Hello my dears! Sorry again that it has been a couple of weeks. Amidst my usual struggles I had one day where I was on four planes for a third of the day, and waiting in airports on layover for a third of the day (flew out of state to pick up a puppy - left my house at 4:30 a.m. and didn't get home until about a quarter of 1 the next morning). Immediately after that, I came down with a cold that I am still treating. The worst of it is over, but I still have a bit of that stuffy feeling in my head and chest. I also have a doctor's appointment coming up, which is me meeting a new primary care doc, so hopefully that doesn't take too much time out of my day.

Because we are already 8 days into November and I want to have this book ready to publish no later than mid-December, I have decided to challenge myself to writing a chapter a day. I have found in the past that challenging myself sometimes helps me meet my goals in writing, so I'm giving it a try again. Please keep your fingers crossed for me and send what positive and encouraging energy you can. I really don't want to disappoint those of you looking forward to this completed novel, and with the battles I've been fighting lately, and those yet to come (December will be a hard month, as I lost my mama to cancer two years ago on December 15), I need all the help I can get right now.

In other, much better news, for those of you who enjoy audiobooks, my first standalone novel - The Reintroduction of Fitzwilliam Darcy - will be released in audiobook through Audible on November 15th! It is narrated by the very talented Harry Frost (a genuine Englishman reading a novel about English characters written by an American, lol). I hope that if you like to listen to books, you might be willing to check it out.

And now, back to your originally scheduled chapter...

Chapter 12

Elizabeth stepped through the door at Stashwick House and breathed a sigh of relief.

There was nothing like being home again after a trying day.

The luncheon with Lady Cowper had not been just for the two of them, which she ought to have expected. No, instead of an intimate gathering of two ladies, there had been four others aside from themselves, including two other Almack's patronesses. After the obligatory queries as to how she and the children were doing, Lady Jersey—with whom she had never quite got on—had bluntly asked if she had come to town to seek another husband.

The other ladies had looked aghast at her, and Lady Cowper had the decency to shoot an apologetic look in Elizabeth's direction. Elizabeth's spine had stiffened, and she returned Lady Jersey's haughty stare with a cold gaze of her own as she replied, "Certainly not, madam. I brought my children to London because this is where their superfluity of cousins presently reside, and I certainly had my own desire to see my sisters and my husband's relations again. There are also my charitable efforts to return attention to, given I have ignored them through the period of my mourning, as is only natural. By the by, when was the last time you donated to the Stashwick Charitable Trust?"

Elizabeth had delicately sipped her tea as Lady Jersey's color had deepened and she silently struggled for a polite response. Lady Cowper took advantage of the brief silence to engage the other guests in a discussion of what charities they planned to support that year, "aside from Lady Stashwick's enormously helpful trust, which as you know sees to so much comfort for those poor souls in the asylums and poor districts."

The Stashwick Charitable Trust did more than improve conditions in mental asylums and poor districts. The funds in the Trust also supported education and training for poor men and women seeking to better their condition with gainful employment. A few of the maids at Stashwick House, in fact, had been trained in their duties through the Trust's efforts, and she had seen both maids and footmen employed at the homes of her sisters through the charity.

Simmonds approached Elizabeth seemingly from thin air—the African butler had always had a knack for appearing at precisely the moment he was needed.

"Begging your pardon, my lady," said he softly as she divested herself of her pelisse and handed it to him, "but at risk of overstepping, Lady Winstead received an express from Sir Robert not twenty minutes ago; and just before you returned, Mrs. Bakshi said she went into the morning room and found her weeping."

Mild alarm swept through Elizabeth, and she hurriedly removed her bonnet and gloves. "Thank you, Simmonds. If Hiral has not done already, have her bring us some chamomile tea."

Simmonds bowed. "At once, Your Ladyship," he acknowledged, then turned smartly on his heel to put her outerwear away and carry out her order.

