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Chapter 20

Posted on Friday, 1 July 2005

News of the dramatic rescue of young Joseph Gardiner by Lord Braunfield spread like wildfire amongst the ton. By the time Lord Paxton and his son arrived at the Gardiners' Ball, any guest who had not been present at the ship launching had heard a report of it. Naturally, there were variations to the original testimony, embellished by the excitement of the moment. The root cause of such hyperbole was the identity of the rescuer himself.

William Warring, the Viscount of Braunfield was no stranger to the gossip mills of the ton. There were but a few who needed to refresh their memory of the nobleman's recent history. He had lingered at death's door with two bullets in him only two summers ago, and the event that had led him to such a pitiful state was deliciously scandalous by the standards of the ton.

The man who emerged from his yearlong convalescence was a vastly different one from before. Lord Braunfield's manners and habits were so drastically changed that many of his old chums refused to believe that such a transformation would be a lasting one. Surely no man could turn his back on idle pursuits which he had so obviously enjoyed. Indeed, there were those who were willing to wager when Lord Braunfield grew tired of estate inspections and the quiet life by the hearth. This "demi-god" of fashion would surely rejoin his chums for carousing again.

Even in his wild days, Lord Braunfield had been sought after by matchmaking dowagers. Many a fashionable miss were prepared to overlook his profligate habits and disagreeable nature to become his wife if he should offer a proposal of marriage. There was much that a noble title, great wealth and palatial estates could compensate for in a marriage with a man who was deficient in certain ways.

With his remarkable transformation, the viscount, more than ever, found himself welcomed into the most fashionable circles and higher echelon of Society. Since his return to London barely a week ago, he had already accompanied his father for a few selected social calls and dinner soirees. He inevitably encountered the ubiquitous mothers and daughters of marriageable age who fawned over him whilst their fathers gave him serious consideration. Open admiration abounded from young ladies at every gathering.

Now, with his heroic rescue of young Gardiner, his appeal rose into the stratosphere. Who would not admire a young man who thought nothing of his own safety, and who took such timely and decisive action to rescue a boy who was a virtual stranger to him? A new page of betting odds at White's was promptly opened that same afternoon. Who amongst the Incomparables of the ton would succeed in putting the marital leg-shackles on Lord Braunfield this Season?

Such speculations were especially rampant amongst the guests of the Gardiner Ball. Many arrived earlier than was the fashionable hour. The curious ones merely hoped to secure the best spot to catch a glimpse of the viscount's arrival; the majority arrived - daughters in tow - with grander hopes of securing his lordship's company and his name on their dance cards.

Lizzy Darcy was perhaps the only young lady present at the Ball who dreaded the arrival of Lord Braunfield. She had yet been able to becalm her tumultuous heart, or to set her mind at ease from the events of the afternoon. She bore the added burden of being the center of attention amongst her relations and acquaintance, many of whom envied her for her auspicious position on the deck. Excited feminine giggles followed almost scandalous questions about his lordship.

"Oh, Lizzy!" gushed Georgette Wickham with girlish excitement. "How did you manage to retain your composure at such a moment? I would have swooned at the delicious sight of his lordship in his . . . er . . . gloriously wet state! I would have fainted right into his muscular arms! Umm!"

"I thought you said no man could be considered handsome enough unless he was wearing regimentals!" teased Emily Bingley.

Georgette uttered a forlorn groan, and waved her hands. She was the image of her mother Lydia - with her excitable nature as well. "My feelings are quite different now! In truth, there is but one man more handsome than Lord Braunfield, but alas, he is far too perfect!"

"And happily married to my sister!" admonished Emily with a gentle smile.

"Indeed! Can you guess how many hearts Alexander Darcy had unwittingly broken when he married Isabella?" exclaimed Georgette. "I, like numerous others, was in a flood of tears for weeks!"

"My brother is entirely blameless! He never toyed with the feelings of others," interjected Lizzy. "Moreover, he and Bella deserve every happiness!"

"Yes, they do," agreed Georgette unequivocally. "So we must now set our hearts upon someone else!"

"So Lord Braunfield is the new paragon?" To her own chagrin, Lizzy found her own eyes straining involuntarily over the crowd to anticipate William's arrival at the Ball.

"Lecture me if you must, Lizzy, but I am not the only one who is fast tumbling into love with Lord Braunfield!" protested Georgette. "Every young chit must be doing the same! I wager that Emily and you are as well!"

"Well, every unattached female . . . except perhaps . . . our cousin Jane," laughed Emily with perfect logic. "Being in distant Derbyshire, she is immune from his lordship's charms!"

Lizzy was greatly unsettled by Georgette's words. Despite her hyperbole, there was a small grain of truth in it. Lord Braunfield was the gallant hero of the day, and an incredibly handsome one as well. She would not be surprised if females had swooned at the sight of his saturated state as much as from the shock of the near drowning of a child. Did she not herself gaze at him with unladylike thoughts, and indulge in fanciful imaginings? It was dangerously easy to attach one's heart to such a man! Her own heart was on the verge of betraying her as well!

Before she could reason with herself, the arrival of Lord Paxton and Lord Braunfield was announced. A buzz of excited murmurs literally swept through the assembly, and heads turned eagerly towards the guests of honor. The sharp contrast of the father and son - in age, physique, and appearance - accentuated the handsome and commanding presence of the younger Warring to a greater degree of favor. In his exquisitely tailored clothes, the tall and broad-shouldered Lord Braunfield personified the artistic ideal of a nobleman. As he approached his hosts, the limp of his right leg was notably more pronounced - most likely a result of his strenuous rescue - and added a measure of Byronic romanticism to his overall appearance.

"Oh, if his lordship needs someone to support him whilst he suffers from his infirmity, I shall be glad to perform such a duty!" gushed Georgette dreamily. Her words, nevertheless, were heard by those standing around her, and elicited a few chuckles of bemusement.

"You are not the only one with such a fond wish, my dear sister," commented Frederick Wickham with a broad grin as he scanned the faces of the crowd. "I dare say you will face stiff competition tonight!"

"Oh no! If his knee is hurting, will his lordship dance at all tonight?" wondered someone standing behind them - a shrill voice young and feminine.

"Poor dear!" commented another lady - matronly and concerned. "He is so brave!"

"Jumping into the filthy river to rescue a tike with scant regard for his own safety and health is admirable!" remarked a distinguished gentleman nearby. "I would be proud to shake his hand."

"I have always suspected that young Warring is more of his father's son than his mother's!" agreed another gentleman. "Truly shows the mettle of his noble name, don't you agree?"

"How I wished my own disappointing son renounced his dissolute life in the same manner as Lord Braunfield!" stated a third gentleman.

"He has his mother's handsome looks, thank goodness!" declared feminine voice, demure yet sultry. "He reminds me of a statue by Michelangelo I saw in Florence last summer!"

"I would elope with him in a heartbeat!" agreed another feminine voice nearby, barely suppressing a giggle at the suggestion of such a folly.

"I danced with him once - at St. James's," confessed yet another. "It was simply heavenly!"

Lizzy could hardly believe her ears! She was well aware that many of the ton regarded social soirees and elegant balls as fertile ground for matchmaking, but she had yet to hear such blatantly candid discussions about anyone else before. Perhaps it was Lord Braunfield's wild past that prompted such risqué commentaries! There was a palpably irresistible attraction about him, and she realized that she was not alone in being drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Did she not wish to kiss him whenever she stood in close proximity of the man? Indeed, it had felt something akin to heaven when he had held her so tenderly under the Great Tree that fateful afternoon when he first kissed her. . .

As Lord Braunfield and his father exchanged greetings with their gracious hosts and other fellow guests, he was quietly grateful that his valet had fussed over him for hours prior to the Ball. His disheveled and odious appearance had stunned the faithful Owens into speechless silence. As the foul scent of the River Thames still lingered on his person long after his brief swim, he was made to soak in four different herbal baths. When he protested against such prolonged cleansing, Owens insisted a valet's work was judged by the appearance of his master. He did not wish to be subjected to any ridicule from his fellow valets for any negligence of his duties or abilities.

The viscount's selfless actions of the day had garnered him admiration and goodwill from all quarters. To his delight, the Darcys stepped forward to greet him with unexpected warmth.

"How is your knee, William?" asked Mrs. Darcy with motherly care.

"Thank you for your concern, madam. It's a bit stiff, but no significant pain."

"I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Darcy smilingly as he offered his hand. Lord Braunfield felt that there was more than mere social courtesy behind such a gesture, and it pleased him beyond measure.

"I hope such stiffness will dissipate soon, my dear fellow," added Alexander solemnly after his initial greetings, though a hint of merry laughter lurked within the depth of his dark eyes. To an attentive ear, there was a conspiratorial note in his deep voice as well.

Lord Braunfield caught the subtle hint from his friend. He scanned the grand ballroom eagerly for a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth Darcy. It was amazing how he could spot her almost instantly. There was a vivacious spirit and elegant grace that distinguished her from a crowd that numbered easily over three hundred. The very sight of her literally took his breath away, and it required a determined effort on his part to redirect his attention to his present company.

Lady Gardiner took Lord Paxton's arm in the manner of a gracious hostess, and Mrs. Philip Gardiner followed suit by taking Lord Braunfield's arm. The gathering crowd parted almost ceremoniously before them - clearing a path in the center of the ballroom, with lovely young ladies curtsying on either side. Lord Braunfield had run through such similar "gauntlets" at countless balls before, but he had never felt such an acute sense of embarrassment until now.

He had long been a target of eager matchmakers of the ton, and had grown accustomed to the excited whispers that greeted him at his arrival at every social gathering since he came of age. He had prided himself that he was quite unaffected by the curious stares of appraisal that scrutinized his person at every turn. Indeed, he himself had always cast a lazy eye of contemptuous indifference at every fashionable young chit he had encountered.

Well, maybe not all. There weretwo extraordinary remarkable young women who captured his notice! He smiled inwardly - with grateful thanksgiving - upon remembrance of his obsession with his fair cousin, Isabella, which had since mellowed into a firm friendship of platonic affections. He could justly claim her husband Alexander as his best friend as well. Miss Elizabeth Darcy now had the sole claim upon his heart, and he had gladly surrendered himself to such a fate. He had barely said a word to her at the ship launching, but the intense gazes they had exchanged after his rescue of young Joseph had given him fresh hope. Surely, she could not have looked upon him in such a way if she still found him repulsive. He glanced over to where she was standing. Their eyes met across the vast ballroom, and for a brief moment, they held each other mesmerized. How captivating she looked, he thought admiringly, as he tried not to stare so openly at his beloved.

"Lord Paxton," said Sir Edward graciously. "Will you do us the honor of opening the Ball with a waltz?"

