towards him as anything beyond civility. He knew he should broach the subject of "W's" true identity with her as soon as he could find the right opportunity, but he was apprehensive as well. He wished to bask in the warmth of their growing friendship, and savor the happiness he felt whenever he was in her company. If he was being complacent about withholding the entire truth from her, who could justly blame him? Surely, after so many months of silent agony and disappointment, he could be pardoned for being tardy with his confession!

Mr. Bingley was grateful for the companionship of his two nephews - Alexander Darcy and Lord Braunfield - during the current Season in London. His son Henry had been away in Devon for many weeks now, courting the lovely daughter of Rev. & Mrs. Edward Ferrars. Indeed, Henry had written home with joyous news of his recent engagement to Miss Ferrars. The wedding date itself, however, was set several months away, since Edwina insisted that they be married at her father's parish church at Delaford. She was adamant and would have none other than her dear cousin Miranda as her Matron of Honor. Miranda Darcy was, of course, in the final stages of her accouchement. Until the safe delivery of her child, and a suitable span of time before she and her James could take their babe on the long journey from Derbyshire to Devon, the wedding would have to be postponed. Not wishing to be away from his beloved for so long, Henry opted to remain in Devon rather than returning to London for the Season. He took a lease on a small house near the Delaford estate, and settled in as a neighbor to his future-in-laws.

Of late, much of Mr. Bingley's time was devoted to business matters - he had invested heavily in the Gardiners' new merchant fleet. He found that he needed Mr. Darcy's sage advice more than ever, and felt the void left by his return to Pemberley. Fortunately, Alexander had inherited the intelligence and business acumen of his esteemed father, along with his other meritorious qualities, and proved to be an equally capable confidante in all matters. Indeed, Mr. Bingley's heart swelled with pride each time he gazed upon the younger Darcy, and rejoiced that his daughter had such a fine man for a husband.

Lord Braunfield was reaping the same benefits of companionship as well. Alexander was already his mentor, but he now enjoyed the frequent company of his amiable Uncle Charles. More than once, he felt the regret of lost years - when he should have spent his summers with his Bingley relations instead of carousing in Paris with his frivolous chums! Such realizations naturally made him more determined than ever to be at the Bingley household, and to his sheer delight, his beloved Elizabeth was now a house guest there! Many a night he lingered, yet he always came away disappointed at his failure to secure a private moment with her. Elizabeth had exhibited every sign of cordial friendship towards him, but nothing beyond. They were never without proper chaperones whenever he was with her, and every word and gesture that passed between them was beyond reproach.

As much as William tried to console himself, he was growing exceedingly impatient. It seemed clear that he would never win Elizabeth's heart in the conventional manner. Yet, he could not court her by half measures either, for he would not be satisfied until he had her heart completely.

As Lizzy contemplated her next move for the chess game at hand, she felt a sudden irritation rising within her. She could not place a finger on the root cause of it, but she became agitated and restless.

"Ah, it seems that you have bested me yet again," smiled Lord Braunfield placidly as he saw his inevitable defeat looming ahead. He leaned back against his chair, and gazed at his lovely opponent with an appreciative eye.

He knew that he had been a poor player of late - he could speak no more than a few polite words to his beloved Elizabeth before he became tongue-tied, barely holding himself in check whenever he was in her presence. The desire to sweep her back into his arms, and lavish kisses upon her until she felt the sincerity of his ardent love was overwhelming! He knew it could only be a matter of time before he would lose his iron grip upon his disciplined conduct, and repeat that memorable scene at the Gardiners' Ball!

At times, it seemed that his baser instincts were regaining an upper-hand in his battle of self-redemption. He had to admit that it was still a fierce struggle. In those seemingly endless nights, when the coldness of his bed could not be warmed by the heat of the blazing fire in the hearth, he despaired of ever winning Elizabeth's stubborn heart; he consoled himself by hatching various plots to carry her off with him! Inevitably, Reason seized hold of him again, and he would admonish himself with the severest reprimands afterwards. The only consolation from his agony was the firm knowledge that his object of desire was solely Elizabeth, and that he yearned for none other. He began to comprehend why his friend Alexander Darcy had once vowed never to marry unless it was with the woman of his heart - Isabella Bingley.

There is simply no cure for true love! thought William in stoic silence.

