"Freddy! Darling!" cried Priscilla from atop the stairway upon spotting her husband in the entrance hall, having arrived, albeit by minutes, even earlier than expected. With her plucky spaniel at her side, she launched into a spirited descent to greet him with an enthusiasm that flouted all propriety.

Frederick watched her as one transfixed, feet moving as if of their own accord before the complete removal of his overcoat. "Watch your step, sweetheart," he cautioned on his impatient walk to meet her at the bottom step. Both were laughing as he caught and twirled her feather-light figure to the floor. "Oh, my love, I have missed you so," he said into her fragrant, golden hair. "Please, darling, please never go away from me again, and I shall never…"

Clasping both of her hands to his chest, he fell silent with the overwhelming crush of emotion of which he quickly, decisively took control. After taking another moment to catch his breath, he kissed her with barely restrained passion, and then pulled back to gaze down at her dear, flawless face. He glanced all around to gauge their privacy and then, caressing her wedding ring with his eyes and his thumb, finished his sentence in a more reserved manner: "I shall never give you cause to."

"I love you," she heartily professed, neither surprised nor offended in the least by his wordless nod in reply to the sentiment. With a teasing grin, she voiced her acceptance of this muted response given the amorous expression that accompanied it, and the treasured love letter that preceded it. "I suggest you jot down every romantic thought for your next one, Husband, which I expect to receive not a year from this day."

He nodded again, his smile holding but cheeks red with boyish embarrassment. "And every year thereafter if you wish," he shyly agreed.

"I do, but on which date?" she flirted, eyes shining brightly up at him and just as unmindful of the dog whimpering at their feet for attention. "St. Valentine's Day?"

He lifted her hands to his lips "Any day you choose," he said against her dainty fingers before leaning in to whisper, "For I am your servant, your knight, and your poet, clumsy as all three of us may be."

"Only on some days. On others, they are as graceful as May." They shared one more kiss before Priscilla bade a nearby footmen to take Antoinette upstairs to the nursery as the children were promised some playtime with her.

Frederick was subsequently received by the Darcys' most obliging (and schedule-adhering) Mr. Bridges, who, citing his early arrival by a quarter of an hour, offered to escort him to the drawing-room where the refreshments were already laid out. Priscilla happily accepted her husband's request to keep him company during this interval, and as the couple walked arm-in-arm a good distance behind their usher, she decided it an opportune moment to inquire after Lord Blackwell's health. Her high hopes for an answer as honest and sincere as the affection expressed not thirty seconds before were almost dashed to bits as he made to respond with his standard stiff upper lip, as if they were now mingling amongst a hoard of fellow invitees at a soiree. She cut Frederick's polished rejoinder off at the knees with the sharp utterance of his name, forcing the turning of his head to meet her soft but earnest gaze.

"I do so love these rare moments we have all to ourselves," she said sweetly, recalling an especially wise piece of Elizabeth's counsel on the most effective manner of finding the vein in which to draw the blood of candor from a reticent husband. Priscilla then repeated the question with the same degree of tenderness, having none of his sequent excuse that this was a conversation for home and that the very point of agreeing to this affair was to forget his troubles for an evening. "Your troubles are my troubles," she countered, and with a warm smile ended with, "Moreover, I am certain that you should not rather I sit about in dread of what awaits me at home."

This method worked to her extreme gratitude as Fred obliged her, albeit with some hesitation. "There was an incident last night, but pray do not fret. No injury was suffered." He trembled slightly as if this event were being reenacted right before him. "It happened quite unexpectedly, for you know Papa is usually never calmer or more content than when sitting at his balcony, which he was…somehow seized with the urge to climb. There he perched himself, ungraceful and unsteady yet refusing to come down, almost…slipping…"

The manner in which he said the last word induced her to search her husband's expression. "Dear God!" she gasped in horror. "Had he planned to jump?"

Absently he shrugged, head shaking as he looked off with incredulity. "He was manic, flailing about, speaking nonsense, it was terrifying. I endeavored endlessly to talk him down till I was finally close enough to snatch hold of his arm. He fought me, and might even have won had I been acting alone. For an old man, he is mighty indeed, but we managed, Mitchell and I, to get him into bed…and keep him there. He thrashes, sometimes violently, but we have taken care that he does not chafe himself." He drew a deep breath and then added, in a voice thick with grief and remorse, "There was no other choice. No choice. He is a danger to himself. To everyone."

Upon entering the drawing-room, the couple were told Mr. Darcy would be along directly. Fred broke from her to make a beeline for the beverage trolley.

