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Chapter 33

Posted on Wednesday, 1 November 2006

"Your father has given me my first mission," said Lord Ashbourne as he joined his beloved Jane on the grand terrace for afternoon tea. He heaved a rueful sigh as he noticed the numerous settings of fine bone china around the table - he realized he would not have much time alone with his darling before they were joined by the rest of her family.

Jane smiled at him expectantly. "Yes? What does my papa have in mind for you?"

Thomas sunk down into the chair next to hers, and accepted a cup of tea with a grateful smile. "I am to make the acquaintance of all my father's tenant farmers, beginning with our Derbyshire estates." As he spoke, he cast an appreciative eye around his pristine surroundings. It was such a fine day, with a light breeze in the air; it was arguable whether one could find a better vista than Pemberley. With Jane by his side, he felt as if he were in paradise. The only blemish was the difficult task of winning her father's approval.

"Surely you must know your tenants already. It is a rather easy task after all - nothing Herculean in its simplicity," said Jane with relief. "Perhaps my father has a change of heart, and has decided to be merciful."

"Well, the task is harder than what you surmise. I know only the head of each household, and not all of them by name. Indeed, there are more than a few faces that I shall be hard pressed to recognize in a crowd," confessed Thomas. "You see, I scarcely have direct dealings with our tenants. My family has very capable stewards to administer our affairs."

The enormous holdings of an earldom certainly required many key people for effective management. The Darcys had their own stewards - for Pemberley, as well as for their other holdings - yet, her own family was well acquainted with those under their patronage. She suspected, however, that it was a matter of personal habit and attitude, rather than the vast expanse of land that kept the Fitzwilliams apart from those outside their family circle.

"I believe my father's intent is for you to take an active interest in the lives of the people who are dependent upon your family for their livelihood and welfare," stated Jane.

"I do not have the talent to converse with people outside my family circle. How can I possibly cultivate a friendship with so many strangers," he stated with a worried frown.

"Thomas!" she exclaimed, "These people are your tenants, not total strangers!"

"Yes, you are absolutely right," he said sheepishly.

"It is certainly a reasonable request for you to demonstrate a genuine concern and active interest in those who live and work under the auspices of your family," she said encouragingly. "Periodic visits of the farms are very helpful. My father insists that it is better to strengthen the ties of loyalty over a glass of ale rather than over the pages of a ledger book. Your tenants do not seek bosom friendship from you. Rather, they wish to know if behind your family's heraldic shield, there are people with caring hearts."

"I realize it well," he nodded with a grave smile. "I was not making a terrible complaint - I merely wished to discuss the matter over with you, my love. I intend to ride back to Beauchamp after tea, and begin my first round of social calls."

In response, Jane reached for his hand, and said sweetly, "Not to worry, my darling. You will do fine."

He held her loving gaze with equal intensity as he lifted her palm against his lips, saying in earnest, "Heaven forbid that I should fail you."

They were soon joined by others - the senior Darcys, the Brandons, Miranda and James Darcy. The twin babies were enjoying their peaceful slumber in the nursery, watched over, ever so devotedly, by their capable nurses.

At the sight of Lord Ashbourne, James grew agitated. He gave his cousin the darkest looks, and seemed ready to pounce upon him at the slightest provocation. Unlike his parents and elder brother, James was adamantly opposed to Lord Ashbourne's courtship of Jane. He could not forget - let alone forgive, Ashbourne's dishonor in carrying on with a mistress in Town whilst courting Lizzy the previous autumn.

Mrs. Darcy saw how James was flexing his powerful fists - she knew her son was itching for a fight with the hapless viscount. She intervened with the panache of a skilled diplomat at the Court of St. James.

"Dear heart, try some of these delicious canapés. They are from Mrs. Brandon's favorite recipes."

James was as devoted as any son, and he could not well ignore his mother's overt attempt to defuse any potential conflict - verbal or physical - between him and his cousin. He smiled at his mother, and acknowledged her silent command with a slight incline of his head. He took the silver tray, held it out to others so they could sample the canapés before taking one for himself. He decided to ignore the presence of Lord Ashbourne completely for the duration. There would be ample chances later to have a private tête-à-tête with the rake, thought James sourly.

Colonel Brandon, ever the proper gentleman, took a special interest in the nephew of his dear friend, General Sir James Fitzwilliam. His past dealings with various rakes had not shaken his faith in the basic goodness of man's nature. He knew of Lord Ashbourne's abominable behavior towards the youngest Miss Darcy, but if Mr. Darcy seemed willing to give this particular repentant sinner a fresh chance, then he was more than willing to extend a friendly hand. The viscount could, by arduous efforts and sincere dedication, rehabilitate his character and redeem his honor.

Mrs. Brandon naturally trusted her husband's judgment in such serious matters, and extended her cordiality towards the viscount accordingly. Miranda, on the other hand, could sense her own husband's growing fury, and thus, made a special effort to refrain from speaking to Lord Ashbourne.

Mrs. Darcy played the role of gracious hostess perfectly. She presided over tea with grace and wit. With the exception of James, a merry time was enjoyed by all. Even Lord Ashbourne seemed relaxed when he conversed at length with Colonel Brandon, discovering mutual interests in music, poetry, and fishing.

At length, Lord Ashbourne took his leave. He bowed formally, bestowing a lingering look upon Jane before he extended an invitation for present company to dine at Beauchamp the next day. Amidst the cordial exchange of farewells, he caught another withering look from his cousin James, and a brooding look from Mr. Darcy.

A renewal of friendship with James would be another Herculean task by itself, mused Lord Ashbourne grimly as he mounted his stallion and galloped home to Beauchamp.

London

The masquerade ball at Vauxhall Gardens was well attended that evening by the ton. If Lizzy had been reluctant to attend the ball with Lord Braunfield, her apprehension began to dissipate when she stepped out his carriage, and literally entered a magical evening of enchantment.

The air seemed imbued with exotic fragrances and enchanting orchestral music. The myriad of brilliant stars in the velvet summer sky seemed merely an extension of the countless colorful lanterns that surrounded the garden.

Lizzy had never attended a ball at Vauxhall. Proper young ladies, without an attentive escort and vigilant chaperone, could encounter risks in the shadows of the tall hedges, particularly in the vicinity of the famous maze of Vauxhall. Her father, ever so protective, had only allowed her attendance of private balls thus far. She had no fear of misadventures this evening, however, for she had not one but two pairs of chaperones in attendance: the senior Gardiners had invited their son Philip and his wife Rachel to join them as well.

On this particular evening, hundreds of guests - the crème de la crème of London - were bedecked with jewels and fancy costumes of every design, color, and style. Lizzy had chosen a magnificent Renaissance gown of dark emerald silk, with an exquisite collar and laced sleeves trimmed with seed pearls. Her ingenious use of an elegant feather mask concealed much of her face, giving her the luxury of anonymity.

Lord Braunfield's choice of costume complimented Lizzy's gown perfectly. He wore a doublet of rich green velvet, a surcoat of equally fine silk, and striped hose which was the height of Tudor fashion. His tall, well-portioned physique was thus accentuated in a flattering manner. A velvet cap, trimmed with a peacock feather and worn at a rakish angle, completed his image of a royal courtier. His sword and bejeweled gold medallion, however, were authentic heirlooms - legacies from the first Earl of Paxton.

The viscount also wore a dark mask to conceal his face. To maintain their cloak of anonymity, he and Lizzy made a special pact to avoid conversation with other guests, and spoke to each other only in whispered words. Nevertheless, they were such a strikingly handsome couple that they drew constant stares and speculative remarks from all sides. . .

Music for the waltz resumed after a spectacular display of fireworks. When William requested another set, Lizzy readily agreed. She loved to dance, and he was an exceedingly wonderful partner.

"Happy?" he asked smilingly.

She was waltzing under a cloudless, starlit sky, in the arms of a handsome gallant with whom she was rapidly falling in love. There was but one answer. She smiled demurely, and replied with a heartfelt whisper, "Yes." After a moment, she added mirthfully, "I must confess that I am growing very fond of this particular chapter of your life thus far."

In response, he brushed his lips against her brow, and murmured, "The next chapter is even more promising."

She was much surprised by the bold demonstration of his affections in public. She shied away instinctively, and whispered, "Pray, my lord, please behave!"

She felt his smile without seeing it. He drew back slightly, giving her a roguish grin, but in another heartbeat, he held her even closer as he led her around another waltzing couple.

"You look far too bewitching, my dear lady," he murmured huskily. He did not add that he would lose his sanity if he could not kiss those sweetest lips of hers very soon.

"Our chaperones will intervene at any moment," she said mock sternness. Even as she warned him, she was secretly hoping that he would whisk her away to a secluded spot.

He seemed to read her mind. "Our chaperones must be having a hellish time trying to spot us amidst this throng of wildly costumed merrymakers. Perhaps, we can slip away for a spell?"

She did not speak, but he could sense her quiet consent as she allowed him to guide her away from the other waltzing couples.

He tucked her arm in his, and led her towards the tall and thick hedgerows which formed the famous Vauxhall maze. They ventured but a few steps into the deep maze before they turned into a very dark and secluded corner. He stopped, and pulled her directly into his arms without ceremony. For a long moment, he seemed content to hold her in a close embrace, but made no further move to kiss her.

"William?" she whispered, her melodic voice easily expressed the supreme happiness she felt, being held thusly in his arms.

"Hmm?" answered his hushed reply as he lifted back her mask to caress her face. His touch was gentle but possessive, and she longed for the promise of such caresses.

"We are being very reckless," said Lizzy shyly, wanting him to remain a perfect gentleman, yet hoping that he would kiss her soon. Memories of his searing kisses from the Gardiner Ball were still as fresh in her mind as if it was merely yesterday! Her pounding heart was in such dire conflict with her rational mind, she was sure he must be suffering the same acute torture.

"Yes, you are right," he murmured, appreciative of her honesty and sense of propriety. "Even with our identities concealed by our respective masks, we must be very careful. I must not do anything that would jeopardize your honor."