"You are being far too complacent!" exclaimed Lizzy with unexpected directness, effectively shocking Lord Braunfield's attention back from his musings. Alexander and Isabella looked up from their respective books with apprehension. From Lizzy's tone of voice, it seemed that she was about to criticize Lord Braunfield - an open breach of decorum that should not be attempted at all

"It is commendable that you have put up a daring gambit and several remarkable moves, but you have mollified your efforts," continued Lizzy earnestly. Your Bishops and Knight guard your King too well, and you do not venture any bold moves to garner a victory for yourself."

"I seek only the enjoyment of the game, and the pleasure of present company," smiled Lord Braunfield amiably. "Victory is not my primary objective."

His ease of manner and agreeable words, unfortunately, did not gain him the goodwill as he had intended. Instead, her irritability threatened to swell into full-fledged anger. Her heightened emotions stemmed not from the chess game itself, but from her general perception of the viscount. The better acquainted she became with him, the greater potential she saw in him. It was simply maddening to her that he did not apply himself more!

By her estimation, William Warring had ample resources - in sense and education, as well as wealth and patronage - to better himself in every way. If I were him, thought Lizzy sternly, I would not be satisfied with mere improvement of manners and habits. I would take a more active role in philanthropic work, perhaps even standing as MP for Parliament.

"An admirable sense of sportsmanship, I grant you" she conceded with a slight smile, before adding solemnly, "but the game of chess is often like life itself, do you not agree, my lord?"

William considered her words for a long moment. He tried hard to discern her mind. For some reason, she is upset with me presently. What have I done wrong? It is very clever of her - to use the chess game to criticize me - but I see through her ruse..

"I fear that I am guilty of being overly protective of my King. My stratagem is a reactionary one - it stems from the bold moves made by your Queen and your Rooks thus far," he said softly, gesturing to the many black pieces off the chessboard, already captured by her. "Frankly, I am at a loss as to what moves I should pursue next. What do you recommend, Miss Elizabeth?"

"My lord," protested Lizzy with a demure laugh, "I am your opponent! I cannot dispense advice for your game. I must beseech you to plan your own stratagem."

William nodded as he picked up his Knight, held it poised in the air for a pensive moment before he placed it before her Queen - a sacrifice that would only delay his inevitable defeat by a few turns.

"A great pity, my lord, to make sacrifice of such a valuable piece," sighed Lizzy as she moved her Queen to take his Knight. She saw two other ways he could have moved without losing his Knight. From his games with her father, she knew William to be an excellent player. Why was he playing so poorly against her? Perhaps he saw through her veiled criticism of his character, and was gamely playing into her hands. Was the surrender of his Knight a sign of capitulation for the game at hand, or was it an acknowledgement that there was truth in her words, and that he would take more meaningful actions to pursue the greater goals in life?

"How fares your letter-writing campaign to MPs on the issue of women's suffrage?" William asked her suddenly. "Do you also pen letters to the Lords as well?"

"Mainly to the Commons," she replied briskly. She added with a hopeful look, "When you assume your seat in the House of Lords - shall I hope for an ally in you, my lord?"

She had asked him the question politely, but William was seized by the sudden distressful thought of being the next Earl. As his title of viscount was merely the courtesy use of his father's lesser titles, he could not assume his mettle in the House of Lords until he was the new Earl of Paxton. As he did not wish for the demise of his beloved father and the natural succession of the family line, William answered her emphatically, in a tone full of agitation.

"May such a bleak day be long into the future. I do not look forward to the day I enter the House of Lords!"

"I am very sorry to hear it," she said almost inaudibly. In her disappointment of him, Lizzy did not see the simple logic of his answer. She mistook his words as further proof of his disinterest in politics and social issues. So upset by his avowal, she promptly checkmated him to end their game. She gave him a polite but quick curtsey, and returned to the writing desk in the corner to resume her letter-writing - this time for the worthy cause of a new orphanage.

William sat in stunned silence. Their conversation had remained civil by all appearances, but the hidden tone of it had deteriorated greatly against his favor. He had been nurturing fresh hopes of a possible courtship of her when this catastrophe of a conversation fell upon him.

Alexander frowned deeply as he brooded over what he had just witnessed - a mannerly exchange of words, to be sure, but it felt like a fencing match of wits. Finally, he remarked to his wife in a very low voice, "Why does Lizzy maintain such a vehement dislike for your cousin? I worry whether William will ever succeed in winning her heart."