"I am so sorry, my dear," said Priscilla with as much sympathy for her husband as her poor father-in-law. She seated herself near the fire, watching him closely as he partook in the Darcys' generous assortment.

"He called me evil and cruel," Fred muttered before downing a glass of sherry. "Screamed it."

"He knows not what he says, sweetheart; and I dare say it would be crueler to let him wander freely."

"Then I am…not a bad son?"

"A what? Of course not!"

"I have not failed him?"

"His illness is not your failure, dearest. He knows you love him."

Fred looked at her. "Does he?" His eyes were glassy but faintly optimistic.

"Absolutely, your father does," she stressed, "though that poor man at home may be unwitting. And there can be no doubt of your devotion. You have tried so hard, but it is simply not enough. You said that Dr. Norton has agreed to take him?"

Fred nodded. "I await further correspondence, but was long ago assured that he is welcome. The first payment has been sent and I have commenced preparations for his departure, which I estimate to occur about a month hence. Until such time, he shall have round-the-clock attention, no matter how often or loudly he objects." He went to her and knelt by her chair, a freshly poured glass clutched in his hand. "On my visit to Matlock, I procured three highly regarded nurses to look after him, which they are doing as we speak. God knows my efforts have been useless. They drove you away. And then they almost killed him."

She stroked his cheek. "Shhhh, do not, my dear."

"What a damned fool I have been! Everyone tried to tell me, but I refused to listen. I carried on living by the same old lesson, that vigilance is the mother of success. Papa taught me that, and I suppose it applies to most things, perhaps, but..."

"Not everything," she finished, and Fred quietly concurred before something drew his attention to the entryway.

"Be gone," he brusquely ordered the stationed footman who instantly obeyed. With a deep frown, Fred murmured to Priscilla, "I could swear his eyes were on us. I might ought to report him."

"Oh never mind him, darling. I doubt he heard a word, and even if he did, it is of little matter. Please go on."

"Where was I?" He looked at her and was instantly warmed by her expression. "I shall do better. What time Father has left will be spent in luxury, and this clinic is reputed to be utterly free of cruelty, with lovely grounds, trees, ponds, a place with comfortable beds and a caring staff. He will have fresh air, sunshine, exercise, a good doctor, attendants, people far more suitable than me. Right, darling?"

"Yes, my love. Trust in that. When do you plan on telling him?"

Frederick thought aloud in response, weighing the potential dangers in telling him too soon. He gulped down his drink and then said, "I will inform him on the day he leaves us, and then brace myself."

"And I shall be next to you," she affirmed, and then was thanked with his lingering kiss to her forehead.

"I will have you know that I have been using this time wisely, with almost all of it spent taking every precaution to ensure his care and our peace. Especially yours, my dear." He lay a hand on her tummy and smiled. "And yours, little one." He looked again at her. "You will never dread our home ever again."

"I believe you. My things are packed already. When can we leave?"

Fred pinched her chin, rose to his feet, and crossed back over to the trolley. "At the end of this evening, which I aim to be a short one. I have neither need nor wish to be in his company for any longer than it takes to squeeze him dry. Still, this night ought to be memorable, perhaps even enlightening. Compulsive gamblers, pathetic as they are, always fascinated me to some degree; and I cannot deny being drawn even deeper in by this proclaimed legend among them. Tales abound of his exploits as well as methods said to have caused many an uproar at many a hell."

"Hell?"

"A gambling house meant rather for the multitudes than a marquess, nowhere near as fine as Boodle's or White's. Hells are playrooms, a veritable pit of delights for the common degenerate's unfettered amusement. One would be hard pressed to find an official record these days, but the stories maintain that ol' Thorny could not walk into an actual gentleman's club without being barred that very same evening. He once killed a man, you know."

"He…what?"

"Over a gambling debt. Lord Somerset."

"You mean he…" Priscilla shot from her chair and then closed the distance between them, whispering, "You mean that man, the patient, is not only a marquess but also the mystery murderer from The Song of Somerset?"

Fred nodded. "It is not just a folk tune, my dear. As the lyrics reveal, he was designed for the righteous King's damnation but our royal King's acquittal. Never was he made to even stand for the crime. Among several others, no doubt. Half the pain and disgrace brought upon his family these last twenty years are either because of him or directly dealt by him." Fred smoothed his fingers over the lines of worry etched on her brow. "There now, sweetheart; be not uneasy. By Lord Matlock's tongue and my own eyes, this poor wretch is at the very threshold of mortality. Harmless as a kitten. My role is merely in giving a dying man a few more rounds of play before he, if you will, cashes in his chips. But what he views as a swan song shall in fact be a tribunal of penance, for I mean to take him for everything he has left, down to the last button holding together his ugly, borrowed kit." He ran his thumb over her frown, "In the figurative sense, my love," and then kissed it into a smile. "In the literal, we shall each have a merry ol' time."