With such a declaration, he released her from his arms reluctantly. He heaved a deep sigh of regret as he brushed his lips ever so softly against hers. His kiss was a fleeting one, yet it already caused such waves of sensation. She wanted him to draw her back into his close embrace, but found him readjusting her mask carefully. They exited the maze quickly, and went in search of their chaperones without further delay.

"Thank you. I am glad your sense of honor has won out," she whispered truthfully as she took a long breath to regain her composure.

In retrospect, she was glad that he did not allow their kiss to lead them astray. For once they made a start of it, passionate tumults would surely follow. There were always prying eyes in a public place, and a scandal could arise from the slightest inference. Instead, they had been away in seclusion for mere moments, and their absence would not be duly noted by anyone.

He nodded solemnly, and muttered grudgingly, "Yes, honor and duty. I am learning to value such sterling virtues, although my own sanity is at a very fragile state at this moment."

"As is mine," she confessed almost inaudibly.

William caught her words as surely as if she had shouted them aloud. He laughed - a clear, pleasant sound that rang out like a herald of joyous news. He was about to speak again when an accented, sultry voice called out from behind them.

"Lord Braunfield? Mais oui! It is you!"

William felt as if the blood had frozen in his veins. It was not possible, but the voice was unmistakable. Chloe St. Pierre! He pretended he did not hear her, but the vixen proved persistent.

"Lord Braunfield?" The excitement in the sultry voice was unmistakable.

William stiffened his shoulders, and turned around to brave the inevitable confrontation with his former mistress. Chloe was bedecked in a magnificent gown in the style of Cleopatra, and close by her side, was an older gentleman in the guise of a Roman patriarch. Neither one of them wore a mask.

"Good evening, Madam," bowed Lord Braunfield with rigid formality. His voice was very cold - so unfamiliar a tone that Lizzy turned sharply to eye him questioningly.

"Indeed. It is a very, very fine evening, my lord," said Madame St. Pierre merrily. Turning to her stout, aging companion, she purred sweetly in heavy-accented English as she made the necessary introductions.

"My lord Braunfield, may I present my husband Lord Rodham. We are but lately wedded," she declared with a smug smile of triumph. It seemed she had fared rather well since their last meeting. Being the wife of a peer of the realm should surely satisfy her high ambition.

Lord Rodham, so besotted with his bride, did not seem to harbor the slightest suspicion that his new wife had more than a passing acquaintance with the handsome viscount.

William had no choice but to remove his mask for the sake of decorum as he gave a formal bow.

The older peer regarded him with an appraising look. "Ah, yes! A young sprig from an old and noble stock." He offered his hand, and added, "I am acquainted with your father."

"My lord," replied Lord Braunfield stiffly. He glanced at Chloe, and caught a glint of malice in her calculating eyes even as she smiled at him ever so amiably. He knew his former mistress was a woman who harbored deep grudges, and would spare no scruples in seeking revenge upon those who crossed her. It was palpably clear that she resented him. The abrupt termination of his patronage must have been an unexpected blow to her.

"Are we not equally privileged to make the acquaintance of your lovely companion of the evening, Lord Braunfield?" said Chloe in mock admonishment - her tone was honeyed and charming.

Young pups these days - too full of themselves to mind their manners. This one has impeccable taste in women though - what a pretty and alluring chit, mused Lord Rodham as he gazed appreciatively at Lizzy in her exquisite costume and elaborate mask.

Lord Braunfield saw the poison dagger hidden within Chloe's words. She meant to insult whoever he was in company with - her words implied his companion to be a mere light skirt, or a new mistress he had acquired in Town. He would not tarnish the honor and prestige of the Darcy family in any way. Indeed, he must defend it vigorously.

"Lord and Lady Rodham, it is my great honor to present my fiancée - Miss Darcy of Pemberley," said Lord Braunfield very boldly. Lizzy had not removed her mask during the introductions, but she was in the midst of her polite curtsey when the reality of William's words sunk in.

She was about to voice her protest, but Chloe's shrill laughter had already drawn the attention of everyone nearby.

"How marvelous!" exclaimed Chloe dramatically. "We must be amongst the first to hear such delightful news."

"Capital! Capital!" rejoined Lord Rodham. "Our congratulations!"

Lizzy was in such a state of shock that she could not make any reply. Lord Braunfield placed a protective arm around her to beat a hasty retreat back to their chaperones. Hushed but excited whispers dogged their footsteps, spreading like wildfire throughout the assembly in such rapid speed that their chaperones heard the news of the engagement before the young couple reached them.

The most eligible, and certainly, the most elusive bachelor of the ton has been caught at last!

The Gardiners greeted the couple with beaming smiles of approval. However, the look of dark fury in Lizzy's eyes was a cause for immediate concern.

"Please take me home," said Lizzy in an urgent plead to Sir Edward as she took his arm.

"Of course, my dear child," said Sir Edward graciously. "By a happy coincidence, my son Philip has summoned the carriage already. He noted the lateness of the hour, and surmised correctly that our departure from here was imminent."

They did not speak again until they were settled into the comfort and security of the luxurious carriage.

"How dare you!" Lizzy had found her voice at last, but her mind was in utter confusion. Her sudden outburst stifled whatever congratulatory words the Gardiners were about to express. She repeated her question again, oblivious to everyone else in her present company except for Lord Braunfield.

William shook his head ruefully, and said in the most apologetic tone. "My humblest apologies, Elizabeth, but it was the only cause of action possible. Your honor, and that of your family's, was at stake." He took a deep breath, and ventured tentatively, "Do not be so livid with me, dearest Elizabeth. An announcement of our betrothal may well have been premature. . . but it was in no means a false one."

"William Warring . . . you are the most arrogant and insufferable man on earth!" she exclaimed, trying hard to suppress the hot tears which threatened to erupt at any moment. "You had no right to make such an announcement! How can you proclaim me to be your fiancée when you have never made a proposal of marriage to me? Or to ask for my father's consent?" Her raw anger prompted her to add, rather hurtfully, "How can you be so certain that I will not reject you if you do ask me?"

If the Gardiners had remained quiet out of mere courtesy before, they were now stunned into a collective silence. They could not readily grasp the full meaning of the young couple's words, but they could certainly see the emotional ordeal that Lizzy was in.

"My dearest Elizabeth," began William, but her last question had scored a palpable hit, and he was at a sudden loss for words. Seated as he was next to her, he tried to take her hands in his, but she avoided him by folding her arms stubbornly across her bosom.

A long and very awkward silence ensued. A disaster loomed ominously between them. To their present company, it seemed inexplicable that Lord Braunfield should jeopardize his courtship of Lizzy when he had sought after it for so long. From the tender looks and gestures the couple had shared earlier that same day, how could there be any doubt that love was blossoming fast between them?

Sir Edward Gardiner finally interjected with a question. "What prompted this sudden rash course of action, my lord?"

From Lizzy's sudden look of interest upon hearing Sir Edward's question, it was plain to see that she was very curious to unearth his lordship's motive.

William cleared his throat, and gave a brief but succinct account of his former association with Madame St. Pierre, the present Lady Rodham. He left out all the sordid details, of course, and he carefully omitted the generous settlement he had put forth to detach the temptress from her entrapment of Lord Ashbourne. With such crucial parts missing from his revelation, it certainly did not paint a full picture, and consequently, rendered him in a very ill-favored light indeed.

"The ridicule, the mocking insinuation of Madame St. Pierre . . er . . . Lady Rodham . . . was undeniable. I could not allow her to insult Elizabeth in any way," stated William with great agitation.

"Surely, if Lady Rodham possessed such a dark past, she would be leery of the potential risks: you might retaliate by exposing her secrets?" reasoned Philip Gardiner. His wife Rachel echoed his view by adding, "Indeed, the lady is unlikely to risk her present good fortune."

William shook his head, but remained silent.

"Surely you are not being blackmailed, my lord?" asked Lady Gardiner with sudden insight.

"No! No!" replied William urgently. "There is nothing in my past that threatens me or my family." He felt honor bound to remain silent for he could not reveal more details without exposing Lord Ashbourne's past.

"Well, my lord," said Lizzy at last, her voice trembling with emotion but her countenance was determined and grim. "I did harbor genuine apprehension of having unexpected encounters with your former . . . lovers. Tonight has been extremely unpleasant, but I could still overlook it if you did not fabricate the lie about our engagement. You insisted that it was for the defense of my honor, but somehow, I feel that you are not being entirely honest in regard to this particular woman! As I abhor deceit or lies in my friends, I must . . . I must terminate this ill-fated courtship of ours!"

"No!" protested William with an agonized cry. "Please reconsider! Please trust me!"

"Without trust, we are doomed, my lord," she said tearfully, her heart breaking in the most severe and painful way as she saw the fanciful dreams of their future together - so newly formed - shatter before her eyes. "And I . . . I do not trust you!"

At that moment, the carriage came to a stop. They had arrived at the Darcy townhouse without their notice of it. When the footman opened the door, Lizzy bolted out of the carriage, and ran up the granite steps as fast as she could. In her haste, she nearly collided with the faithful butler standing ever so attentively at the door to await her.

Lord Braunfield leapt out of the carriage to give chase.

"Elizabeth!" he called after her urgently. He simply could not lose her now!

At the grand entrance of his family's townhouse, Alexander Darcy stood in readiness - much like a formidable knight guarding the castle gate - to await Lord Braunfield. He had already dismissed the servants for the night, so there would be no prying eyes to a very private family matter.

The viscount was coming up the front steps in a brisk pace, hampered only by the slight limp caused by his damaged knee. On his face was the look of utter gloom - a look that easily matched the tear-streaked face of Lizzy as she ran into the mansion moments ago.

"Where is she?" asked William in agitation.

"She is with Isabella - in my study," replied Alexander sternly. The darkest look of disapproval appeared on his face, "Whatever have you done this time, Braunfield? I have never seen my little sister so desolate before."

"Please lead me to Elizabeth! I must see her now. There is not another moment to lose!"

