The couple stared reflectively at their front door in the moments subsequent to Sir Frederick's departure. "So," Elizabeth sighed, "what happens now, Mr. Darcy?"

"We weather the storm, Mrs. Darcy. Just as we have been."

She smiled at her husband's attempt at levity while feeling her task to relieve the tension also heard in his dear voice. Hence, she took his hand and pressed it to her lips. "Let not Priscilla's welfare weigh upon you, dearest. I appoint myself to her care, while your duty is, well…"

"To our madhouse," he finished.

"I heard that," said an affronted Thornhaugh from across the hall.

The couple whipped around to face him. "Good!" William exclaimed. "As you have undoubtedly deduced, we have a new guest in residence."

His eyes twinkled. "How lovely! When can I expect an introduction?"

Darcy folded his arms. "In the reign of Queen Dick."

"Oh, my." Thornhaugh grinned knowingly. "Now that is a tell if ever I saw one. She must be handsomer than I am already imagining. Second wife, yes? Surely not that homely heiress he was shackled to in my living years. No, this one is a prize. Young, sweet, nubile—"

"I will turn you out of this house in half a second," Darcy cautioned, making a slow advance as Thornhaugh replied:

"I made that offer, which you promptly rejected." His eyes flickered. "Both of you."

Elizabeth balled her fists, puffing out a breath of frustration over his accurate statement. She observed the two men, both severe but composed, standing a mere foot apart. Said Darcy, "And you perceive that as permission to do just as you please?"

"I need not your permission for anything."

Darcy nodded in surrender, made to retreat…then abruptly snatched the elegant club from Thornhaugh's grip and slammed it into his chest, the sheer force knocking his legs out from under him. Upon the polished marble Thornhaugh landed with a hard smack! of lean muscle and bone cushioned with but a few layers of fabric.

Elizabeth gasped at the abrupt and violent action, rushing over to her husband the instant Thornhaugh hit the floor. "William!"

He shielded her with his arm, commanding firmly, "Stay back, Lizzy," his eyes fixed to the slight, crumpled mass. Darcy then made a battle stance, readying his weapon as if expecting a fierce counterstrike at any moment.

But his "opponent" did little more than lie there and breathe, deeply and raggedly, squirming as an old tortoise turned on its back. Elizabeth quietly urged her husband to assist him, receiving a head shake in response. After some moments, the poor wretch peered up at them, and finding such evident pity in her expression his face knotted into a scowl.

William relaxed his stance as Thornhaugh then, with one more solid effort, hoisted himself to a sitting position. At length he worked to stabilize his breathing.

"Do not call my bluff again." William's voice caught. "I have no wish to harm you."

"I know. Fair enough."

"Then you will stay away? Give me your word."

"Very well. And I may rely—on your endorsement—of the contest? —No! Say nothing more of—my condition. Please…"

"Supposing you had my approval," said William, "or whatever else you need for this…dying wish…your targeted rival happens to be in the midst of a family crisis. He has enough irons in his fire without your petty gauntlet at his feet."

Thornhaugh stubbornly would not reply till his breathing was back to normal, whereupon he uttered, "Let him decide that. You saw his face. It was plain he was tempted."

"That was disbelief, not temptation."

"You know not our kind, Darcy."

"Unfortunately, I know your kind all too well."

"Then you know what is going to happen, whether you approve or not. Sir Frederick will confirm my identity, and then he shall pick up the gauntlet. He cannot help himself."

"It is you who cannot help himself; and therein lies your disadvantage, aside from the obvious. Frederick Blackwell is the fiercest competitor I know."

"Perfect."

"But he has ten times your discipline."

"Mine has improved."

"Barely."

"But enough. And I have strengths and talents that far exceed his; you know I have. We are equally matched."

"Thornhaugh," Elizabeth cut in, "what if he refuses you?"

"He will not."

"But what if—"

"Then I will have done."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I must have this, for I have nothing else."

"And have therefore nothing to wager," said she. "What are the stakes to be?"

Thornhaugh smiled up at her. "Half the fun, Mrs. Darcy, is knowing not until the evening, or hour, or sometimes minute before the game begins." He then said to William, "I ask your leave to draw up the terms, Mr. Darcy. Respectfully and conditionally, of course. Your home, your rules."