Elizabeth moved with quick steps to the morning room door. Inside, she found Mary sitting in a chair by the fireplace with an open letter in her hand. She wiped at her tear-streaked face and started to stand as soon as she noticed she was not alone.

"Lizzy…"

Holding a hand up, Elizabeth admonished her softly not to rise. Moving to the opposite armchair, she sat and asked softly, "What is it, sister? What has happened?"

Mary dabbed at her eyes again, then lifted the letter. "Robert writes that old Mr. Benson passed away this morning. I know it was expected, given his age, but I cannot help grieving for his loss. His family will miss him so much."

"The whole of Stashwick Parish will miss him, I do not doubt it," said Elizabeth softly. "As Lady Disley said, he is something of an institution in our area."

Mary looked up. "Speaking of Her Ladyship, Lizzy… I have been wondering how to break the news to her. She seemed so moved when I spoke of Mr. Benson's condition last week, and I wonder if I should send her a note or you could send her one, or…"

"Or what, dearest?"

Clearing her throat delicately, Mary said, "I was wondering if you would think it appropriate for me to call on her and break the news in person."

Elizabeth leaned forward to reach for her sister's hand. "Oh, Mary… It is absolutely appropriate! It is not as though you are strangers; you are sister to her brother's wife, you have dined together in this house and at the castle—not to mention you are the wife of the vicar of the parish in which she grew up. I do believe Frances would appreciate a personal call rather than a note."

"Will you go with me, Lizzy?" Mary asked. "I know you have just got home and have not even had time to recover from your luncheon at Lady Cowper's—which I can see was trying on your nerves—"

A soft laugh escaped Elizabeth. "Now, Mary—keep talking like that and I will think you refer to Mamma!"

Mary chuckled and dabbed at her eyes again. "Now Lizzy, you know very well that her nerves are almost entirely healed."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Yes, now that's she's had a son and has no need to worry about starving in the hedgerows."

"She had no need to worry about that from the moment you accepted Lord Stashwick, Lizzy—or even from the moment Jane became engaged to brother Charles."

A smile turned up the corners of Elizabeth's lips. "True enough, Mary."

Mary sighed. "I would go to Disley House alone, but for Lord and Lady Disley being rather intimidating. I know I should not feel as I do—they are very good people—"

As she gave her sister's hand a gentle squeeze, Elizabeth said, "Do not distress yourself, dear Mary, I understand you. Lord and Lady Disley can be rather imposing figures. Just allow me to look in on the children and I will be glad to go with you."

Elizabeth found that the two youngest girls were napping and the other children were toiling away at their schoolwork, so after having a brief word about going out again with Mrs. Wilson, she and Mary went to pay their call at Disley House. Her sister by marriage took the news of the death of Stashwick Parish's oldest citizen about as well as expected. Lady Disley and Mary shed tears together over the loss, and the countess thanked her for coming in person to tell her.

"I really must write again to the family—perhaps even pay them a brief visit soon. It's been too long since I was home," she said with a sniffle.

Elizabeth, who had teared up a little herself, pressed her hand and said, "You know you have a room at the castle anytime you wish to go."

"Of course, I do, my dear. I grew up in that drafty old stone building."

A laugh bubbled up in Elizabeth's chest upon hearing Henry's old joke from his sister—and for the first time in a very long time, she realized she had thought of him without the iron fist of grief gripping her heart. She smiled wider at the thought, feeling some relief in knowing that she could think of him without the pain.

After about half an hour's visit, the sisters returned to Stashwick House, where they remained in the pleasurable company of their children and each other for the rest of the day. Wednesday was spent in much the same manner, as Elizabeth had given orders that they were not home to any callers except family. She and Mary chose to spend their time just relaxing and doing what they would have done were they at home in the country: practicing music, reading, and needlework while the children were at lessons. They also played with and read to Margaret and Sarah and put their youngest children down for naps themselves.

On Thursday, as the family were readying for the visit to Darcy House, Harry asked Elizabeth, "Why are we going, Mamma? Tom and Ben and me, I mean. What point is there in going to someone else's house to play the same games we have here?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Firstly, Harry, we are going because Mr. Darcy invited us to his home to repay our kindness for receiving him here."