"How I love a waltz! But alas, my gout has made me a near invalid!" exclaimed Lord Paxton. His aged face brightened up by a jovial smile as he glanced at his precious son standing close by.

"Then, my dear Lord Braunfield, will you do us the honor?"

"Indeed, it is a great honor, Sir Edward, but I must decline with deep regret as well," said Lord Braunfield with a courtly bow. "I fear that my stiff knee prevents me from dancing presently."

"I sincerely hope, my lords, that you will both feel better very soon!" remarked Sir Edward with genuine care. "And, by your leave, I shall lead my dear wife for the opening waltz."

The two noblemen bowed in unison, and Sir Edward led his lady wife to the dance floor. The music began, and after several moments, the Gardiners were joined by many couples eager to dance as well.

Lizzy found herself being claimed by her first partner of the evening - a handsome and agreeable young cousin of the Knightleys. He had been the first of her phalanx of admirers to write his name on her dance card, which was completely filled within the initial moments of the ball. More than one young gentleman complained of not having the pleasure of dancing a second set with her. Under normal circumstances, Lizzy would have examined the list of names with curiosity - taking delight in finding amiable partners - and dreading the prospect of dancing with true bores and insipid popinjays. Her mind, however, was too preoccupied this evening to keep such a routine. Not once did she consult her dance card, trusting the gentlemen themselves to remember which one they had the privilege to dance with her.

Alexander Darcy found his friend standing next to a large potted palm, looking ever so forlorn at the waltzing couples and the general atmosphere of merriment.

"Ah! Our hero of the day! Pray tell, why are you hiding from your admiring crowd?" Alexander asked with a mirthful grin as he joined Lord Braunfield.

"It is easy for you to jest!" grumbled Lord Braunfield. "You are blessed with a wonderful wife and are in perfect health!" His eyes followed Lizzy as she waltzed harmoniously with her current partner.

"I take no delight in making sport of you, my dear friend," said Alexander in earnest. "I remember how I suffered in silence when I thought my love for Isabella would never be requited, so I am well acquainted with the feelings that must be raging within your heart presently. You are in agony over my sister Lizzy, aren't you?"

"Indeed, I am!" muttered Lord Braunfield in frustration. He gestured helplessly,, "I have yet to greet Elizabeth face to face, and her dance card must be full by now!"

"I promised you a dance with her, didn't I?" stated Alexander directly.

"Yes, you did," replied Lord Braunfield gloomily. "But I won't hold you to it."

"But I am a man of my word," said Alexander, his dark eyes were literally dancing with merriment. "You declined opening the Ball with Lady Gardiner. Do you not wish to dance after all?"

"My confounded knee is giving me problems tonight!"

"You have rested long enough, William! Two sets of Country Dance prior to dinner will not be too taxing, I assure you! Simply take long, measured steps, and you should fare well enough! The last waltz of the Ball is yours as well," remarked Alexander with a broad grin. He was well pleased with himself for pulling off such a feat. "But, a word of caution, my dear fellow. If my sister Lizzy should question you, I am entirely innocent of this scheme!"

"Scheme?" asked Lord Braunfield, his handsome face in bemused grin. "My ever dignified and proper friend engaged in clandestine plots?"

"I am not at liberty to divulge any particulars!" said Alexander with an air of innocence. "Suffice to say that I had to curry favor with my trusted confidante!"

"Thank you! You are, indeed, my true champion!"

"Well, more like an indulgent elder brother! I know not how you have managed to secure such a firm place in my affections, but you have!" laughed Alexander as he gave him an affectionate nudge on his forearm. "Go to it, William! And see that you do not squander your chances!"

"I shall be most earnest in my efforts, I promise you!" said Lord Braunfield, smiling with equal brightness now.

"Good! Now, I must go forth to claim my own wife for a waltz - if I can force my way through the crowd!"

Lord Braunfield saw the throng of gentlemen gathered around Isabella. Now, as a married lady, granting a dance was entirely at her discretion.

"She is still the belle of the Ball, isn't she?" marveled Lord Braunfield.

"Yes, indeed! Who can fault any man who wishes to bask in Isabella's company for a few precious moments?" he replied placidly. "I would be a boar to begrudge any man for dancing with her!"

Lord Braunfield noted no hint of uneasiness or jealousy in his friend, and realized that connubial love such as the Darcys was forged by true hearts and kindred spirits. Its depth was beyond measure.

Lizzy was very much surprised to find Lord Braunfield standing before her to claim her hand. She consulted her dance card, and found that his name had been scrawled in for the next two sets before dinner - by a distinctively masculine hand. How did his name appear on it, she wondered, when he had not approached her until then?

"My lord . . . I did not think you were dancing tonight," she stammered while blushing, as she felt curious eyes nearby boring down upon them. It meant that his lordship would be her partner whilst they supped!

Lord Braunfield appeared to be unaffected by the discreet but intense scrutiny of their neighbors. He took her gloved hand in his, and bestowed a gentlemanly kiss upon it before he said, "I find that I cannot resist the English Country Dance, Miss Darcy. I must beg your indulgence towards my unfortunate knee. I promise that I shall try to keep up."

With that, he led her to the dance floor to join the others. As the musicians began to play the prelude to the elegant "Mr. Beveridge's Maggot," many younger couples abandoned their places, caring only for the waltz. No matter, they were replaced by their elders, eager for the nostalgic quadrille of their youth.

"Shall we, my dearest?" whispered Mr. Darcy in his wife's ear.

"Only if you promise a verbal repartee as exciting as our conversation at the Netherfield Ball of 1811!" teased Mrs. Darcy, her dark eyes sparkling with love for her husband as she took his hand.

"1811? It seems like only yesterday! You are as enchanting as you were then!"

"I think you may have an urgent need for spectacles, my dear Mr. Darcy, if only to gain a better view of this particular grandmother standing before you!" laughed Mrs. Darcy sweetly as she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"My vision has never been sharper, my dear Mrs. Darcy!" He protested mildly before he took his place across from her. He glanced down the line, and found his daughter Lizzy paired with Lord Braunfield.

So the young viscount is singling Lizzy out - dancing with no other partner at a prominent Ball - a gesture as significant as a public declaration of his preference! Mr. Darcy frowned disconcertingly. Lord Braunfield had risen substantially in his esteem, but he was not entirely prepared to welcome him as his daughter's suitor. Yet, he realized that he could not truly blame the young man for falling in love with Lizzy. Who could resist the bewitching spell of a pair of fine eyes on the face of a beautiful young woman, especially one so blessed with grace, wit and generous heart?

"I believe we must have some conversation, Elizabeth," said Lord Braunfield softly as he stepped past her in yet another eight-step circle. They had been dancing in silence for several minutes already.

She took advantage of the circling steps to contemplate his request. Finally, she said with sincerity, "It was very gallant of you to save my cousin this afternoon. Thank you!"

He inclined his head, and said with a gracious smile, "Anyone else would have performed the same service. I merely happened to spot the boy first."

She was impressed by his unexpected modesty. "It was admirably done, and I join my family and relations in thanking you again for what you have done."

She smiled warmly at him as she spoke, and he felt as if his heart had been given wings. He knew that he had to seize the opportunity to garner further goodwill and to earn her good opinion of him.

"How fares your charitable work? Your brother tells me that you are very diligent in your various causes."

"Yes, I am, but must we discuss such serious matters presently? We are dancing together in perfect harmony. Why spoil the moment, my lord?"

"Why do you insist upon calling me my lord? Please, Elizabeth, I believe that our precious encounter under the Great Tree at Pemberley had already placed us on far more familiar terms!"

She was taken aback by his choice of words. Precious? For her, their long kiss had ignited a torrent of passion that bordered upon wanton - a kiss like none she had ever experienced before. But for a man with his wild past, surely it could not be more than a passing fancy!

"I beg you, my lord! Please forget that day!" she pleaded in an urgent whisper.

"It is forever etched in my mind!" He wanted to add, "And in my heart as well, my darling!" but they were separated for the moment as they stepped around their fellow dancers to rejoin the long quadrille line.

Did he always speak in such flirtatious yet confessional tones to other women of his acquaintance, she wondered? How could she discern the sincere truth from a man so skilled in the art of seduction?

Lord Braunfield could not guess Lizzy's thoughts; all he could do was hope that fateful day under the Great Tree meant as much to her as it did to him. He may have fallen in love with her well before that fateful day, but he could mark his moment of realization when his lips first brushed against hers.

Before he knew it, the quadrille steps brought him face to face with Mrs. Darcy. He grasped Mrs. Darcy's hand lightly as he exchanged his place laterally with her in the line. He admired her graceful steps with gentlemanly accord, and was rewarded with a charming smile from the gracious lady. Suddenly, he felt inexplicably uplifted. What would he give to have a familiar smile - from her daughter - to greet him each day?

After Mr. Darcy and Lizzy performed the matching steps, Lord Braunfield found himself clutching Lizzy's hand again. He gave her gloved hand a gentle squeeze before he released it - a proprietary gesture that earned him a quizzical arch of her elegant brow.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked as she stepped towards him. Her heart gave a violent flutter as she encountered his intense eyes. She averted her gaze hastily.

"I was thinking of my fight with Ashbourne," he confessed in a low whisper. "I never thanked you properly for your kindness towards me afterwards."

She was grateful that she had turned her back towards him - in the prescribed circle of the dance - so he could not see the blush that was fast diffusing upon her face. This entire conversation - his request for a more familiar form of address, his reminiscence of their first kiss, his smiles and soft words - was leading to the inevitable kiss that never was! He was experienced in these little games of flirtation, and he must realize how unsettled she was by his closeness!

Taking a deep breath, she mustered up her courage to meet him eye to eye when she turned once again to face him. "This has been a very interesting conversation, my lord. Should we not find other equally diverting subjects to engage our minds?"

Before he could answer her, the music came to an end. He took her hand in his, and escorted her off the dance floor. He did not release his hold, however, but tucked her arm through his as he led her to the sumptuous feast that awaited the guests of the Ball.

Lord Braunfield took full advantage of dinner to engage Lizzy in lively conversation. His valiant efforts, however, produced mixed results. Being seated at the head table as guests of honor, they were effectively on display for all to see for the duration. In the days of old, before Sir David Lexington's bullets forever changed his life, he had rather enjoyed such concentrated attention; but he craved none of it now. He glanced across at the closest table, and found a sympathetic smile on the handsome face of Alexander Darcy.

Lizzy was ever conscious of the close scrutiny they were being subjected to by their families and fellow guests. For the sake of propriety, she endeavored to keep her utterances to Lord Braunfield to a few selected words, and never allowed her attention to linger upon him for more than a few moments at a time. She took prodigious care to sit ramrod straight, and did not allow herself any subtle movements which might be mistaken for furtive gestures of flirtation.

