Hello again, my dears! I am back at last with another chapter. In this memorable episode, we have Lady Catherine being Lady Catherine, Darcy standing up for Elizabeth, and children being children. Oh, and Lizzy gets to witness Darcy being a sweet, doting daddy.

Chapter Seven

Elizabeth had been nervous about attending the dinner at Disley House.

Nervousness was a condition she was little acquainted with, and she was relieved upon entering the house to be so warmly welcomed. Even those she had never been very close with greeted her as though she were a bosom companion of old, which she could not help but think was born of sympathy for her loss.

It mattered little, for she was just glad that their welcome did away with her nerves.

As she had long believed herself a keen observer, Elizabeth was certain of two things within moments: One was that Adelaide had never been a very good liar; she was as honest and forthright as her father had been, therefore her being with child again was not the reason she had been crying.

The second thing was that whatever had transpired in the moments before her arrival, which had been the catalyst for Adelaide's tears, had something to do with her. It was rather vexing to feel certain something had been said of her which had upset her daughter-by-marriage yet have no idea what that might have been. Elizabeth, though determined to discover what it was, nevertheless put her curiosity aside and concentrated on being agreeable to her relations.

It really had been a surprise to see Darcy—he had not been out of Derbyshire but once since his marriage. Elizabeth certainly understood why he was driven to simply remain at his country estate; she'd felt that same desire to not face the world for the last twelvemonth. But she was pleased he had come, as his presence really did make it feel as though the family were complete. The people gathered at Disley House weren't only related to Henry by blood, but also by marriage. While many of them shared some physical connection to her husband through Lady Disley, his sister, there was no reason at all that Lord Disley's blood relations should not also be present. Not including his sons and grandchildren, they were fewer … but no less important.

When the earl entered the room with Lady Catherine in tow, Elizabeth noted a distinct rise in tension, as though the others were expecting something to happen—or were afraid it would. She could not help but wonder if it had anything to do with what had made Adelaide cry. Had Lady Catherine said something that upset her? It must have been her because Elizabeth knew that Adelaide adored her uncle.

Lord Disley offered her his arm when dinner was announced, and though she had gotten used to being first on most occasions, it sometimes still made Elizabeth blush to have precedence over so many. When all the family were on their feet, Lady Disley announced that seating would be informal, and everyone could sit where they liked. As the large party began to file out of the room, Lady Catherine muttered, "How is the distinction of rank to be preserved when guests are given leave to sit where they like?"

"In a mixed party, Aunt," said Lord Rowarth, "it certainly does well to adhere to formal seating. But we are an informal family gathering."

Elizabeth decided she wished to sit by Henry's sister, so chose the seat to Lady Disley's left. Adelaide quickly claimed the seat to her aunt's right, with Cate sitting on Elizabeth's left. The other ladies took the remaining seats beside each other, putting all the women at one end of the table and the men to the other.

This arrangement would suit Lord Disley, Elizabeth thought with some amusement, as she knew the earl found talk of ladies' pursuits inane and boring, as most men did. The seating suited Elizabeth as well, as the mothers could then chatter away about their children and the men could talk about sport to their hearts' content.

After Grace was said and soup was served, Lady Catherine—who sat four places down and across the table from Elizabeth—called down to her, "Lady Stashwick, your eldest daughter is nine now, is she not?"

Elizabeth paused, her spoon halfway to her lips. She lowered it as she looked to the lady and replied, "She is, yes, as is my son Harry; they are twins."

"Does your daughter play an instrument?" asked Lady Catherine.

"Yes. Isabella plays the harp," Elizabeth replied.

"And she is remarkably talented for one so young," spoke up Lady Disley. "Have you still a harp in the music room at Stashwick House, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Indeed. You may recall that when Isabella took to the instrument, Henry made certain she would never be in want of one to play and purchased a harp for both the castle and the house in town."

"I should call again and ask her to play for us," said Lady Disley with a smile. "It has been too long since I have heard her."

