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Chapter 28

Posted on Tuesday, 13 June 2000, at 7 : 47 a.m.

Andrew looked over his shoulder at the bullet lodged in the tree. Directly into a knot-hole.

"I say! Teach me how to shoot like that!"

"I forbid it!" exclaimed Ash, moving forward. "Now that, this impressive show of manliness is over, I wish to lay down some maxims, No member of this family is to challenge any other member of the family to a duel, no matter how remote the connection may seem to be. Secondly, Andrew you need to grow up, duels are not under the heading of 'preferable' life experiences, and Thirdly, I need some breakfast. "

Andrew smiled and looked at Sir Christian, who was inspecting the tree where Andrew's bullet had lodged itself.

"You aimed here?"

"Yes," replied Andrew, moving towards Sir Christian.

"Good shot."

"Really?........" Andrew shifted uncomfortably, " Look I'm an idiot, I know I am, but I wanted to offer you an apology. "

Andrew was somewhat relieved that Sir Christian smiled at him. "Well isn't there some saying that once you have tried to kill a man, you can only be his friend?"

"I don't know, you are the master of inappropriate sayings, Monty." Replied Ash, stamping his foot, "Make Haste Make Haste, breakfast Awaits."

Ash started to stride away, followed by Mr Norstrom ,Sir John and Darcy. Then he spun on his heel and laughed, "That Rhymed!"

"Well if there isn't a saying Sir Christian we shall make one and Attribute it to you!" replied Andrew as he followed his cousin.

Ash took his place in his curricle, and Darcy climbed in, giving Ash a scathing look.

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?" he accused his cousin.

Ash didn't look at him straight away, he was concentrating on his horses, but when he did there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I couldn't be sure, but well...I do pride myself on knowing people!"

Ash stopped laughing when he saw Darcy's angry glare.

"No honestly, I could not be sure, but I did know that if they didn't get it out of their systems, well to put it glibly we'd have been in the suds! "

There was no response from Darcy so Ash carried on.

"They have both got such tempers, and are both quite as ridiculous as each other but there really isn't any harm in them. Surely you didn't think they REALLY meant to harm each other?"

The curricle drew up at the appointed breakfast place, and Darcy jumped down and strode away towards the doorway, leaving his cousin, in some wonderment.

Darcy was as his aunt would put it "Quite put out". He disliked it immensely if he wasn't in at least a semblance of control. And back there on the green he hadn't been in control, no where near control. He had always prided himself upon knowing a person, but again he was proved wrong. He had severely misjudged Elizabeth and he thought he had corrected that fault. Though here he had misjudged both his cousin, Andrew and Sir Christian. Sir Christian, he had misjudged shamefully. He had heard the talk and assumed it was true, he hadn't even tried to get to know him for Elizabeth's sake. Darcy felt very ashamed, but also angry at Ash for some inexplicable reason. Ash always was in control, and always seemed to be able to suss out the truth about a person. It was a quality Darcy had always lacked, and envied his more lively cousin for possessing it.

Harriet, sighed as she looked down at the mail that had just arrived, sighing she read it for the what seemed to be the hundredth time.

I am safe. I am well. I shall return. Do not fret. Prepare Andrew and Bonnie for the inevitable. Speak to Richard if you can.

Give my love to Horrie, and the Colonel. To Kitty and Lizzy, and Anne. To Darcy, and Andrew and Bonnie.

Please tell Richard I hold nothing against him. I'm having a lovely sojourn, I only wish my light was here beside me, to make everything less dark.

Ever Affectionately,

Edwin.

* Percy Bysshe Shelley dedication of Queen Mab: A Philosophical Poem 1813.

Lady Marcross, patted Kitty affectionately on the knee.

"Yes the letter she received cheered her up immensely although there was no address, the only thing is that dear Lord Matlock obviously has no idea that his brother has gone looking for him!"

Kitty nodded, a little bewildered she had gone to visit her Mother-in-law and ended up being entertained by Lady Marcross for an hour.

"Well lets see, it' nearing the end of April, oohh only 4 months until a very desirable event! Ooooh you must be excited. I remember the time before Dear Rawdon was delivered to me..."

Lady Marcross launched off into a monologue about the virtues of her dear only son, Rawdon. Kitty tuned somewhat out, until a chance remark drew her attention.

"............isn't it so good that no one was hurt in that duel this morning, I was Quite relieved to hear about it.......Rawdon you know would never do such a thing, well maybe in high spirits, but not to hurt his dear Mama, or anyone else for that matter....."

How on earth did she know, already? Kitty was frankly amazed, she had heard about it early this morning when Ash returned from what he called a celebratory breakfast. And here it was 4 in the afternoon and Lady Marcross had apparently heard all about it.

Kitty decided it was time she learnt a thing or too about Lady Marcross' methods.

Mary paced, she had been pacing up and down the drawing room all morning long, she had slipped out of bed, as soon as she heard Sir Christian leave and had begun her pacing. At first the paces were of worry, she tried to grasp why she should be worrying about a husband she only married for security. She tried not to think of the lazy little smile, or the flashing eyes, or the sandy hair that was forever in his eyes. She also tried not to think of the provoking way that he couldn't keep his feet off furniture. Then her pacing turned to anger, she received a short note from Ash.

"Dear Mary,

Just a short note to tell you that nothing untoward happened at the duel, Sir Christian and Andrew have decided to visit Bullock's Museum.

Yours Sincerely

Lord Ashbourne. "

Now Mary was less then impressed, why hadn't he come home straight away to assure her he was fine. That was what a husband was supposed to do, some home and reassure her that he was not dead. He wasn't supposed to gallivant off to Bullock's Museum.

So Mary was consigned to pacing up and down the drawing room, refusing all offers of food or drink. She had even tried reading while pacing, but reading mind improving literature, was very hard, when your mind was concentrated on any sound that might hint the Master of the house was at home. Suddenly she heard the door slam and the footmen downstairs spring into action. She raced to the Drawing Room door, wrenched it open and practically flung herself down the narrow flight of stairs.

She heard the butler and his measured tones; "Sir, it is a pleasure to see you, my lady is awaiting your return in the drawing room.". Sir Christian had evidently been following his servants advice for he had one foot laid on the stairs, by the time Mary reached him.

She had been intending a graceful stop, a haughty mien, and a frosty question. However fate intervened, she put her foot onto her dress, started to slid down the last few steps and ended up flinging herself into Sir Christian's arms......his very strong arms....No .....Fordyce, Mr Collins, think moral thoughts Mary. Though chanting to think of Mr Collins, was not at all appealing, she tried to think of some other eminently suitable clergyman and failed. Mary almost turned red when on her peripheral vision she saw the hasty retreat of the butler and the footmen.

"Er - I slipped." She said trying to right herself, but finding herself unable to do so. Suddenly a hand slipped under her knees and Mary suddenly found herself being carried up the staircase.

Wait a minute this isn't how it is supposed to go! I'm not happy with you, you are a dreadful person, who participates in duels and makes me worry. You have no sensitivity or compassion for myself or anyone else besides yourself. But somehow the words stuck in Mary's throat.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was accompanying his cousin on a walk....nay stalk around Hyde Park. Darcy did not appear to be in the best of moods, he didn't wish to go home and make Elizabeth suffer his bad mood, so he was instead subjecting most of the London Ton to it.

The Colonel was becoming quite sick of smiling at offended Dowagers, and smoothing over their ruffled feathers, he was thinking of quite seriously passing off Darcy's behaviour as a acute onset of Myopia.

However he suddenly saw something that made him clutch at his cousin's arm and was making him wonder whether HE was becoming terribly Short sighted. A high- perched phaeton, had swung into the park, driven quite remarkably by Halstead's Greys...magnificent creatures. However that surprising wasn't what had attracted The colonel's attention. The lady driving the phaeton, had such an air, in a fawn riding dress, with a magnificent hat and a neatly attired groom. The Colonel was in shock.

"Anne......................." The Colonel tugged at Darcy's sleeve.

"That is ANNE up there isn't it??" he practically hissed.

Darcy finally took notice of the newcomer who was dashing around the park, with her head high in the air.

"That is REALLY all we need!" snorted Darcy, who turned on his heel and stalked down the path.