More frequently than not, Lizzy's attention was occupied by Lord Paxton, who was seated to her right. The aged Earl was in a jaunty mood, reveling in the splendid presence of a young lady whom he had long wished for as a daughter-in-law. In his excitement, his lordship did not realize that he had unwittingly diverted not only Lizzy's attention, but her thoughts from William as well!

Lord Braunfield could not begrudge his own father such moments of grace. Thus, he occupied himself with speculative thoughts, trying to muster up a plausible excuse or circumstance in which he could have a private moment with Elizabeth. He simply had to be patient, he reminded himself sternly. Various young gallants would come forth to claim her for their appointed dances, but thanks to Alexander, he held the privilege of the last waltz. The stiffness in his right knee was fast dissipating, and he looked forward to their dance with the eagerness of a young boy awaiting Christmas!

"Elizabeth?"

She had sensed his presence before he spoke, and took an apprehensive step backwards - away from him - before she turned around. The anxiety upon his face matched the urgency in his deep voice.

"Yes, my lord?" said Lizzy, determined to appear nonchalant and unaffected by him.

"I was worried when I could not find you for the final waltz," Lord Braunfield explained. "Is something the matter?"

"No, no! I suffered a sudden headache, and thought a bit of fresh air would revive me."

With one decisive step towards her, he took her face gently but firmly between his strong hands. She stood in stunned silence, her breath quickening by this sudden closeness to him.

He did not move to kiss her. Rather, his lean fingers began to rub her temples in small rhythmic circles. His touch was sure and caressing, working its magic upon her. Her headache was alleviated within moments, only to be replaced by an awesome dilemma of a different nature! She inhaled his clean, masculine scent with her every breath as he stood before her. So close was he, she could almost discern the steady beatings of his heart.

Her eyes remained closed - as much induced by the sheer pleasure of his touch as by the severe embarrassment of the moment. Her rational mind shouted in furious demand for her to step away from him, but her heart was leading her in the exact opposite direction. Swaying almost indiscernibly towards him, she was lured by the solid strength of his presence, and the irresistible urge to feel the splendid embrace of his arms!

Oh, Lizzy, you are a shameless wanton! Her mind reeled at the inevitable folly that would follow if she did not wrench herself away from him this very instant! He shifted his stance, drawing her into his arms as he cradled her head against his shoulder. He made no other move except to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face.

"Feeling better?" he murmured in grave concern. "Can I get you anything? A cool compress? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

"No! I am quite recovered already," she replied breathlessly, her iron will strained to its breaking point. It was proving impossible to ward off the immense attraction she felt for him.

William leant back slightly to gaze at her face, wishing to ascertain with his own eyes her true condition. They were standing in the shadows, beneath an arbor of flowering wisteria, but there was enough light from the garden torches in the near distance for illumination.

He found himself staring at the splendid sight of her face before him. Flushed from the rapid beatings of her heart, her sensuous lips slightly parted, her dark intelligent eyes cast a bewitching spell upon him as his resolve slowly crumbled. The long months of yearning and uncertainty, with his many hopes and fears had taken their heavy toll upon him. Gone were the honest intentions of wooing her with earnest words in a prudent and gentlemanly manner. With a desperate whisper of his beloved's name, he abandoned his stern discipline, capturing her lips in a searing, masterful kiss.

Chapter 21

Posted on Thursday, 25 August 2005

The moment William kissed her, Lizzy felt her knees buckle and she swayed helplessly against him. Blind instinct rather than willful intent, caused her to throw her arms around his neck, clinging to him for support. He interpreted her embrace as a sign of invitation - it gave him the requisite encouragement, thus he deepened his burning kiss accordingly. He poured his heart into this wordless but ardent display of love for her.

A soft moan escaped from her lips, the pleasurable sound seemed to embolden him to take further liberties. As he cradled her head with his left hand, he allowed his right to caress her, gently but seductively. With the touch of his fingertips, he ignited a trail of fire down her back, seemingly burning through the fine fabric of her exquisite evening gown. Lizzy was utterly powerless to resist the overwhelming waves of tantalizing sensations, and her rational mind relinquished its last tenacious hold upon Reason. Her fingers tightened upon him - no longer involuntary, as if she was drowning in a storm. Longing for the feel of his broad shoulders and neck, she drew him even closer to her. Within a few heartbeats, she began to return his advances - kiss for kiss!

The mutual pleasure that ensued surprised them both. For an innocent such as Lizzy, it was beyond any of her vivid imaginings. Their first kiss under the Great Tree was but an inkling of what a kiss of passion truly felt. At that moment, she wished for nothing more than to remain within his embrace, and she cared not to be awakened from this wild dream.

For William Warring - a man who had held many an alluring beauty in his arms before - such a kiss effectively erased memories of all previous lovers from his mind forever. He knew now, without any lingering doubts, that he loved no other as he did Elizabeth. For the first time in his life, he craved more than a casual liaison to satisfy his bestial longings. He wanted the fulfillment of a deep and abiding love, with all the duties and responsibilities that holy matrimony entailed.

At long last, he lifted his face from hers, breathless in wonderment. He was at a loss for words. At this moment, nothing seemed adequate enough to confess his heart fully. He could speak only her name, embellished by whispered endearments.

She stared back at him, speechless and confused. It was too dark for her to see his face clearly, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze upon her. Her own heartbeats easily matched the furious cadence of his, and a myriad of thoughts coursed through her bewildered mind all at once. Reason, however, began to reassert itself - slowly but surely - and she became horror-struck at herself. She suddenly realized that she had allowed the viscount liberties which she had never granted to anyone else before. Indeed, such tumultuous kissing should be reserved exclusively for one's own husband! Yet, she had welcomed his ardor, and had brazenly reciprocated in kind!

What if someone had seen us? Her mind screamed in a moment of silent despair.

The fear of being discovered in such a compromising situation compounded her present distress. Indeed, many a young woman had been forced into matrimony when their virtue became tainted by the slightest hint of dishonor or scandal. To be found in the arms of a famous rake of the ton -- albeit a reformed rake - would not only bring down upon them the wrath of her father, it would surely force their quick march to the altar. Upon such stressful realizations, she tried to wrench herself free from him. Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot, and she barely had the strength to remove her arms from around his neck!

Good heavens! If William had not stopped kissing me when he did, like a shameless wanton, I might have flung myself into the abyss of blind desire! Her worst fear had come to pass - she had become her Aunt Lydia!

Unaware of the horrified thoughts of his beloved, William began to kiss her anew - featherlike wisps of endearments until suddenly - he was very boldly nibbling upon her neck! The instant his lips brushed against the velvet skin of her throat, she finally found her voice again.

"Stop! Please, I beg of you!" she pleaded in a desperate whisper.

In response, he halted his kissing, but did not release her from his arms.

"Oh, my sweet! Why are you fighting so hard against what your heart must be telling you?"

"How do you know what is in my heart?" replied Lizzy with indignation and defiance as she gathered sudden strength to confront him. The unfortunate use of the endearment "my sweet" invoked bittersweet memories of her faithless suitor Lord Ashbourne, and it only served to increase her agitation. "What insufferable . . . presumption!"

William ignored her protests and responded with gentle calmness, as if he was soothing a nervous filly. "Your heart is saying exactly what mine is telling me at this moment - we belong together! Despite all our differences, my dissolute past and your stubborn dislike of me - despite any numerous reasons why we should not be here together now - we share a common destiny . . ." He paused pensively to search for the most appropriate term, and he exclaimed with sudden inspiration, "Yes! I sincerely believe that you and I. . . at the core of our beings . . . are a pair of kindred spirits!"

She was shocked by his choice of words. Kindred spirits? It could not be further from the truth! Physical attraction - however vibrant and ardent - could never replace an alliance of true hearts and minds!

Such inspiring thoughts gave her the necessary courage to master her treacherous heart at this crucial time, and she pushed determinedly against him. "You are like a flame, and I am . . . ! Oh! . . . This is sheer madness!"

William released her from his embrace, only to seize her hands earnestly in his. His deep voice shook with raw emotion as he implored her, "Mad with love! Please, Elizabeth! You must know that there is no one else in the world that I admire and desire more than you! . . . Oh, my darling! How long I have yearned to make you mine!"

Such words were meant to be the preamble to the most sincere proposal of marriage that a man so deeply and utterly in love could offer. Alas, given Lizzy's heightened emotions, overwrought sensibilities, and compounded by her genuine fears of being a wanton, she mistakenly heard only words of seduction and great folly.

"No! Never! I can never be yours!"

She had kept her voice down to the lowest whisper, but he could hear the fury in her voice well enough. Her disdain for him seemed to have increased tenfold by what had passed between them mere heartbeats ago! He could hear voices in the near distance, and realized that he could not plead his suit under the present circumstances. The last thing in the world he wished to do was create a scandal or tarnish the good Darcy name.

Obligingly, he released her hands at precisely the same moment that she wrenched her hands from his with a determined tug. With quick, light steps she fled from him, with nary a backward glance. In her agitation, she neglected to realize that he had let her go out of his own volition. If she had looked back, but for an instance, she would have caught a glimpse of the anguish on his face. She would have seen the love in his eyes, and would have known that she had left behind the most forlorn of men!

Taking his darling wife by the hand, Alexander Darcy stepped onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air. The Gardiner Ball was a grand success, but it was drawing to a close with the last waltz. The ballroom was still overcrowded with revelers, but a handful of guests began to seek the outdoors to escape the heat and stale air within.

"I thought you had written in Lord Braunfield's name on Lizzy's dance card - not only for the country dance sets, but for the last waltz as well. Did I not distract your sister long enough for you to complete your task?" asked Isabella pleasantly.

"I fulfilled my assignment," replied Alexander as he cast a cursory glance around them. The marble terrace was well lit by torches, but it was too dark to see the garden beyond. "Lizzy, however, avoided the two sets entirely. I did not see her in the ballroom at all!"

"Nor did I," confirmed Isabella. "She might be in the library - Sir Edward has such an impressive collection of books."

"Yes!" chuckled Alexander as he nodded his head. "And most of them on very practical works - commerce, industry, law - subjects which fascinate my sister immensely. Yes, the library is an ideal haven for her. As of late, William has become quite an avid reader as well! Perhaps the pair of them are well ensconced there as we speak - engaging in a lively debate, or reaching a new understanding!" He paused suddenly, believing that he saw some movements beneath the dark shadows of the abundant wisteria grove some distance away. Whatever comment he was about to make to Isabella was usurped by the commanding voice of his father.

"Ah! I see that you both have the same idea as we do," declared Mr. Darcy with a broad smile as he escorted his own dear wife out to the terrace for a refreshing stroll.