Alexander glanced over Lord Braunfield's shoulder, and saw the senior Gardiners coming slowly up the steps as the carriage pulled away. He moved to welcome them, and remarked upon the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Philip Gardiner.

"I have taken the liberty to send them home in his lordship's carriage; their presence is more likely required at home with their children than here with us," explained Sir Edward calmly. "This courtship has proven to be very complex and delicate, and the present impediment may take a while to reach a satisfactory resolution. My dear wife and I shall remain here, however, as long as you may require of us."

Alexander acknowledged his great-uncle with a grateful smile. "Thank you, sir. It is exceedingly kind of you. In my parents' absence, you stand in their stead. Your good sense and sound judgment, as always, are invaluable to us."

Sir Edward nodded with a modest smile. He then placed a fatherly hand upon Lord Braunfield's shoulder, and remarked, "This worthy savior of my young grandson deserves a fresh chance to explain himself fully to the lady of his heart. Come, Alexander, lead the way. We must endeavor to find a remedy for Lizzy's tears."

Lizzy was sobbing in the safe haven of Isabella's arms. Words tumbled from her - most of them incoherently - as she tried to recount the events of the night to her best friend.

At the sight of Lizzy, Lord Braunfield rushed to kneel by her side. Alexander would have barred his way had Sir Edward not held up a hand to stop him.

"You cannot protect your sister in every turn," whispered Sir Edward sagely. "Lizzy must learn her own lessons in life."

"Elizabeth, please forgive me," began William in the most earnest of pleas. "Do not terminate this courtship. You and I . . . our hearts are already entangled ... their binding ties cannot be severed now! Please understand that it is a matter of honor that prevents me of divulging further details regarding my recent dealings with Madame St. Pierre. Another man's honor is at stake, and I cannot sacrifice it. He alone can disclose the truth. You must trust me."

"I am very sorry, but I cannot!" protested Lizzy stubbornly. "How can you demand blind faith from me when you are so adamant in concealing facts and matters? I can love unconditionally, but I cannot love blindly."

William nodded in solemn agreement. "Indeed, you are too wise to love blindly."

"Perhaps there is one other man who can disclose the facts at the present moment - myself," interjected Alexander at last as he grasped the root cause of their distress. He looked at the viscount directly, and said, "Forgive me, William, but I must speak the truth. It pains me to witness this grievous misunderstanding between you and my sister."

William inclined his head in grave resignation. At length, Alexander made a full disclosure - with all the particulars of Lord Braunfield's selfless and generous role in releasing Lord Ashbourne from the talons of a manipulative seductress. He concluded by stating that aside from those directly involved, no one else knew of the entire tale, as Lord Braunfield had been so vehemently opposed to taking any credit for his vital role in it.

Stunned silence greeted Alexander's words, and all eyes turned to look at Lord Braunfield with greater clarity and admiration. The viscount truly exemplified the best qualities of his given name: William, after all, meant "valiant protector."

"You . . . you undertook such a mission, and spent such a great sum of money to aid a man whom you did not esteem in order that he might be free to woo and win my hand in marriage? . . . After you had already realized you were in love with me?" said Lizzy incredulously.

"My paramount concern was to secure your happiness - even if you were fated to be Ashbourne's wife, and I, to remain in your utter contempt. As long as you were happy, I was content," confessed William, looking at Lizzy with all the love he felt for her in his heart.

"Oh, William! I have misjudged you so terribly!" cried Lizzy, at once embarrassed and grateful.

His reply to her words was a silent one. He smiled, and took a silk kerchief out of his pocket to dry the tears from her eyes. It was a sweet gesture that earned the smiling approval from all present.

Sensing that a reconciliation was inevitable; Sir Edward thoughtfully signaled the others to follow him out of the study in order to allow the couple the opportunity to talk in private. Perhaps the happy outcome of this tête-à-tête would be a genuine, bona-fide betrothal.

Lord Braunfield waited until they were alone before he spoke again.

"For nearly a year now, my dearest and loveliest Elizabeth, I have been trying to prove myself worthy of you. I believe you have more than an inkling of my passionate love and ardent admiration for you." He was still upon his knee before her - he had been so since he first entered the room. Thus, he merely needed to clasp her hands in his before he made his proposal.

He cleared his throat nervously, and continued, "I am fully aware of the lingering misgivings that you may have - the numerous reasons why you and I should not be together - but you cannot deny that we do share a common destiny. Indeed, we are an ideally matched pair of kindred spirits. . ."

She was listening to him with an open heart, finally admitting to herself that he spoke the truth in every word. Suddenly, she was felt too shy to meet his loving gaze. She averted her eyes from him, reasoning to herself that if she could not meet his eyes, at least she could hear his pleasantly deep voice speaking such wondrous words of endearment.

She lowered her gaze as she mused. At this crucial moment, her eyes caught sight of a small piece of folded parchment that had fallen into her lap. It had apparently fallen out of his pocket when he took out the silk kerchief to dry her tears. She would have dismissed it without a second thought, but there was a strange familiarity about it intrigued her immensely.

Lizzy freed a hand from his, and picked it up. "Is this yours?"

He stared at the folded parchment, looking at once astonished and embarrassed. He had been so intent upon making his marriage proposal that he had been quite oblivious to everything else except her. He had not realized that this cherished token of hers had fallen out.

"Oh, that?" he said with a slightly nervous chuckle. "It is mine and yours."

Intrigued by his words, she unfolded it for closer examination. What she read astonished her exceedingly. It was the tear-stained bit of parchment upon which she wrote merely three words.

As you wish!

In her agitation, she had neither bothered with courteous salutation, nor did she sign off with her pseudonym when she wrote her final farewell to Mr. W.

"Where did you get this letter?" she demanded breathlessly

"From you," he replied.

"But I had written this to Mr. W! It was duly delivered to him - not to you!" she exclaimed, not realizing that she had openly confessed to being "Kindred Spirit" as well as rejecting yet again the notion that Lord Braunfield was Mr. W. himself.

William shook his head with a patient, indulgent smile. "It was delivered to the rightful person - namely me. I am W."

"It is impossible!" she protested.

The truth hit her then, even as she had scarcely finished speaking. She was overwhelmed by a myriad of feelings - disbelief, embarrassment, anger, hurt, and self-recrimination.

"You . . . you are him? You are really Mr. W?" she said at last, her voice shaking terribly.

William pulled her into his arms as he confirmed with a hearty chuckle. "Yes, my dearest. I am "W," as you are, indeed, my own Kindred Spirit!"

Lizzy was too overwrought to see the humor in his revelation. She pushed hard against his chest to free herself from his embrace. She stared at him, recalling their many heated conversations regarding W, and declared furiously, "This must have been a very great joke for you. Have I amused you enough, my lord? Tell me, do you carry on similar clandestine correspondences with other females as well?"

"No, no, no!" said he urgently. He seemed to be jumping from one fire to the next - they were on the verge of yet another crisis of misunderstanding. "You alone have claimed my private thoughts on parchment. Indeed, I would not have allowed such a secret correspondence to flourish in such a degree if I did not discover the true identity of Kindred Spirit from almost the very beginning."

She could easily recall that fateful morning - when he joined them for his first visit of the Female Orphan Asylum - of how W's letter had fallen out of her book of poetry, and how he had retrieved it for her with such gentlemanly consideration. He had passed a cursory glance at the wax seal and the letter itself.

"Surely you cannot be angry with me," persisted William. "The moment I realized you were Kindred Spirit, the words of confession were upon my lips."

"No, you teased that it might be a love letter whilst you knew full well that it was not!" she protested weakly.

"Yes, I did make an impertinent remark, but I tried to tell you the truth in the next heartbeat. By then, you had run out of the room. Be fair, now. I did try on various occasions to reveal my identity as W, but to no avail."

She was silent, her mind reliving the moments he alluded to. She had been abominably uncivil to him, and she would not be surprised if he took umbrage. She tried to imagine how she would feel if their roles were reversed. She realized she was being unfair.

"Yes, you did indeed. I had made cruel sport of you. I am heartily sorry for my impertinence and ill manners," she conceded ruefully.

William heaved a deep sigh of relief, and believed the last storm had passed between them.

"Let us speak no more of it then, my dearest Elizabeth," he urged, brushing his lips against her brow. There was forgiveness in his touch, and she acknowledged him with a grateful smile.

Suddenly, she felt fatigued and overwhelmed. The tremulous emotions she had experienced careened from such hopeful joy to miserable tears and back again!. It was like being caught in a violent gale at sea, but with glimpses of a sun-drenched paradise isle just beyond the horizon. At that moment, she wished for nothing but to seek solace in a much-needed rest. When she realized his immediate intention was to kiss her and to renew his declarations, she held up a hand to stop him.

"Too much has happened today, especially within the past hour . . . I can no longer think clearly, and . . ." she looked at him pleadingly, hoping that he would understand her even as she could hardly comprehend herself.

"And kissing would befuddle your mind further?" William knew he was on the verge of losing his self discipline and good humor. He felt as if he had been caught in a fierce sandstorm in the Sahara, and the entire landscape had changed in its aftermath. He had basked for mere moments at an oasis, but now, he was being cast back into the barren desert, to be painfully lost again.

"Yes," was her whispered confirmation.

"Perhaps it is best that I return tomorrow - to resume this tête-à-tête at a more suitable hour?" said he hopefully,

"William, please forgive me. I am a very selfish creature, and care not what you must be feeling presently," she said, choking back sudden tears of fatigue. "Do you mind greatly if we do not see each other for the next few days? I believe I am in dire need of solitude - I... I need some time to myself."

He considered her words for a pensive moment. News of their supposed engagement would be common knowledge in Town by the next morning. If she had been uneasy when people merely stared at her during their courtship, how exceedingly uncomfortable she would be now as his "fiancée." No, it was not unreasonable for her to make such a request of him at all.

"Such deprivation of your company shall be torturous to me, but I shall abide by your wishes. I am, as ever, yours to command," he said gallantly, silently cursing fate for this latest obstacle. Would such a moment ever come, when she would fly into his open arms with unrestrained welcome and eagerness?

