Mr. and Mrs. Darcy waited for what felt like ages, though time itself counted but five or so minutes, before Miss Baxter appeared in the drawing-room with the announcement that the gentleman was on his way—"but slowly," said she, "for he has refused both a wheelchair and my offer to assist him down the stairs. I would not have left his side, but he insisted I find something better to do than watch him move from one hallway to the next."

By her tone the Darcys gathered she was not getting on at all with her new occupation, thus confirming every prediction, and thus provoking a joint move to provide solace, beginning with Elizabeth, "Your patience does you a good deal of credit, Miss Baxter," followed quickly by Darcy, "And shall not go unrewarded."

Miss Baxter smiled knowingly. "He is tolerable and certainly not without charm, though I can intuit the difficulties a greener governess could scarcely have borne in his youth. I, however, am undaunted, and expect to remain so. Per your counsel, Mr. Darcy, I have taken to regarding him privately as an impudent little boy while tendering all respect and dignity due an esteemed and worldly gentleman. I hope you find this approach agreeable."

"Whatever preserves your wits, Miss Baxter. He has worn everyone else's to the quick."

Asked Elizabeth, "And how went today's fitting?"

"Very well, ma'am. Your excellent Mr. Pinsent came through in supplying him adequate apparel till his new wardrobe is complete. Combined with the hot soak in a mineral bath, I daresay the gentleman's health and spirits are well improved."

"That is good to hear," said Darcy, suppressing a smile. "And the barbering session?"

"Most commendable, sir. After a good two hours, I should argue the moniker of 'Mr. Blackbeard' no longer applies, as you will see for yourself."

"Wonderful," replied Darcy, "and will you reaffirm that he intends not to introduce himself as such, Miss Baxter? that he shall comply with the name and narrative collectively agreed upon?"

"He has neither said nor inferred otherwise, sir, only that, in his own words, 'Conformity is paramount to safety and security.'"

Darcy bent to growl in Elizabeth's ear, "In a mocking tone, no doubt."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand reassuringly before replying, "Anything else to report, Miss Baxter?"

The governess glanced away, sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am. The gentleman says he is very eager to tour the estate grounds, and asks when he might procure use of the horses to do so."

Answered Darcy, "Tell him Hodges is set to take him out tomorrow following his meeting with Dr. Fitzwilliam, provided he takes more than two bites at breakfast."

Miss Baxter glanced down, wringing her hands together. "Er, the gentleman anticipated that answer, sir, and says your attempts to 'nanny' him will not be met favorably."

She was thus regarded with a cold Darcy stare and even colder reply: "I beg you remind him, Miss Baxter, that his absence of discipline is what secured my victory in our fencing match, and then tell him I require six bites of food. Large ones. Is that all?"

"N-No, sir. He also prefers not to be driven, but rather to go out on horseback…for 'optimum accessibility.'"

Darcy crossed his arms tightly. "Oh, does he now?"

"Yes, sir," she said timidly. "He also desires you and the missus to ride out with him, and—" she paused to swallow "—absolutely insists on first pick of your finest stock."

"Hang the man!" Darcy snapped. "Relay that, Miss Baxter."

"Dearest," Elizabeth softly censured. "Remember what Matty said, about benevolence? and everything else?"

"I'm the bloody master, not his bloody tour guide," he gritted out. "My finest stock indeed, that incorrigible—!"

He stifled a curse upon hearing the knell of an operatic lyric sung in a rich voice that carried down the hall and into the drawing-room, coaxing Darcy into his default state of utter self-composure and reserve. "There he comes."

Elizabeth, checking her own comportment, then graciously excused Miss Baxter from the room; and on her exit, the couple stood together in tense anticipation, his singing louder as his presence drew closer. She murmured to Darcy, "What about the Matlocks, my dear? Are they ever to know the truth?"

He nodded. "As disclosed in my letters sent to Richard and John just this morning. The next move is theirs."

"And the Bingleys," she more tentatively inquired, "when might they be informed?"

He paused before answering, "My feeling at present is that they should not be."

"Please, William. Charles has every right to know—and how I hate keeping secrets from dear Jane."

"One quandary at a time, my dear. Haven't we enough complications at the moment?"

