Chapter 2

There were outlaws, as 'tis well known,

And men of a noble blood;

And a many a time was their valour shown

In the forest of merry Sherwood.

Upon a time it chanced so,

As Robin Hood would have it be,

They all three would a walking go,

Some pastimes for to see.

As Richard and Darcy walked along the path toward the lake, they could hear Edward singing at the top of his voice. The boys stopped and hid behind a tree as they watched Edward cooling himself in Pemberley's lake, quite by himself, happily raising his voice in song.

They looked at one another and grinned, for Edward was indeed a sorry singer. Richard spied Edward's clothes atop a boulder beside another tree.

"Wills," Richard said in a low voice and then snickered. "He is naked! Look, there are his clothes."

Darcy giggled, but bit his lip for fear of Edward hearing them. "Do you think he will notice if his clothes turn up missing?"

"Not at all," Richard said and stifled a laugh. "Why would he need clothes on such a warm day?"

The boys crawled over to the rock, pulled off Edward's togs, and tucked them under their arms. As they hastily retreated to the house, they could hear Edward's merry melodies wafting on the breeze.

At dinner Edward pushed the food around on his plate. Darcy and Richard sat quietly, attempting to keep their faces from showing their guilt, though Edward's red cheeks made it very difficult.

"Well, Edward, I believe you have been taken in by one of the oldest tricks in the book." The earl looked at his son with a grin upon his face. "It must have been one of the tenant children who took your clothes, for no son of mine would ever do anything so low." He eyed his younger son and pursed his lips.

Glancing at his own father, young Darcy met a look of disapproval. He lowered his eyes to his plate to hide his mirth and quietly ate the meal before him. Darcy nearly choked on his food as the earl recounted how Edward had been forced to make his way to the stables, quite in the buff, where he bribed a stable hand for a horse blanket to wrap himself in so he would be able to make his way into the house.

Young Richard let out a snicker at the story. "You find it amusing, Richard?" his father barked.

Richard gathered his wits and snapped to attention. "No, sir, not at all."

"And you, Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy inquired sternly of his own son. "You appear to be quite diverted by your cousin's misfortune."

"No, sir, excepting that it does lend itself to a rather ridiculous picture," Young Darcy's grin turned into open laughter as Richard let out a guffaw.

"Mind your impertinence, young man," Mr. Darcy reprimanded his son. "The table is no place for foolishness. Perhaps a night spent in your room would be appropriate. Take yourself there now, straightaway."

"Yes, Father." Darcy got up from the table with his head bowed and quickly slipped from the room.

"You too, Richard, and do not let me catch you laughing at your brother's expense again," the earl snapped.

"Yes, sir." Richard followed his cousin's example and obediently left the room.

The earl turned to his brother-in-law with a purposeful look, which was returned by a meaningful twitch of Mr. Darcy's eyebrows before Edward could catch either gesture.

Side by side, Darcy and Richard headed for their rooms, grinning as they went. They both knew it would go better on them to take the easier punishment than be made to confess and suffer a worse one. Confinement to their rooms was not such a bad thing, as it also saved them from the wrath of Edward and any retaliation. They both had stowed a few good books in their rooms, for just such occasions.

It was Sunday and the morning was spent in church. This was agony for most boys, as it was expected that they would sit quietly and reflect for longer than they deemed tolerable. They were made to listen to tedious sermons, droned on by vicars. The subject that week concerned the propriety of virtue.

Young Darcy sat next to his father in the family pew. He glanced around the church and happened to see Miss Annabelle Martin sitting across the aisle with her parents. She gave him a shy smile as he caught her eye, and he looked back and smiled, too. Then he tried his best to pay attention to the sermon.

He thought perhaps he should feel some guilt at having compromised the girl, though as he contemplated it a while longer, Darcy decided that the experience had not been wholly bad. In fact, he had rather enjoyed his first experience with the opposite sex, and besides, it had been she who had kissed him, after all. He let his mind drift back to his present situation. He fidgeted in his seat as he thought of the battles to be waged and victories to be claimed down by the ruins.