As Elizabeth parted her lips to agree with her sentiment, Lady Catherine said, "Does your younger daughter play, Lady Stashwick?"

"Not at all, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth replied. "Margaret has a month still before she is four years old—she is hardly of an age to be learning an instrument, though she has shown an interest in the pianoforte."

"Then you must engage a music master for her, if the one that teaches Lady Isabella does not know both the harp and the piano," insisted Lady Catherine. "That she has shown an interest is proof enough that she is ready to learn."

"I believe that as Lady Stashwick is her mother, madam," said Darcy, "she is in the best place from which to judge if Lady Margaret is ready to begin learning an instrument."

Elizabeth glanced down the table at Darcy, who sat to his uncle's left, and found a frown upon his features. He seemed almost angry with his aunt for the impertinence of her queries, and she could not but find it both strange and generous of him to be vexed on her behalf.

"I remind you, my lady," Darcy went on, "that my own daughter is two years older than Lady Margaret, and she has yet to begin playing an instrument. I surmise that Lady Stashwick has taken the same approach as I have done and is allowing her children to develop their interests at their own pace rather than imposing upon them."

Elizabeth caught Darcy's eye and smiled at him. "I thank you, Mr. Darcy," said she. "You are correct—I have chosen not to force any of my children to study those subjects in which they show no real interest, save those which are true necessities. At present, Meg likes to play on the pianoforte because she likes the different noises it makes, but she has yet to show any real interest in learning to play."

Darcy returned her smile and inclined his head, while Lady Catherine lifted her chin and sniffed. "I meant no offense, of course. I merely wished to share my opinion on the subject. Do any of your children draw, Lady Stashwick?"

Suppressing the urge to groan, Elizabeth took a spoonful of her soup before she replied, "My three eldest draw, yes. Harry's particular interest is landscapes and Tom likes to draw buildings. Isabella is particularly gifted at portraits. Margaret does not draw, but she likes to color the simple pictures her brothers and sister draw for her. Tom is also considering taking up an instrument but has yet to decide between the pianoforte or the violin."

"If I may interject an opinion on the subject," said Lord Rowarth, "I would recommend the violin. My eldest son, as you know, asked to learn and I have not regretted letting him. He is very accomplished. And my daughter Emma plays the lyre."

Elizabeth grinned. "Then perhaps Tom should learn the pianoforte instead. We would then have ourselves the beginnings of a family orchestra."

"What a delightful notion, Lady Stashwick!" said Georgiana cheerfully. "Both Charlotte and I already play the pianoforte, and does not David play the flute, Diana?"

Diana glanced at her husband, who smiled, then turned her own smile on Georgiana as she replied, "He does, and his skill improves the more he practices."

"Ah! That is good to hear," said Lady Catherine. "I have always said that no true accomplishment can be achieved without constant practice."

"I think we do have ourselves a small family orchestra," spoke up Cate with a light laugh. "Little Stephen plays the clarinet—upon my word, I had no idea so many of our children were musical."

At that moment, the doors to the dining room opened; Elizabeth recognized Henry's granddaughter, Lady Charlotte Beckwith, immediately. Her father and Georgiana both stood.

"Lottie, what is it?" asked Lord Winterbourne.

The poor girl looked nervous as she glanced around the faces at the table. "I am so very sorry to bother you, but… Well, there's been a bit of a row upstairs."

"A row?" queried Lord Disley.

"What happened, Charlotte?" asked Georgiana.

Charlotte swallowed nervously. "Anthony was teasing Clara and it was upsetting her, and Lord Stashwick asked him to stop. Anthony then snuck behind Clara and pulled on her braid, and she started crying. So…"

Elizabeth stood slowly. "What did my son do, Lady Charlotte?" she asked.

"He planted a facer on my cousin and gave him a bloody nose," Charlotte replied. "Cousin Julian and one of the nurses separated the boys while another nurse tried to comfort Miss Darcy, but she has been begging for her papa, so I was sent down to fetch him."