Removing his handkerchief, Thornhaugh pressed it against his mouth and coughed so hard his face crimsoned. When the long spell ended he looked at the cloth…and then lit up with joy. "Look!" he cried, displaying it proudly to the couple. "Not a drop of red." He lay back down upon his side, cheek pressed against the cold marble and eyes watering. "Not a drop of red," he repeated in a cracked voice.

"My Lord!"

The couple were startled by the sharp cry of their youngest who was bounding down the stairs wide-eyed and mouth agape. "Sir! Sir!"

Elizabeth shot over to meet little Malcolm at the foot, taking firm hold before he could run past. The boy struggled in her arms. "Mamma! The doctor, quick! Send for Uncle Matty! Hurry!"

"Shhhh, Mr. Malcolm," Thornhaugh murmured, patting the air. "It is nothing at all. A mere loss of balance. All is well. Tell the boy, Darcy."

William nodded, now holding the cane loosely at his side as he reassured the anxiety-riddled eight-year-old.

Not five seconds later was heard the footfalls of Ben, Janie, George, and the nanny as they came into view, their descent halted on discovery of this strange, confounding scene. The older boys stared in studious silence while Janie rushed all the way down to her panicked brother's side. "His Lordship fell," Malcolm fretted, clutching her hand tightly.

Janie regarded her father with a deeply furrowed brow. "What use have you for that cane, Papa?"

William had no time to respond before Mrs. White swooped in with, "Back upstairs, children! Come along! I beg your pardon, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy."

As her charges did not budge, having committed themselves to the scene in their own respective fashion, Elizabeth therefore halted Mrs. White's efforts with a gentle order to leave them be, inwardly deciding that their presence would prove beneficial. After sending the woman away, Elizabeth went to the most sensitive of her offspring to offer further solace, only to see his deep concern morphed into an exceedingly rare state of indignance. Pointing at Thornhaugh, Malcolm strongly commanded of his father, "Help him, sir!"

William regarded him with patience as he began to explain. "Son…"

"Mind your tone, Mr. Malcolm," censured Thornhaugh, wagging a finger at the boy. "Your Papa sought to aid me; but I had to remind him to keep his distance, and you keep yours." He raised his arm heavily. "The stick, Mr. Darcy, if you please."

William extended the cane for him to take hold of in a weak grip, and then with a sturdy, one-armed pull lifted him upright. "There, now." Now sitting on his knees, Thornhaugh exhaled, and then inhaled deeply, emitting a harsh wheezing sound.

"Please don't die, sir," Malcolm whimpered, sniffing back tears.

"Die? My dear boy, I have not felt this alive in years!" Thornhaugh and William locked eyes, and with great care the latter then tugged his end of the cane, steadily hoisting the former to his feet. Quietly Darcy handed him the club, receiving a kindly thank you in return.

Poising his figure, Thornhaugh checked his watch, and then shifted his attention to the shorter party of four. "Well! Hello there, Darcy children," he greeted cheerily. "And hello to you again, Mr. Wickham. Tell me, did you enjoy our morning ride?"

"Aye, my Lord," George timidly answered.

"I was just telling Mr. Darcy about our return home and how you—in my indefensible lapse of judgment—aptly managed to pull me out of harm's way."

"I did, sir?"

"He did?" followed William.

"Why certainly! Sir Frederick's wild gait and my…shall we say languid response, were decidedly poor examples for two gentlemen who so arrogantly fancy themselves to be experts. You, Mr. Wickham, demonstratedexemplary instincts, I daresay vastly superior to that of any novice."

"Thank you, sir."

"And on that head, it would be my honor—as the first and only Pemberley Derby champion—to formally declare you an intermediate," Thornhaugh added with a pointed look at Darcy, "with your uncle's approval, of course."

William regarded his words with an air of uncertainty, and then met George's eager, hopeful expression. Elizabeth saw several shades of tenderness spread over her husband's features before his countenance changed abruptly to one of stark authority. With both hands behind his back, he declared to their nephew, "You will adhere to the standards and pace of instruction set by Hodges and myself, understood?"