Mr. Darcy looked down at his son and noticed his restlessness. Though not unsympathetic to the discomfort of a hot, stuffy room, there was etiquette to be maintained. He reached down and put his hand on his son's knee, implying to the boy to remain on his best behavior.

Young Darcy knew the meaning of the press of his father's hand. His father was kind and loving, and not given to an ill temper, as were some he had seen. However, young Darcy had learned that it was not wise to test his father's patience too severely. From as much of a desire to please his father as to avoid any further gesture of correction, Fitzwilliam shifted once more and thereafter tried to emulate his father's still and composed posture.

Robin was a gentle boy,

And therewithal as bold;

To say he was his mother's joy,

It were a phrase too cold.

His hair upon his thoughtful brow

Came smoothly clipped, and sleek,

But ran into a curl somehow

Beside his merrier cheek.

When the family arrived home, Darcy went upstairs and knocked on his mother's bedchamber door.

"Mama, may I come in?"

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. I would very much like to see you," Lady Anne's voice consoled him. His mother had taken to bed, for she had recently discovered she was with child, and she had begun to feel ill. The much-awaited news that a child was on the way had been a long time in coming for the Darcys, being as Fitzwilliam was past eleven. He really had no idea of the impact a baby would make on his life. He did not understand any of it, nor did he particularly care to.

"How do you feel, Mama?" he inquired.

"Well enough, under the circumstances. Are you and your cousins behaving yourselves? I do not wish to know that you are giving your father grief."

Fitzwilliam smiled mischievously and said, "Fairly well, Mama."

"You are not climbing trees and bashing one another with those sticks, are you?" his mother asked and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Mama, it is what boys do! If I am not allowed, there will be nothing left to do and the summer will be for naught!" Darcy protested.

"Fitzwilliam, I should not want any harm to come to you. You will surely hurt yourselves wielding those sticks and hanging like monkeys from the trees."

Young Darcy watched his mother shift position in bed and close her eyes as a wave of illness overtook her. "Are you certain you are well, Mama?"

"Yes, dear, it is only a little discomfort. It is endurable, as it is a sign that the baby is well enough."

"Your poor mother, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said and sighed. "I do know how she felt." Elizabeth lowered her feet from the stool and sat forward to stretch as much as she was able.

"Shall we walk for a bit, my love?" Darcy stood up and gave her his hand.

"Around the room will be sufficient, for I would not wish you to forget to continue your story," she said and smiled up at her husband.

"Somehow I think you will not let that happen."

Elizabeth stood up. "Ooh…there," she said. Grabbing Darcy's hand, she placed it on her belly. "There, do you feel the baby?" she said and giggled.

Darcy did feel the baby, poking and jabbing at him. "Does that hurt?" he asked, looking a little squeamish but smiling nonetheless.

Elizabeth shook her head, "It mostly tickles, although sometimes the tyke gets in a good shot. It is, however, a very reassuring feeling."

Darcy's smile faded. He leaned over and kissed Elizabeth tenderly, as he whispered, "My dearest."

"What is the matter?" she inquired.

Darcy shook his head. "Had I only known back then the things I know now, I would not have given my father grief. He must have been terribly concerned about my mother, and about the baby. Instead of being allowed to attend to his obligations and worries, he had to contend with the antics of a spoiled boy."

Darcy heaved a sigh as he thought of his father, but his smile reappeared as he felt his own child move once more against his hand, reassuring him that everything was well.

Despite the looming threat of parental chastisement, Darcy and Richard continued their pranks on Edward. His irritation on discovering their chicanery was too amusing to resist. For Richard, it was a matter of payback for Edward being the older brother. For Darcy, it was merely good sport.

Edward fancied himself a fearless hunter, for he had been on a hunt with his father and Mr. Darcy earlier that year. He delighted in tormenting the younger boys with the fact that he was of an age to be taken on such prestigious outings, while they were still infants, as he liked to call them. This caused great vexation for the younger boys.

During the summer months, bats had been known to hide in the attics of Pemberley house. That summer had been no different, and Mr. Darcy warned the children that if they saw them, they must tell him immediately, and never touch the creatures, for fear they would be bitten and get something called hydrophobia.