"Thank you," she whispered, grateful for his forbearance and understanding.

He stood up, and bowed to take his leave of her. At the door of the study, he stopped and looked back. She had already buried her face in her hands, sobbing in quiet misery.

He waited in vain for any sign that she might change her mind and call him back. He remained there, a fierce debate raging within him. In his better judgment, he knew he should be stoic and walk away graciously. His nature, however, was not one that would suffer in silence, or to go quietly away in the night.

He crossed the room purposefully, and placed his hands assertively upon her arms to raise her up. He was too powerful for her to resist, and she soon found herself in a close embrace.

"William . . . what are you doing?" she asked in stunned surprise, her face tear-streaked and weary. She looked into his dark eyes, and saw the fires of passion within.

"Forgive me," he muttered.

He captured her sweet lips and kissed her with feverish ardor. Mere spoken words were no longer adequate. If he hoped to sway her mind in his favor by such a method, well . . . who could possibly blame him?

As always, Lizzy responded to his ardent kisses, her unschooled but natural passion threatened to break his iron discipline. He kissed her, lingeringly and possessively, for a moment longer before he broke away.

When William released her, she nearly lost her footing. She felt like a rag doll, lacking the strength to stand or to sit. He placed her upon the settee with care, and brushed his lips against her forehead once more.

"I must leave you now. Bookmark this page, my darling, for I am far from being done with it - indeed, not by any measure," declared he with a confident smile as he bowed and turned away at last.

Lizzy lifted her teary eyes and watched as he left her, silently closing the door behind him.

Chapter 34

Posted on Thursday, 21 December 2006

By the next day, the ton was abuzz with news of Miss Elizabeth Darcy's betrothal to William Warring, the Viscount of Braunfield.

At many a fashionable household, news of more vital nature - such as parliamentary politics, the nation's financial health, and the rumbling of imminent political upheavals on the Continent - were being temporarily supplanted. The merits of young Braunfield were discussed at great length, and many marveled at the remarkable young lady who finally succeeded in leg-shackling the eligible viscount to the proverbial ball and chain. Betting pages at the gentlemen's clubs were now set for the wagering of the actual wedding date. A whirlwind courtship might well signify an early wedding.

Lord Paxton awoke to such great news as well. His valet could hardly contain himself with excitement when he related the latest gossip that was on the tongues of everyone in Town - from the haughtiest dowager duchess to the lowest footman and scullery maid at the grand mansions.

The aged earl literally leapt out of bed, and rushed down the grand hallway in a most undignified state - as fast as his bulky frame and gouty foot allowed him - in search of his son.

"William! What wondrous news!" exclaimed Lord Paxton jubilantly as he found his son in the conservatory. A breakfast tray was before him, but the food was untouched.

"What news, Father?" said Lord Braunfield gravely as he stood up to greet his father. He had not slept a wink since he had returned home in the wee hours of the morning. He could hardly think of anything, but his beloved Elizabeth.

"Your engagement to Miss Elizabeth Darcy, of course!" Lord Paxton felt so elated that he seized his son's hands in his, and added almost tearfully, "I cannot begin to express my joy. She is as fine a young lady as a heart could desire."

"Father. . ." said William hesitantly. He did not wish to mislead his father, but could hardly bear to disclose the awful truth to him to spoil his rare happiness.

In his celebratory mood, Lord Paxton did not readily see the rueful look upon his son's face. He continued, "Huzza! I am blessed as well. A new daughter - one whom I admire and already regard as my own child . . . God willing, I may yet live long enough to see my grandchildren!"

"Please . . . Father. . ."

"Yes, my boy? Whatever is the matter?" asked Lord Paxton as he gazed at his son thoughtfully, suddenly realizing something was amiss. "You fear that Mr. Darcy may refuse his consent for the marriage? Surely you must journey to Derbyshire at once - to plead for his blessing in full earnest. Upon your knees if you must!"

"The truth is . . . Father . . . the truth is I have yet to propose to Elizabeth."

"Whatever do you mean?" exclaimed the earl in disbelief. "It was reported that you introduced Miss Darcy as your fiancée last night at Vauxhall. . ."

With a grim look, William recounted the fateful events of the previous night. Lord Paxton's incredulity grew when he heard the mention of Lord Rodham's name.

"The rogue is back in Town from his self-imposed exile abroad? Recently married, you say, to that French woman - the same cunning vixen who cost our family a tidy fortune?" remarked Lord Paxton with a deep frown.

"Yes, Father," replied William. After a pensive moment, he added, "You call Lord Rodham a rogue. The name is familiar. Is he the same nobleman who defaulted on his loan, and forfeited his rights to the Ridgemont coal mine - with all its myriad problems and starving workers - from Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, it is altogether a very lamentable situation," said Lord Paxton with a sad shake of his head. "He is the last of the Rodhams. Once an upright and promising young sprig, but he met his own Waterloo in the gambling hells in Town. He has long since squandered away his family fortune, and sullied his honor by defaulting on his many loans -- including one from me. If Rodham has dared to set foot upon these shores and risk being sent to a debtor's prison, he must be plotting some sort of nefarious scheme to recoup his prior losses."

"A ready prize would be Ridgemont - now well-managed and profitable. Alexander Darcy has done wonders there," said William, his quick mind assessing the potential harm Lord Rodham could inflict upon the Darcy family. "Mr. Darcy is a generous man. His loan to Lord Rodham might well be a gentleman's agreement, sealed by a simple handshake since they were acquainted with each other at Eton. Besides, no legal contract is ever entirely ironclad. There might well be enough vague language within such a contract for an unscrupulous man to seek whatever legal redress for his own selfish gains."

"Rodham is in dire straits - he is a man who cannot afford scruples," concurred Lord Paxton. "I shall make inquiries in Town to learn more of Rodham's intentions, but it is imperative for you to journey north at once - to Pemberley - to inform Mr. Darcy of this potentially serious matter."

"Such an alarm might well be a false one, but it is wiser to err on the side of prudence. Readiness is all," said William decisively. "I must forewarn Alexander Darcy at once, before I journey to Pemberley."

Lord Paxton clasped his son's shoulder with fatherly pride. "I have waited long years to see you this way, my dear boy."

"Lizzy?" came the deep and pleasant voice. A strong hand touched her forehead, and gently lifted her face.

Lizzy awoke with a start, momentarily unsure of her surroundings. Alas, she had fallen asleep in her brother's study. Her neck and limbs felt like lead, greatly stiffened by her awkward slumber upon the settee.

"Oh, Alexander!" she exclaimed, relieved to find her eldest brother by her side. If ever she needed a stalwart ally and a faithful confidant, it was at that very moment "I treated William so dreadfully, and have sent him away!"

"Surely not another lovers' spat?" said Alexander with a puzzled frown. The last glimpse he had of the young pair was William kneeling upon one knee, drying Lizzy's tears with loving attentiveness.

"Our reconciliation was followed by an unbelievable revelation - William is Mr. W himself, anonymous champion of social reforms, and lately, a new convert for the support of woman suffrage."

"I already knew Braunfield's secret," admitted Alexander.

"What?" demanded Lizzy. "And you never told me?"

"I had long advised William the prudence of making an open confession to you. He had different ideas. He felt he had a better chance of wooing you on parchment as W. You must acknowledge that you had sported with him rather cruelly, whenever he tried to reveal his true identity."

Lizzy nodded in sad contrition. "Does Bella know as well?"

"Yes. I confided in her when I solicited her help in delivering W's final missive to your bedchamber. I believe she had guessed the truth of it some time ago. Nothing much escapes the sharp mind of my dear wife."

Lizzy smiled, and said in agreement. "An intelligent mind buoyant by Reason, tempered by discretion, and guided equally by a compassionate heart. Bella is like our dear Mama. Indeed, they are both my heroines. I wish myself to be more like them - especially when I am being such an insufferable fool towards Lord Braunfield. He abided by the stringent rules of courtship like a perfect gentleman, and was about to propose marriage when I cut his pretty speech short."

"You are a prickly handful sometimes," smiled Alexander with brotherly affections. Lord Braunfield's courtship of her had certainly been a turbulent one - filled with exultant highs and tearful lows.

"Yes, I am indeed," conceded Lizzy with honest candor. "Perhaps, the strain of being under constant scrutiny by curious eyes whenever we ventured out had taken its toll. I have had scant chance to speak to William in private, or to have any discussions of personal concerns beyond the decorous subjects."

"But you are already more fortunate than other courting couples. You and William Warring already share a rare meeting of minds - of kindred spirits - on parchment. It will not be very difficult to translate such excellent rapport into your daily lives."

"Yes, but I must confess to being plagued by a persistent fear. I dread that his love for me may not weather the storms - that we shall drift apart in times of crisis." Once again, Lizzy's mind recalled the face of the French woman, her sultry voice calling his name seductively . . . William had given his affections to others before . . . shared intimacy and lavished gifts upon them . . .

"Your fears are natural, but unjustified. No man would go through such lengths to win the heart of a woman if he did not love her deeply. Lord Braunfield's admirable forbearance with you is testimony to the steadfastness of his love. His past may still haunt him, but his future is undeniably promising."

"Indeed, there are many more important chapters of his life yet to be written," she concurred in a small voice.

"Surely, Lizzy, you know well that one cannot judge a book by its cover. Sometimes, a book does not seize hold of your attention until you are in the middle of it. Suddenly, you find yourself entirely enthralled, without ever realizing how you ever made a start," observed Alexander reflectively.

"An apt metaphor of life - one which William himself has chosen to appeal his courtship of me," said Lizzy with a smile.

"With you as its inspiring authoress?" It was not a mere question, but a statement of strong conviction, from someone who understood and loved the pair of them so well. "I believe that Braunfield has immense potential - as do you, my dear sister."