George's eyes brightened. "Yes, Uncle."

"You will perform no special feats without supervision, including and especially jumps."

"None, sir."

"You will obey the general rules of this household."

"Yes, sir."

"You may choose the hot-blood."

… "Really, sir?"

"Among the five that Hodges and I decide are a good fit for you."

George was now visibly containing his excitement. "Yes, Uncle. Today?"

Darcy bit back a laugh. "These things take time, George. What say you to a week from this day?"

"Thank you, Uncle! Shall I work the stables till then?"

"No, Nephew. I am assured that you have earned this already."

Elizabeth wrung her hands together. "George, please promise you will be safe."

Thornhaugh raised his hand to silence her, gently whispering, "Mrs. Darcy…"

"I promised his mother," she mouthed in response.

"Foolish thing," he mouthed back.

Darcy, having caught their little exchange, said to George, "You will continue to exercise proper safety measures. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Promise your aunt Lizzy."

"I promise, Aunt."

"Good for you, George!" cried Janie, bounding back up the stairs to embrace him before tramping down again. "Papa," she said, "will you teach me to ride astride?"

"No, darling. We have been over this."

Ben, who had remained still and quiet up to this moment, chided, "Girls don't ride like that. It is improper."

"But I hate side saddle! Please, Papa!"

William again refused, imploring Elizabeth to talk to her as Ben and Janie commenced to bickering.

All talk came to a sudden with the loud, almost thunderous clap of Thornhaugh's hands. "Capital!" he cried happily, and with a farewell bow made the slow walk to stairs.

As he climbed, Malcolm followed two or three steps behind. "Do you not need a shoulder, sir?"

Thornhaugh turned back to halt the boy with a slight touch to his blonde head. "When next I do, Mr. Malcolm, yours will be the very first sought."

His ascent resumed; Darcy called up to him, "Thornhaugh! We still have much to discuss, you and I."

"And we certainly shall, Mr. Darcy. But for now, my cold breakfast calls, and I must answer."

"Ten bites, no less!"

"No!" Thornhaugh stopped to turn and face him. "All of it, Mr. Darcy. Every bite."

"Will not happen."

"Wager me."

"Very well. Full ownership of champion thoroughbred Cronus against…your watch."

Thornhaugh pressed his lips tightly together as he pondered heavily. "Done!" he shouted, and then quickened his pace, ignoring Darcy's call for him to slow down lest he drop dead before reaching the top.

"Will his Lordship stay with us, Mamma?" Janie whispered.

Elizabeth bent to her daughter and whispered back, "No, my dear. He will leave us soon."

"And go where?"

"I hardly know, dearest." Elizabeth turned to see her husband diligently monitoring Thornhaugh's path up the stairs.

"Papa," said their firstborn, William barely hearing him.

"Hm?"

Ben repeated himself until he had his father's full attention, then respectfully entreated, "I should like to make an appointment with you, sir."

"Er, of course, son," replied William, slightly alarmed by his serious tone. "Tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock?"

Ben agreed, thanked him, and then quit his parents' company with the rest of the children in tow, declaring they were off to visit the newly leveled, former site of the garden maze, which was now a flat, sprawling acre of dirt.


"Stay down…stay down…" Thornhaugh grumbled to himself as he lay curled on his side upon the bed, arms wrapped about a pillow. "Digest, damn you."

Miss Baxter was nearly out the door with the empty breakfast tray when she turned back to him. "Sir?"

"Nothing," he groaned painfully, his pallid forehead damp with perspiration. "Baxter…"

"Yes, sir," she said worriedly, setting the tray down to approach him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "The beads…hand me my beads…"

"Beads, sir?"

"Under the mattress. Quick, please."

Miss Baxter rushed to where he was pointing, confused as she felt blindly under the mattress, and then extracted a coarsely textured rosary, the very one described by Mrs. Darcy in her account of his brief marriage to Mr. Darcy's cousin, Anne de Bourgh.

She looked at him, playing ignorant. "This, sir?"