The Colonel was quite in a quandary. He needed to save one cousin from himself, and he was quite taken up in admiration of his other cousin....who knew she could drive like that...and handle Halstead's greys...what a woman.

The Colonel was quite....quite.....struck...almost in danger of tripping over his mouth. But suddenly the vision blurred, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him down the path...it was quite hard going, as the Colonel's brain hadn't really got around to sending any signals to any part of his body (except the part that turned the drooling on.)

Chapter 29

Posted on Friday, 23 June 2000, at 8 : 19 a.m.

Harry felt very nervous as he ate his breakfast. Breakfast was not normally a meal that invoked any particular emotion in Harry's mind, but this particular breakfast was harrowing. He had received the night before a letter, nay a summons that was particularly frightening for Harry. Not only was the nature of the letter, rather mysterious and confusing, the idea that he would have to conceal it from his family was another thing. For there was no way he was telling his family what arrived from a footman. (indeed it was very surprising that they hadn't been apprised of it's arrival already). It was too confusing and he would never hear the end of it. I mean had he actually met the Duke? Wait yes he had, he had gone to the little card party they had held......he had thought that was a bit funny...but he had hardly exchanges upward of 10 words with his grace. What on earth did it mean?

He was quite thankful that his father had gone out early and that his mother and sister had not arose yet. It gave him a chance to peruse the note once again. He slowly unfolded it and was astonished again by the very distinctive looking, and even regal, crest.

Dear Mr Stapleton,

I am writing to request your presence, at your convenience, at 1 St James Square. I am very desirous of speaking to you at the earliest appropriate moment on a matter that cannot be delayed for much longer. Although I shall be definitely at home at 11 o'clock on the morrow, if this time should be acceptable to you. Any documents pertaining to your education, formal or informal, will also be a great asset, and I am amendable to being shown them when you call.

Yours Etc.

The Duke of Whitfield.

Harry heard a noise on the stair, so he hastily crumpled up the note and stuffed it in his coat.

Victoria sailed into the room, and plunked herself down in the chair opposite Harry. Harry smiled wanly at her. Next his Mother moved into the room and considerably brightened on seeing Harry.

"Ah Harry, I am most put out, Aunt Jane has had the indecency to fall ill, right when I was going to accompany dear Vicky to the markets, to purchase some nice new fabric. We can't having her looking like a dowd, if any of the dear Fitzwilliams call. But as you are here, I am sure you shall take her."

"Yes Harry! Please take me! You can tell me what colours, dear Andrew prefers? And is it true that he was brave enough to fight a duel?"

"I'm sorry Mother, Vicky, I am obliged to go out this morning....i would take you at any other time, but I must be somewhere -"

"Harry! I want new Ribbons! I want a new Dress! " I WANT TO GO TO BRIGHTON.....Ooops wrong annoying little sister. You get the Picture I am SURE.

Harry wondered how he was going to extricate himself from this one, for he noticed his mother's narrowed eyes. And he couldn't very well say, I'm going to visit a Duke, for she probably wouldn't believe him and if she did, she'd insist on coming so that she could boast to everyone about how she was bosom-friends to a Duke.

"What exactly have you do to this Morning, Henry?" asked Mrs Stapleton, calmly buttering some toast.

She used Henry instead of Harry, gulp, ahhhhh "Andrew, I promised Andrew and......Lord Ashbourne.......yes I promised Lord Ashbourne that I would go and .....ah....read to .......Lady Ashbourne.......no not read......listen......to her......music.........Bonnie! No I mean Miss Fitzwilliam...I am helping them arrange a pianoforte."

Yesss....that's what I meant. Harry gave an unconvincing smile. One of the new maids, very fortunately took the time to drop a tea service, causing such a ruckus that Harry had the chance to flee.

Kitty sighed, she was taking her prescribed afternoon rest, and felt as though given a prison sentence.

She heard a reassuring step outside her door and smiled. The door swung open, and a person obscured by flowers moved into the room. The flowers were presented to Kitty on one bended knee, and were moved aside to reveal a laughing countenance.

"So how long until you are released?" Ash smiled jokingly.

"Four Months...."

"You are going to be stuck on this couch for four months.....isn't that rather generous for an afternoon nap?"

Kitty laughed, "Is that what you meant? Well I think a few more minutes will suffice.!:"

Kitty watched as Ash unceremoniously dumped the flowers in a convenient vase.

"Oh Ash, was Richard still waiting for you?"

Ash turned with a puzzled look on his face, "Richard?"

"Yes he called for you while you were out, but Mrs Roberts wouldn't allow me to move even an inch from this couch to receive him. She made him wait downstairs."

"Well he wasn't down there when I arrived....no matter, he will call back if it was important. Well I'm going to have a bath."

Ash perched on the edge of the couch and ran his hands through Kitty's hair, and squeezed her chin. "Now don't go away....you hear?"

Ash strode away into his adjourning bed chamber. A few Seconds later Kitty heard a muffled. "Oh my God."

In complete defiance of doctor's orders, Kitty moved off the couch, in record time.....for a 5 month pregnant women of course.

Once Ash got over his shock...he dissolved into a heap on the floor, a writhing heap of laughing. Kitty made it to the door, and was struck dumb in the doorway. Finally Ash recovered.

"What on EARTH are you doing Richard?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam, was sitting in Ash's Bath, in what looked to be cold water...fully dressed sans boots and coat.

Ash realised that Kitty was still standing in the door way mouth agape, looking as though she was about to have a fit of hysteria. Ash shepherded her back into her own chambers, strictly telling her to lie down. AS soon as he closed the door, he heard repressed giggles.

"Now Richard I know "Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen. "* But I insist upon being answered!"

His brother looked up at him and uttered one word that appeared to answer the question...to him maybe but it left Ash just as much in the dark.

"Anne...."

"Oh....." Ash looked for somewhere to sit in his dressing room. "Well I wish to have a bath, and I'm not taking one while you are still in there."

"Have you no compassion!" cried Col Fitzwilliam.

"I might if I had the -ah- pleasure of understanding you."

"Anne...I saw her yesterday...riding behind.....no driving Halstead's greys.....magnificent animals....she looked so becoming."

"Oh....well there is nothing for it...you'll have to propose!" smiled Ash.

"Oh no...it's only lust.....I mean it's ANNE for crying out loud....one cannot be in love with Anne. Think of Lady Catherine...she'd be my mother in law....she has been trying to snag me for months......Anne that is.......oh but one cannot be in love with Anne. "

"You can't choose who you fall in love with Richard!"

"Well you can try damned hard.!" Exclaimed the Colonel, pulling himself out of the cold bath, grabbing his boots and coat and stalking out the room. Ash raised one eye brow and slowly divested himself of his coat.

Col Fitzwilliam walking back into the room, still dripping.

"You wouldn't happen to have some dry clothes would you?"

* Chap. iv. 1776. Samuel Johnson. 1709-1784

Richard Fitzwilliam, sighed as he departed the post inn. He had been searching the countryside for his brother for a little over 2 weeks. Richard had travelled to all the places that he thought Edwin could conceivably wish to go to. Any place that may have had significance to Edwin in the past. He had drawn a blank at all places. Richard climbed into the chaise and set off once more.

The chaise swayed gently and Richard was buffeted against the side of the carriage. Richard tried desperately to think of where Edwin could be. He wished for about the thousandth time since he left London that he had tried to get to know his brother better in the short time they had had to together.

Richard stretched himself out in the confined space and started to nod off.

A young man of about 19 years of age, brownish hair scrambled down a river bank, followed by a little blond boy of age about five. The older boy was carrying fishing rods. Both slid into sitting positions. The little boy, pulled off his boots and dangled his feet in the river.

"Be careful the fish don't bite your toes, mistaking them for little worms!" laughed the older boy, baiting his hook.

"My feet aren't Wormy!" exclaimed the boy, who when talking displayed a charming smile, devoid of either front tooth.

"Course not!" smiled the youth ruffling his smaller companion's hair.

"Do you like it at Oxford?" asked the boy, tired of fishing, now just swirling a stick around in the water, entranced by the pretty patterns he achieved.

"Yes, of course I do."

"What would you do if you did not like it? Would you run away?" cried the little boy, now almost up to his thighs in the murky water.

"Yes I would, and I would get further then the stables!" smiled the older boy, remembering his mother's letter about his little brother's escapades.

