Hello my dears! I know, I know... I've already flubbed the "Chapter a Day" challenge. As of this morning, I was behind by two, but here you can see I have remedied that by half. I doubt I'll get two more in by the end of the day to break even, but I will try to catch up by one. We shall see.

In this next exciting chapter, Darcy makes a little headway, and learns something he wishes he doesn't like (and neither will you).

Chapter Fifteen

Disturbed.

That was the word with which Darcy would describe Elizabeth's temper when he entered the Bingley home. Something troubled her. He prayed it was not his presence, as he could not imagine why his being there should disturb her unless…

Unless she is developing feelings for me, he thought, and it was admittedly an effort for him to govern his hope of that being the case. If his suspicion were true, then Elizabeth was disturbed because she either did not want or had not expected to feel anything for anyone. It was understandable that a woman who had loved deeply would be alarmed to suddenly find herself forming an attachment to another man.

Darcy knew he would have to tread carefully with her. He was already past denying that he desired her—what man not completely out of his wits would not want such a woman? But in order to earn her love, he knew he would first have to earn her trust.

And Elizabeth could trust him not to pursue her before she was ready to admit her feelings to herself, let alone everyone else.

Therefore, he restrained the urge to go to her directly, and instead settled for a smile and a nod of his head. He allowed Bingley to introduce him to the friends he'd invited, at least one of whom Darcy was already familiar with. Edmund Hiddleston was an old friend of his own, in a way—the gentleman bred very fine horses on his estate, Brooksbank, and he had purchased both a hunter and a road horse from him. He and Darcy had often met at White's, Gentleman Jack's, and even at Squire's over the years.

Beside Hiddleston was a blushing new bride from a very respectable family that Darcy was knew by name and reputation.

"The new Mrs. Hiddleston is the very reason we are gathered together tonight," Bingley was saying. "I simply could not go the season without honoring my friend's marriage."

Darcy smiled. "I would expect no less of you, Bingley," said he. "Congratulations, Hiddleston; and Mrs. Hiddleston, may I say how lovely a bride you are."

The young lady—formerly Miss Rebecca Astley—blushed prettily. "You are too kind, Mr. Darcy," she demurred. "And I must own to being astonished beyond measure that we are to dine with a marchioness tonight!"

Darcy glanced at where Elizabeth stood talking to Lady Winstead and Stephen Faulkner, then back to Mrs. Hiddleston as Bingley replied, "Well, she is my sister by marriage, though I did not entirely expect she would attend, given she said only last week that she was not certain she was up to moving about in society just yet."

"Then we are doubly honored to be a part of one of the first occasions she has graced with her presence," replied Hiddleston. "Though having witnessed how deeply distressed my dear mother was when my father died… I can well understand why she wishes to take her time re-entering society. Our friend Darcy certainly did—six bloody years!"

"Hiddleston, I did have an infant daughter to look after on my own," Darcy reminded him.

Hiddleston's cheeks colored a little, and he smiled apologetically. "Now Darcy, you know that I mean no disrespect to your late wife, but really, six years since she passed, and this is the first we have seen of you."

"If you bred ponies rather than horses, Hiddleston, you might have seen me a month ago," Darcy retorted. "I've purchased one from a gentleman in Matlock for Clara's sixth birthday. If we remain in town long, I shall have to arrange for it to be brought here."

"Oh, I am sure your daughter would have a splendid time riding about in Hyde Park, when she has learned," said Mrs. Hiddleston.

Darcy smiled. "I do not doubt it, madam."

Dinner was soon called. Bingley offered his arm to Mrs. Hiddleston—for she was the guest of honour—and the lady's husband offered his arm to the wife of his host. Darcy took advantage of the opportunity to have a word with Elizabeth at last and stepped up to her to offer himself as escort.

"Shall we, my lady?" he asked.

A rosy blush filled her cheeks, and she nodded silently before laying her hand on his arm. As they followed the first two couples, he tipped his head slightly in her direction and asked softly, "My lady, are you well?"

"Quite well, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Forgive me saying so, but you seem troubled," he replied.

"I admit that my mind is not entirely present."

He glanced down at her. "Is this the first time you have left your children alone with their governess since your husband died?"

Elizabeth nodded. "That is some part of my thoughts being elsewhere. But as I said, I know I must begin moving about in society again, and that unfortunately includes having to leave the children at home without me on occasion."