He nodded, fingers beckoning her to place them into his reaching, open palm. When she did so, he ordered her away, eyes still closed tightly as he pressed his rosary-clinching fist against his mouth and took slow, deep breaths through his nostrils.

Watching him intently for at least half a minute, Miss Baxter whispered without thinking, "Sir, are you…praying?"

"Leave me, woman," he growled in a savage voice. "Go!"

"Yes, sir," she whispered before swiftly retrieving the tray and quitting the room.


"You are miles away," Darcy whispered in Elizabeth's ear, and then his lips resumed their trail down her her neck while his hand gently slid up the length of her nude form.

She turned into his awaiting arms, winding her own about his torso and meeting his searching mouth. "I'm sorry, darling," she murmured against his lips.

He chuckled, giving her lips one more smack before shifting to nuzzle against her breast. "That was not to denote an eagerness to go again, my dear. At my age, twice is my absolute limit for one evening."

"Poor old man," she teased, brushing her fingers through his disheveled curls.

"But evidently our wild, youthful, exuberant congress did not serve to ease your mind as I had hoped. It certainly eased mine."

"How is that possible, my dear, when there is still so much to think about?"

"I have an amazing ability to shut the world out entirely when in our bed." His embrace tightened. "So long as you are in it, as well."

A loving kiss to his crown preceded her apprehensive reply. "You may think differently in a moment, Mr. Darcy."

"Hm?"

"Frederick's letter," she began, bracing herself for the ensuing argument. "It is still in my possession."

William raised his head, regarding her warily. "Why?"

"Why because I have not delivered it, of course."

"Lizzy don't be flippant. Why have you not done as I asked?"

"Priscilla is my charge, remember? And after much consideration…"

"What is there to consider?"

"The letter's contents…which I do not trust."

"I explained to you its contents."

"No, you explained Frederick's explanation."

"And then you agreed…"

"I did not really agree. I merely nodded."

"But he…you…I thought…" Reading her expression, his brow smoothed as if he now understood. "You are still holding a grudge."

She shoved her husband off of her to sit up, replying crossly, "Even if that were true, Mr. Darcy, I resent your implication that I acted out of spite. That is not the case! I simply have reservations."

"As did I at first." He raised to meet her at eye level. "But then Frederick assured me, most ardently…"

"Most ardently, Frederick assured us both of his deepest love and desperation in order to secure our service to his cause. Then, he used his pretty bouquet and self-effacing manner to assure our continued efforts to salvage a marriage of which he remains neglectful. We were not humbly entreated upon, Husband. We were appointed! Such was his design from the very beginning to spare him half the burden which he has yet to shoulder."

"Well now…" William thoughtfully considered her points with a concurring nod and a strange grin. "So it was! Bloody Frederick!"

"Oh, but there is more, my dear. Then, he assured Priscilla, disingenuously, of his forgiveness and his constancy before assuring the whole district of his delight in her pregnancy. And he now assures (as if he were addressing his constituency!) that he shall restore all the damage he has wrought in a trice. Five days, my foot! Priscilla deserves so much better. I cannot…"

"Mrs. Darcy…" William cut in, beholding her with great affection and patience.

"Mr. Darcy!" cried she, for she had one last point to make before she would be silenced. "You must own to the fact that your friend's assurances are fallacies. Political platforms! One useless bandage after another placed upon the cancerous polyp that is his marriage!"

"A brilliant conclusion drawn, my dear." He raised her hand to his lips. "However meaningless."

She snatched her hand away. "Meaningless!"

"Thank heavens you are not the one shackled to Frederick Blackwell."

"'Hear, hear!' as his fellow statesmen shout, for I would sooner have wed Collins than that…" her frown deepened as Darcy's smile extended. "Are you laughing at me, sir?"

"No."

"Then why are you smiling that way?

"Because I adore you, and because I happen to adore this particular shortcoming."

"My shortcoming?"

"Indeed. I call it your 'Charlotte' defect."

Her eyes widened. "How dare…this is not the same at all!"

"But it is the same, as is the rebuttal, which has not been restated in some time, my loveliest, liveliest, stubbornest Elizabeth." He again took hold of her hand, his voice as tender as his stroking fingers. "Your feelings, regardless of the truth that stirs them, are less material than your respect for her right to choose her fate and live with the consequences. Without interference."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Priscilla reached out to us, William, and would have returned to him directly had we not prevented it."