The younger boys delighted as Mr. Darcy told them this, especially when they saw Edward shiver in disgust at the thought of encountering such vermin. Later that night, when everyone was in bed, there was a knock on young Darcy's bedchamber door. He scurried from his bed and opened the door, and Richard slipped into the room.

"Wills, did you see? Edward is afraid of the bats!"

"I do not blame him, Richard. I have seen one and the very notion of them makes your skin crawl." Darcy shook off the shiver that invaded his body.

Richard made a determined face. "Edward does not know that we fear them! I have an idea, but I need your help."

"Oh no!" Darcy resolutely shook his head. "I am not catching any bats!"

Richard folded his arms across his chest. "I did not know you were such a coward!"

"A coward, me?" Darcy was incredulous. "Surely you are making a joke."

"Then you will help me?" Richard asked with glee.

Darcy nodded his head and then decided he would visit the library in the morning and restock his room with a few more books, feeling another banishment coming down in the near future. He had a feeling that when his father found out what they were up to, he would be spending more time in solitary confinement.

The next morning, the boys were up early and stole out of the house before being missed. They ran down the lawn and stopped under a large pine tree, looking underneath for a pine cone that would be precisely the right size. Darcy picked up a perfect specimen and shoved it in the pocket of his coat.

After breakfast, the boys went to their rooms to gather their arsenal for play. Edward entered his bedchamber, followed by Darcy.

"What?" Edward said as he scowled at the younger boy.

Darcy shrugged. "Nothing. I thought today you could be Robin of Loxley."

"Truly?" Edward said and grinned. He no sooner began to rejoice at his good fortune than Richard came running into his bedchamber, looking ghastly pale.

"Edward! There in my room!" Richard pointed hysterically.

Edward gasped. "What? What is it?"

"Something on the floor of my bedchamber!" Richard yelled. "You must go and fetch it!"

"I am not going to fetch it!" Edward screamed back. "It is probably a bat!"

Darcy stood behind Edward and nearly laughed at his older cousin's distress. "You are the oldest, and besides you are a fine hunter, or so you say," Darcy taunted him. "Richard and I are merely infants!"

"That is right! You are infants!" Edward said, sneering.

"Well, I am not afraid of a flying rodent." Darcy went to Edward's bureau and found a small box on top of it. He emptied it of its contents and he opened the secretary drawer and took out a few sheets of paper.

"What are you doing?" Edward yelped as he shadowed his young cousin.

"I am going to catch it in this box. I shall put the box over it, slide the paper underneath, and turn the whole thing over. Then I will take the poor creature outside and let it go!"

Edward stopped and stood with his mouth open as Darcy left the room. Richard began to follow his younger cousin.

"Just where are you going?"

"I am going to help Wills catch the beasty," Richard said matter-of-factly.

"You are out of your minds, the both of you!" Edward screeched.

"And you are fainthearted!" Richard lambasted his brother.

Edward was appalled. He had boasted of his courage and daring to his younger sibling and cousin. Now here he was, standing idly by as the younger boy's risked life and limb to rid the household of a scourge that carried hydrophobia, of all things.

Darcy returned to Edward's room within a few minutes, with the box in his hand and the paper over it. "I got it!" he exclaimed with a grin.

"Nay, you are pulling my leg, you are!" Edward shook his head. "There is nothing in that box."

"There is so!" Darcy protested. "Here, take a look."

Darcy moved forward and slid the paper off the box a bit. Edward backed up and nearly fell on his backside in his haste to get away.

"You are bluffing! There is nothing in that box!"

Darcy took the box and tilted it to the side. Edward heard something in the box scratching, and then bump on the other side of the box. Edward's eyes opened wide and he started backing up farther and faster.

"Do you not want to see it, Edward?" Richard asked with a grin.

"I saw it in my room. It is black and ugly, with big wings and fangs!"

Richard imitated the creature the best he could.

"Uh…n-no…no…" Edward stammered, as the panic in him grew worse. "Get it out of here!"

Darcy moved the paper away from the box a little more and looked inside. "It looks harmless enough."

Edward became desperate. "Wills, take it away! It will surely bite you, and then you will be frothing at the mouth!"