Lizzy nodded in silence. Alexander smiled indulgently, and kissed her on the forehead. "It is morning already, but I advise you to make a hasty retreat to your bedchamber. You deserve a decent rest. You may see William soon enough to give him your answer. He will not abandon his quest now - not when he has already won your stubborn heart."

Tempted as Lizzy was to retort with a witty repartee, she held her tongue instead. Her brother, standing in their father's stead, had dispensed fatherly wisdom in good faith. There was much for her to ponder, and her decision would affect not only her own happiness, but of many others as well.

She kissed Alexander's cheek, and went off to bed like an obedient child.

Pemberley

Mr. Darcy listened in grave silence to his unexpected guest. Lord Braunfield was earnest and direct, and convinced Mr. Darcy of the seriousness of his mission.

". . . and thus, my father and I felt the only course of action was to warn you, sir," concluded Lord Braunfield.

"I received an urgent telegram from my son this morning," said Mr. Darcy. "Lord Rodham has, indeed, undertaken a legal suit against me. He is asserting that he was never in default - that the terms of our loan gave him much leeway to make his payments. He is accusing me of wrongful possession of Ridgemont; that I acted in a preemptive and unscrupulous manner."

"Oh, no," muttered William in vehement dismay. "You must strike back, sir. Do not be too much of a gentleman when dealing with villains!"

"Fear not," said Mr. Darcy with surprisingly calmness. "I may be generous of heart, but certainly not foolish of mind. I have never spared any expenses in contracts and other legal matters. My solicitor is from one of the oldest law establishments in London, and is already in close consultation with my son. Lord Rodham will not prevail. To own the truth, I am not overly worried by any possible legal entanglements with Rodham. I am, however, very concerned about my people at Ridgemont."

William nodded, "I share your sentiments towards the good folks at Ridgemont. I have made friends during my last sojourn there."

Mr. Darcy smiled approvingly at his words. The young viscount was rising fast in his esteem. He was well pleased with the earnest words that followed as well.

"My father and I wish to offer you our full support. We - and all our resources - are at your disposal, sir."

"It is very magnanimous of you. On the behalf of my family, I thank you most sincerely," said Mr. Darcy.

William inclined his head, took a deep breath, and said, "Sir, there is another matter - of equal importance and urgency - but of a different nature. . ."

"Your engagement to my daughter Elizabeth? Yes, I have already heard the news from London. We now live in the age of telegrams and railways," said Mr. Darcy without hesitation. He did not elaborate that he had received the first of congratulatory letters from his wife's insipid cousin - Mr. Collins. He found the clergyman's effusive words rather nauseating, and he preferred to forget them as soon as he could.

Mr. Darcy continued, his voice low but steely. "It is very strange, is it not, that Lizzy herself has not sent a telegram to share her joy with her parents. It is not in her character to be negligent. Therefore, I must surmise that it is an audacious attempt on your part to force my approval for your marriage." The smile had vanished from his handsome face, and he looked forbiddingly stern. He leveled his dark eyes squarely upon the viscount - the intense power of his gaze was enough to send a less stout-hearted fellow to scurry away from the room.

"Mea Culpa," stammered William with remorse and humility. "Sir, I must beg you to hear me out. . ." He gave a faithful narration of the fateful twists and turns of his formal courtship of Elizabeth, culminating with his failed attempt of his marriage proposal, his confession to her as Mr. W, and her dismissal of him shortly thereafter.

"Lizzy has not given you her consent - yet, in the eyes of the world, you are already betrothed to each other," said Mr. Darcy gravely. "Tell me, Braunfield, how will you extract my daughter from this quagmire without any blemish to her honor, without any harm to her happiness and well-being?"

"Elizabeth must be my wife! I love her utterly and completely," said William, his deep voice shook with the solemnity of a sacred oath. "I swore I shall cherish her, and be faithful to her until the end of my days. . ." He swallowed hard, as if he was in physical pain, as if he had seen a bleak vision of his future without his beloved Elizabeth.

"I . . . I can speak no more, sir. If I loved Elizabeth less, I could probably make pretty speeches. . ." William held up his hands, a gesture half in surrender and half in pleading. He met Mr. Darcy's eyes with unflinching honesty. He did not realize his simple words had stuck a resonant cord in Mr. Darcy's heart. In spite of their different circumstances and experiences, there was a strange parallel in their respective quests for true love. Mr. Darcy had realized such a reality before, but he had been unwilling to acknowledge it until this moment.

"I was a selfish being from eight to eight and twenty," was the unexpected and utterly candid confession from Mr. Darcy. "Mistaken pride ruled my behavior until I met my own Elizabeth. From her I learned the most valuable lessons. My wife is my own heart."

A long silence held in the air, as if Mr. Darcy was weighting his decision against the full measure of things. His frown deepened as he turned away from the younger man to gaze out of the window thoughtfully.

Time seemed to stand still. William knew his future hung in the balance. Elizabeth would never forsake the blessings of her parents to marry him. He stared at the tall figure of the formidable Master of Pemberley, and tried to brace himself for a possible rejection.

At last, Mr. Darcy turned around. With grave solemnity, he advanced a step closer to William, and clasped a fatherly hand upon his shoulder.

"Be a worthy husband to my daughter, and your life will be enriched beyond measure."

Upon hearing such a gracious benediction, William could barely find his voice to respond. The awesome burden of winning Mr. Darcy's approval of him was lifted from his shoulders, as if the angels themselves had smiled and came to his aid.

"Thank you, sir!" said William at last, overwhelmed with gratitude. "I shall be a worthy son to you as well."

Mr. Darcy smiled in return, and added with the lightest touch of levity in his deep voice, "My lord Braunfield, I dare not call you son - not presently - because the most daunting hurdle is still before you. My daughter can be the most obstinate creature. She may be in love with you, but she may yet refuse you!"

"I pray not!" protested William with an agitated cry.

Lord Braunfield took his leave shortly afterwards. He was most anxious to return to London, to be at the side of his beloved Elizabeth again. He resolved to take the earliest opportune moment to renew his marriage proposal. He harbored little doubt that she reciprocated his love - perhaps she did not love him with the same depth and intensity as he loved her - but he felt certain he could nurture such hopeful beginnings into the most profound of love. . .

Mrs. Darcy, meanwhile, had rejoined her husband in his private study. From the brooding look upon his face, Mrs. Darcy could readily surmise what had transpired in the tête-à-tête between her husband and Lord Braunfield.

"So you have given William Warring your consent?" stated Mrs. Darcy with a placid smile. It was more of a statement than a question.

Mr. Darcy held her gaze, noting with appreciation the enthralling way her fine eyes shone with intelligence and warmth. He nodded his head, and muttered a quiet affirmation.

"It is interesting, is it not? When our sons announced their engagements, we were both elated. Now, it is our youngest daughter's turn. You look gloomy."

"I am not gloomy," protested Mr. Darcy with a smile of resignation. "I am merely trying to picture the future - with our Lizzy as Lady Braunfield. Lady Paxton casts a very long shadow over her domain, and I am not so certain that she will embrace a young woman whose graces and accomplishments so easily surpass her ladyship's own claims to superiority. . . And I must correct you, my dear wife. In regard to James's engagement, we were apprehensive, not elated."

"We were very happy - as soon as we met our lovely Miranda and her dear parents."

"Yes, she and James are well matched. One must admit, however, that Alexander and Isabella are truly the ideal couple."

"I always believed that we were such the couple," teased Mrs. Darcy. "Have we been supplanted?"

"Not supplanted! We are greatly emulated, my own Lizzy," reassured Mr. Darcy as he drew her closer, and bestowed a tender kiss upon her lips.

"We have overcome tremendous odds to achieve our serene happiness. We must have faith that the younger generation is capable of doing the same. Lord Braunfield has proven that Reason and Prudence now rule his life. . ." said Mrs. Darcy with approval.

"...with our daughter Lizzy holding sway over every aspect of it. I only pray that she gives him the respect he deserves," he concluded his wife's thoughts.

"Perhaps she is truly William Warring's inspiration and saving grace, as you are mine."

London

Lizzy awoke with a fever the following morning after the fateful Vauxhall masquerade ball. Lord Braunfield paid an early visit to Alexander, inquired of her health, and departed immediately for Derbyshire. She could not blame him for being out of Town - the ton was wild with talk of their sudden engagement. Behind all the good wishes, there was an inevitable sly remark or two, with whispered insinuations of a wild seduction and a forced march to the altar.

She was forced to spend the next few days in bed. Mercifully, her illness had not been a serious cause for alarm. Plentiful rest, nourishing food, and attentive care by her family were the main prescriptions for her cure. She was glad to be in the safe haven of her luxurious home, but her every thought was with William. She worried over him - surprising herself that such worries were not confined to whether her family received his visit at Pemberley with cordiality, but whether he was happy, and whether he was eating and sleeping well. She berated herself for being unreasonable - being envious of whomever he came into contact with because she was deprived of his excellent company. In short, she was concerned about every aspect of his life, and would not be appeased until she saw him again...

On this particular afternoon, Lizzy was enjoying a fine cup of tea beneath the flowering arbor in her garden. That same morning, she had ventured out of the house for the first time in days, joining Alexander and Isabella for church service. As it was Pentecost Sunday, the sermon was especially inspiring, and Lizzy felt her spirits uplifted by devout prayers. She had chosen to return home afterwards, rather than joining her brother and his family on their customary visit with the Knightleys.

As she poured herself a fresh cup, she sighed contently. At last, she had regained a sense of tranquility, and felt much like her old self again. She wondered about William's return, and even indulged in whimsical musings - of what she would say to him when they met again. She decided that she would let him be her guide. If he appeared happy, she would dispense with all formalities, and gladly allowed herself to be swept into his strong arms. If he seemed moody, then she would tease him back into good humor, and cure him of any dark foreboding. . .

"Miss Elizabeth," said the butler as he stepped near her. He bowed respectfully, and added, "Lady Paxton is here to see you. Her ladyship is in the drawing room . . ."