Effusive greetings ensued. The excitement of the ship-launching and of the Ball itself had prevented the senior Darcys from speaking more than a few words to the younger Darcys since their arrival in Town. There was much to talk about - for they shared such close bonds, and much had happened these past several weeks. The Darcy men, in particular, had estate matters on their minds. As they began their conversation in earnest, their wives were likewise engaged in discussion of domestic matters.

"It is most regrettable that my brother could not muster up the courage to speak directly to Jane before he left for the vicarage at Delaford," said Isabella after hearing Mrs. Darcy's succinct narration of Jane's unhappiness of late. "Although he does not requite Jane's love, a sincere tête-à-tête might have eased her heart to a certain degree."

"The entire situation is very awkward indeed. Yet, your dear brother is blameless in this!" sighed Mrs. Darcy.

"Jane is a treasure, and my brother is a fool!" replied Isabella emphatically.

Mrs. Darcy was about to remark upon such a statement when she saw her daughter Lizzy emerging from the dark shadows of the arbor in rapid steps. Her keen maternal instincts alerted her immediately to the peculiar way Lizzy was moving about. She called out softly but distinctly to her.

Lizzy halted her steps when she heard her mother's voice. She hesitated momentarily before she turned slowly to rejoin her family. She brushed her hand hastily against her own lips, and felt William's warmth against them still. She dreaded to encounter her family at this moment, but she could find no other way to evade them.

The first glimpse of her flushed face prompted Mrs. Darcy to step forward swiftly. "Lizzy! Are you unwell?" She touched her forehead with motherly concern, and declared, "You have a fever!"

Lizzy leaned into her mother's welcoming arms gratefully, and buried her face against her slender but steady shoulder. "Please, Mama! May I go home now?"

Alexander spoke up before Mrs. Darcy gave him the necessary instructions. "I shall fetch our carriage immediately," and sped off.

"My dear husband," said Mrs. Darcy, "I think it is best for Bella & I to take Lizzy home first."

As much as Mr. Darcy wished to accompany his wife and family, the dictates of decorum required his taking proper leave of their gracious hosts. He nodded solemnly, and said, "Very well."

Lizzy found herself restless and agitated. She had already made an earnest, if not detailed, confession to her mother regarding her feelings towards Lord Braunfield. Mrs. Darcy had listened to her at length. With compassion and understanding, she soothed away her daughter's many tears, while dispensing words of sage advice. Yet, Lizzy could not rest easy as she tossed and turned in her comfortable bed. Her mind replayed every moment that she had spent in William's company - and her heart raced yet again as she recalled the cause of her swollen lips!

Finally, Lizzy leapt out of bed. She would surely go mad if she could not take command of her erstwhile emotions again! Like her father, Lizzy preferred to sort out her thoughts in a rational manner. Grasping a quill pen and parchment in hand, she sat at her desk and began to write. If she could make a master list of priorities - her avowed goals and fond wishes - it would surely aid her in choosing the difficult rights over the easy wrongs! It was a familiar exercise since childhood, but never had she such an urgent need of firm resolutions until this moment!

"How is our daughter? Should I summon the doctor?" asked Mr. Darcy in grave concern as he stepped forward to greet his wife in their bedchamber. Noting the weariness in her fine eyes and the fatigue on her lovely face, he gathered her into his strong arms, and bestowed a gentle kiss upon her brow.

"Tolerably well. I think her fever will subside very soon. There is no need to send for the physician," sighed Mrs. Darcy.

"Well, I should have guessed as much," declared Mr. Darcy after a thoughtful pause. "Our daughter does not suffer from any physical maladies, does she? That flushed look of hers was induced by ailments of a passionate heart!"

"What prowess of observation," teased Mrs. Darcy as she sought to interject a lighter mood into their conversation. Her dear husband would undoubtedly be enraged when he discovered the entire truth.

"I recognized the symptoms. You often had such a look when we were newlyweds, my dearest Lizzy!" remarked Mr. Darcy in his habitual seriousness, although a definite sense of mirth lurked beneath his dignified countenance.

"Will!" protested Mrs. Darcy, her face colored most becomingly at such fond recollections.

"Ah, my ever blushing bride," murmured Mr. Darcy as he gazed at her admiringly, the intensity in his eyes as palpable as a kiss itself.

Mrs. Darcy savored the precious moment with a demure smile, but her anxiety for their daughter forced her mind back to more serious matters.

"Alas! It is no laughing matter with Lizzy!" said she with a heavy sigh.

"One of her many admirers must have imposed his attention upon her!" concluded Mr. Darcy suddenly, the merriment in his deep voice replaced by menacing anger. "Who is the culprit?"

"Please, my darling! I am not at liberty to divulge any secrets. Our daughter confided in me only after I promised to keep her confidence!"

"But you and I . . . we have no secrets between us!" Mr. Darcy reminded his wife with a stern frown.

"Oh, Will!" pleaded Mrs. Darcy as she reached up to caress his beloved face. "I do not wish for any impediments between us either! But I have given Lizzy my solemn oath! I cannot betray her trust! I can only assure you that nothing went beyond a stolen kiss."

"Judging by the looks of our daughter, such a kiss was not a mere courtesy peck!" stated Mr. Darcy with deepening worry. "Name the rogue now, or I shall be forced to call out every young man who danced with our daughter at the Ball!" His incisive mind recalled every face and name, and by deduction, he was almost certain of the identity of the culprit in question. He felt his temper rising rapidly.

"What price scandal?" reasoned Mrs. Darcy, as she placed a firm hand upon his forearm. Bitter memories of her youngest sister Lydia and the scoundrel George Wickham flashed through her mind, and she shivered involuntarily.

"Are you suggesting that we sweep the indiscretion under the carpet, and pretend nothing has happened?" demanded Mr. Darcy. "Our Lizzy should be our paramount concern!"

"And she is indeed! Therefore, I am asking you, nay, begging you, my dear husband, not to be rash in your judgment or course of action. I have reason to believe the young man in question is very much in love with our daughter. It is our Lizzy who is uncertain of her own heart! A forced marriage is the last thing we should wish upon her!"

"Well then, what was your advice to our daughter?"

"I urged her not to allow her pride and prejudices blind her to a person's true worth."

"I only pray that such advice is adequate!"

"Have I dispensed any ill advice lately?" retorted Mrs. Darcy.

"Very, very rarely, but you are not infallible!" replied Mr. Darcy, with a sudden laugh. He realized, a tad too late, that his wife had mistaken his anger at the young rake for stern disapproval of her instead.

Such a declaration, however, served to cloud her misunderstanding further! She stepped determinedly away from him, breaking loose from his embrace as she met his eyes with a fierce look. "I believe my motherly concern can well match your fatherly wisdom! I admit that I had been a fool once, but I now speak with the authority of experience."

"I have never doubted your wisdom or your intelligence, my darling!" declared Mr. Darcy empathically. "And I can readily see that you and I are heading foolhardily into one of our rare arguments!" He reached out to draw her back into his arms. "Please, my dearest! Let us approach this impasse reasonably!"

He was about to kiss her when she placed her hand firmly upon his mouth to stop him. "I do not think what you are about to do will induce calm and rational thoughts!"

He acknowledged her clear logic with a bemused chuckle. He seized her hand in his, and kissed her fingers instead. "Yes, you are right indeed! We must talk in full earnest!" he stated as he led her to their favorite settee and settled down for a lengthy tête-à-tête.

Lord Braunfield was suffering as well. The moment Lizzy disengaged herself from his arms, he felt a chilling void. Such emptiness tortured him as nothing he had ever experienced before.

How could Elizabeth respond so willingly to my ardent kisses, but continue to bear such vehement dislike of me? He agonized over this as her words rang in his ears, 'No! Never! I can never be yours!'

There was only one other woman who had spurned his amorous attentions - his cousin Isabella, who gave him a stinging slap for his obnoxious kiss and unsolicited proposal. With Elizabeth, however, he had thought the attraction to be mutual, and she had welcomed his advances - first under the Great Tree, and now, at the Gardiners' Ball. Nay, she had reciprocated his kisses with passion; her untutored but vibrantly exhilarating touch had almost driven him beyond his newly edified iron discipline.

Surely she must know his heart - she must realize by now that he had only the noblest intention of matrimony! He could not believe that she would allow his advances to such a degree and not harbor the same fond wishes. He knew instinctively that not even Lord Ashbourne had claimed such tumultuous kisses during his courtship of Elizabeth.

There were other matters to consider. He knew not if there had been witnesses to his intimate moment with Elizabeth under the protective shadows of the arbor. He had noted the presence of the Darcys whilst he remained in the shadows, but the mere fact that neither Mr. Darcy nor Alexander had stepped into the garden to call him out gave him the faint hope that what had passed between Elizabeth and him had remained a personal secret. Yet, his conscience gnawed at him. Even if Elizabeth did not divulge the truth to her parents, he should do the honorable deed and seek an interview with the formidable Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy as soon as he could. Did he not confess to the gentleman of his love for Elizabeth? Did he not proclaim his wish for her heart? If he did not gain the trust and approval of Mr. Darcy, all would be lost!

William did not notice how far he had walked during his intense rumination. He had been unable to sleep after his return from the grand Ball, and had decided to take a stroll. Dawn was nearly breaking when he looked up at the grand mansion before him, and he suddenly realized that it was the Darcy townhouse! He looked up at the second floor - to the windows which were surely the private quarters of the family - and found many a light still ablaze. There could be many logical reasons for members of the household to be up and about at such an hour, but he could readily surmise that one of those lights belonged to Elizabeth's bedchamber; he was the culprit in causing her lost sleep.

"Oh, my love!" he whispered softly, willing the gentle breeze to carry his endearment to her ears. What he would give to hold her in his arms at this very moment, drying the tears from her eyes, and easing her anxiety! He had kissed her out of love, yet he knew he must have frightened her with the intensity of his ardor. What an insensitive boar he was! He should not have abandoned his gentlemanly conduct and his avowed intentions of gentle wooing. Now, he had all but ruined his chance of happiness.

He knew not how long he stood there, lost in contemplation. One by one, the lights in the house went out, all with the exception of one. A single window remained illuminated, and he instinctively knew it to be Elizabeth's. Did she fall asleep crying? Or was she still awake? Reading, perhaps, to seek diversion? Dare he hope that she might be thinking of him?

The final bedchamber light went out just when the first lights from the servant quarters below stairs came on. The faithful staff was preparing for a new day's work, and William knew he should leave before someone spotted him. With equal measures of despair and hopefulness, he turned away and began to walk home. With each step, however, a plan - a fresh course of action - began to take root in his mind.

As he mounted the grand steps of Paxton Hall, with the rising sun behind his back, William Warring was well prepared to greet the new day.