"Not from such a little thing!" Darcy grinned and looked inside once again; and then with a jump, heaved the box up, letting its contents fly out in Edward's direction.

Edward shrieked and fell to the floor, and then quickly crawled out of the room on all fours, screaming at the tops of his lungs. The younger boys were overcome with glee as they fell onto Edward's bed in fits of laughter.

Richard ran over and picked up the pinecone from the floor and held it in the air. "Some great hunter he turned out to be! Afraid of a big, ugly pinecone!"

In summer time when leaves grow green

'Twas a seemly sight to see

How Robin Hood himselfe had drest

And all his yeomandrie.

He clad himselfe in scarlett red

His men in Lincoln green

And so prepares for London towne,

To shoot before the lovely queen.

The boys had planned to run into Lambton that day to play cricket on the green. Young Wickham had told them a few of the boys from the village were organizing a game and all those willing and able were to be invited.

When the boys arrived at the green that morning, the scene looked like a knightly tournament, with young men waiting to show their expertise at sport, and young ladies lined up along the sides of the field to cheer on their favorites. Miss Mary Chaney was there, eager to see Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard obliged the young lady, walking over to where she stood with her friends and taking a moment to play the flirting game, which he had tried to explain to his cousin Darcy after the assembly, but to no avail.

Darcy stood some ways back and watched his cousin's amiable nature with those of the opposite sex. It was no matter whether young Darcy wished to participate in this particular game; in his opinion, he would never have a talent for it. He spied Miss Annabelle Martin amongst the girls, and for some reason he felt obliged to make sure she noticed his presence. Edward threw Darcy a ball, and Darcy began to make several practice bowls, while Edward took a few swings.

Darcy was convinced that there was no better way for a chap to be noticed by a girl, than while engaged in a little sport. Each time he bowled, he would steal a glance over in Miss Martin's direction, to make sure she was thoroughly impressed with the figure he cut on the playing field. Miss Martin watched and smiled as Master Darcy did his best to look impressive for her benefit. Darcy was annoyed, however, when young Wickham made his way over to the group of girls and began to monopolize their attentions.

Darcy bowled the ball again, and then looked over in Miss Martin's direction, only to see her laughing and her eyes sparkling at the amiable conversation of George Wickham. Edward hit the ball and it went flying in Darcy's direction.

"Look out!" Edward yelled, and Darcy fell to the ground just in time to avoid having his bell rung, much to his embarrassment. When Darcy scrambled to his feet, he stormed over to where Wickham and Richard were entertaining the girls.

"Are we going to play this game?" he huffed. "Or are you going to lollygag all day?"

Darcy was selected the captain of one team and Robert Leyton the captain of the other. Young Leyton was a year older than Darcy, and the two boys were neighbors, although they did not play together. Leyton's father and Mr. Darcy were not the best of friends, even though their estates bordered each other's. The Darcys and the Leytons had been involved in many land disputes throughout the years, going back as far as the boys' great-grandfathers. It seemed, in the opinion of the Darcys that the Leytons were always making claim to Pemberley lands. The feud had been perpetuated throughout the years, but both boys knew little of the particulars, only that their families were not on good terms.

Wickham was chosen as umpire, much to the chagrin of both captains, for Wickham was known to make questionable calls. The teams were nominated, and play commenced near noon.

The constable was taking his midday turn about Lambton when he stopped to watch the friendly play on the green. Seeing no problems, he decided to continue on, although he thought it best to come back by the green after some time.

Unbeknownst to Darcy and his cousins, there had been a match a fortnight earlier, which had turned into an all-out brawl. The constable was in no humor to see the same thing happen on this day, and he swore to himself that if there was any mischief, someone would face the consequences.

The midday sun beat down on the green, and after about an hour, most of the boys began to feel hot and testy. There were a few occasions when Darcy and Leyton argued over a call of Wickham's.

However, Edward, Richard, and a few friends of Leyton's did their best to keep the peace. A new boy walked onto the field for Leyton's side, and upon seeing this, Darcy ran over to Wickham.

"Who is he?" Darcy questioned in annoyance.