Before the faithful servant could finish, Lady Paxton herself appeared before Lizzy. Her ladyship had followed the butler into the garden, looking haughty and severe. It would seem that she would not tolerate any delay in seeing the youngest Miss Darcy.

Lizzy gave a hasty curtsey to the countess, and politely inquired about her health. Her ladyship, in the meanwhile, had waved a hand to dismiss the butler - disregarding the important fact that she was not the mistress of this particular household.

With the same arrogance, she turned to face Lizzy, scrutinizing her intensely, as if Lizzy was the one who had begged for the present interview.

Lizzy was too wise to play into Lady Paxton's ploy. She was mindful of the older woman's superior rank, and did not initiate any conversation. Instead, she stood with attentive courtesy, to await the whims of the countess.

Lady Paxton launched into her speech with singular directness. Her cold smile matched her haughty look as she said, "Miss Eliza, you must know the true purpose of my visit today."

"I can venture a wild guess or two. Perhaps it would be better if your ladyship would condescend to speak openly," replied Lizzy with a confident smile, boldly meeting Lady Paxton's eyes.

"You cannot pretend to be ignorant of the insipid rumors which have been circulating around the ton since last Season. Such idle tales were naturally not true, and therefore, not worthy of my attention. Regretfully, there has been a glaring lack of scandals in Society lately, and the ton has chosen to keep its attention upon my dear son. Small blame though, since my William is a notable personage, worthy of accolades and emulation."

Lady Paxton paused, hoping that Lizzy would take the bait. Her ladyship was grossly disappointed. She was met with a polite smile. No remark was forthcoming.

"Reports of a growing tendre between you and my son continued unabated. There was not one visitor to my home in Paris who did not bring me such news from London. I grew exceedingly tired of the gossip. Suffering the inconvenience of traveling in the summer, I made my return directly to London - with the avowed wish of exposing the falsehood of such wild speculations."

"Yet, your ladyship is here to discuss these idle reports with me. . . I daresay the gossip has gained a certain measure of your attention," stated Lizzy with veiled amusement.

Lady Paxton waved away her reply with an imperious hand, as if she was beating back an insignificant fly. She raised her voice, and said, "My son might have looked your way once or twice, perhaps even indulged in flirtatious exchanges with you, but such incidents could not be anything but a fleeting fancy, done solely for his amusement and diversion."

"Lord Braunfield does have an incorrigible side to him," allowed Lizzy with an easy smile. "I, like all others, admire his reformed self, but we must not try to dampen his vibrant spirit and great sense of humor in any way."

"Let us not mince words, Miss Eliza," said Lady Paxton firmly. "The alarming news of William's engagement to you greeted me upon my arrival home! The ton is wild with fanciful stories regarding your betrothal. William has gone to Derbyshire, and his father has refused to discuss the matter. It is imperative that I should take command of the situation. If my son has indeed proposed to you, I must expressly forbid you to marry him!"

"Whatever your ladyship may demand of your son - it is his filial duty to respect your wishes, albeit being ever mindful that your commands do not go against his good conscious or God's commandments," replied Lizzy with admirable poise. She had remained calm, her tone of voice was patient and cordial, as if she was speaking to a difficult child instead of a countess. "My present connection to your ladyship does not bind me to such obedience - you have no claim upon me but as the aunt of my Bingley cousins."

"Obstinate, impertinent child! If you accept my goodwill, I may yet exert my considerable influence amongst the ton to spare you any embarrassment," exclaimed Lady Paxton, her dark eyes were now blazing with anger. "I know that you have been scheming to entrap my son into matrimony from the first moment of your formal introduction! William might have, in a weak moment, fallen victim to your feminine arts and allurements. Yes, Miss Eliza Darcy, you may congratulate yourself now, but my will shall carry the day. My son cannot marry without his parents' consent. Being the heir to an earldom entails extraordinary responsibilities - duties which are beyond your sphere in Society. My son can only be allied to someone of his own rank - a true member of nobility with impeccable family lineage."

"Forgive my impertinence, Lady Paxton, but I must ask a rhetorical question. Would not the sentiments of the heart place your ladyship's list of high prerogatives in jeopardy? What if your son chooses, of his own free will, to marry the daughter of an untitled gentleman? Surely, he will be following in his own father's example - as the present Earl has done so in choosing your ladyship for wife. I have been brought up with the belief that we Darcys are no less worthy than our Bingley cousins. Surely, you and I are of the same circumstances in birth and rank - our fathers being gentlemen."

Lady Paxton grimaced at the veiled attack upon her own pedigree. The Darcy family was truly aristocratic - its ancient family lineage boosted many a noble personage, dating back to the days of the Conqueror. By contrast, the Bingley name was far more humble.

"Miss Eliza Be. . . eh . . . Darcy, let us deviate from our present discussion for a moment," insisted Lady Paxton, looking far less formidable than before, but still clinging onto some vestige of her dignity. "Surely, if you cared a whit for my dear son, you would want him to have great happiness in life - God willing, a long and fruitful life."

"Indeed, I would," replied Lizzy with a determined nod. Looking the older woman squarely in the eye, she continued with the steadfast spirit and resolute will which she had proudly inherited from both parents. "A smidgen of doubt still troubled my mind prior to this morning. Your ladyship's words have jolted me into having a clearer vision. I no longer have any doubt in regard to my feelings for William. Indeed, my own selfish desires pale in comparison to his happiness. Rest assured, therefore, that your son will find wedded bliss and everlasting love."

In her agitation, Lady Paxton did not pause to wonder at Lizzy's reply. She took her words to mean what she wished to hear - that she was yielding to her will - and not the deeper meaning such a cleverly worded answer had implied. Indeed, Lady Paxton felt victorious. She - Caroline Bingley - might have lost the man of her heart's desire to another Eliza some three decades ago, but this time, as Lady Paxton, she would have her way. This Eliza, daughter of the first, would never be triumphant over her.

With renewed hope, Lady Paxton marshaled her strength to utter the most crucial question. "Has my son made an offer of marriage to you?"

Lizzy was silent. William had declared his love and admiration for her in so many different ways, but aside from his desperate plea of "Be mine!" the night of their passionate kisses at the Gardiners' Ball, he had yet to make a formal marriage proposal. She knew he had fully intended to remedy his premature announcement of their betrothal with a proper plea for her hand, but she had stopped him ungraciously at their last meeting.

There was simply no easy answer to Lady Paxton's direct interrogation. By temperament and by rational choice, Lizzy was a very honest person. If she lied, it would not suit well with her own conscious.

Flushed with sudden embarrassment, Lizzy stammered a simple "N-no."

The relief upon Lady Paxton's face was immense. She inhaled sharply, as if she had been holding her breath until this moment. With an over-eager smile and exaggerated kindness, she said, "Well, my dear Eliza, do not feel too badly. My son is exceedingly handsome and attractive - you are not the first girl to lose her heart over him. They all do, it seems - tumbling in love at the mere sight of him - without much encouragement from William himself."

Lizzy wanted to shout out that it was William who was her ardent suitor, and she herself the once reluctant object of his heart. Putting a tight rein upon her raging emotions, she said with admirable grace, "Now, if your ladyship will excuse me?"

"Not so hasty!" retorted Lady Paxton urgently. "I have yet to finish our little talk. Will you give me your word, Eliza, that you shall never marry my son?"

"I shall make no such promises - to your ladyship or anyone else," Lizzy boldly replied. "If William has no objections of me nor of my family, if he wishes to ally his own fate to mine, I shall make only one solemn promise - one that is due, rightfully and exclusively, to him."

"Selfish and arrogant girl!" protested Lady Paxton with vehemence. "You have shown your true colors today - you are certainly your mother's daughter. I know what I must do now. Take heed, Miss Eliza, for you have chosen to throw down your gauntlet against someone whom you cannot possibly triumph over. It will be wiser for you to make yourself scarce when my son returns to London. William does not take too kindly to anyone who insults his beloved mother!"

Lizzy held Lady Paxton's challenging eyes stalwartly. "Under such circumstances, your ladyship must not spend another idle moment with me. I bid you good day." Lizzy did not wilt against her ladyship's blazing look of disapproval. She curtsied with courtly grace, and added with a charming smile, "I see that your ladyship's carriage awaits you still - I shall not neglect my duty, but shall escort your ladyship safely to it"

The tête-à-tête ended abruptly - Lady Paxton fuming with indignant anger, and Lizzy rallying to regain her composure. The young woman had proven to be more formidable than the haughty countess had surmised her to be. She had held her own ground, without yielding an inch of it to her opponent.

There would be another confrontation soon enough, mused Lady Paxton, and then she would teach the impertinent girl a hard lesson. If William was home, she would insist upon his attendance. What better way for him to realize his grievous mistake than to witness the insufferable chit being insolent to his esteemed mother? How could he bring anyone so unsuitable into their noble family?

By the time Lady Paxton returned to Paxton Hall, her volatile anger had subsided. What mere slip of a girl, regardless of her good looks or talents, could ever come between a mother and her devoted son? Her thoughts soon turned to more pleasant things. It had been many months since she was last in London - perhaps it was time for her to host a ball. She was, after all, arguably one of the best hostesses amongst the ton. A grand ball, with the cream of Society as her guests, would surely provide fertile opportunities for her to find a suitable wife for William. Her aged husband could not be entrusted with such a vital matter - had not the old fool been championing the cause of Miss Eliza Darcy?

As for our heroine, her state of mind was in great turmoil. Whilst she could be justifiably proud of herself for standing up to the formidable Lady Paxton, she was tormented by a certain sense of guilt. Did she speak too boldly? Would this confrontation with Lady Paxton be merely the first of many to come? How could she bridge this irreconcilable chasm if she wished to bring only happiness to William?

Until his return to London, she knew she could do nothing but wait in stoic patience. Her heart quivered with delight at the mere thought of William. She whispered his beloved name over and over again. She could almost feel the magic of his lingering kisses, and could hear once again his confident words at their last parting. "Bookmark this page, my darling, for I am far from being done with it - indeed, not by any measure."