"He invited you to bring the girls over to play with Clara," Harry retorted. "There aren't any other boys there to play with."

Raising an eyebrow as she looked down at him, his mother countered with, "Would you rather remain at home and have a full day of lessons? I did give Mrs. Wilson the afternoon off, but I am sure she will not mind having to stay here with you."

Elizabeth put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I happen to know that Mr. Darcy plays chess and backgammon, and if my memory serves me well, I believe I even once saw him play several rounds of draughts with Mr. Bingley. If you ask him, I am sure he would play with you—not to mention, my dear son, that your aunt and I would be more than willing to play with you."

"Oh, very well, Mamma," said Harry.

"Thank you, Harry," Elizabeth replied with a smile, reaching out to tussle his hair; her son cleverly ducked, leading her to laugh.

The family were soon bundled up and on their way to Darcy House in two carriages. Elizabeth could not help but wonder what his neighbors would think when peeking out of their windows and seeing two carriages pull up outside his door—thankfully, both were unmarked, as Henry had seen to it that they had a carriage in town without the Stashwick crest on the doors that they might sometimes go out with some modicum of privacy. Oh, the gossip that would fly about town if anyone knew that the widowed Marchioness of Stashwick was seen calling upon the widowed Mr. Darcy! It wouldn't matter that she had brough her married sister and their seven children along with her, for it would be enough that she had been there at all. The speculation would be that her sister was there to chaperone—not that one was necessary for a widowed couple—and that the children were there to get to know each other prior to the marriage.

What poppycock, she thought.

The carriages drew up to their destination at last and the two mothers and children all alighted. Darcy's butler was clearly surprised by the number of people waiting on the stoop upon his opening the door, for his eyes widened as though stunned; he did, of course, recover quickly and adopt the usual mask of indifference that all butlers wore.

Elizabeth produced her card. "Lady Stashwick, Lady Winstead, and children to see Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy."

"Do come in, my ladies," said the man—Tolliver, she recalled. "Forgive me, ma'am, you are expected."

He stepped aside and opened the door wider, and the ladies led the children into the entry hall. A number of maids waited to take their outerwear, which of course took some minutes as the younger children required assistance. When at last they were led into the drawing room, they found a smiling Darcy and an eager Clara, the latter of whom grinned and waved at them.

Darcy bowed, then looked down at his daughter and said, "Dearest, what did we practice?"

"Oh! Sorry, Papa, I forgot," Clara muttered sheepishly, before she curtsied and said, "Welcome to Darcy House. Papa and I are honored by your visit."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded her head. "Thank you very much, Miss Darcy. We are very grateful for your invitation."

"Would you all care to come into the music room?" Darcy asked. "I have arranged for several games and toys to be waiting for us there. The pianoforte is dusted off and tuned for Lady Winstead and Miss Winstead, and the harp also for Lady Isabella, if any of the ladies care to entertain us with music."

Exchanging a look with Mary, Elizabeth smiled again, then looked down at Isabella, who looked up at her and nodded. Looking back at Darcy, Elizabeth said, "Thank you for the forethought, Mr. Darcy. Do lead on, sir, as it has been so long since I was in your house that I do not remember where the music room is."

Clara's eyes widened. "You've been here before?" she asked with childlike incredulity.

"I have, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth replied. "But as I said, it was a very long time ago."

"Then allow me to refresh your memory, my lady," said Darcy with a slight bow, before he turned and offered his hand to Clara. They walked through a different door than the one leading from the foyer and into a hallway. Two doors down and across that hall, Darcy and Clara led them into a large room with a white grand pianoforte, a full-size harp, two small tables with two chairs each, and a grouping of very comfortable-looking armchairs and sofas. The colors were a mixture of light wood and pastels.

"This is a lovely room, Mr. Darcy," commented Mary.