"Oh Freddy, do be careful. Even you've proclaimed him to be very good, and you are so very competitive."

"In that respect we are similar, but the difference is that I, unlike him, may boast far more wins than losses. His journey ends here" (he touched her stomach), "whilst mine is just beginning."

"Dr. Fitzwilliam has quit treating him," she said furtively.

"He has?"

She nodded. "And has quit the home, as well."

"When?"

"Yesterday afternoon. I think it was unexpected as Elizabeth seemed very disconcerted at the sight of his carriage being loaded. When we parted company I had hoped to learn a little more at dinner, but was obliged to take a tray in my room after I was informed that Mrs. Darcy had become suddenly indisposed. Later I heard whispers from the maids about a passionate quarrel between the master and mistress over some wager; and then that evening I heard the slamming of what I am certain was their bedroom door. It is not my wish to pry, Freddy, but I am concerned for our friends. Something is amiss, something to do with this Marquess What's-His-Name? Thornhill?"

"Thornhaugh. And as I said, he will not be their burden much longer. I can only surmise the reason Fitzwilliam gave up, but it is a sound theory." There was a pause while Fred poured himself another glass. "His own father gave up on him years ago, so it is no surprise that his doctor would do likewise. It took him long enough. The youngest born is always wettest behind the ears, but even Matty the Third had to finally own the truth of it. Thornhaugh is untreatable, a hopeless case, always has been." Fred then looked at her with a flash of panic in his eyes. "You have not been in his company, have you?"

"No, but virtually everyone else has been and do not seem to have gravely suffered for it. I would never impose myself on anyone, but should like to know how he poses a threat to apparently no one but me." She added lightly but with a slight edge to her tone, "Perchance I am a carrier of something that may somehow further compromise his health."

"You are in far more danger of being compromised than the reverse."

She started at this, and then regarded her husband quizzically. "To you he is harmless as a kitten, but to me he is dangerous?"

"As the devil himself."

"How so?" At his apprehension, she grew serious. "Please, my dear. The Darcys' personal affairs are their own, but I cannot bear for you to exclude me thus."

"My intent—and the Darcys as well, I believe—is not to exclude you, but to protect you as I would from any puppet master as him."

"You have an awful lot of names for him. That one is not quite as bad as 'devil,' but worse than 'degenerate.'"

"And there are so many more that suit him: rogue, menace, deviant—"

"And puppet master? I see. Then I suppose that makes me a puppet."

"You are young."

"Ah, so true, and the children even younger, yet they have no such restriction enforced upon them. Why am I so different, pray?" she asked facetiously. "What on earth could be the reason?"

"Priscilla do not do this. Not now. Not here."

Drawing all her courage in the face of his evident disapproval, she trusted her teachings and pressed further. "I wish to know, Freddy. Is he not to be trusted, or am I? Is there fear of him seducing me, or my allowance of it? Tell me, does everyone—you, our community, our closest neighbors, even the doctor— think me so hopelessly weak and irredeemable? Am I to keep a twenty-yard distance from every gentleman of ill repute? from temptation itself? Is that my penance?"

Frederick turned back to the trolley, this time reaching for the sherry. "Pardon me if I still find you somewhat susceptible, as well as a ripe bit of prey for an artist of his caliber. We men are simple creatures built for enticing the fairer sex to our own particular end. My skills in that arena are probably nothing to his, and yet it took me all of an hour to win you away from Selvidge."

"He was little in the way of competition; and you did not win me like one of your silver cups for hare coursing. I fell in love with you, so deeply that I ignored every warning against you, every alert that your interest in me was entirely superficial."

"Whose warning?" he asked stiffly. "Mrs. Darcy's?"

"Elizabeth has demonstrated nothing but the utmost concern for my welfare," she shot back, "so do not dare cast aspersions on her."

"I would not dream of it. I only—"

"This is between us, Mr. Blackwell."