The singing stopped short, and then he ambled into the room, somewhat exerted but smiling gaily. "Well, Darcys," said he, "your quarters and amenities are indeed praiseworthy, as well as your halls. Dazzling chandeliers, masterful artwork, fashionable furnishings…"

"Comparable to Woburn, we dare hope," said Elizabeth in an attempt at archness he was happy to complement.

"Daring indeed, Mrs. Darcy, but not out of order," he replied with a wink.

The couple gave immediate respect to his improved appearance: hair trimmed close to the scalp for minimal fuss and the assault of whiskers reduced to a well-spruced pair of sideburns meeting a smooth-shaven jaw. One might consider his face handsome with just a pound more flesh to fill it out, but this new look – dapper as it was – rather emphasized his angular features and pallid skin like worn paper wrapped over a skull. His reliance on the cane was heavy as he took measured steps toward the closest chair and plopped himself down. "And where are the little Darcys, pray?" He checked his pocket watch, murmuring, "Running a bit behind."

"They shall be down directly," said Elizabeth. "They were granted a visit with George first, so a small delay was expected."

"Still strict in your adherence to timetables, I see," said Darcy. "I should call that a good mark of self-discipline."

"Would you?" replied he. "I should call it a principled aversion to the squandering of our most precious asset, though your praise is duly noted, sir." Returning the watch, he blurted, "Is Mr. Wickham not to join us then? My request, I hope, was not misinterpreted as a bid to exclude him? He is of the Darcy family after all."

"Oh indeed, sir," said Elizabeth. "It's just…well, with everything George has been

through—"

"Would you call it wise," Darcy firmly interjected, "to have him dine with a man he saw kill another mere days ago?" On Lizzy's pinch to his arm was he thus compelled to make amends. "Forgive me. I mean no offense, but rather to protect my nephew."

"Ah, I see. And your children, too, I suppose?"

"Naturally."

"And thus you may consider certain subjects—such as the time I dined with three men who made their living as resurrectionists—to be unwelcome dinner conversation?"

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up. "Resurrectionists? Do you mean…?"

"Indeed!" cried Darcy, "I should call anecdotes touting the desecration of corpses and other amoral, unlawful activities highly unwelcome. Furthermore—"

"Why here they come now," he cheerily exclaimed, lifting from his chair. "Places, everyone! Beware the ghost of Thespis as thee plays thy part."

"You remember our agreement," cautioned Darcy just as Mrs. White entered with the row of siblings, Ben quick to apologize for their late arrival.

"Not at all, Son," said Darcy, dismissing the nanny with a slight jerk of his head. "Now then, children. Come and meet our honored guest."

They dutifully stepped forward as part of the usual ritual performed a hundred times before a hundred others, the awestruck Malcolm's audible whispering of "Blackbeard" prompting his father's low but firm, "Nay, young man, and that epithet is not to be uttered in this house henceforward. Understand?"

"Yes, Papa," all three of them replied.

"This gentleman," continued Darcy, "is the reason your cousin is back home safe, and as such is worthy of our warmest hospitality, the utmost civility and highest respect. As George recovers, so shall he too gain a broader perspective; but these things take time. As usual, let us mind convention, keep our manners exemplary, and"—(with a pointed glance)—"our discourse benign. Now that we are all clear on this, children, please say hello to—"

"Lord Thornhaugh," he abruptly announced, bowing deeply. "At your service, young lady and gentlemen."

Darcy's look of shock matched that of his progeny as Janie exclaimed, "A Lord! Really!"

Said Malcolm, "You are not an angel then?" whereupon he was promptly shushed by his mortified brother while Thornhaugh merely smiled.

"Hardly, Son," Darcy sneered.

"What kind of Lord?" asked Janie.

"Why a marquess, Miss Darcy," Thornhaugh answered, and then chuckled at her agape expression. "What, have you never met one?"

"Never, sir," she answered truthfully. "Have you met the King?"

"I have indeed and knew him well, back when he was the Prince Regent, or 'Prinny' as I called him. And what is your name, sweetling?"

"Janie Darcy, sir," she answered smilingly, dipping a curtsey, her eager expression urging him to ask:

"Have you something more to say, Miss Janie? Go on then. Don't be shy."