"I disagree!" whispered Isabella confidentially. "I think Lizzy likes William very much, and her affection for him is deepening."

Alexander shook his head in disbelief, and said, "Your assessment is a bewildering one! I cannot comprehend feminine logic sometimes!"

In response, she smiled back at her husband indulgently, "Do not fret, my love! We have a lifetime together for you to learn to comprehend my logic!"

Alexander lifted her hand to kiss it before he held it against his heart for a lingering moment. He was gratified by her words - familiar ones to be sure, but words he never tired of hearing. Indeed, a lifetime together! But even such would not be quite long enough! Isabella sensed his thoughts, and squeezed his hand tightly in return - a very small gesture of affection, but as palpable as a kiss of passion.

Lord Braunfield witnessed the tender exchange, and recalled his own special moments with Elizabeth under the Great Tree after their first kiss. It seemed ages ago, and he had made scant progress in his quest for her heart ever since! He decided to throw caution to the wind as he stood up from his chair, and walked determinedly to where his beloved was.

Lizzy was busy at her chosen task - penning bold and confident words on the fine parchment. A deep frown of concentration rendered her customary pleasant countenance into a rather forbidding look. She was a true daughter of her father.

"Yes, my lord?" She looked up at she sensed his presence by the desk, and halted her writing. Her terse words reflected her still simmering anger at him.

"Are you, by chance, writing to the mysterious Mr. W?" he asked tentatively, trying to gauge her mood, seeking the best way to begin his confession.

Lizzy was embarrassed by his question. She felt that it was none of his concern, but for the sake of etiquette, she answered him. "Mr. W is a very worthy man for anyone to pen a letter to. I have seldom read a political article which gave me more pleasure."

"Who is this Mr. W?" injected Alexander out of curiosity, as he walked towards the pair. He had decided to be more vigilant in his chaperone duty. The undercurrent of emotions between the pair had grown palpably unsettling, and he feared a real confrontation between them soon. "You keep mentioning him, Lizzy. You know well that I have not read his essay. You have commandeered my subscriptions, and have yet to return them."

Lizzy reached for her diary as she turned to face her eldest brother. Within the voluminous pages of the leather-bound journal was W's article on women's suffrage, published in the recent issue of "Gentlemen's Quarterly." She handed the article to him, and waited for him to peruse it.

Lord Braunfield debated with himself - whether he should speak up at once or wait for the inevitable comment by Alexander. Before he could make up his mind, his friend was staring openly at him.

After glancing at the title and the opening lines of the article by "W," Alexander already knew the identity of its author. It was the very same political essay that Lord Braunfield had allowed him to read one evening at the Ridgemont mines. He smiled, and was about to express his approval aloud when he saw the look of silent plea on his friend's face.

How strange, thought Alexander! What was William playing at? Before he could think of a plausible answer, his younger sister spoke up.

"I have often wondered who this mysterious commentator is?" said Lizzy. "He has a unique style with words, an insightful mind and the courage to speak it. Above all, a self-deprecating humor that is so refreshing!"

"Whoever Mr. W. may be, he is surely not any of the preening peacocks of our general acquaintance!" injected Isabella with a mirthful laugh, trying to lighten the present mood in the room. She was familiar with W's article as well, although she did not pore over it again and again the way Lizzy did. If it were a case of hero-worship, then Lizzy was very much under the man's spell.

"I have lost quite a bit of my preening feathers and borrowed glory, and I also have two Ws in my name," said William suddenly, with an impish smile. He took a deep breath, and declared the truth to Elizabeth - trusting his witnesses to be discreet.

"What if I confess to you, Elizabeth, that I am this mysterious writer?"

"You, my lord?" exclaimed Lizzy incredulously. It was obvious that she found it to be a ludicrous idea. After a moment's reflection, she began laughing. It was a hearty laugh, full of mirth and amusement, but without any malice.

"You are very droll, my lord!" said Lizzy. "If you are putting on a good joke as your way of apology, I am fully appreciative of your great effort! I am exceedingly diverted!"

"You do not think me capable of writing such a piece of political tract?" asked William at last. His tone was equally light, but in his heart, he could feel the crushing blow that would surely come with her answer.

"I do not doubt your intelligence or your capabilities, my lord," she replied sincerely. "You are as well-bred and well-educated as any gentleman of my acquaintance. In private conversation, you have conceded that women's suffrage has its merits, but you are not likely to lend your support to controversial matters so openly."