He winced as if stung, as much by the cold form of address as the pejorative manner in which it was said. Priscilla blushed at her own boldness but dug in her heels, remembering back to something Elizabeth had said during one of their many long chats: Even in marital warfare one must know thy self as well as thy enemy, which also happens to be thy love. We ladies are so quick to return a strike with ten times the venom, when in fact it is more effective to sprinkle a harsh truth with a dash of sugar. This thought gave Priscilla the poise to continue: "I fell very much in love with you despite all disapproval, despite the gossip around Melbourne about the contempt in which you held the first Mrs. Blackwell and that marriage in general. I understood why you saw it as nothing to mourn, even as a matter of propriety. Where there was scorn for you I felt empathy, as I find the very notion of an arranged marriage an act of barbarism. I admired your courage to stand up to ridicule, including my father's, and it inspired me to do the same. You proved yourself so very quickly as not another handsome face. You seemed…good for me. I found your dominant nature, in many respects, very much in harmony with my own. I have not Elizabeth's spirit of independence, but…" She paused, losing her nerve again.

"Go on, darling," Fred encouraged.

She drew a breath. "I do have a mind and a voice. You will find me far less resistant to yours, Frederick, so long as mine is also taken into account."

"Dearest! Why have you not said this before?"

"I have tried! Don't you see? No, you do not see, and yet I still love you, despite most of Derbyshire testifying to your crass view of me as an improvement over your first wife in looks, temper and let us not forget fertility. Through our whirlwind engagement, I overlooked all the evidence to your ungentlemanlike sportsmanship, especially in political races. I ignored talk of your vicious conduct in Parliament towards those who opposed you. I bore your low regard for dissenters, the renegade rabble always fighting for more rights and better circumstances. I fell in love and have stayed in love despite your far from stellar reputation, and now owing to the sum of our collective faults we are both pariahs. But I do not care about that nearly as much as I care about your opinion of me. Perhaps that could be more accurately blamed on my youth and inexperience, but it is the truth all the same. The way I see it, you and this Thornhaugh are on equal ground, but I would never, ever call you a hopeless case—nor him, nor myself, nor almost anyone." She began to walk away, and then halted upon hearing her name called out in an almost panicked voice. "I believe it was you, sir, who said that this evening was to be a strictly men's only affair. My plan was to spend it with the children till we may finally go home." She rubbed her tummy. "Elizabeth says that no excellence is to be acquired without constant practice," then peering at him from over her shoulder, "You may kiss me farewell if you like."

Frederick was at her side in three seconds, the full glass of sherry set down and forgotten. "Darling!" he cried, crushing her to him from behind. "Forgive me, dearest," he whispered against her temple that was kissed again and again. "And God forgive me, but you are better than Sophie was, better than I am, better for me,better than any woman mad enough to have a boorish, blind, pompous, primitive prat like me for a husband. And I shall prove to you, Priscilla Blackwell, that I am worlds better than him. He is nothing!"

She tempered his passion with a warm gaze and gentle pat to his cheek. "Be kind, Freddy. Promise me this evening shall be civilized."

"Of course, darling," he said, releasing her. "I could never stoop to his level of savagery, even if I wished to."

As Fred retrieved his glass, Mr. Darcy entered the room in dashing formal attire. "Madam," he greeted with a bow, "a game of blind man's bluff is shortly to commence in the nursery, and my wife is claiming to be in dire need of more players."

Priscilla took his hint in good spirit. "I am happy to oblige, Mr. Darcy." She curtseyed, and with a kiss to her husband's cheek, whispered, "Good luck, sweetheart," and chimed, "You men behave yourselves now!" on her way out.


Fred wore the silliest of grins, his eyes still stuck to the spot where his wife stood not a minute before. "Is she not the loveliest thing?"

"I am happy for you," said Darcy, meaning it. "Now smarten up if you know what is good for you. Tonight it would be gravely foolish to wear your heart upon your sleeve for the crows to peck at."

As he spoke, Darcy's tepid mien suddenly froze, eyes fixed on his alarmed neighbor in such a manner for him to ask what the matter could be.

Darcy pointed and said flatly, "Please tell me that is your first glass."

This took Fred greatly by surprise. "I…third, I think. Why, Darcy?"

"Good God," Darcy groaned. "How foxed are you?"

"Not at all. I feel fantastic!" Fred raised his glass. "Fresh as a daisy with thanks to your fine—"

Darcy seized the glass quick as a flash before tossing its contents into the fire, taking no notice of the mighty flare this action produced as his eyes cut to the assortment of fodders set neatly upon the sideboard. "Eat some bread. Quick, man! Sober up."

"Darcy, what the deuce—"

"Do as I say! else you have lost already. That is the last piece of counsel I have time to dole out." (glancing at the clock) "He will be down soon, and he is never tardy. Six minutes."

Fred waved off his warning as nonsense. "I have bested many a chap at cards half sprung."