" 's not my fault! Thunder wouldn't stand still!"

"As if you could control Thunder!" scoffed the older boy, with a smile dancing in his eyes.

"I could! Where would you go?"

"Where would I go? I'd go somewhere completely devoid of interest somewhere where no one would think I should be, simply because it is the most tedious contemptuous place on the face of the earth.....Somewhere like .....Harrowgate!"

The chaise jerked, and Richard sat bolt upright. He rapped on the roof and shouted to the driver.

"There is a change of Plan....WE are bound for Harrowgate...as fast as we can possibly go."

Andrew stretched his feet out at Whites and almost tripped a young man. A rather dashing looking young man, with Black hair, that Andrew was most envious of, they curled and lay in a fashionable dishevelled appearance but looked completely natural.

"Sorry." said Andrew. Instead of uttering a reproof the young man turned and gave a beaming smile. Andrew perceived that he was about his own age and grinned back.

The young man, relaxed back into a chair and then stuck out his hand in a friendly way and said, "Rawdon Stanton...pleased to make your acquaintance"

Andrew took the hand and shook it. "Andrew Fitzwilliam...likewise."

"There isn't really much to do around here is there?" drawled Rawdon.

"Well there is gaming...and placing bets .... And such like." Replied Andrew.

"Lord I can't do that here. Father would have my skin, though daresay mother would bail me out. "

Andrew raised a quizzical eye at his new acquaintance.

"Lord Marcross....m'father. Damned Loose Fish in My opinion. Never goes out, but seems to know everything...very inconvenient...... Though not in the good books anyway...been Sent down. Who are your parents?"

"My father, is Mr Fitzwilliam and my mother has been gone these fifteen years, thereabouts. Though my father is out of town at the moment, staying with a cousin."

"Cousin?"

"Lord Ashbourne."

"oooh Damned pity. Kept on a tight rein?"

"Not particularly........." replied Andrew, thinking about it. Ash seemed way more interested in the state of Kitty's Health...which of course was totally understandable.

"Good!" smiled Rawdon.

The two gentlemen talked away quite rapidly.

Sir Christian practically bounded into Whites. He could not have been happier, suddenly his life seemed Bright. The sun was shining, the birds were singing. It was going to be a beautiful day.

He had organised to have lunch with his friends and then he was going straight back home....ahhh home...it wasn't just a household any more it was a home.

Anyone observing Sir Christian at this moment probably thought it was most likely still suffering the effects of a rather convivial party. He looked as though he could walk on water. He felt like he was on clouds.

Suddenly he heard himself being hailed, and turned to see Andrew and his cousin Rawdon.

"Rawdy! Sent down again!" laughed Sir Christian. Practically skipping over to the gentlemen.

"Course I was....following your example coz!"

"Of course you are of course you are! Well you'd do worse then to follow my footsteps!" Yes you will end up SO happy if you do that.

Andrew looked rather wary of Sir Christian. But he soon put his fears to rest.

"Don't look like that Andrew didn't we agree to bury the hatchet!" I mean our duel did have it's positive effects......

This statement then required an explanation, which caused Rawdon to go off into peals of rather disruptive laughter. A trait he shared with his mother.

Sir Christian, started to take his leave, still practically skipping when his cousin called out after him.

"What's the password for that place in Pall Mall."

That place in Pall Mall, only meant one thing to Sir Christian, a high-stake gaming hell, but this naturally didn't completely register on Sir Christian's mind, when he called out.

"My mother likes London in the Springtime!"

Then Sir Christian waltzed away, merry as punch.

Bonnie, laughed at the numerous hats that Sophy had tried on in the last hour. Kitty was spending more and more time resting. And Sophy and Bonnie had taken an strong liking to one another. They were spending quite a large proportion of time together.

They had found that their favourite pastime was trying on hats, and then purposely not buying any. IT was unusually fun, and saved a lot of money. However every so often Sophy felt guilty and bought something. Something that was usually so hideous that she would give to Bonnie. Bonnie would give it to Kitty, who was remarkably bored, Kitty would make something stunning out of it. The new hat, would look way to old for Bonnie, so she would give it back to Sophy.

It was a cycle.

Anne was lying up on a couch, by a blazing fire, reading a novel (yes from shock horror a circulating library). She was so happy. It had taken all her presence of mind, yesterday to pretend not to see her dear Colonel. Anne was so sure that he was noticing her at last.

Anne was so, so much in love. More in love then any of the characters in her novel. She was sure, that at that moment Richard had felt the same way about her.

Anne flicked through the novel a bit, sighing. Then she remembered Kitty's comment about a novel being integral to her courtship of Ash. Anne mused, over what Kitty could possibly mean about that.

Anne was so excited about seeing the Colonel again, she had lain out her favourite outfit and was determined not to appear to happy, or pleased, but not to appear cold.

He can't be impervious to my charms surely. Anne readjusted the blanket, Mrs Jenkinson thoughtful provided and tried to concentrate on her book, but images of handsome officers kept pushing into her brain.

Chapter 30

Posted on Sunday, 25 June 2000, at 7 : 30 a.m.

Mary was singing. She was very happy. This happiness rubbed off on her singing and her singing was actually bearable to listen to, even pleasurable. This was a very good thing for the staff in Clarges street, They had had to listen to the happiness for at least the entire morning.

Mary had decided to do some clearing out of her wardrobe and drawers.

She had piles of clothes, scattered around the room. She was humming quite happily. Mary hadn't ever felt this needed in a very long time.

The dresses were sorted, most of the linen was too....except for the handkerchiefs.

Uggh too lacy........way to plain.....who on earth put this much starch in this one. Mary fondly touched one that she remembered Lizzy sewing for her, and here was one Jane did, A very rough one that Mary still remembers a little Kitty slaving over.

E.S............................E .S Mary turned pale as she turned the handkerchief over in her hands.....she had completely forgotten about this, in the whole disruption of Lord Matlock's disappearance. How could she have forgotten it. Was everything that happened since that a lie? Was her current happiness based on a fraud...a misconception.

Mary slid to the ground and started to cry.

Harry looked up with some trepidation at the huge house that occupied a large expanse in St James Square. Harry did a quick inventory, pantaloons - check!
Coat - check! Cane - Check! Hat - check! Papers - check! Letter - check! Brains -......................check! Nerve - uh run away!

Harry gulped and rapped on the door, which was almost at once flung open by a porter, who ushered Harry inside.

Harry opened his mouth....and nothing came out. Instead a sort of wheezing sound was emitted. The porter raised his eye-brow at him.

"His Grace the Duke of Whitfield...please." Harry managed to blurt out.

"May I say whose calling, sir?" asked the porter in a dignified manner.

"Mr Stapleton."

Suddenly a large and daunting presence made itself felt in the hall, it was the..........Butler. The Butler, whose name was by the way Walter Walter (his mother had a bit of a mix up when it came to naming him...he does not like to have it spoken of) smiled most graciously at Harry. Harry didn't like that gracious smile.

"If you would come this way to the small study sir."

Harry raced off, after Walter Walter striding steps and was quite breathless when he arrived. The room was fairly open and bright, but it would have been made all the more pleasant if the stacks of books and papers that practically covered every available horizontal space, were more tidy or indeed not there!. Harry was quite perplexed as to the reason behind his being brought to such a room, that he did not notice Walter Walter leave, or the Duke enter.

All he felt was a hand descend on his shoulder which caused him to jump a mile in the air.

"Ah there you are! Harry....i may call you Harry mayn't I?"

"Yes your grace.....if it pleases your grace..." stammered Harry. Now quite wishing he HAD run away.

Harry retrieved the papers he had in his coat and proffered them to the Duke. Who took them and peered at them with his quizzing glass. Then promptly put them down on a pile of paper.

"Ah well that seems all in order.....so when do you want to start?"

"Start your grace?" queried Harry starting to be a little more then confused.

"Of course.............don't you want a leg up into the political sphere, make a name of yourself that sort of thing?"

"Yes your grace....That was my ideal choice of profession....but...."

"Well now, as my secretary it shall give you a bit of a start and some experience."

"Your SECRETARY!" almost shouted Harry, wheeling around, suddenly feeling as if the floor had dropped from beneath him.

"Of course....and you can start by cleaning up this room... I've never employed a secretary before and my father didn't employ one after his most trusted one went off to be married."