Leyton came out onto the field and with hands on his hips said, "I am making a change in players."

"You cannot do that!" Darcy looked at Wickham, "I say, he cannot do that! It is against the rules!"

"Tis not!" exclaimed Leyton.

By now, the rest of the boys had gathered around as Leyton and Darcy argued the rules of the game.

"You nominated your players, and the rules state that you cannot make a change in the middle of the match without my consent!" Darcy huffed, quite put out by Leyton's audacity.

"Darcy," Wickham said as he smiled nervously, "give him your consent, so we can get back to play."

Darcy soon wavered in his determination to stick with the rules, especially since he was hot and tired. He made a move to give his consent when Leyton interrupted him.

"He will never consent! Like father, like son!" Leyton quipped.

Darcy frowned resentfully. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Richard held onto Darcy's right arm and Edward held onto his left as the irritated boy tried to charge at his accuser.

"It means you are as unbending as a fence post," Leyton said and smirked.

Darcy screwed his face up in revulsion, but Richard and Edward kept their hold on him. Wickham quietly moved around the outer edge of the circle, careful to stay on the side of his benefactor's son, yet also near an escape route.

"At least I can win and play by the rules, instead of cheating by moving the fence posts!"

Leyton's face was red with anger as he came within inches of Darcy, shoving the boy's shoulders with the tips of his fingers, "You are stubborn and absurd."

"Here now, Leyton, there is no need—" But Edward was not allowed to finish, as he let go Darcy's arm to move Leyton's hand away. Darcy had heard enough.

With a quick jab to the gut, Darcy knocked the wind out of Leyton. A boy came flying across the line, intent on defending his captain from young Darcy's attack, but knocked into Richard instead, sending them both to the ground.

Within a few seconds, there were boys flying everywhere, knocking each other down and tumbling about in the grass. Girls were screaming at the horrifying scene, although in truth they thought it fairly good sport to watch the boys fussing and fighting.

There was a market at one corner of the green where the local farmers sold their fruits and vegetables during the summer months. Wickham ran by one farmer's cart, trying to flee one of Leyton's supporters, but the other boy was too quick, as he reached out and caught Wickham by the coat, flinging him around.

Wickham reached behind into the farmer's cart and grasped a melon in his hands. He raised it above him and let it down hard upon the boy's head. Thankfully, the melon was extremely ripe and only succeeded in making the lad look like a salad. When he had cleared away the juice that was dripping down into his eyes, Wickham was gone. That did not much matter, though, as he grabbed two more melons and ran back to the fray. Soon boys were pulling out melons left and right, pelting one another in frenzied assault. The poor farmer tried his best to protect his crop, but every time he went to interfere, he was splattered with another of his own melons.

Darcy and Leyton were rolling around on the ground, punching and kicking each other, when Richard came up behind them with a melon.

"I say, break it up!" Richard yelled, but the boys kept punching and rolling. Richard waited until Leyton was on top of Darcy, and then let the melon crack onto Leyton's head. Darcy scrambled to his feet as Leyton rolled off, confused by the surprise attack.

"Thank you, Richard!" Darcy said and grinned.

"Do not mention it!" Richard returned, laughing.

No sooner had they turned around to join the rest of the brawl than someone caught them by the scruffs of their collars.

"I never thought I would see it come to this!" bellowed the constable. He and some of his men gathered the boys that had not run off and took them back to the constable's office. They placed all the boys into a small cell, including Darcy, his cousins, and Leyton.

"Now, there will be no trouble out of you boys! Your parents will be notified of your whereabouts, and you shall remain here until they can fetch you!"

Darcy looked about the cell. There were battered and bruised boys everywhere, and each and every one of them was covered with melon pulp and seeds. Darcy made his way to one of the wooden benches and sat down with his head in his hands. He thought he might cry as he imagined the ire of his father and the grief of his mother upon hearing the news that their only son was incarcerated.

He glanced through his fingers to see Edward and Richard looking much the same way. "Father will have our heads, or worse," Edward moaned.

"Edward, do not speak of it." Richard's heart pounded at the thought of their father's likely reproof.