Chapter 22

Posted on Wednesday, 7 September 2005

"Good morning, sir! Lord Braunfield awaits you in the drawing room."

Mr. Darcy arched a questioning brow at his butler as he handed him his riding crop and beaver hat. He noted with surprise at the identity of the visitor, and remarked, "At such an early hour?"

The faithful butler explained, "His lordship arrived shortly after you left for your morning ride with Master Alexander. He insisted that I do not disturb Mrs. Darcy or anyone else for his sake."

"Very well," nodded Mr. Darcy as he strode down the grand hallway to the drawing room.

Lord Braunfield was in a state of heightened anxiety. He had been pacing around the room for a long while, turning over and over in his mind the speech he had prepared for his interview with Mr. Darcy. The only diversion he allowed himself was to admire an impressive portrait of the Darcy family - painted some years ago when the four children were much younger. It was a tasteful artistic rendering of a handsome family that one would find in all the grand homes of England. Upon closer examination, it was clear that the artist had captured the subtle differences of each individual's temperament superbly on canvas - the Master of Pemberley steadfast and dignified, his graceful lady wife sitting devotedly by his side; goodness, intelligence and mirth radiated from her fine dark eyes. The couple's hands were barely touching, yet the way they sat together, and the way the husband was looking at his wife rather than at the viewer, gave a palpably strong impression of spousal devotion and connubial bliss. The Darcy sons were blessed with equal handsomeness and the commanding air of their father. Alexander more stern and brooding, James more jovial and amiable. The Darcy daughters were the very image of their lovely mother, Jane the demure one, and Elizabeth the more vivacious. Elizabeth, as the youngest Darcy, was the smallest figure on the canvas. Yet standing within the protective arm of her mother, she shone with irresistible vibrancy, and commanded the viewer's eye.

Indeed, William found himself entirely mesmerized by the look on young Elizabeth's face - a look that had grown very familiar to him in his daily thoughts and nightly dreams. A hint of pink satin peeked out from her crown of dark girlish curls, and he smiled inwardly with appreciation. Why, he could almost date the year of this particular family portrait! She looked as she did the first time they met - a resourceful and intrepid little girl who came to his rescue at Maywood when he was hurt and lost. A wave of misery swept over him - as he wondered about the lost opportunities during those intervening years when he could have gained a firm friendship with Elizabeth. Would they have fallen in love with each other in the natural course of things - much like Alexander and his Isabella? Perhaps, they would already be man and wife?

At the sound of Mr. Darcy's approach, Lord Braunfield ceased his fanciful musings, and greeted the older gentleman with a reverend bow.

"Good morning, sir! I hope you will forgive my rudeness for calling upon you so early!" he began solemnly. "There is a matter of utmost urgency that I wish to discuss with you."

Mr. Darcy extended his hand cordially in greeting. "How may I be of assistance to your lordship?"

"It is I who must beg for your indulgence and understanding!" exclaimed William.

Mr. Darcy regarded him with a quizzical look, but waited silently for further explanation.

William took a deep breath to compose himself before plunging unceremoniously into the heart of the matter. "I have come here, sir, with the most humble heart . . . to ask for your daughter Elizabeth's hand in marriage."

Stunned silence greeted these direct words. Mr. Darcy stared at the viscount, his dark eyes full of such intensity; they seemed to look directly into the latter's soul.

"Marriage? Have you spoken with my daughter? Has she given you her consent?" muttered Mr. Darcy at last.

"I tried to declare myself to her last night, but I failed rather miserably," confessed William, meeting Mr. Darcy's gaze unflinchingly. "Miss Elizabeth initially welcomed our . . . conversation, but her vehement disapproval of me overcame the persuasive plea I had in mind. Indeed, at our parting, she informed me that she would never be mine."

"Then the entire subject is closed," stated Mr. Darcy firmly, heaving an inward sigh. The young viscount might have acquired redeeming merits to offset his profligate past - making him a very worthy bachelor in the eyes of the ton, but the prospect of having the overbearing Lady Paxton as mother-in-law to his beloved daughter was not something he wished to consider.

"Yet, I have lingering hopes ... certain circumstances . . . that Miss Elizabeth's refusal of me is not unequivocally final." William cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing that he was treading upon a very fine line - between an earnest confession and an open invitation for Mr. Darcy to run a sword through him. He decided to confess all and hope for mercy. "I took the liberty to . . ."

"To kiss her!" Mr. Darcy interrupted him in fury. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and it was obvious that he was very much tempted to unleash his formidable strength upon the younger man. William knew well that Mr. Darcy enjoyed excellent health, and could still best many a young buck at fencing.

"Yes, I did," confirmed William with a quiet plea in his dark eyes. "My actions in the garden last night were presumptuous and unforgivable, but I beg you to hear me out, sir!"

"To hear you out? Let us not mince words! You have toyed with the raw emotions of an innocent girl, used your seductive charms to convince her that she might well be in love with you so you could impose your will upon her! I would have called you out immediately if I had known that you were the rogue hiding in the shadows!"

"Seduction was the last thing on my mind last night, sir!" retorted William firmly. "I swear it!"

Mr. Darcy ignored the protest, and continued with a fierce growl, "My daughter's naiveté might have induced her to respond to your amorous advances initially, but fortunately, her rational mind saved her from infamy!"

William was prepared for such a verbal thrashing, and he held his ground determinedly to plead his case. "I would stand guilty by all your charges if I were the same man as I had been before Sir David Lexington's bullets struck home. For nearly two years now, I have tried my utmost to reform my ways, and to lead a life free of irreligious and immoral habits. It has not been an easy task, but I believe I have persevered. However, the sins of my past haunt me still - they continue to reinforce Miss Elizabeth's prejudices against me, and prevent her from seeing me in a true light."

Mr. Darcy was, above all, an honest and fair-minded man. Lord Braunfield's earnest words and open manner struck a resonant cord deep within his heart. Did not his own dearest wife turn him down at the Hunsford Parsonage, declaring that he would be the last man in the world she would ever marry? Granted, his main offenses were his false pride and conceit, and not the dissipating habits that young Braunfield had indulged in, but being rejected so severely was painful indeed.

He recalled, with appreciative gratitude, the invaluable service young Braunfield had rendered Lizzy - in the revelation of Lord Ashbourne's secret life - and the subsequent dispatch of the mistress to Paris. Such a selfless act - performed at great expense and trouble, but with no apparent wish for personal gains - was the undisputable testimony of Braunfield's new character. Adding to such merits was his exemplary conduct at the Ridgemont mines, his generous endowment funds for the Ridgemont children, and of course, his courageous rescue of young Joseph Gardiner yesterday! Mr. Darcy knew that he would be hard pressed to find reasons to complain about the viscount presently, except for his being the culprit of Lizzy's distress!

Seeing that Mr. Darcy was mulling over his words carefully, William decided to pass his advantage. "I come to you, sir, because I wish to avoid any further misunderstanding between us. I do not wish to trifle with your daughter in any way. At Pemberley, I spoke to you of my wishes, and I want to reiterate that they have remained unchanged. Sir, it was very wrong of me to have kissed Elizabeth when I did - but I cannot say that I regret my action. It started as a genuine gesture of comfort, but ended as a kiss - an expression of my deep admiration and passionate regard for her. I promise you, however, that I shall conduct myself in the most gentlemanly manner from now on. Please, sir, grant me the honor to court her properly."

"I am very surprised by your declaration - indeed, by your confession!" said Mr. Darcy evenly as he unclenched his fists at last. "Indeed, I am rather impressed by your present conduct. I have a great abhorrence for disguise of any kind, and I do appreciate your honesty and honorable intentions. Moreover, I must admit that my initial anger at you was influenced by bitter memories - of the many transgressions a particularly nefarious villain had committed against my family over the years."

"Your forbearance is exceedingly admirable, sir! If I were in your shoes, I might well summon the butler to toss me out of this house presently," remarked William with a gracious smile. He knew not the details of Mr. Wickham's offenses, but he often heard his mother speak disparagingly of the man, and his Uncle Charles Bingley would inevitably nod his head in rueful agreement. A tragic "accident" had robbed Mr. Wickham his sight, and hence, his chances at mischief, but the man continued to be a heavy burden to his many relations.

"A vivid imagery and a tempting suggestion," remarked Mr. Darcy in a stern voice, but with a hint of a smile in his eyes. He held Lord Braunfield's eyes steadily for a long moment, whilst twisting his signet ring with his right hand. The tension within him seemed to uncoil with this simple gesture, and William felt the spring of new hope. The formidable Mr. Darcy seemed to be as reasonable as Alexander.

"I had a very lengthy discussion with Mrs. Darcy last night - or rather, in the wee hours of this morning," said Mr. Darcy, his tone subdued but more cordial than before. He did not owe young Braunfield any explanation, but felt the need to clarify his thoughts openly.

"I hope you did not lose too much sleep," murmured Lord Braunfield contritely.

"I prefer talking to my wife than losing my hours to peaceful slumber," stated Mr. Darcy with frankness. "My dear wife has a very peculiar view. She seems to think that a person's handsome looks may well hamper other people's appreciation of what truly lies beneath the pleasing visage."

Mr. Darcy's remark was so unexpected and candid that the viscount was rendered speechless.

"Insofar as the matter of courtship," continued Mr. Darcy, "my family is honored by your partiality towards Lizzy, but I must decline my consent. I shall not force my daughter to accept my decision in such a vital matter unless her heart welcomes it with equal fervor. I know not the details of Lizzy's tête-à-tête with her mother - only that she has vowed to stay free of any emotional entanglements for the duration of the Season."

"I fully comprehend all your concerns, sir!" replied William solemnly. "It seems that the only course presently before me is not formal courtship, but to establish goodwill and trust in friendship." After a thoughtful moment, he added, "Alexander mentioned that you and Mrs. Darcy shall be returning to Pemberley in a matter of days. May I ask now, in advance, for your permission to approach Miss Elizabeth in an opportune time to express my apologies and to give her reassurances of my good faith? Perhaps, at future social gatherings, I shall have the opportunity to establish a new rapport with her?"

Mr. Darcy was taken aback by such extreme courtesy. William added hastily, "I promise to solicit the aid of a vigilant chaperone before I step within arm's length of your beloved daughter. Please, sir, do not deny me such small graces!" With a sudden rush of emotion, he declared, "I love your daughter Elizabeth so very dearly, and shall do everything that is within my power to ensure her happiness. Even if the path to win her heart is filled with insurmountable obstacles, I am willing to pursue it with fortitude and dedication."

For a fleeting moment, Mr. Darcy recalled his own odyssey of winning Elizabeth Bennet's heart that fateful summer almost thirty years ago, and could comprehend the viscount's commitment. Moreover, he knew instinctively that William's firm resolve was not the same blind obsession that had wreaked such havoc before.