A sigh escaped Colonel Fitzwilliam as he and Darcy both stood. "I'd better go as well, and have a word with my son," muttered the colonel.

"As should I with mine," said Elizabeth, and after begging the pardon of their relations, the three adults followed Charlotte from the dining room and up to the nursery.

The moment Charlotte opened the door and they stepped inside the large room, a little girl in a pale pink dress rushed to Darcy and threw her arms about his legs. "Papa! My cousin was being mean to me, and he pulled my hair and ruined my braid!"

"I wasn't being mean!" cried a boy in one corner of the room, where a nurse was tending his bloody nose with a handkerchief. "I was just teasing!"

"You were asked to leave her alone and you did not," snapped Harry from another corner where an older boy stood next to him. "That is being mean!"

"That is enough, gentlemen," said Elizabeth in a firm voice. Looking to her son, she added, "Lord Stashwick, while I admire your willingness to defend Miss Darcy, striking Anthony was not the proper response."

A sharp intake of breath was heard from the direction of Isabella, who knew as well as Harry that Elizabeth had ever only addressed them by title when she was vexed or angry. The young marquess knew he was in trouble by the way he hung his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Mamma."

"It is not I to whom you should be apologizing," said Elizabeth.

Harry looked up in astonishment, and though clearly feeling that it was undeserved, his mother's pointed stare nevertheless led to him looking over at Anthony and mumbling another apology.

"Now you, Anthony," said Colonel Fitzwilliam sternly.

"But I didn't hit him!" Anthony protested.

"I meant that you should apologize to your cousin Clara. It was wrong of you to tease her, and doubly so to continue by pulling her hair after you were asked to stop," his father told him.

Anthony sighed. "I'm sorry, Clara."

Clara wiped her eyes. "I forgive you. But don't be mean anymore. It's not nice to tease or pull hair."

She then looked up at her father as she held up a pink satin ribbon. "Papa, will you fix my hair, please?"

Darcy smiled indulgently. "Of course, dearest, if Lady Stashwick or one of your cousins can produce a comb."

Elizabeth stared at him. "You braid hair?"

"I am a widowed father of a girl child," said Darcy. "Is it so astonishing that I should learn?"

"A little, yes," Elizabeth replied. "I do not know of any man who can braid hair—not even Henry learned how to do that, and he was very involved with his children."

"That is to his late lordship's credit, my lady," said Darcy. "But he had no need to learn the art of plaiting hair, as he had a very fine wife and one or two nursemaids to tend to his daughters' coiffures."

At that moment, Isabella shyly walked up to him and pulled a comb out of her reticule. "I have a comb, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy smiled at her. "Thank you, Lady Isabella. I shall have it back to you in a trice."

He then guided Clara over to a small table and sat her in one of the chairs there. A nurse brought him over an adult-sized chair, which Darcy positioned behind his daughter's. Elizabeth, fascinated by the fact that the man she had once thought so proud and disagreeable would do something so very … domestic … walked over to watch. Her astonishment—and to be truthful, her admiration—grew as Darcy deftly combed through Clara's hair, then pulled up the top half and quickly plaited a neat braid which he tied off with the pink ribbon.

He then handed the comb back to Isabella. "Thank you, my lady."

Clara reached up and felt her hair. "Yes, thank you! My papa does the best braids."

Darcy chuckled as he stood. "I do not know that, my dear, but I do my best."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had crossed his arms, lowered them as he said, "I think it plain that misbehavior will not be tolerated."

"I am in agreement with Colonel Fitzwilliam," said Elizabeth as she encompassed the large group of children with her gaze. "Given who your parents are, I believe I can safely say that each one of you was brought up to be a proper lady or gentleman; therefore, you know that it is possible to conduct yourselves with decorum and still have fun together."

The colonel then looked at the nurse who had been tending his son's nose. "How does my son do, nurse?"