The Duke noticed Harry's shocked expression.

"Didn't Lady Ashbourne mention this to you?"

"No your grace she didn't...." whispered Harry.

"Oh well....I most hope you want to be my secretary." The Duke looked around for the papers that Harry had given him. "Indeed you are going to have to clear up this mess anyway if you want your papers back, they seemed to have lost themself among this slight mess."

The Duke patted Harry on the shoulder, and asked him his answer. Of course Harry said yes, this was a big, big step up, towards something he would no he would be good at.

Then Harry was left alone with the piles of piles of paper.........but that didn't stop him doing a little dance of joy and giving a little war-cry.

For Harry was the sort of tactful person, quiet unassuming.....the type you should never underestimate. He was quite perfect to be a secretary and was well quite destined to become, well not a jewel in the parliamentary crown but a very necessary and dependable piece of framework....a cog you may say.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, shook his still wet hair and surveyed himself. He looked ridiculous if he did say so himself. Ash was built on slightly larger proportions to himself, so the pantaloons, didn't cling, and the shirt was a bit too large, so the Colonel's own coat (which wasn't wet) looked ridiculous over it. Forcing him into one of Ash's coats. So The Colonel gave the impression of having shrunk slightly, the clothes sort of hung off his frame.

The Colonel thought he heard the sound of running feet. He shook his head a bit and the sound died down a bit

But not for much longer, for around the corner came TabbiW waving a large stick shouting * Oh Colonel Yummy! I've finally found you. My My those clothes are too large let me help you out of them* TabbiW was followed by the rest of the illustrious Chasing Fitzwilliam brigade. Who practically jumped upon the Poor Colonel, tearing bits of expensive clothes. The only coherent thought the Colonel could have was *Ash is going to kill me they are his clothes* Suddenly the Authoress gets a hold of herself, stops hunting For Carey Elwes in the closets and screams *OUT DAMNED SPOT OUT!* which roughly translated means Out of my story now! Shemmelle grumbles as she closes the door on the shooed gaggle of girls, thinking to herself. Tabbi better write more of Chasing Fitzwilliam those girls are getting feisty. So Back to the regularly scheduled program.

The Colonel jumped around, breathlessly. There was no one there, what a strange day dream he thought. It all came back to Anne of course.

The Colonel sighed and strode out the door, into Ash's dressing-room. Where Ash was still in the bath. Ash looked dangerously close to throwing the soap at The Colonel, between trying not to laugh at his attire. That the Colonel raced back into the bedroom, and thence into Kitty's boudoir, were she sat receiving The Duchess of Whitfield. Both ladies, stifled giggles at seeing The colonel, that he promptly left and took off down the stairs, to hide in Ash's library. He almost ran straight into Anne.

"Don't say a word! Don't laugh, Don't Smirk....Don't say Anything." He hissed in a rather haughty distant voice and ran into the library.

Kitty had just been relating the 'Wet Colonel' episode to Sophy when the Colonel himself entered, both ladies were hard pressed not to laugh.

"Gracious......I'd be dying of mortification if I were he!" cried Sophy once the Colonel had vacated the room.

"You would not!" retorted Kitty, still repressing giggles.

"No I daresay I wouldn't be! Anyway it was not about saturated military men, that I came to speak to you about. Dear Spencer has been brought to heel, and our plan has come to fruition! Harry shall soon have a career!"

Kitty sat up and looked at Sophy, who was clapping her hands together. Kitty pulled on a rope.

"This calls for refreshment!"

The door swung open, admitting Anne who did not look in the least happy.

"Of all the insufferable, conceited, ridiculous notions!" she exclaimed hotly. "To have the effrontery to even think I would wish to speak about him, to think I could laugh at him."

Anne gave a little growl and sat down.

"Oh you poor thing! Men are such beasts are they not! ....excepting dear Spencer.!" Cried Sophy loudly.

"What about dear Ash.???" Came a loud male voice.

"Oh of course you too......" cried Sophy back.

Kitty patted Anne on the knee.

"Your plan didn't work?"

"I thought it had worked.......and oooh he is insufferable. Why do I bother?"

"Because you can't choose who you love, unfortunately" smiled Kitty.

Sir Christian, practically bounded up the stairs to Mary's apartments. Mary was sitting curled in an armchair.............reading Fordyce's Sermons, she looked up as he entered, then back down at her book.

Wait a minute thought Sir Christian...this isn't the way it's supposed to go. I went out to Lunch...left happy wife. I was happy. Come home, big hug, everything all right. Come home...don't get big hug, everything doesn't seem right.

"Mary......."

"Sir." she said coldly.

Ah something is definitely wrong...am I late....no I'm actually early, I cut lunch off rather quickly.

Sir Christian tentatively sat on the end of the bed. "Well.............."

"Yes sir, is there something you wish to say to me? What can I do for you?" queried Mary. There was something in her eyes, that Sir Christian couldn't quite discern. Anger? No..... Disappointment....No not really? Timidness....definitely not. Sir Christian could not for the life of him pick it. He only hoped he could work out what it was before too late, instead he took refuge in a quote.

" Only to tell you m'dear that "The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain." * "

This seemed to strike a chord, for Mary gave a strangled gulp and ran from the room. So that was what that look was...Pain....but Pain over what??

* Lord Byron

Part 31

Posted on Monday, 3 July 2000, at 6 : 51 a.m.

Andrew looked rather scared, he was currently sitting in a discreet establishment off Pall Mall with his new boon-companion Rawdon Stanton. Rawdon appeared to be taking it all in his stride.

"You see of course why I prefer to visit such establishments as these!" said Rawdon.

Andrew nodded, though he really did not see at all why Rawdon would like to patronise such establishments.

"It is such a comfort to visit somewhere where I can be assured of not meeting any of my fathers cronies..............nay I really should say spies. You realise that one of his bosom-bows was actually UP at Oxford, and managed to persuade my father that my being sent down was actually my own fault...insufferable, at least I shall meet none of them here. "

Andrew nodded, to this rant, of a young man, obviously saddled, with a very insupportable father, with even more insupportable friends.

Rawdon broke off into a smile, when a tall gentlemen gracefully moved their way. Rawdon, stood up to grasp his hand.

"Andrew may I present my friend Lord Brunstein? Ernst, this is Mr Fitzwilliam."

The gentleman bowed, and took a seat.

"Andrew Fitzwilliam? Any Relation to the Matlock Fitzwilliams?" Brunstein said lazily, twirling a quizzing glass.

"Lord Matlock is my uncle, my lord." Answered Andrew, not really taking a liking to him, and thinking his questioning most improper.

"oh then you must be Ashbourne's cousin?"

"Yes that is right." Replied Andrew rather tersely.

"Yes Andrew, is staying with them while his father is out of town, isn't that right Andrew?" interjected Rawdon.

"Really, your father is out of town?" queried Brunstein, Andrew was quite sure he saw a glint of something in his eyes, a sort of flash, like Brunstein had suddenly got an idea.

"So you would have had many opportunity's to survey your charming new cousin?"

"charming new cousin?" repeated Andrew blankly.

"The new Viscountess Ashbourne."

"oh, Kitty, well yes I suppose I have. " replied Andrew a little bewildered.

Rawdon sat up at this, "A wife? I didn't know that Lord Ashbourne had married? Gracious...what is she like?"

"Oh tolerable." Laughed Lord Brunstein. Andrew bristled at this slighting remark, but then remembered that he had previously called Kitty charming, so he surmised that Brunstein must be laughing at Rawdon.

Lord Brunstein appeared to notice Andrew's turn of countenance and gave a short laugh.

"Rawdy, I do believe your friend dislikes me! Though I admit we have started out on the wrong foot, I do hope you can persuade him into forgiving my curst manners and appearance, for I am sure I don't mean to give offence."

Rawdon, looked at Andrew, and Andrew decided he could forget his first impressions and give this Lord Brunstein another chance.

"Ah thankyou, dear friend, now shall we play some Hazard? Or Faro? or some convivial piquet?" laughed Lord Brunstein.

Lady Catherine, swept through the passages of Matlock House, on her way to Harriet's room. Harriet had specifically requested her presence, something that Lady Catherine was not at all used to, no one usually specifically required her, she just turned up.
So Lady Catherine, upon entering Harriet's chambers, was rather less forthright then she usually was. Harriet was sitting upon a sofa with a letter in her hand.