There was a commotion at the door of the office, and every boy in the cell stood at attention, believing that his father was about to enter the room to claim his son. You could hear a pin drop as a figure entered the room and came around the corner to peer into the dusky cell.

The constable's keys jangled as he opened the lock and called out, "Robert Leyton, you are to go."

Robert left the cell and stood next to the constable. Darcy saw Mr. Leyton come around the corner with a mortified look on his face. The father grabbed the back of his son's collar and pulled him out of the room. Every boy in the cell startled as they heard the front door slam and the driver of the carriage call out huskily to his team as the horses sped away.

It was not long before Mr. Darcy and the earl got word of their sons' whereabouts and drove to Lambton to fetch them. The earl came around the corner of the room and stood before the cell. His face was stone cold as he glared at his sons. Darcy had never seen Edward and Richard look so fearful, or his uncle so furious.

The constable opened the cell door, and the earl growled, "Get into the carriage, both of you!"

Both boys did as they were told, leaving Darcy still within the cell. The earl looked at his nephew, frowned, and then left the room. Darcy wiped the sweat from his palms onto his coat, wondering where his father was as he turned around to survey the remaining boys.

"Darcy!" the constable's voice boomed through the silence, causing the boy to jump and his heart to pound. Darcy turned to take leave, but froze where he stood, upon finding his father waiting for him, ominously silent.

"Come out, boy, your father is waiting," the constable chastised. The boy could not look up as he came to stand before his father and the constable.

"Mr. Darcy, sir," the constable spoke apologetically, "your son has never before been in trouble here. If it were not for…well, sir…if it were not for his part in this mess, I'd gladly have let him go without another word on the subject."

Darcy glanced up to find his father glaring at him, "You are responsible for this, this mess boy?"

Darcy searched his father's eyes, desperate to find any hint of leniency as he justified his involvement. "Papa, I had no choice! Leyton insulted me…our family…" The smoldering anger in his father's eyes told him his defense was useless. Hanging his head in dismay, Darcy admitted quietly, "So I hit him."

The constable cleared his throat before venturing tentatively, "Aye, sir, and there's more to the story, if you please."

Mr. Darcy frowned as he pointed his son to a bench along the wall, "Sit yourself down. I will hear out the constable."

While trying to appear disinterested, Darcy strained to hear the conversation taking place across the room, but all he could manage to hear were snippets of information.

"…came running for me…reluctant to say…said he'd be getting someone in trouble whom he'd rather not…"

"Where is he?"

"Sent him home, like a good lad…what else am I to think? Master Darcy standing in the middle of it all…"

"…lost the entire cartful?"

"That he did, sir. I cannot let your son…"

Unfortunately, as his father turned toward him, the last was pronounced with great clarity: "You have my assurance that he will be thoroughly punished. Please see that the farmer Mr. Landers receives this."

Mr. Darcy took out his money clip and handed a five-pound note to the constable. "And please accept my apologies for the trouble you have endured."

Darcy stepped into the Fitzwilliam carriage and slipped quietly into the space next to his cousins as his father took up a place beside the earl.

"Brother, Fitzwilliam has admitted to starting the fight," Mr. Darcy informed the earl sadly. "And according to young Wickham, my son was also the first to raid the farmer's cart."

Young Darcy exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief with Edward and Richard before sputtering an objection: "But I did not—I never—"

Edward, feeling the responsibility fell to him as the eldest among the boys, interrupted his cousin: "Father, it is not right—what Wickham told the constable."

"You are in no position to judge Wickham's actions," the earl growled, believing his son to be condemning the boy for telling on the others. "I want to hear nothing more from you, Edward—from either of you," the earl said, eyeing his sons sharply.

Mr. Darcy rapped the ceiling of the carriage with his walking stick, and the carriage jolted forward on its journey to Pemberley.

Darcy and his father walked in the front doors of Pemberley house. Lady Anne was waiting for them in the hallway, and young Darcy stood before her, trembling as he saw the anguish on her face.

"Oh! My boy, are you injured?" Lady Anne cried as she knelt down to her son, immediately using her handkerchief to wipe away the grime left by the dirt and pulp. The gentle strokes of her cloth revealed a small cut on his lip and a tenderness on his cheek. "My dearest boy, you are injured," his mother pronounced with alarm as she scanned his person for other signs of injury.