"You are indeed a fool if you think tonight compares to any other."

"I shiver with fear," the man quipped. "Why have the trolley here in the first place if I am forbidden?"

This question was given its due mockery as Darcy recited with much annoyance, "'Drink is to be accessible at all times, whether or not either player chooses to indulge.' Of course, you would know this, Blackwell, had you read the terms you signed and couriered back to me in record time just this morning."

"I do beg your pardon, sir, for not committing every word to memory."

"By your look, I trust you dignified it with little more than a cursory review."

"And what of it? I treat most articles in the same manner."

"Upon my word! You manage three thousand acres! You were a legislator! You were in Parliament, for the love of—"

"You've not a notion of the number of pages those ruddy proposals took up. I had my clerks boil them down to the important bits."

"This was a single page!"

"Yes, well, I have been rather occupied with matters of some import, Darcy. Of a truth, I see almost as little point in that trifling document as this evening in general.

"Is that to say you refuse to comply with the terms? If so, then we might as well tear up the paper and call the whole thing off. In fact, I recommend it. Is all well at Kingston? Is your wife to return home with you?"

"Yes."

"Then do so now, I beg you, for if you dare take this contest lightly—"

"I take no contest lightly, but neither am I obliged to give a mutinous peer, even a dying one, a scrap of my hard-won respect. He thinks himself so bloody clever, that he rises above every class, above the law, above Royalty itself. Let him reign in hell for all I care, but in the mortal world he is lower than dirt."

Darcy would have dearly wished to caution Fred further on the dangers of underestimating him, were he not so pressed for time. In a last-ditch effort, he tried an offhand approach. "Are you certain you would not rather forfeit? As this evening carries so little meaning for you, nor should it, and as you have so much happiness to look forward to— with your wife, your child, your—"

"The more you try and talk me into leaving, Darcy, the more determined I am to stay. All night if need be. Forfeiture would hand him victory by default, and even with no spoils to show for it I should be damned to allow him even that much satisfaction. But I do thank you for cautioning me. I shall not underestimate him."

Darcy was both surprised and impressed that Fred had essentially read his thoughts. Perhaps he is not such a fool after all. He then checked the clock again before leveling his gaze at Fred, who was now standing nobly before the flaming hearth. "There is but one more constraint that is not specified in the terms, for it is my own. My house, my rules." Drawing closer to the fireplace, Darcy came to stand but a foot's distance from his thoroughly confident guest. "You will not lay a hand on him, understand? Not one finger. Swear it."

Fred looked affronted. "Must I remind everyone that I am the gentleman in this contest?"

"Your tongue shall remain unbound, as shall his. Per the terms, our social mores on this occasion are null and void, the gentleman's code nonexistent. You both have the privilege to speak as plainly as you like, with as much malice or vulgarity as it serves or pleases you. In that respect, expose your fangs and claws with my blessing. But if you cross the line into physical violence by even the smallest measure…" He let the warning lie upon deciding it best to show Fred the potential consequences. As prearranged with his staff, Darcy snapped his fingers, triggering the nearest footman into action, moments later reappearing with big Angus at his side. Darcy approached to stand before this most dependable workhand who was his largest and strongest by far. Tall as Darcy was, he had to look up at the towering hulk of a man. "Angus, I believe you are acquainted with our honored guest, Sir Fredrick?"

Angus crossed his beefy arms, glaring at the subject with undisguised dislike, which was of course a dismissible impertinence on any night but this one. "Yes, sir," he answered in a low, gravelly voice.

"He does not much care for you, Fred. Remember when you destroyed my fence five years ago? the one that partitions our properties? No point in denying it. Angus saw the whole thing."

"I…I did not destroy any fence. I kicked one rail!"

"And continued booting like a madman till the wood split apart, because you tried to jump it and were thrown to the ground. And then you quit the scene without a word to anyone. It took a whole year to complete that fence, and my men took much pride in the project."

"Are you weaponizing your servants now, Darcy?"

"I am certain he will serve as nothing more than a deterrent. You are the gentleman in this contest."

"Indeed," Fred sniffed proudly, "and as such, I am beginning to feel decidedly unwelcome here. Perhaps I shall take my leave after all."

"Then you forfeit, Blackwell," Thornhaugh boomed from the hall. "However, if you can manage to depart from the premises in the next ninety-three seconds" (his voice became clearer as his presence loomed closer), "I shall waive the penalty of defeat. No need for a gentleman as yourself to bear such insult. Why not cool off and come back tomorrow morning for your missus. I assure you that she will be well entertained."