"Catherine, I have had a letter from Edwin, for some time now, but I am not at all sure what to do about it's contents. You see there is something about Grace's ascendants that you do not know. In fact not very many people know at all. But Edwin has asked me in some way to prepare Andrew and Bonnie, for the revelation, for apparently Richard knows all. But I am getting ahead of myself, for you do not know what I speak of."

"You are mistaken, I am in possession of the facts of the matter." Replied Lady Catherine.

Harriet looked up, "Since when?"

"Since the arrival of Grace into the household."

"How? who told you?"

"No body told me!" replied Lady Catherine haughtily, "I do have powers of observation!"

"Well, then you shall be able to help me, what is to be done?"

"Nothing at all, if it comes out it will come out, and as neither Richard nor Edwin are presently in London, I don't think the family needs to be burdened with such trifling news."

"Trifling news? It shall create a scandal if it ever comes out!"

"A scandal? A story which has it's conception within the generation above ours?"

"You could hardly say it was a generation above ours!"

"Fine, within our generation then!"

"I must say you are remarkably calm about this! Where is the 'Are the shades of Matlock to be thus polluted.' "

Lady Catherine turned her head to one side. "I was...........am very attached to Grace and now to her memory, just as much as I respected her father, and his subsequent actions. The shades of Matlock cannot be polluted, by such forces. "

"Yet the shades of Matlock and Pemberley were polluted by Bennets!"

"The youngest of whom eloped with a known profligate!"

"Obviously much worse then what we harboured within our own family."

Lady Catherine snorted. "You think it would have been better for Edwin not to accept his friends charge?"

Harriet sighed. "Stop twisting my words Catherine, I am in no humour for it, I loved her so very dearly.......she died so young......" Harriet indulged in a slight sob.

"And yet you want to sully her memory, by raking at something that should have been long dead? Well it shall not be, Harriet, I forbid you to say anything to anyone!"

"This is only because it involves Richard! You would do anything to protect him, and it is HE who wants to unearth all the family secrets."

"Well Richard shall not sully the name of either our family...........or the other one. I am most put out, Harriet!"

Lady Catherine took perfunctory leave of her sister-in-law and stormed out of the house, she decided to go and see Anne. She called for a carriage and was very soon on her way. Lady Catherine, was most put out, she had been discovered in a moment of hypocrisy, she could not stand the Bennets and their low connections and the idea of being connected to such a person as Wickham, by elopement!!. But was quite unperturbed by the fact that they, the Fitzwilliam's had accepted into their household a child who was not from a wedded union. Lady Catherine though could think of a thousand reasons to pardon, the actions of a respected family friend , but could think of none to pardon the actions of a very young heedless girl, and her family who had no connections. Lady Catherine had never suffered such thoughts, it was very hard upon her to realise everyone had skeletons in the closet. It even hurt her even, more to lie to her sister-in-law, someone had told her of the circumstances of Grace's birth it had been Grace's father. She remembered him even now, clasping her hand and saying chilling words, 'I wish to god I hadn't married Heloise, for I couldn't give Amy the one thing I desperately wanted to, my name. " Lady Catherine shook the feelings away, she had had of course a very childish crush on the very personable young man 16 years her senior.

When she had been just 17, he had come on a prolonged stay to Matlock close, to assist Edwin in the managing of the estate as their father had just died. Lady Catherine, of course missed her papa dreadfully and had clung to the thirty-four year old man who was a father himself. Lady Catherine, as you might have guessed, was not a very missish sort of young lady, she was forthright and acted much beyond her years. So much so, that the man in question, Matthew, was quite astonished to find himself divulging his secret to her.

"Do you love Sarah?" asked Lady Catherine.

"Of course I love Sarah! I married her didn't I!" replied Matthew.

"You didn't love Heloise and you married her!" retorted Lady Catherine.

"No I didn't love Heloise, but I was young, and the marriage was arranged.....how she contrived to make everything unbearable...no I shall not speak ill of the dead, but I love Sarah so very dearly. I thought I should never ever love anyone but Amy, but Sarah has won my heart........if only it wasn't for..." Matthew subsided into a brooding silence.

"I've known you ever since I was born, and I think you are acting very stupidly."

"Stupidly! For not knowing what to do? I have a son, who I love dearly, but I also have a daughter, who propriety won't allow me to know, or help. And I can't and shan't cause a scandal for either my wife or my son."

"Then make your daughter an orphan!" exclaimed Lady Catherine.

Matthew rounded on her, and was about to offer a sharp retort, when Lady Catherine clamped a hand on his and bade him to be quiet.

"I don't mean you to put a bullet in your head, I mean make Grace an orphan, entrust to her some fortune, make yourself her guardian, and you can see her as often as you like and launch her into society. No breath of scandal shall attach itself to her."

"It would, she looks very much like me, well she did last time I contrived to see her."

"Where is she?"

"An old nurse of Amy's has charge of her. She despises me, for everything of course."

"The nurse? Whatever for?"

"Leading Amy astray, which I know I did, it was a selfish foolish act, something that cost her, her life, and I shall never forgive myself for."

"What does Grace think she is?"

"An orphan, known as Grace de Winter. You see I too had the idea, it would be better for her to be an orphan, and she is practically one."

"Matthew, why don't you put her into the care of us? Edwin I mean. She is only nine isn't she?"

"What with you all in mourning?"

"Well Eddy would do anything for you, you know that, he loves you too much, and I daresay he knows all about this."

"Of course he does, he has helped me before."

"Then he won't refuse to help now. Mama I'm sure will not refuse either, she will not be shocked, I'm sure. Matthew, it is the perfect solution, you can see her as often as you like, and we will launch her into the ton and everything shall come about fine, you shall see."

So that is how it was. Grace de Winter, was removed from the Nurse's secluded home at the age of nine, and placed in the Fitzwilliam household. And if by some chance a childish memory told her it was the older gentleman who had previously visited her, that was her guardian, and not Lord Matlock, she disregarded it and played with her toys.

Lady Catherine tore her eyes away from the window of the carriage, she hadn't thought about it in years, it was she who had introduced Grace into the household, an idea that had it's foundation in a girlish impulse to impress and earn the respect of an old family friend who was much like a demi-god, to a young lady. It was she who had ultimately created the situation which had reft a brother from his family, and a daughter from her father. Matthew had never really forgiven Edwin for not taking better care of Grace, and it was only on his death bed, two years previously that they had healed the breech.

No, Lady Catherine, did not need these painful reminders raked up for her, by her kind sister-in-law. Even though she was sure that Matthew had not ever mentioned that the idea of planting Grace in their home had not been his own idea. Only Lady Catherine, knew that it was her who had 'polluted the shades of Matlock.' And it was only her who could take the blame for the consequences.

Mary tried very unsuccessfully to control herself. It was hopeless, she had for such a small time thought that she was appreciated. Now she realised that if indeed she was appreciated, she wasn't the only appreciated one. Something Mary vowed she would not submit to again. She was not appreciated at home, or if she was it was a shared appreciation, the Bennet girls, such fine young ladies. She was never appreciated on her own merit.

So Mary composed a little note :

Sir,

I discovered this handkerchief, I am sure that you know the owner and can return it to her.

Mary left it with the handkerchief, on Sir Christians desk. She awaited the results.

Part 32

Posted on Thursday, 6 July 2000, at 9 : 20 a.m.

Sir Christian, sat down, exhausted at his desk. He had just spent a very exhausting day. He had gone down to Jackson's Boxing Saloon, and tried to engage any person in a sparing match, but no one would take him up on the offer as Sir Christian looked as though he was above to punch a hole in the wall. He had got increasingly madder as the day wore on, and was very glad to see, two of his brother-in-law's enter the Saloon. Darcy had simply glared at him, but Ash decided to have a go with him.

It had just made Sir Christian madder, how could such a lazy looking fellow like Ash, be so damnably good. So Sir Christian had stalked off somewhere else, down to Manton's gallery to shoot holes in bits of wafer.

It wasn't too long before a lazy drawl distracted him and he saw Ash and Darcy looking at him. Even Darcy had somewhat of a smirk on his face. Sir Christian was completely put off his aim, he had never seen Darcy without a grimace on his face, so this smirk put him completely off guard.