"Thank you, Lady Winstead," he replied. "To be perfectly candid, the decoration has been unchanged since my mother's time as mistress. Marian and I spent very little time here before we went into the country. She had not the time then to redecorate, though she also thought it very well fitted up."

He turned around and gave his attention to the children. "Now, before the hearth are dolls waiting to be played with by little girls. On the tables are board games for anyone who wishes to play. Luncheon will be served in about half an hour."

Clara walked over to Margaret and Sarah and took each by the hand; Sarah grabbed her sister Prudence's hand and pulled her along. "Come and play dolls with me. It will be fun!"

As his sister and his cousins were led away, Harry stepped forward and looked up at Darcy. "Pardon me, sir, but my mamma said you play games too. Would you care to play a game of chess with me?"

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who merely smiled and arched an eyebrow in return. To the boy, Darcy said, "I should be delighted, Lord Stashwick."

"You don't have to take it easy on me or anything, I'm very good," said Harry with a nod. "My papa taught me to play."

"Harry, it is ungentlemanly to boast," Elizabeth admonished lightly.

"I'm sorry, Mamma, but I didn't want Mr. Darcy to think he has to play badly just because I'm younger," Harry protested.

"You presume that Mr. Darcy would go easy on you just because you are a boy," his mother returned. "I have played chess with Mr. Darcy before, and I have witnessed his games with others—I can assure you that he treats all his opponents the same way."

As if they will lose, she added silently, recalling then their first game together. The slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, and the twinkle in his eye, told Elizabeth that her host was having similar thoughts.

"I want to play draughts!" spoke up Tom. "Do you have draughts, Mr. Darcy?"

"I do indeed, Lord Thomas," Darcy replied. He then led all three of the boys over to the two tables; he helped Tom and Bennet set up the draughts board before he moved to the other table with Harry to play chess.

"May I play the harp, Mr. Darcy?" Isabella asked him.

Darcy looked up at her and smiled. "Of course, you may. That is why I had it dusted off and chose to spend our time together before luncheon in the music room."

Isabella blushed prettily and walked over to where the harp stood. After sitting in the chair by it and positioning the instrument, she began to pluck out a very pretty tune.

"It would seem you and I are to be spectators, Mary, unless you would care to join Isabella in entertaining us," said Elizabeth.

Mary smiled but shook her head. "I shall not endeavour to compete with Her Ladyship's delightful melody, sister," said she.

"I would not mind if you joined me, Aunt Mary, if you wish to play," said Isabella. "I remember that we played together at church before."

Darcy looked up from where he and Harry were setting up the chess game. "I should be delighted to hear a hymn or two."

Elizabeth smiled. "As would I."

Mary chuckled. "Very well, you have pressed me into service," she said, before moving away from Elizabeth to have a quick word with Isabella about what to play, then sitting at the pianoforte.

Elizabeth moved to a chair from which she could see everyone as her daughter and sister began to play "Amazing Grace." Her eyes first fell on the four girls before the hearth playing with several dolls, then roved past Isabella and Mary before alighting on the males playing board games. Darcy happened to look up as her gaze fell on him and Harry, and he smiled at her.

Warmth slowly crept up her neck to fill her cheeks, and she quickly looked away. Since when did Darcy have dimples? she wondered. Had he always had them, and she'd just not noticed? And why, for goodness' sake, did it even matter?

Because you have a weakness for men with dimpled smiles, Elizabeth Faulkner.

No. She absolutely would not allow her mind to go there—she had only been widowed a year! Becoming attached to another man was the furthest thing from her mind.

If that were true, protested her inner voice, you wouldn't even have thought about attachments.

So, I appreciated his smile, so what? It means nothing, she argued with herself.

Elizabeth then shook her head and chuckled to herself as she realized what she was doing—and the absurdity of doing it. Arguing with myself, what a notion, she thought.

Of course, she also thought that just because she had no intention or desire to become attached did not mean she wouldn't. For Elizabeth, that was an almost paralyzing thought, and a circumstance she was absolutely unprepared for.