"Oh! Nothing really, my Lord, just…Papa, why on earth did you not tell us George was found by so noble a gentleman! Had you meant to surprise us?"

"Now now, Miss Janie," said Thornhaugh. "Introductions first; the rest can wait. Your elder brother, I see, is a bit perturbed by our flouting of precedence."

"Oh, he always makes a fuss over such things," declared Janie with a dismissive wave.

"Then I had better make amends and quickly, lest I make him even crosser." With a wink at her, he then shifted his attention accordingly. "And your name, young master?"

Ben took another step forward and bowed. "Bennet Richard Fitzwilliam Darcy, my Lord."

"Heavens!" cried Thornhaugh. "Now that is a mouthful to which I can well relate as a fellow successor. What need have we for so many names, Master Bennet?"

"Just Ben, sir—unless, of course, you should prefer the other."

"Oh, I indeed favor your preference, Master Ben, and see you are very proud of your designation. For my part, I've not uttered my full Christian name in more than twenty years, nor do I care to." He then locked eyes with the youngest. "And now we come to you, little fair-haired boy of…seven years?"

"Eight years, my Lord."

"Blast!" he lamented. "I am usually spot on with these things."

"Don't feel bad, sir," replied the boy in all compassion. "It's an easy mistake, and you were very close. My birthday was but two months ago, and my cousins all said I look not a bit older."

Janie nudged him. "Say your name, silly."

"Oh, I forgot! Malcolm Thomas Darcy." A bow. "At your service."

Thornhaugh appeared for a moment stunned before reacting, first with a glance back at Darcy, and then returning to smile down at the cherubic youth. "And a fine name that is, Malcolm. Do you know how you acquired it?"

The boy shook his head no.

"I am named after our Auntie Jane," chimed the girl, "who is the sweetest and prettiest of Mamma's four sisters." A look from her mother induced her to add, "Though I love them all, of course."

"And I was given our mother's family name," Ben proclaimed, "just as Papa was given his."

Said Thornhaugh, "Spoken like a right and proper heir, Master Ben. Good things are expected of you, and shall undoubtedly be delivered." The boy smiled at this. "And what say you, little Malcolm?"

"About what, sir?"

Thornhaugh grinned. "Never mind. I see this subject is of no interest to you. I'd wager your thoughts are on the dinner menu and your empty tummy."

Malcolm lit up. "Nanny says we are having partridge tonight! It's my favorite!"

"Then let us go in now," said Darcy, catching the eye of the approaching butler. "Go along with Bridges, children. We shall join you directly."

Once they were gone, Darcy let out a breath and growled, "I could strangle you here and now."

"Then do it," said Thornhaugh, meeting his ire with a mixture of calm and contempt. "Did you really expect me to go along with your little ruse? 'Tis true I've now put you in an even tighter spot; but your reaction, I daresay, was well worth it. And how could you have asked it of me? The Darcy I knew would never stand for deception, would demand honesty, instill it daily, and live by it faithfully, even at his own expense."

"Have you looked in a bloody mirror? Neither of us are the man we were ten years ago."

"On the contrary, I am exactly now as I was then. You may best me in sport, Darcy, but in all other respects I am better. Not for anyone have I bent a single principle, altered one speck of my integrity—"

"Whereas I would suffer hell for my family and must give my life to their wellbeing, to that of their children and generations beyond. That is where you and I shall ever part ways, shall ever be at odds. What I have spent my life honoring, you have conversely spent dishonoring, loving no one and valuing nothing above yourself, and now look where you are: friendless…negated…alive only technically, while as practically dead as Caesar himself."

"William!" cried Elizabeth, touching his sleeve. "That's enough. Now listen, both of you. No real harm has been done. The children's comprehension with regards to the Russell line is constrained, and painstakingly so. They know their uncle John as the second son of a duke, that the marquess is long dead, and that John has rejected—though not formally renounced—his rightful claim to the title. But they know Thornhaugh by neither name nor memory, which has been all but expunged, both publicly and privately." She met the subject's eye. "Perhaps you've yet to know, sir, that every writing, every portrait, every tangible remembrance of you is either suppressed or destroyed—"

"I do know this, madam, and thus saw no harm in introducing myself as such. Hang the Russells! for they mean nothing to me. But I shall cling to what little I have left, Darcy. I shall have my name, the one of my choosing."