Sir Christian resolutely turned his back on them and took aim, but parts of their conversation wafted over to him.

"You see Darce, I know you don't think very highly of our Monty over there, but you must admit he is a man obviously crossed in love, now being not very long ago, in that very position, in fact I do believe you were right where Monty is standing, trying very hard to line up a shot; I do think you could find some compassion for the dear boy. I mean you said that the marriage would be a disaster - doesn't look like a disaster, quite productive actually."

Sir Christian tensed his body and willed his mind to ignore them, he fired, and missed the wafer by miles. Everyone gasped. Sir Christian miss a shot! Impossible!!!

Sir Christian stalked out of Mantons, everywhere he went that day he was followed, Tattersall's the Daffy Club, Whites, Brooks, Boodles, Almacks....everywhere. He was this close to tipping either of his illustrious brother-in-laws a settler. In fact he sat down for some lunch in Limmers when he saw in front of him, a table consisting completely of brother-in-laws now including Bingley. This was obviously the last straw for Sir Christian so he went home.

And was exhausted and sat down at his desk. Mary's note awaited him, he read it, and looked at the handkerchief.

He scrawled a note, and called for a footman. He gave both the note and the handkerchief to the footman, gave him his directions. He dragged himself up the stairs and managed to make it to his bed before he collapsed.

Rawdon, walked into his family's home in Hertford Street and was greeted by the information that his mother was from home and residing in Curzon Street. This didn't appear to at all surprise Rawdon, indeed nothing his mother did ever surprised him. Though Rawdon was a bit surprised that his mother had then, made her presence felt when he first informed his parents of his arrival in London, but that of course was none of Rawdon's business.

After a somewhat terse meeting with his father, Rawdon, decided to quit the household, for fear of throwing his father into a declining rage. And Rawdon didn't really want his father's death on his hands, indeed he didn't wish for his death on any terms. For he was somewhat attached to his irascible parent, not to mention he didn't really wish to become Viscount Marcross quite yet. However his affection for his parent didn't really stretch to the demand Lord Marcross had made that he take up his lodgings in his household again.

On his way out of the house, he ran into a footman, who was desiring something to be left for Lady Marcross. Rawdon took the note and the handkerchief, read the note from his cousin.

Aunt,

You obviously left this at Clarges Street, sometime ago, I return it to you with all due haste.

Your loving nephew, Monty.

Rawdon excused the footman, and said he would deliver it to his mother himself.

Some time later, Rawdon was about to enter the Matlock House in Curzon Street. When he saw Andrew walking up the street towards him. Rawdon was surprised to that Andrew was about to join him in entering Matlock House, when he remembered that the Earl was Andrew's Uncle.

Together they entered the drawing room. Seated were, Lady Marcross and Lady Matlock.

"Rawdy!" cried Lady Marcross and rushed to give Rawdon a big embrace, he was glad of this cause it hid his embarrassment at being called Rawdy. He watched as Lady Matlock, quietly greeted her newphew.

There was a large footstep outside and Lady Catherine De Bourgh swept in. Rawdon had only met this monstrosity once and was quiet glad when she looked at Andrew, gasped and practically ran out of the room.

Rawdon then remembered the handkerchief and gave it to his mother and subsequently wished he hadn't.

"Oh I was wondering where I left this. Look Harriet, one of my handkerchiefs. I am quite passionately fond of these, you know Rawdy. I was ecstatic when I found out by marrying your Papa I would be Erimentha Stanton, there were so many possibilities with those initials, I mean Erimentha Eckleting what sort of name is that!"

Rawdon looked rather ashamed as his mother rambled on and on about really nothing in particular. She didn't seem to be stopping any time soon, so he sat down.

Harry was overwhelmed, it had taken him a day just to sort everything out in the office into a semblance of order, and even that was just an order of what to do. Harry sat down in his chair and felt proud of what was happening. He had a least a foot in the door, as his father would say.

His Father, well he hadn't got around to telling his relations about his employment, there were reasons behind this though. His father wanted him to become a lawyer and well there was no chance of that, he had gone through University quicker then most, they had accepted him at a younger age and well he had spent three years of his life up there and it taught him that Law was not what he wanted. His mother, would be over here every moment of the day just to be at a 'Duke's' house and goodness knows what Vicky would do if she found out.

Harry sighed and started to go through some of the older papers. He opened one of the folders and was quite startled by what he saw. There was a very old miniature, of a very beautiful woman, underneath the picture was a name written in a beautiful fluid hand, that Harry recognised as the late Duke's. Amy. Harry thought that was a very beautiful name and continued to leaf through the documents, a trust fund.........certain amounts of money....Harry started to think he shouldn't be looking at this folder until he unearthed another miniature. A breath-taking woman in her early twenties, who looked exactly like Bonnie, but the name underneath said "Grace.".......Wasn't Bonnie's mother's name Grace? Attached to the miniature was a faded letter sent from overseas.

Papa,

I love you

Grace.

Harry just blinked at the letter and at the folder, in dumb wonderment.

He looked up to see the Dowager Duchess in the doorway. Harry flushed red, he'd be turned off for sure.

"Mr Stapleton, I think we might need to have a little talk, don't you think??"

Richard, finally found his brother drinking the waters at Harrowgate. Richard was shocked to see Edwin, he looked like a farmer. As they approached Richard watched all the Harrowgate Tabbies look at him as if he was a man of Quality and Edwin a poor destitute farmer.

He tapped Edwin on the shoulder, who turned around with such a grimace on his face, that Richard suddenly wondered if coming to find his brother was such a good idea.

"These waters are absolutely disgusting." Exclaimed Edwin proffering a glass to Richard.

"Then why on earth are you drinking it???"

"My gout, isn't that why I've disappeared from London?"

"How on earth did you know that?"

"I have my spies..............didn't know you were looking for me until very recently though." Edwin started to walk away towards some seats, Richard followed.

"Well are we going to talk?" queried Edwin sitting down.

"If you want." Replied Richard.

"You first - " they both blurted out.

Richard decided to leap in. "I wanted to say Edwin, now that I have thought about it, I realise why you didn't say anything, I wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth closed and there would have been this Huge scandal."

"Yes well, scandal was already brewing, she looked much like him and had the Whitfield temper."

"She wasn't even out yet, how could have - "

"House guests, people who saw her aired in the park......rumours were starting to churn. Don't know why we thought it would work."

"why on earth did he even bother!" said Richard rather callously.

"Don't speak about Matthew like that. He loved Amy and Grace....circumstances were appalling. He would have married her if he could have."

"Why didn't he? Oh he was married wasn't he, Heloise something..."

"Yes to Heloise. She died about a year or so after Grace's Birth.........he kept wishing she had died earlier.......then he would be so upset for wishing something like that on someone, even if it was Heloise. She wasn't the nicest of people, lets leave it at that."

"Well, I would have thought that with the circumstances placed as they were that you would have searched for us more, that Matthew would have searched for us more. "

"He couldn't search for you, well obviously anyway, too much scandal, had Spencer and Sarah to think about. And as for me, I knew you didn't want to be found."

"But Grace, she died not knowing ANY of this."

"Who said she didn't know?" replied Edwin wearily.

"What someone told her this???"

"Of course no one told her this, doesn't mean she didn't know. Instinct, women's intuition sometimes people just know."

Richard was in shock, "So that's why!"

"What?"

"That's why she agreed to go to the Continent, save everyone scandal and ensuing mess, out of sight, out of mind." Richard shook his head.

"Well no one needs to know anything now do they? Have you finished being Edwin the farmer?"

"I don't think I can be anything but Edwin the Earl. But at least I can say I tried. What do you say both of us go back to London and have a nice talk all the way home."

"Yes, as long as you don't expect me to drink this." Replied Richard putting the cup of distasteful water on the floor and standing up. A lot of things left unspoken but a lot didn't need to be said.

Sarah, Duchess of Whitfield was looking at her son. She gave a huge deep breathe and began a tale of long ago. She was glad she had that nice boy Harry with her.

Once her tale was over, Spencer just looked shocked.

"So Father had an Affair? How what who was Amy?"