"The bleedin's stopped, sir. Weren't much of it, really, and though he might have a bruise the next few days, I imagine he should be all right."

"Very well, then. Shall we return to our dinner, Darcy? Your Ladyship?"

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth. "That would be lovely."

Darcy looked down at Clara as she and Fitzwilliam moved toward the door. "Are you well now, dearest?"

Clara nodded. "I am, Papa. I'll just play with the girls," she said, and walked over to where Adelaide's daughters Hannah and Amelia sat playing with dolls.

When they were in the hall together, Elizabeth took the lead, and when the three were descending the first set of stairs together, she glanced back at Darcy and said, "I think it very sweet that you tend your daughter's hair, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy smiled. "Believe it or not, I enjoy it. I believe it has brought us closer, for me to spend that little bit of time with her every morning before she goes to lessons and I to business about the estate. I never intended to be an absent father, but with the loss of her mother, I felt it even more important to ensure that she feels loved."

Elizabeth paused on the landing and turned to him. "I feel something similar, now that my children have lost their father. As I said, Henry was always very involved with them, but without him, I…"

She paused to swallow past the lump that had risen in her throat. "I feel it even more important that they know they can count on me to be there for them, and that they know they can come to me about anything. I am glad for them that they had Henry as long as they did—I cannot imagine what it has been like for you, to have had no partner at all these six years."

Darcy inclined his head. "I cannot say it has been easy, but Mrs. Annesley, who was first my sister's companion, has been a very great help to me."

"I am sure she has," said Elizabeth. "Clara seems a very well-rounded girl. She was such a little thing when last I saw her, she probably has no memory of me."

They continued on down the next flight of steps before either spoke again. "Do you think… Would it be too much for me to ask if I might bring Clara to play with your daughters one day next week?" Darcy asked hesitantly.

Elizabeth was surprised by the request but nevertheless nodded. "I think that a lovely idea. Margaret will certainly be delighted to make a new friend—she doesn't get to play with other children very often because she is so young. At least, not children she is not related to; Mary brings her children to the castle quite often."

"Clara is in much the same position," Darcy said as they started down the last flight of stairs. "I am afraid my self-imposed isolation at Pemberley has limited her contact with children with whom she shares no relationship, though the Bingleys have brought their children for visits when they've come to visit me, and she does, of course, sometimes meet with other children when I have taken her into the villages."

"It can be so difficult when one's family is so far away, spread all over the country," Elizabeth mused. "Mary's children are, naturally, the closest companions my own children have, but we've seen Jane, Cate, and Lydia's children only once a year or so—and I daresay I've seen my own brother only three or four times."

Darcy chuckled. "And I know a little of what that must be like—at least, the strangeness of having a sibling many years younger than oneself."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "Well, at least you are not old enough to be your sister's father. Harry and Isabella are older than my brother John!"

"And Addy is quite old enough to be mother to all your children," spoke up Colonel Fitzwilliam. "You've all of you a large difference in age between you and your siblings in common."

"Ours really is one very large, complicated family, is it not, my old nephew?" Elizabeth observed.

Fitzwilliam grinned. "It is indeed, my dear young aunt," said he, before making a pointed look at Darcy. His cousin lifted a brow, before suddenly clearing his throat and offering Elizabeth his arm.

"Allow me to escort you back to your chair, Lady Stashwick."

Feeling an unexplainable warmth in her cheeks, Elizabeth nodded silently, then laid her hand on his arm. The heat and color in her cheeks increased when the eyes of everyone at the table looked up at them upon their return to the dining room. After pulling out her chair for her, Darcy returned to his own seat at the far opposite end as more than one question was posed as to how the children had been left.

Elizabeth left the answering of the questions to Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as she puzzled over why she felt embarrassed. There was nothing wrong in having been escorted into the room by Darcy—it was proper to take a gentleman's arm if it was offered.

Then why did she still feel so warm?