If the truth be told, Lizzy knew now that she could hardly wait to read all the new chapters of William's life. The few glimpses she allowed herself thus far were blissful indeed!

Chapter 35

Posted on Tuesday, 16 January 2007

Lizzy was enjoying her morning coffee with Isabella when Alexander strode into the breakfast room with a broad smile upon his handsome face. In his hand was a vellum envelope, bearing the elaborate wax seal of the Warring coat of arms.

At last, a letter from William! Lizzy could barely suppress her excitement. By protocol, William could not address his missive directly to her, but must write to her elder brother to act as his emissary.

"Lord Braunfield is presently in Town. He sends his best regards to all at this household, and a thousand apologies for not being able to attend to you ladies immediately," said Alexander.

He glanced over the brief note again, and added, "Very proper and gentlemanly. I approve of this respectable venue of communiqué." He exchanged a smile of approval with his wife. The viscount might have exchanged secret missives with the witty "Kindred Spirit" on numerous occasions, but certainly not as Lord Braunfield to Miss Elizabeth Darcy.

Lizzy sighed, and said softly, "Don't tease! My nerves are still very raw from my memorable encounter with Lady Paxton yesterday."

"I prescribe a quiet day at home, and some letter writing for diversion," said Alexander with brotherly affection as he handed Lord Braunfield's letter to Lizzy.

She accepted it with a shy smile, grateful that her brother allowed her to keep the letter as a memento. She admired the stylish and confident penmanship, reflecting how it was indicative of the man himself.

"Now, I must attend to estate matters with our attorneys. I leave you in the good hands of my dearest wife." Alexander leaned down to kiss his beloved Isabella before he took his leave. Connubial bliss had indeed transformed this taciturn young man. His tender kiss was brief, but his lingering look was unmistakably passionate. Considering the social norms of the day, it was a shockingly demonstrative gesture, but Alexander had done it so frequently in company that it now seemed perfectly natural.

Lizzy averted her eyes for a brief moment, but turned to gaze at the devoted couple with open admiration. Alexander had certainly taken a page out of their parents' own story. She felt envious, but inspired as well.

All day long, Lizzy waited for Lord Braunfield to call upon her. She missed him more profoundly than she realized, and watched the slow hands of the clock with growing impatience and anxiety. Night fell, and she retired to bed with severe disappointment that he had failed to make an appearance. She took out the small likeness of William, drawn by her own hand during a whimsical moment, and gazed at it meditatively. Her artistic talents might not equal her elder brother's, but she managed to capture William's irrepressible smile and lively spirit. Sighing heavily, she tucked the drawing under her pillow, and lulled herself to sleep with tender thoughts of her gallant suitor.

The next day came and went with the same monotony and nary a word from the viscount. Lizzy consoled herself that she did not have a monopoly of Lord Braunfield's attention, and resigned herself to reading and letter-writing to pass the time. Alexander was preoccupied with Lord Rodham's legal challenge of Ridgemont, and could not spare a moment to be her goodwill ambassador to Paxton Hall. She confided to Isabella, who calmed her fears, but could do little else to resolve her present dilemma.

Surely, William would not stay away in this manner without a good reason! Lizzy wondered with growing apprehension.

With each passing moment, she could not help but draw the only logical conclusion from his blatant truancy. Lady Paxton had kept her threat, and had already informed her son of their heated confrontation. Doubtlessly, her ladyship's narration was a prejudiced one, but she had hoped that William would be fair-minded and compassionate, and would come in person to hear her side of the story.

Lizzy realized, with a sudden stab of pain in her heart, that William Warring might not renew his courtship of her. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Surely, no man could bear her moods and outspoken mind for such a long spell without questioning his own sanity. Her own brother had warned her of the dire consequences if she did not mend her ways.

In retrospect, Lizzy knew she had abused William's goodwill at every turn, and had protested against his every attempt at romantic overtures. Worst of all, she had not valued his obvious intellect and generous heart in the way he truly deserved. She had been too quick to judge, and far too tardy in her apologies. At their last parting, she had asked for a few days of solitude -- away from his company. Now, it seemed that she would have a lifetime of solitude, deprived of his laughter and wonderful friendship. She had basked in his warmth, and did not realize her good fortune. Truly, she did not know her own heart until the moment when she realized that she might have lost his love irretrievably.

With tearful resignation, Lizzy forced herself to contemplate the inevitable awkwardness of social encounters with Lord Braunfield in the future. It was very likely that he would resume his social calls to her brother in a matter of days - considering the brotherly bond the two men shared. Lizzy was determined to avoid seeing him, and decided upon an immediate return to Pemberley. She missed her parents, and was anxious to see her twin nieces - having read the glowing reports about them from their proud parents James and Miranda.

More importantly, she was impatient to be with her sister. Jane had written such a lengthy and heartfelt letter, with the astonishing news of Lord Ashbourne's courtship. She promptly wrote a sincere reply, but wanted to greet Jane with her fondest wishes in person.

Lizzy marveled once again at the strange twists and turns in the course of human relationships. She was nearly Ashbourne's bride. She dreaded to imagine the alternate sequence of events if Lord Braunfield had not intervened in such a timely and generous manner on her behalf. Now, she could truly declare that she harbored no ill feelings towards Thomas Fitzwilliam.

Indeed, how could she begrudge him when he was fully repentant for his old follies? Jane deserved every happiness he could bestow upon her. In temperament and interests, Jane and Thomas were an exceedingly well-matched couple. If their papa was being obstinate in granting his approval of the marriage, she felt their mama would sway him soon enough.

Sir Edward and Lady Gardiner were to call on them the next day. Afterwards, thought Lizzy, I shall leave for Derbyshire immediately.

June 10th 1840
Wednesday

London

The Gardiners arrived at the appointed hour, bearing gifts and good cheer. With effortless grace, they restored a certain measure of tranquility to the Darcy household.

Over tea, Alexander solicited Sir Edward's opinion on business, and Lady Gardiner lent her sage advice on domestic matters to Isabella. Lizzy sat between them, venturing a comment or two, but for the most part, she remained in muted silence.

After tea, Sir Edward insisted upon taking an afternoon stroll in the park with Lizzy. He felt she was far too pale and pensively quiet - so unlike her vibrant self even though she had already recovered fully from her recent bout of illness.

They went arm in arm, at times engaging in animated conversation, and at times, merely walking in companionable silence. An age gap of several decades did not seem to matter when there was a genuine meeting of the minds, enriched by mutual affection and respect.

"A brisk walk is very invigorating," remarked Sir Edward with a fatherly smile as he made a quick appraisal of Lizzy's countenance. Noting the rosy color upon her lovely face, he declared, "A mere half hour of exercise, and you look ten times better already, my dear child."

"I have been taking my regular turns in our garden, but I have not had the pleasure of your company until now, my dear Uncle," said Lizzy brightly. "An articulate discussion on important matters, such as the latest fiscal policy of the government, can be equally invigorating to one's health as well. I do appreciate this outing with you, uncle."

"I must confess, Lizzy, that you are my favorite amongst all my relations. Indeed, I worry about you as if you are my own child. I do not like seeing you unhappy. Braunfield is a rogue if he has not called upon you since his return to London."

"I am well enough," replied Lizzy stalwartly. She turned her head to survey her surroundings, casting an appreciative eye upon the lush green lawn and the colors of summer blossoms. It was nearly six in the evening, but the bustle in the park was greater than before. People of all ages - mainly families - were out and about, enjoying the fine weather and the pleasure of being at a green oasis in an ever growing urban London. She encountered a few acquaintances, and greeted each with cheery smiles and amiable words.

She took Sir Edward's arm again to resume their promenade. They had not gone far before she froze in her step.

A familiar figure was making his way purposefully through the crowd. Lizzy felt her heart flutter wildly at the mere sight of Lord Braunfield. Before she could gather her thoughts or steel her emotions, his lordship was standing directly before them. With solemn formality, he greeted Sir Edward with due respect, before bowing to her.

"May I join you?" Lord Braunfield looked unusually solemn and grave.

"Certainly. I take great delight in your company, my lord," said Sir Edward cordially.

"Thank you, sir. The pleasure is equally mine," replied William earnestly as he fell into step beside the older gentleman.

They exchanged a few words of pleasantries before William turned his attention directly to Lizzy. Sir Edward took a discrete step or two away from the couple, walking slightly behind them as a proper chaperone should, but allowing them a few moments for private words.

"Please forgive me, Elizabeth, for not coming to see you sooner. My presence had been required at home - a minor crisis of sorts," he said apologetically.

"What crisis?" she asked with sudden concern. She gazed at him closely, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Lack of sleep was apparent. He was as devastatingly handsome as ever, but he seemed to have lost weight. "You do not look so well yourself."

He shook his head mildly. "I am well enough. My father had an infection in his gouty foot - a bleeding abscess - he was already feverish when I arrived home on Monday. I did not want to leave his bedside until he was well again. Our physician examined him this morning, and pronounced a full recovery."

"I am very glad to hear of his lordship's recovery. I was not aware of his recent illness," said Lizzy with genuine relief. Her own secluded convalescence at home had mercifully kept her from hearing the latest gossip amongst the ton.

"You . . . you did not receive my letters these past two days?" inquired William in bewilderment. "I wrote to you faithfully - or rather, they were brief missives addressed to your elder brother, of course."

"No, aside from your first letter informing us of your return to Town," replied Lizzy with equal surprise.

He frowned, and shook his head. With a barely suppressed groan, he said with sudden comprehension, "My mother . . . she must have intercepted my messages to you. She must have frightened my valet with dire threats - else Owens would not have failed me."

"Oh," was all Lizzy could manage. Images of the formidable Lady Paxton flashed through her mind. It was very unpleasant.

William shook his head again, as if he needed to clear his mind. After a long moment, he said earnestly, "The lost missives . . . they do not matter now. . . as I can speak directly to you. My mother told me of her tête-à-tête with you - with all the relevant details - but she could not help adding her own colorful commentary, of course."

"I spoke too boldly. I have offended Lady Paxton," confessed Lizzy, the apology in her voice was meant solely for him.