"We did not prevent it. We reasonably advised against it, and fortunately she listened. I prevented Frederick from overruling that choice."

"And therein lies my concern. Frederick will do or say or write just about anything to have his way. His heart does not guide him so much as desire, that being to succeed in all endeavors he undertakes, all that is expected of him, ingrained in him…"

"I believe he is learning from this experience, Lizzy."

"You hope, William. You hope that he is learning the lessons you did. You hope that he is becoming a better man."

"Sometimes that is all we can do. And I had thought—wrongly, it would seem—that his tender sentiments heightened your faith in him."

"I was very moved by his sentiments until critical thought seeped in. William, that man has not a romantic bone in his body! He is—"

"No, indeed. No grudge compels you at all."

"Arrrgh! Insufferable man!" She lept upon his naked body, pinning his arms at both sides of his head as she glared down at a dubious (though visibly aroused) expression. "Frederick gives not a tinker's damn about personal growth," she cried vehemently. "Thornhaugh was bang on the mark in his assessment, that he cannot help himself! He plays to win! He is a Blackwell after all!"

"Lizzy, I have known the man since infancy. And as one who understands him better, my judgement of him is therefore not—forgive me—obscured by prejudice."

"Prejudice! I have had twelve years to conclude that Frederick—"

"—has faults enough to fill Padley Gorge. But he is not a villain, my dear."

"Indeed, he is worse! He is a politician!"

William freed himself from her grip to clasp the back of her neck and pull her to a deep and crushing kiss. When she became breathless he drew back, gazing up at her. "And she married him. Now are you going to give her that letter, or shall I?"

Elizabeth exhaled in exasperation before letting herself fall upon his chest. Feeling his lips move through her own mess of curls, she said, "I will do so in the morning. Because I trust you, not him." She lifted to lay her chin upon her hands now resting against his chest. He smiled into her fine eyes as she said, "And you will sanction Thornhaugh's challenge, will you not?"

His smile suddenly dropped, and eyes darted up to stare at the canopy. "I…"

"I now find myself agog at the notion," she confessed.

Hearing that rare touch of mischief in her voice, his eyes returned to her face in a look of surprise. "Is this my wife speaking, or the devil on her shoulder?"

"Whatever do you mean? This is no mortal sin, but a delicious treat! Few ladies are allowed the privilege of witnessing a true master at a gaming table. And I daresay it would be glorious to see Frederick Blackwell humbled. Genuinely, this time."

Her smile faded as Darcy's mien turned very severe. "You know not what you are saying. Thornhaugh is not petitioning for a jolly ol' evening of gentlemanly sport to relive old times. This is not Bingley and I sitting down to friendly bit of backgammon."

His stark tone frightened her a little, which he sensed as he continued while softly smoothing his hand over her hair. "You did not hear Thornhaugh's response when Frederick discerned his absence of fortune. He said, 'A gentleman of no fortune seeks to make one.' Do you not understand what that means?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "That he intends to take our neighbor for a goodly sum, which the man can well afford."

"And what can our lodger afford, Lizzy? Frederick can well bear a humiliating loss of funds, but what has he to lose?"

"Dearest…" she whispered, taking his face in her hands. "Do you not understand? This is how he wishes to leave this earth…" she stilled his shaking head. "There is nothing more that can be done for him. Even Matthew has said—"

"And Miss Baxter said that he consumed every bite of his breakfast and dinner. Cronus now belongs to him. Don't you see? He will endure. Possibly for a few years more. Not a soul of our acquaintance has ever matched that man's fortitude."

She sighed deeply. "Must I be the one to approach him about getting his affairs in order?"

"Shhhh…" Darcy drew her against his chest to embrace her tightly. "That will not be necessary, my dear. After this contest, he will quit Pemberley and, on the back of his new bay thoroughbred, continue on to manage his own affairs. Whatever he has left to manage."

"I can scarcely imagine you letting him go."

Darcy chuckled. "As the man said, my dear, he needs not my permission for anything."