Mr. Darcy extended his hand in genuine friendship, adding that his lordship could solicit a dance with Lizzy if the suitable occasion offered itself! William responded with an affable laugh, confessed that he loved to dance, and could manage a formal country dance, although he would not risk the more intimate waltz.

"It is amazing how I never noted the familial similarities! You remind me vividly of your Uncle Charles in many ways!" stated Mr. Darcy as he escorted the viscount to the grand foyer.

"I do wish to emulate my honored uncle," exclaimed William, "but I must confess that leading a virtuous life can be a very daunting task indeed! It is also very dull at times!"

"Life's many challenges! Relish them, William! You shall have more cause for rejoicing if you steadfastly confront adversities and realize your true mettle!" said Mr. Darcy with fatherly affection. He knew not how young William Warring had managed to gain a foothold in his heart during the course of this interview, but he was not entirely displeased with such an unexpected turn of events.

They shook hands again with cordiality. William declined once again the gracious invitation for breakfast with the family, as he was ill-prepared to see Elizabeth face to face after such an emotional talk with her father.

"We shall surely meet at the Bingleys tonight."

"Yes, sir! I look forward to it," replied William clasping the older man's hand firmly in his for a moment longer, as if he needed to draw strength from this font of stalwartness.

Lord Braunfield returned to Paxton Hall in a pensive but lighter mood. The interview with Mr. Darcy had gone far better than he had expected - he had fears of being booted out of the grand mansion the moment he confessed to his indiscretion of kissing Elizabeth. Instead, he and the formidable Master of Pemberley had achieved a new understanding. Even if Mr. Darcy granted him merely grudging tolerance, and not the same parental concern displayed by Mrs. Darcy, he was glad and proud of it.

He was much surprised to see his father waiting for him in the breakfast room. Due to his age and gout, Lord Paxton was a habitual late-riser.

"There you are, my dear boy!" exclaimed Lord Paxton. "Owens informed me that you have apparently spent hours wandering around the streets of London alone! You could have encountered criminals and desperate villains! Any might have slit your throat for enjoyment as much as for your purse of gold!"

"Father, I have great faith in the Metropolitan Police," smiled William placidly. "And I am proud to report that Her Majesty's streets are quite safe - at least in our neighborhood of Mayfair. I did return by dawn, enjoyed a hot bath and a light breakfast before I ventured out again."

"It is evident you have not been out riding, and it is too early for social calls. What have you been about?"

"I spoke to Mr. Darcy," stated William as he took a sip of coffee. He sat down heavily, and stretched out his long legs. He had not been to bed since yesterday morning, and fatigue was about to overcome him. His damaged knee throbbed with pain, and he silently cursed himself again for the miserable cause of it.

"You spoke to Mr. Darcy?" repeated Lord Paxton eagerly. His aged face lit up with anticipation. There could be but one reason why his son should seek an interview at such an early hour.

William heaved a deep sigh, and shook his dark head ruefully. "I regret that I must disappoint you yet again, Father!"

"You have been rejected?" exclaimed Lord Paxton.

"Alas, Miss Darcy remains a star beyond my reach."

Both men sat in pensive silence for a long time - William in weary defeat, and Lord Paxton unable to find the words that could bring adequate comfort to his son.

"Father, I must beg for your generosity. I have need for a fair sum of money very soon," said William suddenly.

A fleeting look of trepidation appeared in Lord Paxton's kindly eyes. William hastened to explain, "Fear not, Father! This is not for another love-nest in Town, or any other trifling matter. Allow me to explain my plan, sir!"

Lord Braunfield finally went to bed after his lengthy talk with his father. A fitful hour or so of sleep, however, he was up again. His mind was too troubled, his spirit too ragged, and his heart all but shattered by Elizabeth's parting words, "No! Never! I can never be yours!"

"It is enough to drive any man back to drink," William muttered angrily to himself. He poured himself a liberal glass of cognac as he cursed himself for being such a fool. "Countless, lovely and agreeable young chits - quite a few of them perfectly willing to accommodate my every whim - and I have to fall for the most stubborn and willful one in England!"

William was about to drink when he thought better of it. Surely, he must not abandon his iron discipline at this critical juncture, and allow himself a free fall back into the abyss of his dissolute past. Taking a drink now would be the first step upon such a slippery slope.

A pact then, my dear fellow! Complete abstinence until your own wedding day! On the most joyous day of all, with your beloved as your wife, you may celebrate with champagne! He spoke sternly to himself, and made a solemn oath upon his own words, adding ruefully that he might never taste champagne again.

He walked over to his writing desk, and saw an elegant envelope upon the silver tray. A missive had arrived at Paxton Hall whilst he was abed - forwarded by the editor of Gentlemen's Quarterly in the usual manner. It was apparent that his faithful valet had carried the letter to his private quarters, away from the prying eyes of the general household.

He held the envelope in his hands, staring at it wordlessly. From the thickness of it, he knew it to be a very long letter. His curiosity was naturally aroused. He pulled the parchment pages out, and was amazed to see the elegant signature of "A Kindred Spirit" on the last page. Why, it was only yesterday morning that he had received the second of such missives from this spirited and well-informed lady, and now, this third one.

What could have prompted her to write again so soon, and without a reply from him in between missives? He recalled his own sense of trepidation regarding this anonymous correspondence. "A Kindred Spirit" had claimed the habit of writing to editors of newspapers, periodicals, members of Parliament and to the offices of Her Majesty's ministers. He was, therefore, a logical choice of audience for her. He glanced quickly at the title of her essay - "On the Customs of the ton and Expectations of Females" - and felt no harm in reading the letter. It promised to be scholarly and articulate, and he sorely needed the diversion, if only to take his mind off the bewitching Elizabeth Darcy for a brief while.

William was not to be disappointed. "A Kindred Spirit" had a gift for words; her austere observations and cutting wit brought a quick smile to his face. Although she spoke of the general and not of particulars, he felt as keenly as if he was "the prized catch" she was speaking of. How he wished he had such a brilliant wit by his side when all feminine eyes scrutinized him at the Gardiners Ball last night! He wondered what "A Kindred Spirit" would make of the present dilemma he had with Elizabeth.

The tone and content of the letter took an abrupt turn in the middle of it. It became more personal and confidential, and it became a vehement attack against the behavior of conceited rakes who felt as if they held the claim to a lady's heart by the application of seductive kisses.

. . . Females are not possessions - not territories upon which one can stake sovereignty rights! Surely, the recent royal marriage of Her Majesty the Queen to her dear Prince Albert - a triumphant love match over dynastic alliances - should be emulated by all! . . .

Her handwriting revealed her agitation, and her words flew across the pages like cascading waves. He felt her anger, her frustration, and indeed, her tears! Here and there, large droplets had smeared the ink! He was sympathetic to her, and felt his own indignation rising against the one who had offended her so sorely.

He had vowed earlier not to pursue a correspondence with this fascinating young lady - however chaste and innocent their letter writing might be - for it would surely distract him from thoughts of his beloved Elizabeth. Yet, he felt an obligation, a call upon his gallantry and honor as a gentleman to write back, if only to express a few words of comfort and understanding.

"My dear lady," his brief letter begun, "I fully comprehend your distress. The swain who offended you brings to mind a vivid image of my own miserable self! I trust that you will put the unworthy cad out of your mind immediately, and engage yourself wholeheartedly in your charitable work and other worthy causes."

He knew he should cease writing, lest he pour his own heart out as well. He thought for a moment, and decided to close it with a biblical verse he heard during last Sunday's service.

"I shall end with a blessing and a verse from Joshua 1: 9. 'Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.'

At the bottom, he affixed his signatory "W" with a flourish. He had wanted to add the words "Likewise, A Kindred Spirit," but felt it exceedingly inappropriate. As much as he enjoyed reading her letters, he had no wish to continue this clandestine literary liaison. With a determined sense of finality, he applied the wax seal to the linen envelope, smeared it so that his coat of arms became an indistinguishable mark, and rang for his valet to dispatch the letter.

Chapter 23

Posted on Friday, 23 September 2005

Lizzy Darcy stared at the reflected image of herself with stern disapproval. Such a dispirited look with swollen eyes! She might as well hang a painted sign around her neck as a public confession of her stolen kisses with William and her subsequent sleepless night! Yet, the very thought of his strong arms around her - enfolding her so closely to him, and kissing her with such fierce tenderness - caused her heart to palpitate violently.

"Of all the fine young men of my acquaintance, why is he the one who managed to breach my wall of defense?" Gnawed by her guilty conscience, she admonished herself for being a fool, and renewed her vow of "being on the shelf" for the duration. If her usual sense of rationality and prudent judgment had held sway as far as Lord Braunfield was concerned, she never would have found herself in such a predicament! Her confession to him under the Great Tree turned out to be an ominous prophecy indeed! He was a man she should be afraid of!

"Lizzy?" There was a gentle knock at the door of her bedchamber. She dashed over to open the door, and welcomed in her best friend.

"Oh, Bella! If I ever needed a trusted confidant, it is now!"

Isabella smiled reassuringly as she gave Lizzy a sisterly embrace, her vivid blue eyes filled with concern. "As you know, Lizzy, I am always here for you! And your dear brother is very worried about you as well!"

"I talked to Mama for a long time - cried a river of tears and confessed much to her. Afterwards, I slept very fitfully and very little. . . Oh, Isabella! There are still nagging questions that I cannot muster up the courage to ask my mother - however kind and understanding she may be!"

"Of what nature are these questions?" asked Isabella softly, her incisive mind could almost name them.

"The most vexing kind! . . . Questions that are far too embarrassing to voice aloud . . . to anyone . . . including you!" exclaimed Lizzy in agitation.

Isabella seized hold of Lizzy's hands, and said calmly, "Let us sit down comfortably. Close your eyes presently, my dear, and pretend that I am not here in the room! Voice your questions aloud, as if you are speaking to your own self."

Doubtful, Lizzy regarded her for a moment, but decided to obey her. Once the first words came out, others tumbled forth without further restraint. Isabella sat in compassionate silence, and spoke up only when Lizzy finally ceased talking.

"I can well comprehend your present dilemma!" said Isabella. With a deep blush of her own, she continued, "I must confess that I harbored such similarly powerful feelings towards Alexander - feelings that vexed, and indeed, frightened me at first. I felt I was becoming our Aunt Lydia! My beloved later confided to me that he was caught up by the same tempestuous emotions, and his own fears of being like Mr. Wickham! It was not until I found myself in dire danger did I finally realize the intensity and depth of feelings I felt for Alexander, and vice versa. Our emotions were natural manifestations of our true and pure love - that our ardor was reserved exclusively for each other, and for none else!"