"You spoke the truth, Elizabeth. Painful as it might have been for my mother to hear it, you have done her a good turn. I thank you heartily."

She was too surprised by his honest words to make an immediate reply. He continued, "I must apologize for the angry tirade my mother must have hurled at you. I know her well - she is fully capable of the most ungracious and hurtful insults. I humbly beg for your understanding and forgiveness."

"You need not ask for my forgiveness," said Lizzy placidly.

"Elizabeth. . . I can scarcely allow myself to hope that you will receive me with the same openness and warmth as you did before. . . my mother has all but ruined my chances . . . I must. . . "

Lizzy held up her hand in a gesture of silent protest. She could not bear to let him finish. He was trying so valiantly, so gracefully apologetic, to break off his courtship. She was deeply touched. Suddenly, she felt the greatest sacrifice she could make for the sake of his happiness was to let him go, to release him from any misguided sense of obligation he might have felt for her. With hot tears threatening to fall at any moment, she said hastily, before she lost her composure. "I do care about you, William. I shall always carry you in my heart, and wish you the best."

The note of finality in her words hit him like a thunderbolt. Surely she knew what was foremost on his mind, yet she was bidding him farewell! He realized that his mother was a heavy millstone around his neck, and he could not rightfully blame Elizabeth if she did not wish to live her life under the shadow of such an insufferable and overbearing woman.

Yet, William could not bring himself to surrender his quest. Elizabeth had dominated his thoughts for so long, had taken such an unshakable hold upon his heart - how could he possibly face a future without her being close beside him? How could he live without his own Kindred Spirit, and love without her passionate heart?

"Elizabeth . . . you must allow me . . ." he stammered. Why did he sound like an imbecile? He cleared his throat, and tried again, "My dearest one . . . please grant me . . ."

His urgent appeal, however, was interrupted by excited voices around them in the park.

"Ah! Her Majesty and Prince Albert are taking their usual afternoon drive in the park," said Sir Edward with a bright smile as he pointed to the open phaeton, drawn by a team of magnificent horses, coming up the road on Constitution Hill. As it was an informal outing, only one pair of mounted military escort accompanied the royal couple.

"The Queen! It is the Queen!" echoed the other bystanders. People began to line the road on either side, eager to catch a glimpse of the royal couple. Sir Edward shared the same enthusiasm, and hoped to gain a better view as well. The general cheering grew louder as the phaeton drew nearer - women and girls curtsied, men and boys took off their hats to bow respectfully.

The carriage horses pranced along in a graceful and leisurely pace, and the royal couple took pleasure in greeting their loyal subjects with regal nods and courteous smiles.

Her Majesty is so close - why I can almost touch her! A delighted Lizzy admired the regal countenance of her sovereign. She stole a brief glance at William, and found him gazing intently not at the royal couple, but at her instead.

"Elizabeth. . ." he said as he reached for her hand tentatively.

Suddenly, a loud crack pierced the festive air, followed closely by another equally sharp crack. They were pistol shots!

Loud screams and wild commotion ensued amongst the crowd. Like everyone present, Lizzy was horror-stuck as she saw Prince Albert throw his arms valiantly around the Queen, shielding her with his own body. It seemed incredible, thought Lizzy, she could discern his distinctive German-accented voice through the melee, crying out, "Dear God! Don't be alarmed!"

Lord Braunfield, like everyone present, was momentarily stunned. The pistol shots had gone off very close to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wild-eyed young man, standing near the park gate, arms crossed, staring blankly - madly - ahead.

The vermin! William seethed in anger. How dare anyone should want to harm the young Queen!. Blind fury welled up inside William - displacing his initial sense of alarm and fear. His bold instincts took over his rational thoughts as he took a decisive leap, and threw himself headlong at the culprit. The would-be assassin was still brandishing his pistols, looking as if he was going to take aim again.

Lizzy bore witness to the rapidly unfolding events with grave apprehension, fearing the worst; her heightened senses took in the sights and sounds around her with incredible clarity.

"Drive on! Drive on!" his Royal Highness commanded the driver urgently. The horses reacted to their driver's whip, and pulled the royal phaeton in a frantic gallop towards the palace.

Lizzy turned her gaze from the royal phaeton, but to her greater horror, she saw Lord Braunfield lunging at a young man, and grappling frantically to disarm him of his lethal weapons. The viscount managed to seize hold of one pistol whilst the culprit managed to struggle free from his grip, and scrambled away.

As Lord Braunfield stood up to catch his breath, a shrill female voice shrieked in alarm, "That man has a gun!"

Before the viscount knew what was happening, he was knocked flat on his back. Excruciating jolts of pain shot through his chest as the burly man who tackled him was immediately joined by yet another man. Heavy blows rained upon him, accompanied by loud, agitated cries of "Kill him! Vermin! Kill him!"

Lord Braunfield wanted to shout out - to protest his innocence - but he could neither move nor speak. He was pinned down by the furious mob - feverishly calling for his blood, blindly attempting to tear him from limb to limb!

"No!" Lizzy cried out as she rushed forward. Paying no heed to her own safety, she threw herself into the dangerous fray, pulling arms and bodies back with fierce determination whilst shouting repeatedly, "Stop! This man is innocent! Stop this madness at once!"

Her voice, although feminine and melodic, was clear and strong. It was a voice of Reason and command that cut through the collective frenzy, halting the wild melee.

The mob stopped as one. From a small distance away, another man shouted out in triumph, "I have the real culprit! Over here!"

All eyes turned and saw. Indeed, the gentleman had seized hold of the wild-eyed young man - the one who had brandished the pistols and was still shouting, "Death to Victoria!"

The police finally came upon the scene, and dragged the lunatic away.

Sudden realization that the wrong man had been beaten so severely brought a cold shame upon everyone present. The crowd saw, at long last, that their hapless victim - indeed, the hero of the day - was a fashionable young man of obvious wealth and rank. With a guilty heart, the crowd shrank away quickly - no one came forth to take responsibility for his part in the vicious pummeling of the viscount.

Lord Braunfield was left in a bloody heap. Lizzy felt a sense of utter despair as she knelt beside him. Cupping his face gently in her hands, she cried, "William! Oh, speak to me! Will..."

Her touch and voice were enough to rouse Lord Braunfield out of his painful stupor. He felt as if a healing balm was being poured over him - renewing his spirits and strengthening his sinews all at once. He struggled to sit up, with blood streaming down from a severe cut on his face. She moved to aid him, keeping her arm around his broad shoulders to steady him.

He managed a brave smile, before uttering a hoarse, "Elizabeth . . ." Her name was all he could say at that moment. He drew a long breath, coughed to clear his voice, and added in a low whisper, "Thank you."

She uttered a frantic cry, and clasped him in her arms in an unexpected display of raw emotion. "I thought they might kill you!"

He laughed then - a low, rumbling sound of genuine amusement that filled her heart with gladness. "You stopped them. You were braver than an entire regiment of Grenadier Guards. You were magnificent."

"I couldn't let anyone harm you!" she exclaimed. In her overwrought state, she did not care how they would look to the bystanders - breaking all the rules of proper decorum by embracing each other and speaking with such great emotion.

Sir Edward Gardiner finally managed to push his way through the curious crowd - by waving his silver-handled walking stick like a field marshal's baton. He leaned down to examine Lord Braunfield, and said, "Good heavens! We best get you to a doctor immediately, my lord!"

William managed another brave smile as he replied, "I am sure I look worse than I feel. My dear Sir Edward, if you and Miss Elizabeth will lend me a hand to get out of this inelegant posture, I shall return home presently."

Sir Edward nodded, and turned to his great-niece. "My dear, accompany his lordship home. I shall summon Dr. Dewhurst myself. Lord Braunfield requires immediate care, and Dr. Dewhurst is the most competent physician in Town."

The crowd parted to allow the threesome to pass through. A Hansom cab had been hailed by a helpful bystander, and was ready for service.

A man came forward to greet Lord Braunfield. It was the same man who had apprehended the would-be assassin when the culprit scrambled away from Lord Braunfield's grip. With a broad smile and a courteous bow, he introduced himself.

"Sir, I am John Millais." Nodding his head towards the small boy of ten, thin but sharp-eyed, he added with fatherly pride, "This is my son, John. We hail from Jersey."

Lord Braunfield offered his hand as a sign of friendship. He smiled with equal warmth, as stalwart men who had shed blood for a common cause. He said simply, "I am William Warring. I am honored to make your acquaintance." He nodded to the boy, and said, "And of yours as well, my young sir."

The boy bowed with practiced grace. Although tender in age, he had the gravity and talents of a serious artist. A gifted and precocious painter, John Everett Millais had already been accepted as the youngest student at the Royal Academy Schools.

"Thank you, sir . . .er . . .my lord," said Mr. Millais with a reverent bow, speaking on the behalf of his son as well. Although he did not belong to the high social circles of the ton, he had certainly heard of the noble name of Warring. Names of wealthy families - especially those of the nobility - were of great interest to those who sought their patronage. He was utterly astounded that the valiant hero with the bloodied face was none other than the current darling of the ton - the heir of the Earl of Paxton!

Wonders never cease!.

It was a sentiment shared by many present there, as they silently watched the handsome couple ascend into the carriage - the valiant nobleman being attended so devotedly by his steadfast lady. It was an indelibly romantic image, ideally suited for the canvas, and the child prodigy was already rendering it in his mind.

Author's note: The assassination attempt upon Queen Victoria's life did occur on June 10, 1840. There were eyewitness accounts as well as Queen Victoria's own entry in her diary. The culprit Edward Oxford was duly caught, and was later committed to an insane asylum. The young painter - John Everett Millais - was present on the scene with his father. He had just taken off his cap to salute the Queen when the shots rang out. There was much confusion at the time, and an innocent man was mistaken for the culprit during the melee. I took the liberty to place my fictional hero in the middle of it all - he saves the day, and his beloved Lizzy saves him! Sigh!

Continued In Next Section