Suddenly, Lady Anne turned ashen and teetered dangerously and she grasped for her husband's aid. Relying on the support of her husband's arms, Lady Anne fanned herself with her handkerchief until realizing it to also be a source of her distress. Casting it away from her, she fanned herself with her hand to rid her senses of the smell causing a consuming wave of nausea.

"Mr. Darcy, that odor…I am unwell."

As he gently led his wife to a place to lie down, Mr. Darcy shot his son a stern glance. "Get to your room, Fitzwilliam, and clean yourself up. I shall be up in a moment, and we shall have a talk."

Darcy let go the crumpled cloth of his shirt he had been worrying with his hands as he looked up at his father. "Talk" was most likely not the proper phrasing for what his father had in mind. With one last look of concern for his mother, the boy did as he was told.

That night, young Darcy lay on his bed, smarting from the punishment his father had administered. What also stung was the lesson in human nature that the boy had learned that day.

He was angry with Robert Leyton for provoking his wrath and speaking ill of his father. He was incredulous that George Wickham should implicate him when he had never been anything but forthright with the fellow. Darcy was upset that his father had taken the word of the constable and assumed his son's guilt without giving him a chance to explain. But mostly, young Darcy was disappointed in himself, for being the cause of such misery to his parents.

Elizabeth looked over at Darcy. "Melons?" she asked and laughed.

Darcy smiled slightly and nodded his head, "Indeed, it was an abysmal scene."

"How so like Wickham to behave in such a way, Fitzwilliam. It is a wonder you have tolerated him all these years. How did you know it was really he who owned the guilt?"

"Richard told me later, after the length of his punishment was fulfilled."

"Was your uncle severe?" Elizabeth asked.

"My uncle would not tolerate having felons for sons." He added, "Mention the Lambton honeydew affair if you want to see the colonel blanch."

"And you? Was your father terribly angry?"

Darcy shifted unconsciously in his chair, remembering his father's words and the licks of the birch branch that had followed; you are a Darcy, not some hooligan who goes brawling about. There will always be some windbag challenging you.

The now-grown Darcy chuckled momentarily at his father's inadvertent admission of his opinion of the Leyton men.

Use your head, Fitzwilliam. Choose your battles carefully or you may wind up at the end of some fool's pistol.

Darcy sighed as he admitted, "I was banned from the green for the remainder of the holiday."

Elizabeth pondered her husband's demeanor. For a moment, she thought that he looked just like that eleven year-old boy he once was. The blunt end of the sword he held had fallen to the floor as he contemplated some thought with a broodish push of his lower lip.

"And?" she pressed, with unspoken mirth, wondering that there was not something more.

Darcy glanced at her uncomfortably before mumbling toward the floor what had been the worst of the punishment; "And I had to apologize to Robert Leyton the very next day."

Darcy's pout soon morphed to a wicked grin as he felt the satisfaction he had known then upon seeing the dark blue–and–green bruise consuming Master Leyton's right eye. Darcy lifted the sword's point to an angle of inspection as he murmured, "I swore then I would never allow myself to be humiliated by that fellow."

Elizabeth flushed and looked down at her needlework, realizing all the more acutely what her husband had forgiven about the circumstances of her first meeting with Robert Leyton. After her marriage to Darcy and her arrival at Pemberley, Elizabeth had been headstrong and taken a curricle out alone one day to visit a neighbor. The horse had been stubborn and the curricle stuck fast in the mud. It was Robert Leyton who had found her and returned her home to her husband, but not without expressing to his rival a sarcastic comment as to Darcy's aptitude as his wife's guardian.

"And you never told your father?" Elizabeth asked curiously, also turning the discussion from their querulous neighbor. "You never told him of Wickham's involvement?"

Darcy appeared sad as he slumped back into his chair, reflecting, "Father was a fair man, Elizabeth. He would have wounded him to know he had believed less of his own son than the son of his steward—and that he had made me suffer for it. Sometimes the truth is not worth the hurt."