Lizzy reflected with thoughtful care at such candid revelations. "Given Lord Braunfield's reputation, I have grave doubts that I am the only one to incite such feelings of ardor in him! And by his influence, I have become a wanton!"

"My dear Lizzy," continued Isabella calmly as she soothed back her hair - a motherly gesture of concern. "I sincerely believe that if you only experience such feelings towards Lord Braunfield and no other man, it is not wantonness at all! Being wanton means having impure thoughts, without discrimination, towards various men - unrestrained emotion at its worst!"

"I am so exceedingly ashamed of myself!" protested Lizzy. "You confided to me before - of being kissed by Lord Braunfield after your rejection of his marriage proposal. You found his touch disgusting, and you slapped him with all your might at such an insult!"

Isabella grimaced at the unpleasant memory, but she managed a truthful answer. "I have all but forgotten such an incident, and I am sure my cousin has as well! William was quite vile then - nothing like the bona fide gentleman and bold rescuer of small, unruly boys as we know him to be now!"

"When William kissed me, I could think of nothing else but his searing touch - the thrill . . . the pleasure of being in his arms," cried Lizzy. "I. . .coveted . . .lusted . . . after him!"

"Have you ever had such feelings towards Thomas Fitzwilliam whilst he courted you?" asked Isabella reasonably.

"Naturally, I dreamt of domestic bliss with my cousin Thomas - images of endless sunshine and healthy children . . . golden fields of bountiful harvests . . . family gatherings and Yuletide joy. . . I never saw his face clearly in my fanciful musings. I only felt the reassuring warmth of his arm around my waist, and a steady shoulder to rest my head upon whilst he whispered words of loving tenderness and abiding faithfulness in my ear."

"You never saw his face in your musings? In truth, Lizzy, you dreamt only of romantic visions - inspired by the blissful union of your parents, and not particularly of your own future with Thomas," declared Isabella. "You were never in love with Thomas Fitzwilliam!" She refrained from voicing her opinion that Lizzy was already in love with William Warring. Given Lizzy's heightened emotions, such an assumption would make things worse.

"You are right! Oh, Bella! You are truly wise beyond your years!" said Lizzy admiringly. "I hope I shall acquire my own maturity soon, before all hopes are lost, before I lose myself to infamy!"

"Let us resume our discussion - of Lord Braunfield," said Isabella patiently. "Has any other gentleman incited such tempestuous feelings in you the way my cousin has?"

"I . . . I have never allowed others to take such liberties . . ."

"But you have allowed William to do so - twice by your own admission!"

Lizzy grimaced at such blatant facts. She had yet to confess of her other close encounters with William. The first at Pemberley, when he was hurt from the fight with Lord Ashbourne, and she had wanted to kiss him so badly - until her father interrupted them. Then later at the ship-launching, how she could not tear her eyes from his muscular form - dripping wet as he was, standing within a breath from her!

For a fleeting moment, her heart yearned to believe Isabella's testimony - that rapturous passion was an intrinsic part of true love. If it were so, it would mean that her passion for Lord Braunfield could lead to but one logical conclusion! Her rational mind balked at the prospect of love and matrimony with a man she did not esteem above all others - a man with a philandering past, whose penitent redemption was admittedly remarkable. Nevertheless, with so many females of the ton setting their "matrimonial traps" to ensnare him - would he be tempted by wily feminine charms and allurements, and fall victim once again to his vile ways of old? She might be a guileless innocent in matters of human passion, but she knew enough to comprehend the dangers of man's bestial instincts.

"There shall not be a third time, I swear it! No man is worth shedding so many tears and enduring so many sleepless nights!" declared Lizzy with fierce resolution, as she quickly suppressed the astounding possibility of allying her fate to that of Lord Braunfield's.

"So you have cried and lost sleep over William before last night?" remarked Isabella with perfect logic.

Lizzy chose to remain silent. If she said anything more on the subject - she would be honest - and she would die of acute embarrassment! In the cold light of day, she was honest enough to realize that whomever she eventually gave her heart, it would never be a heart complete. A small corner of it had been irrevocably lost to William Warring!

From now on, Bella, I shall occupy my thoughts with orphaned children, and not handsome young men!" She took a deep breath to steady herself, and squared her shoulders with grim determination.

In response, Isabella gave Lizzy a quick kiss upon her cheek. "Rouse yourself out of the doldrums then!" She rang for the maid to bring a tray of light refreshments, insisting that a cup of chamomile tea would do wonders. "We are expected at my parents' house for dinner! You can discuss your proposed campaign to build a new orphanage with our own M.P. in the family!"

"Anthony Knightley is too over-wrought with worries about his dearest Margaret and the impending birth of their child to think about remedies for social ills!" exclaimed Lizzy, "Nevertheless, I shall speak a word in his ear!"

By the time the Darcy family arrived at the Bingleys' elegant townhouse, Lizzy was her vivacious self again. There was not a hint of weariness about her as she mingled cheerfully with her numerous relations. She could even tolerate a bit of idle gossip when her cousin Georgette Wickham gushed with girlish glee about the current darling of the ton - Lord Braunfield.

"Have you ever seen anyone more devastatingly handsome?" exclaimed Georgette.

"The Prince Consort?" suggested Lizzy readily as she tried to dispel the image of Lord Braunfield from her own mind. "My excellent brothers? Our cousin Henry Bingley? My cousin Andrew Fitzwilliam?" She did not add her former suitor Lord Ashbourne to the list, although Thomas could rightfully claim such a place.

"Oh, yes! Prince Albert is so tall and splendidly handsome!" declared Georgette breathlessly. "I stood for hours outside St. James's on Her Majesty's wedding day, just to catch a glimpse of the royal carriage on its way to Windsor after the wedding ceremony. Her Majesty was such a lovely bride, and his Highness looked so dignified in his Windsor coat, with the Order of the Garter collar over his shoulders! I nearly swooned at the glorious celebration!" She proceeded to describe the historical day for her Darcy relations - all of whom had missed coming into Town as originally planned, due to Lord Matlock's grave accident.

"I, for one, am utterly thrilled that it is a true love match," remarked Lizzy with glowing pride at her Sovereign Queen Victoria. "Her Majesty is an inspiration to us all!"

"Being the Queen of the richest and most powerful nation on earth surely warrants having a husband of higher status and prestige than the younger son of a minor German duke from an obscure dukedom!" grumbled Frederick Wickham darkly, reflecting the mood of many in the country who found no enthusiasm for a German prince. Popular English ditties of the day reflected the mixed sentiments of the people.

"I have great faith that Prince Albert will be a vital part in the renaissance of our monarchy and our nation. His obvious devotion to our Queen will make the awesome burdens of the Crown more bearable for her." Reflecting upon his own connubial bliss, Alexander added confidently, "Indeed, a young married couple so very much in love - with youth, energy, and idealism on their side - there is nothing much that can stand in their way."

Isabella smiled at her husband's remarks, and gave his hand a discreet squeeze to express her exact sentiments. They turned to gaze at each other intently, and thus, were lost to the present company for the duration.

"You were the most fortunate girl last night, Lizzy!" continued Georgette as she redirected the conversation back to her favorite subject of the day. "You were the only one who danced with Lord Braunfield! Shame that it was an old-fashioned country dance, and not a glorious waltz! You both looked very animated whilst you danced! I wager that his lordship must have a brilliant mind to match such wonderful looks! What did you speak of that made him smile so frequently?"

Sensing Lizzy's growing discomfort, Isabella quickly came to her rescue by trying to shift the attention to others. "I believe it was the pain in his lordship's knee, and not the lack of desirable partners, that prevented him from more dancing. Moreover, Lizzy did not enjoy his exclusive attention! He spoke to many others throughout the evening."

"He spoke to his hosts, of course, but when he spoke directly to any other ladies, he did so only to the matronly ones - whose husbands were standing close beside! But for Lizzy, Lord Braunfield avoided unattached females entirely!" lamented Georgette.

"I should raise no objections if Lord Braunfield glanced my way, but a sensible girl must not waste her time pining away for such an exalted personage," stated Emily Bingley with total honesty.

"Nonsense!" protested Georgette. "As long as Lord Braunfield remains a bachelor, he is fair game to all! Your chances of success are as good as anyone else's to become the next Countess of Braunfield!"

"I fear that the adoring crowd around his lordship is too thick for me to penetrate," retorted Emily with an impish grin. Unable to resist a good joke, she paraphrased a favorite sentiment of her Grandmother Bennet, and stated, "I pray that my two happily married brother-in-laws will throw me into the path of their many distinguished friends!"

"You are Lord Braunfield's cousin!" said Georgette, stating the obvious. "You only have to invite him over for tea, or for a friendly game of chess to bask in the pleasure of his company! Isn't he joining us for dinner?"

"I dare say that his lordship has more than culinary delights to entice him tonight!" remarked Frederick Wickham. He could rightfully comprehend why Lord Braunfield had singled out Lizzy Darcy at the Ball last night. Freddie looked at his cousin with obvious admiration, and added, "The viscount is being drawn here by an absolutely irresistible force - a real treasure! I know my duty, and shall double my efforts to stand guard!"

Freddie's words elicited hearty laughter from his female cousins. Lizzy blushed and avoided his gaze. Georgette saw the subtle exchange, and grew irritated at her own brother. Freddie had once fancied himself a Darcy son-in-law, and had been a preening peacock whenever he was in the company of either Jane or Lizzy. Since their father George Wickham's tragic accident, however, Freddie became an utterly changed man - as solemn and earnest as Alexander Darcy. He abandoned his aspiration to be Lizzy's suitor, and appointed himself her vigilant protector instead.

The arrival of Lord Paxton and his son put the excited banter amongst the cousins to an end. Lizzy felt unsettled the moment she caught sight of the Warrings.

Cordial greetings were exchanged. Lord Braunfield stood dutifully by the side of his aged father, lending his strong arm to steady his father's slow steps. He shook hands with his Uncle Charles, and kissed his Aunt Jane's cheek affectionately. With the senior Darcys, his manner was reserved and respectful. Towards all others, he was cordial - shaking hands with the gentlemen, and bowing gracefully to the ladies. When he finally glanced at Lizzy, he did so discreetly, and gave no indelicate display of particular regard or flirtatious gestures.

Alexander was making a careful study of his friend. He did not have the chance to speak directly to William since their parting at the Gardiners' Ball. He had accompanied his father for their customary morning ride in the park, but he went directly to the Bingleys afterwards. All the particulars of Lord Braunfield's visit, however, had been recounted to him in verbatim by Mr. Darcy.