"I explained this, your father married Heloise, as a political alliance for his family, she was by all accounts not quite the thing. Your father met a young gentlewomen by the name of Amy. They fell in love and did something not very wise. Unfortunately her family found out about her 'infatuation' with your father and packed her off to stay with an old nurse, it was a blessing in one sense, no one in her family ever knew she bore him a child, the nurse blamed her death on consumption or something of the like."

"So this Grace, stayed with the Fitzwilliams??? And then ran off to the Continent with Lord Matlock's brother, died giving birth, now Richard Fitzwilliam is back with his two children who are technically my niece and Nephew?"

"Yes, that would be correct."

Spencer got up and started to pace around the room. "Did my father do right by her?............No stupid question of course he did."

"Mother, you must admit this is a rather big issue sprung on us, now. Who else knows??"

"Well Lady Catherine, Harriet, Edwin, Richard........you.....me, and well Harry here."

"How on earth do you know!" exclaimed Spencer shooting a look at Harry whose presence he had not detected before.

Harry handed over the folder of information to Spencer. "I found this cleaning up."

"oh." Replied Spencer, glancing through the contents. "Well he did do an awful lot for her. Did she know..........wait is this her?" asked Spencer pausing at Grace's miniature. "Good god, she looks exactly like...........Miss Fitzwilliam."

"Yes she does doesn't she." Said Sarah fondly. Taking the miniature from Spencer and looking at it.

"One Question mother, if it isn't too personal.........Did Father............"

"Love me? yes he did. It is possible to love two people in one lifetime. She was never far from his mind though, and of course I loved him for it. Such devotion."

"So this is why Lord Matlock and Father hardly ever spoke?"

"Yes your father felt he should have taken more care of her, then when the news arrived that she had died, and then that miniature came. He realised that it was Grace who hadn't wanted to come home, but by then the breach was created, and it wasn't healed until his death. Sad isn't it."

"Very sad........well this should make life interesting around here shouldn't it." said Spencer sitting back on the sofa.

The three occupants in the room were soon lost in thought, one was thinking about the past and of a man she loved deeply, one was thinking about the past and how little he knew of it and how little he had known his father. And the last one was thinking that everything was a tangle of connections and hoped that his friendships would never be broken for such a long time as had been between the Earl and the Duke.

List of Fiascos ~ Sort of an in-between part

Posted on Friday, 21 July 2000, at 8 : 02 a.m.

Author's Note:The upcoming week or two were a great trial to many of our illustrious characters, and the story has gotten so confusing at this point that I think it is time, my friends to sort out some plot lines :) In short I'm doing a Crysty, like what she does in the front of "Bathroom".

I thought quite frankly some quotes are in order I couldn't think of a Theme song. Except quite possible Lenny Kravitz and "Fly away". I want to get away, i want to Fly away.

Edwin returns to London with his brother in tow, or is it the other way around? We shall never know. The situation appeared to be quite grave, many connected person's needed to be told an age old tale. Lord Ashbourne, the Colonel, Darcy, Bonnie, Andrew the list continues. It was not a pleasant task, a severe shock is never very pretty. There were many questions, many of which had no answers. But extraordinarily from all this arose one thing that Bonnie surprisingly insisted on. The Duke of Whitfield was not to publicly own to the connection. It a bit over zealous a protection of reputation to most of the assembled company, but nevertheless Bonnie had made up her mind.

The Handkerchief Fiasco or A good marriage is at least 80 percent good luck in finding the right person at the right time. The rest is trust. Nanette Newman,

Our not so love birds, Mary and Christian, have fulfilled the first part can they fulfil the second? It doesn't look hopeful, especially when Mary is acting like a jealous unreasonable female. Banging crockery, glaring, making veiled comments that fly over the top of Christian's head, Studiously reading Mary Wolstonecraft. *Yippee That woman rubbish's Fordyce, Mary now hates Fordyce as he is from *that* gender* Poor Christian has no idea what is going on. He is very confused, but being proud he is not going to ask for help, especially from any of his brothers-in-law.

The Lady Cat Fiasco or All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That is his. Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

Well Lady Cat had permanently ensconced herself in Curzon Street, nothing would remove her. She had decided that Harriet still needed her, she decided Edwin was still unstable. Truth be known Lady Cat was lonely, sure she had Anne, but what she saw of Anne recently led her to believe Anne wouldn't be with her much longer. So Lady Cat would not be overcome. Everyone gave up and she permanently moved in, of course meaning Anne had to really move it too, so it was a happy families thing.

The Love Fiasco or To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.

There is a saying; two steps forward, one step back. This was the case with Anne and the dear Colonel. Absolutely no change on the Western Front. It was a case of slight avoidance on both sides, but obviously both sides pining for the other.

The Work Fiasco. Or The present is theirs; the future, for which I really worked, is mine. Nikola Tesla

Harry applied himself, diligently, he found the paperwork soothing, it was so routinely mundane. It let him think about the fact that the girl he has fallen in love with is the grand-daughter of a duke and of an earl. While he was the son of a lawyer, a well respected lawyer, but a lawyer nevertheless.

The Gambling Fiasco. Or In time of war the first casualty is truth. Boake Carter

Introduced by both the flagitious Lord Brunstien and the young Mr Rawdon Stanton, into the world of gaming-hells Andrew flourished. He had bad luck, and more bad luck, and then some more bad luck, then he had some good luck which threw him into a long spell of bad luck. We shall not think too badly of Andrew, I will draw your attention to the shocking news he has had to deal with along with the evil intentions of Lord Brunstien, who not only content on fleecing Andrew was going after bigger game also, the impressionable Rawdon, who had the added advantage of already being used to such establishments. However Andrew and Rawdon soon caught on that Lord Brunstein meant no good, and determined to stay away from him. However Lord Brunstein had rather more experience then either of the two young gentlemen and a sort of privately declared war broke out.

Another Love Fiasco. Or We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first.

Rawdon Stanton, while heavily amassing debts is about to fall in love, with a most unsuitable female. Lets just say her husband is not going to be impressed.

A Fiasco of Quite Another Kind. Or A deed without a name. William Shakespeare.

It's always important to discuss the names that you wish to call your baby, before it's birth. Lord Ashbourne decided to have a whim. He has irrevocably decided that his first child will be a girl, (he has decided that girls are the only sensible sex after spending a few weeks in the company of Andrew) and that she will be names thusly: Catherine Frances Anne. Kitty Complained that there were too many Catherines, but Ash would brook no opposition (he was much like his Aunt Catherine in this way - well not really at all :)

The Baby Fiasco. Or I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love. Mother Theresa.

Is the Author insane, why is everyone suddenly getting the baby blues? Why are the elder nee Bennet daughters throwing up? And has there been a saving on the heating bills?

Authors note : I think that covers it. Now the next part will be on with the story :) Feel free to ask any questions about the points that confuse you This is the time, or forever hold your peace.

33

Posted on Friday, 28 July 2000, at 8 : 32 a.m.

The Dress Fiasco. Or A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to want to take it off you. Francoise Sagan.

Georgiana, a possibly much neglected character in this little story, but not for much longer, had some decisions to make about her come-out ball. She had quite given up on the matter, which was no regret to her, due to the fact that she hadn't really liked the idea of a huge ball, where everyone scrutinised her into oblivion. Instead Georgiana decided she would be presented at court, and just *appear* into the ton. Georgiana liked this idea due to the fact when a ball in her honour, occurred, she would feel less like she was being pitch-forked into a melee. Georgiana also managed to get various prominent ton members on her side, by somehow managing to get them to pronounce that considering the various upturns and upheavals (and these ton members didn't know the HALF of it.) a postponement of Georgiana's ball would not be at all unseemly. How Georgiana, the sweet shy individual we all know and love, managed to make everyone see it her way, is a bit of a surprise, even to the Authoress, but Perhaps she had hitherto unseen, persuasive powers. Anyway the only fiasco she had to deal with was choosing a court dress. And getting over her nerves at being presented at court. But She managed.

The pink Calico was hung in wispy strips across the ceiling of the ballroom. It was supposed to inspire the occupants that they had magically found themselves in a fairy wonderland. The young man, who had retreated to the balcony, felt it looked more like he had wandered into a garish, over decorated nightmare, besides it looked more like a tent.