"You have forfeited every right to it," Darcy disputed, "and in one twitch of your stupid tongue have now left yourself vulnerable. How am I to protect you now?"

"I don't want your bloody protection!" he barked. "Get that through your iron-thick skull. I have no keeper. I am my own master, will say and do as I see fit, and should sooner be burned alive than badgered."

"But you can be reasoned with," said Elizabeth in a milder tone. "I have seen it with my own eyes."

The protruding vein in his temple then vanished. "Aye, Mrs. Darcy. And what is your proposition?"

"That you have your name, Lord Thornhaugh, if it pleases you, but omit its linkage to the Russell family. I ask that you preserve what small bit of honor that name has left; not for me and mine, but for your brother and his. John will come around eventually. He will assume the marquessate, and subsequently the dukedom. Let him carry your family's torch with the decency he was born with, and the respectability he has earned."

"That, Mrs. Darcy, sounds perfectly reasonable, and so I gladly cede to your request without condition."

"Thank you, sir," said she. "And…if you please…for little George's sake—"

"So shall good Lieutenant Wickham's memory be preserved, ma'am. My lips are sealed, though I can hardly bear so romanticized a portrait with much approval. I should call the legacy of our forefathers supremely overrated, if not completely irrelevant. And fathers in general, for that matter."

"Duly noted, sir," replied Darcy without feeling. "And will you also agree to keep your stories of the East End, of your shady encounters, your dealings with dubious characters, with brigand and other such—"

"I leave that to my own discretion," answered Thornhaugh, who then clapped his hands together and cried, "Well! With that settled, let us go in to dinner; for I think I may be as hungry as I've ever been. You may claim a victory this round, Darcy, for restoring my appetite by mere virtue of your annoyance."

"At your service, my Lord," grumbled Darcy as the three of them made for the dining hall.

Dinner went off with neither incident nor irritation as Thornhaugh displayed impeccable manners throughout, his natural gift for conversation rivaled only by his effortless charm which endeared him to the children by the second course. His stories, thankfully never bordering on the unseemly but filled rather with the interest and wonder pervading his world travels, held their rapt attention. With flourish he gave descriptive detail of tropical climates, spectacular scenery, exotic cultures, and most notable figures. He spoke of his younger years dining with "Prinny" and their kinship formed of common principles and shared ideals. He talked of Bengal and his work with the East India Company at the tail end of the great war with Bonaparte, his good fortune in the saltpetre market, and most enthrallingly of a ten-thousand-pound wager won against the former governor-general who had doubted his head for business. His sharp wit and cheeky humor drew frequent laughs from Elizabeth and the children, and by the third course even Darcy was able to un-clinch his reserve as Thornhaugh adhered well to their agreement in keeping all inferences to his bloodline ambiguous. Not that the children raised a whit of concern, nor would they dream, per their teachings, of breaching decorum with a word of doubt directed at one so noble.

By the final course, Thornhaugh had the whole table in jolly good spirits, including himself as trifle was served, declared to be his favorite dessert. But no sooner had he tucked into the top layer, than the butler's sudden appearance cut the remainder of the meal short.

"Lord Russell has arrived, sir," answered he to the master's inquiry.

"Ah, has he now?" said Darcy with a knowing glance at Thornhaugh, who was already rising from the table. "He shall be received presently, Bridges."

"You know our uncle John, my Lord?" blurted Malcolm over a mouthful of dessert.

"Malcolm," Elizabeth softly chided. "Manners."

Thornhaugh took up his cane and began the slow walk out of the room, saying: "Curiosity is the trait of a vigorous intellect, as is a readiness of mind. I'll leave your father, young Malcolm, to explain the connection." And with a sly grin at Darcy he went away, leaving all three siblings with a questioning look directed towards their father.

Darcy met their eyes briefly before tucking back into his dessert. "Whatever their connection," he said casually, "it is distant. And whatever their business, it is none of ours."