"How do you truly think of me, Miss Elizabeth? Pray, enlighten me!" His disappointment was deep, and there was a slight edge in the tone of his voice. He could barely maintain his outwardly cheerful countenance.

"A change of manners and habits is very admirable. Indeed, your transformation has already amazed us all," she said, managing a gracious smile.

"And yet?" he prompted her - he knew that behind her compliments were words of criticism, but he could not stop himself from hearing what could only cause him pain.

Lizzy considered for a moment, and decided to be honest with him. "Forgive me for being so outspoken on this matter, my lord, but as your friend, I feel obliged to urge you to challenge yourself - to do more. Extensive reading, for example, improves one's mind . . ."

"Lizzy!" interrupted Alexander in admonishment. He could scarcely believe that his sister was berating Lord Braunfield. The stern tone of his voice was enough to remind her that she was willfully being impertinent.

"I am sorry, my lord, for my blatant rudeness," muttered Lizzy contritely, the deepening blush upon her face showed the conflicting emotions within her.

"Why must you have such prejudice against our friend?" demanded Alexander, his voice and manner as formidable as their father's. He could not comprehend why Lizzy persisted in her severe disapproval when William Warring had shown every sign of improvement, and his adoration of her was so evident. Surely, it was cruelty itself to continue to abuse the goodwill of such a man!

"I am sorry if I do hold any prejudice against you, my lord. I only speak as I find," confessed Lizzy candidly. "You and I have antagonized each other from almost the first moments of our acquaintance. I do regret that I have yet to hold you with the same affection and esteem that the rest of my family have for you. You deserve better from me, but you . . . well, you seem to bring out the worst in me!"

William nodded graciously, but added with a touch of sadness in his voice, "I am very sorry to hear it, for you manage to bring out my best."

"If I have offended you in any way, my lord . . ." she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

Instead, he declared, "I take no umbrage for no offense was intended. However, I can see that you are distressed by our chess game, so I must take leave of you now. Adieu, Miss Elizabeth." He took her hand in his, and felt the tremor in hers as he bestowed a courteous kiss upon the delicate fingertips. He bowed with lordly courtesy to the others present, and left the room promptly.

It is now more imperative than ever to double my efforts in letter-writing, William thought to himself grimly. Wooing her as "W" now seemed to be the only plausible way to proceed.

Before Lord Braunfield reached his carriage, Alexander had caught up with him. "William! What are you about? Why did you not confess to Lizzy that you were the author of the political commentary?"

The viscount heaved a deep sigh, and explained his peculiar situation earnestly to his best friend.

"Just how many letters have you exchanged clandestinely with my sister?" demanded Alexander; his protective nature was justly roused by this highly inappropriate correspondence between two young people not affianced to each other.

"Three letters thus far - from each side - but I believe that we have struck an extraordinary rapport with each other - much more so than we do in person!"

"Lizzy has been very cordial to you in person lately," reasoned Alexander. "What triggered off her sudden flare of temper?

"I have no idea." Lord Braunfield replied, just as mystified as his friend. "Do you not see, then, that this letter-writing scheme is the only viable way for me to court her!" he pleaded earnestly. "For whatever reasons, Elizabeth still harbors a lingering contempt for me, and I have but the faintest hope of ever wooing her as my real self. Keep my secret for the duration, I beg of you! Do not even confide in your darling Isabella!"

Alexander's stern frown deepened. "I do not think it wise to proceed in such a way! Lizzy will not be happy when she finds out the truth."

"Do you not recall that I already confessed the truth to her moments ago, and she flung it back in my face with a hearty laugh? It is very obvious that she holds W in high esteem, and I, William Warring, am but a lowly creature by her estimation!"

"A lowly creature? My wife has a different opinion about Lizzy's heart on that score," remarked Alexander. Before he could elaborate upon his wife's logic, Lord Braunfield had regained much of his habitual optimism. He was already penning W's next letter in his mind.

"By the time Elizabeth finds out the truth about W - again - I shall have gained her heart unequivocally," smiled Lord Braunfield confidently. "She will find it as amusing as her first ludicrous assumption that I cannot be W himself. Indeed, we shall have a good laugh over it!"

"I certainly hope so!" replied Alexander solemnly. He cringed to imagine the alternative!

Continued In Next Section