As a result, Alexander found himself torn by vastly different loyalties! As a protective elder brother, he felt compelled to call Lord Braunfield out to protect Lizzy's honor, but his deep friendship with the viscount obliged him to aid him in the quest for true love. He managed to whisper in William's ear just before they sat down for dinner. "Go to the solarium after dinner. I shall await you there."

It was a long while before Lord Braunfield could find the proper opportunity to make the rendezvous. A program of classical music followed the sumptuous dinner. Mrs. Darcy was entreated to play and sing, and captivated all present with her enthralling talent. Finally, feigning the need for fresh air, William excused himself from the present company. He entered the solarium with a sense of trepidation. He could only surmise that Alexander knew the full details of his talk with Mr. Darcy, and he would be a fool to think that he could escape his censure. Indeed, he deserved a good thrashing from his friend and mentor. Therefore, he was much surprised to find Isabella and Elizabeth awaiting his arrival as well.

"You expressed your wish for a private apology to my sister," said Alexander without further ceremony, a severe frown upon his handsome face. He was not in any humor to spare any words for niceties. "My wife and I are here as her chaperones."

"Thank you," said William awkwardly. He had prepared an eloquent apology, but his mind became a sudden void. Rational thought seemed to have deserted him entirely the moment his eyes rested upon his beloved.

Elizabeth sat in resolute silence, her lovely figure poised in unassuming grace. She could not know, with no conscious intention on her part, how captivating she looked to him. What he would give to have a chance at happiness with her! Alexander and Isabella stood sentry beside Elizabeth, flanking her as a pair of guards.

As William stepped closer, however, Alexander took Isabella's hand, and led her over to a far corner of the solarium, allowing the younger couple a small measure of privacy. Without further ado, William knelt before Elizabeth upon his good knee, and bowed his head respectfully.

"Forgive me, Elizabeth! I was an absolute swine last night!" His deep voice shook with raw emotion as he spoke.

She had expected an apology from William - her brother had given her prior warning of it - but did not expect such dramatic contrition.

He continued, "I am sorry for my insufferable presumptions and my unforgivable behavior! I was wrong to . . . kiss you . . . to unleash emotions . . . that your innocence . . . has shielded you from thus far!" He paused thoughtfully, at a momentary loss for words. "A tempest that elicited spirited . . .er . . . that offended your dignity . . . I made a very regrettable mistake last night, and I apologize most sincerely!"

Her bewildered mind tried to comprehend the hidden implications behind his words. He had deliberately set fire to her heart with his kissing, and now, he insisted that it was a very regrettable mistake. Given her passionate responses to his advances, she would not have blamed his censure of her! She had behaved like a wanton - entirely unworthy and unacceptable from a well-bred young lady!

Her mind was in turmoil. A small voice inside tried to alert her to the extraordinary consideration Lord Braunfield was showing her by his apology, but such a voice was soon drowned out by overwhelming embarrassment and mistaken guilt.

He rose to his feet, knowing that he had done all he could to plead for her forgiveness at this moment. Their eyes met before she averted hers from his.

"You have every right to take umbrage with me. I know my only claim for your clemency is my being the cousin of the Bingleys, but I trust your generous heart," said William as he spread his hands in a sign of resignation. "I know that you will tolerate my company with equanimity, but dare I hope . . . or do I ask too much . . . for a renewal of our friendship?

He knew that his future hung in the balance - her answer would set the course of it. He could discern the conflict that raged within her. He waited patiently, his heart filled with fervent prayer. If he had never prayed so earnestly before, he was certainly doing so now.

"I accept your apology, my lord, and I am honored to have your friendship," she conceded graciously as she extended her hand tentatively to him - as a sign of reconciliation.

He noted the formal use of his courtesy title, and forced himself to be content with her answer for the present moment. He accepted her hand, holding only onto her fingertips with the lightest grip, and bestowed a decorous kiss upon it before releasing it. He conducted himself as if they were at the Court of St. James's, with the scrutinizing eyes of important personages upon them, rendering judgment.

"Thank you," he murmured. The words "my darling" were spoken in complete silence. Ruefully, he realized she had no inkling that such gentlemanly behavior was agony itself to him. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her back into his arms, and kiss her as he did last night - except this time, he would not let her go until she reconciled her obstinate mind to her passionate heart! He would gladly carry her off to marry immediately, if his instincts did not warn him that such drastic actions would make her hate him, forever dooming their future together.

She did not attempt to speak to him again, and likewise, his throat became too constrained for words. He gave her another deep bow before finally turning away.

Lizzy stared after his retreating form, so proud and erect, his limp barely noticeable now. A sudden concern for his well-being sprang up within her. She could not explain it to herself, but she felt guilty that she was the one to cause him such grief. She worried over his happiness - he cut such a poignant figure when he knelt before her - but she doubted if she would be the one to bring him the felicity that he so apparently craved.

Hot tears threatened to flow from her eyes. Had she been too harsh on him? Too prejudiced against his dissolute past to accept his reformed self? Once, under the Great Tree, he had asked why she would not grant him the smallest measure of grace, but she had evaded his question, and declared that she was afraid of him instead. Perhaps the truth was entirely different! Perhaps, she was afraid of her own self, fearful that she did not have the magnanimity to love someone unconditionally and enduringly, to accept his shortcomings as much as she would cherish his strengths. She despaired of ever having the same kind of true union of hearts and minds that her parents had forged together. She realized that the more she saw of the world, the less satisfied she was with the people in it. Did such disappointments deepen her resolve to find someone truly extraordinary to love - a paragon who made the world a bright place because of his presence in it? Were her standards so high that they existed only in the realm of fantasy and not reality?

Foolish, foolish girl! Still believing in fairy tales - wishing for a valiant prince who would slay dragons for me! she admonished herself sternly as the first tear began its journey down her tender cheek.

Despite his dire need for sleep, Lord Braunfield could not rest well that night. His heart was aching for more than forgiveness from his beloved Elizabeth. He wanted so desperately for her love - a passionate and abiding love he knew her to be fully capable of once she stopped fighting her own heart!

And if the truth be admitted, he longed to be a part of the vibrant Darcy family. He wanted to claim their affections not merely as a relation by marriage, but to be a true member of the family itself - his name written in the family annals as an integral part of their lineage. He wanted to see his image amongst the family portraits, his blood in the veins of Elizabeth's children. Indeed, he fervently believed that their union would rival the happiness of her parents, or of Alexander and Isabella.

In his troubled past, he never considered his future beyond the next grand ball or reckless escapade. It was an idle, irresponsible life filled with games and frivolous companions. Now, he could not imagine a future without the woman of his heart close by his side.

The rudimentary scheme he had outlined to his father began to take a more precise form. He knew that he must devise an effective way to earn Elizabeth's trust, to gain her esteem, and to win her heart! From the general conversation at dinner, he had learned that the young ladies were planning an outing to visit the Female Orphan Asylum on Bridge Road in Lambeth. Surely, they would welcome an addition to their visiting party if he came armed with ample funds for charitable donations! A fair prospect indeed!

Ensconced in the warmth of her husband's loving arms, Mrs. Darcy remarked with a contented sigh, "All is well again!"

"Hmmm?" murmured Mr. Darcy absently as he toyed with a lock of her lustrous hair. It was a small romantic gesture, but one that he enjoyed immensely for it signified the beginning of their private moments together every night - after closing their bedchamber door to bar all others.

She repeated her remark, and he chuckled softly. He began to trace the outline of her face tenderly with his fingers, admiring every beloved feature. His breath was warm against her tender cheek as he spoke, "Yes, by the Grace of God! Peace and prosperity in Her Majesty's realm, our own family blessed with sound health, and above all, having you safely in my arms - more beautiful and dearer to me than ever - yes, all is serenely well indeed!"

"Oh, my love!" she laughed merrily as she kissed him. "Yes, I agree with you heartily, but I meant only to comment upon the situation with our youngest daughter."

"Alexander informed me that Lizzy has accepted William's apology . . . I never thought I would admit it, but William has surprised me - in a positive way."

" William? Such a familiar form of address?" she exclaimed with a teasing laugh as she traced a caressing finger along his side whiskers. "Whatever happened to 'Lord Braunfield' or 'young Warring'?"

"William is a fine name," he retorted in mock indignation. "I think it is high time that I discard my formality. He is Bingley's nephew after all."

"Yes, Will! A very fine name indeed - although a name does not always fit the man. Take the Reverend Mr. William Collins, for example!" said Mrs. Darcy. It seemed that she was determined to have her amusement.

"Madam! Are you resolved to make such sport of your own husband?" He made a good mimic of a fierce scowl before he broke down in jovial laughter as well. He hugged her closer to him, brushing his lips against hers before he said, "Enough now! I must entreat you to think of more serious matters at hand."

She arched an elegant brow at him, as if she wished to contemplate such a request, but she quickly averted her eyes so he would not see the blithesome amusement in them as she continued her teasing.

"My marriage vows did include the words 'to obey,' did they not?"

"Yes, but you know well that I never force my will upon you in any matter - great or small - unless you are of the same mind," he replied in full earnest, not wishing for his words to be misunderstand. "My esteem and admiration for you are too great - my love too deep - to demand spousal obedience!"

She gave him an appreciative kiss, and declared, "Dear husband, with such an enlightened view on marriage, you may find yourself a keynote speaker at a suffragette meeting someday!"

He laughed good-naturedly, and said, "Alas, my eloquence is reserved exclusively for you, dear wife! I . . . still do not perform well for strangers!"

"Then, you must take more time to practice!" she said sweetly, bringing back old memories to mind with her words.

Mr. Darcy nodded solemnly, recalling the same incident when she had admonished him in front of his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I knew precisely then - when you lectured me that evening at Rosings - I could not live without you! I love you, Lizzy!"

"As I love you, Will!" she reassured him as she drew him close again to profess her heart. She had lived more years of her life - as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy than as Miss Elizabeth Bennet - yet the lightest touch of her husband's lips upon hers could still send her into such rapturous joy. Indeed, their marriage was a perfect union of passionate hearts, kindred spirits and erudite minds - equitable partners in life who augmented each other's merits, and diminished the defects.

"Oh, my love! Grow old with me - the best is yet to be is your constant entreat. How do I grow old when I always feel so vibrantly youthful in your strong arms? I know I shall feel this way still - decades from now - despite age and frailty!"

"Such sentiments are mutual, my darling," he confessed with a deep sigh of contentment. "With every embrace of you, I am reminded that I hold all the blessings of life within my very arms! Indeed, the reality of our happiness never ceases to astound me! Perhaps I should amend my words to say instead: Stay forever young with me, Lizzy - the best is yet to be! "

"I should like that very much," replied Mrs. Darcy tenderly.

Her husband kissed her yet again, and confirmed his declaration with wordless eloquence.

Continued In Next Section