The Young man, was none other than The Viscount Randolph Chesney , he was a strikingly serious young man. He looked not much older then his 25 years, but there was a worldly seriousness about him, but then looking into his eyes, you could feel there was somewhere inside a playful nature waiting to burst out, something attested to by the fact close friends called him Chesie.(pronouced Chez-ee), but repressed due to various reasons. (but never fear at certain, private times with close friends it burst out...so we must not give up hope!) But Lord Chesney was in a profession that called for at the same time, both passion and reticent behaviour. In short he was in the House of Lords. Possibly a profession that might also allow Lord Chesney to develop the knack of being able to sleep in uncomfortable positions. However, Lord Chesney was at the same time, jaded and interested in what he had chosen as his life's work. Although his youth worked often against him Lord Chesney was a very junior cabinet member. His Title was something along the lines of 'British excavations, expeditions and acquisitions Auditor' which along with some active service meant that Lord Chesney had not been in England for any length of time, for some time. But it was a step in the right direction, even though Lord Chesney felt it was probably more to do with the fact that his father, a General who had been killed just as Lord Chesney reached his majority, on the peninsular due to some misguided management from British command.

Lord Chesney was regarded in the light of a up and coming political influence, and the fact he was young, rich and good looking, just added to the consequence that was being afforded for him. But for all the pomp and ceremony, Lord Chesney felt quite alone. He had been very close to his father, and had always despised society, perhaps not a attitude conducive to someone wishing to enter the political sphere, but Lord Chesney did. The games that society played, he felt very much above them. He felt that those who did play the game, where in some ways inferior. This was not to say that Lord Chesney did not know how to play, he did, he just didn't conform. He preferred to stay silent or change subjects, or throw himself into his work. Not that he was rude to people, he was always affable, but most people got the distinct feeling he felt very little of them, but they were never able to prove this. Lord Chesney, it must be said was not a friend of falseness, or of things dressed up in pretty words. In the words of another man, Disguise was his abhorrence. However Lord Chesney was well liked, to a certain extent everyone certainly could see his potential, it was more of a case of whether he would use it to it's full extent or not. Most of his political peers, felt all he needed was some Town-bronze and to lose the contemptuousness,(which most attributed (quite rightly) to jealousy and a misunderstanding of the motives of some of the ton), to make Lord Chesney a very bright political star.

So there he was out on the balcony at the Marcherand's Ball, wishing in some respects he was back in India or Africa or SOMEWHERE but in this god forsaken Pink Monstrosity. Lord Chesney heard footsteps, and looked behind him. He tried to suppress an inaudible groan. It was Lord Ashbourne, most definitely a society player. Lord Chesney attempted to stub out a cigarillo, something a connoisseur of snuff like Lord Ashbourne would most certainly disapprove of and however contemptuous Lord Chesney might be of certain members of the ton he knew better then to get any of the Fitzwilliam's offside.

"Nice night for it." came Lord Ashbourne's slightly drawling voice as he stepped towards the balcony next to Lord Chesney. Lord Chesney made a sort of inaudible reply.

Lord Ashbourne gave a sort of sniff. "Cigarillo?"

"Yes. Why?" replied Lord Chesney with a sort of challenge in his tone.

"Nasty habit, lots of common little soldiers picking it up and bringing it to England. Nasty infectious habit. Really should be stamped out."

Lord Chesney tried not to colour but he had to look away, a sort of angry feeling rising in his throat. He tried to tell himself that snapping at people was not the best idea, but his heart wouldn't listen. He turned to give Lord Ashbourne a piece of his mind, but when he turned, the sardonic smile plastered across his face, slightly disarmed him.

"So, you wouldn't happen to have any left would you Chesney? Evil things that they are."

Now that Lord Chesney was actually facing Lord Ashbourne, he saw the mocking, sarcastic look in his eyes, and felt close to laughing. He produced one and lit it. Lord Ashbourne took it in two slender fingers and in a mock salute said, "Here's to very nasty habits. May they die hard."

"Where did you pick up the habit, my lord." Asked Lord Chesney.

"On the Peninsular." Replied Lord Ashbourne shortly.

"Really? I had no notion you were over there, I was over there until my father was killed." Replied Chesney.

"I guessed as much." Replied Ashbourne.

The conversation dwindled into some commonplace talk about boxers, or hunts of some trivial society story, not that Chesney knew much about those. The conversation turned to a discussion of the decorations, which to Chesney's surprise, Ashbourne despised more then he did.

"I almost had an apoplectic fit, when I walked in the door. Its the most hideous confection I have ever seen in my entire life! I don't know what possessed Marcherand to allow his wife to do such a thing to his house. Completely tasteless and extravagant!"

"Would you have approved of Tasteful and extravagant?" asked Chesney, surprising himself with his bend towards light and humorous conversation with a virtual stranger.

"Of Course." Exclaimed Ashbourne.

Both men, looked through the balcony doors, in time to see the latest Arrivals to the ball. Chesney recognised Mr and Mrs Darcy, but then they moved a fraction to reveal to Chesney a goddess. A ethereal, petite, beautiful goddess. She looked timid yet had something of a forceful nature about her, like something had made her put up strong defences. She was a goddess and Chesney thought he had suddenly been transported to heaven. It was love at first sight.

But a voice brought him back to earth.

"Ahhhh- pretty isn't she!"

Chesney proceeded, to spill out his rapturous adoration of the mystery woman for quite some time, and then he started to move as if in somewhat of a dream towards the ballroom. Leaving Lord Ashbourne on the balcony puffing smoke.

"Darcy isn't going to like this." He gave a chuckle before stubbing the cigarillo out.

Kitty lay on her bed, looking up at the canopy, she decided she disliked the colour immensely.

I wonder if I could change it to more of a pastel shade? Or possibly even a more stronger colour? I wonder if a lighter colour would wear as well, or work in with the rest of the decor - Good God I'm turning into my mother.

Kitty sat bolt upright, with a look of fear in her eyes. It was at this precise moment that Ash, fresh in from the ball, walked in. He looked very alarmed at Kitty's countenance and practically ran to the bed.

"Kitty? Are you all right.??" He asked Worriedly.

"I'm turning into my mother! I was just thinking about Furniture and .......and.....and re-decorating the canopy!" cried Kitty flinging herself back on the bed.

Ash breathed a sigh of relief and lay next to her looking up at the canopy.

"Well it does look a trifle old." Replied Ash meditatively. He felt dagger eyes being pointed at him and stopped, giving a little laugh as he planted a kiss between Kitty's eyes.

"So how was Marcherand's?"

"Much more amusing then I thought it would be, firstly the ballroom was hideous, it was a pink tent to put it finely. Can't think about it without shuddering. Never, Never will you put up a pink Tent, okay Kitty?"

Kitty crossed her heart and promised.

"Good, that is very good. Well the most amusing thing was that I was out on the balcony with Lord Chesney, you know the -"

"I know who he is."

"Oh - good. Anyway he caught sight of Georgie, entering with Darcy and Elizabeth and he was lost. Could have tripped over his tongue. Then the silly boy, proceeded to follow Georgie around like a lost lamb. No I tell a lie, it wasn't like that at all, it would have been imperceptible to the untrained eye, but to Darcy it looked like a full scale attack. He was close to having a fit, I could tell. He kept asking me who the 'idiot' was and glaring at Chesney all night. "

"Well he is going to have to learn that Georgie will grow up eventually! So you say Lord Chesney is enamoured of Georgie....hmmmmm....perhaps I -"

"Perhaps nothing, you will do nothing!"

Kitty pouted, but then snuggled into her husband's arms and said rather meekly. "If you don't want me to do anything I won't"

Ash laughed. "It's not that I don't want you to, I just think it would be a waste of your energy."

"Really? Instant dislike?"

"More like this, I have never seen two people look completely adoringly at each other before. They even managed to top Darcy and Lizzy!"

Kitty propped herself up. "Hey what about us?"

"I've never had the pleasure of seeing us gazing at each other from a objective point of view before so I wouldn't know."

"oooh."

"Ooooh?"

"it moved!" cried Kitty.

"You mean Catherine Frances Grace moved."

"No I mean It. What if he turns out to be a boy Ash?"

"Oh that is not possible!" Ash moved to a position where he could talk to 'Catherine Frances Grace.' "Do you hear me, I command you to be a girl.'

"What if I command it to be a boy? Huh?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Watch me!"

Continued In Next Section