She then turned her gaze up to his. "Is this not also the first time you have left Miss Darcy alone?"

He chuckled softly as they were entering the dining room. "Not exactly—I did leave her alone with Mrs. Annesley on Tuesday when I went to Squire's with my cousins. It is, however, the first time we will have been apart for more than an hour."

As her sister had said seating would be informal, Darcy guided Elizabeth to a chair at the right of Mrs. Bingley's place, then took the liberty of claiming the chair next to her. Cate Faulkner sat across from Elizabeth, and her husband sat next to her. The Hiddlestons were on either side of Bingley at the end of the table, with Lady Winstead, the Dornans, the Hursts, and the other guests filling out the rest of the open places. When the first course had been served, their host picked up his wine glass and stood.

"My dear family and friends," Bingley began. "Thank you all for accepting mine and Mrs. Bingley's invitation to dine this evening. I should like you to join me in raising a glass to welcome the new Mrs. Hiddleston to our most excellent company."

"Here, here!" said Sir Frederick as everyone raised their glasses to the new bride. Mrs. Hiddleston blushed prettily and murmured her thanks as Bingley sat down again.

Elizabeth spoke quietly to her sister, saying, "Jane, may I ask if you know anything of the lady's family? Mrs. Hiddleston looks familiar, but I cannot place her."

"I believe she came out only last year, and this was her second season," Mrs. Bingley replied. "The Astleys held a ball for her debut, which I believe we all here attended, save for you, Mary, and Mr. Darcy. But I daresay you may know her parents—Sir Richard and Ilene Astley—for they attended the Twelfth Night ball you hosted before dear brother Henry left us."

"Oh yes, I remember Sir Richard now," Elizabeth replied. "He's a baronet, I believe, and has a lovely singing voice. The new Mrs. Hiddleston very much resembles her mother."

"She does indeed," Darcy offered, and Elizabeth turned her gaze to him. "I am familiar with the Astleys, my lady. They have eight children, of which Mrs. Hiddleston is the youngest. A very good family—I attended university with the eldest son."

"My dear Lady Stashwick," piped up Lady Dornan. "Louisa's just been telling me that you have no set plans for the Season!"

Elizabeth glanced at her. "That is because I did not come to London to take part in the Season's festivities, Lady Dornan. I came here so that my children could spend time with their cousins."

"While the children are enjoying their time together, you should take some time to enjoy the things you love as well!" Lady Dornan replied. "It promises to be a delightful Season this year, what with the newest plays at the theatre, new music to be played at concerts, the best dinner parties to attend…"

Cate Faulkner choked on her wine and Jane Bingley stared with unabashed astonishment at her sister-by-marriage. Darcy was no less surprised by the lady's not entirely subtle attempt to engage Elizabeth in attending one of her dinner parties—for certainly that was her aim.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "As it so happens, I did attend a luncheon on Tuesday with three of the Almack's patronesses. It was a delightful afternoon."

Caroline Dornan colored. She had received her coveted invitation to Almack's years before but had never quite been able to receive any notice from the titled ladies who managed the place beyond her admittance. Elizabeth must have been aware of her failure in that regard.

Would it not have been ungentlemanly to enjoy the woman's discomfiture from the relatively mild riposte, Darcy would have smiled.

"Speaking of new plays, Lizzy," said her sister Cate, "there is one just debuting at Drury Lane next week—it is called Adelchi, and I know how you like Italian tragedies. Stephen and I were planning to see it with brother Charles and Jane. Would you care to join us—and Mary, too, of course?"

"Mr. Darcy, you are most welcome also," added Mrs. Bingley. "I do believe Charles meant to ask you this evening."

"How delightful!" chimed in Lady Dornan before Darcy could speak. "We were going to see that play ourselves, were we not Louisa?"

"Why, yes, Caroline! I have quite been looking forward to it, you know," Mrs. Hurst replied cheerfully.

Darcy resisted the urge to groan and roll his eyes and settled for a soft sigh and a minute shake of his head. Bingley's sisters had not changed in the last seven years—still ambitious, still trying to climb higher on the social ladder. He knew for a fact that Louisa Hurst did not care for anything Italian because she had never been able to grasp the language enough to speak it. And neither she nor Caroline had been particularly fond of Elizabeth as a person because of her independent, impertinent nature and her family's situation at the time of their meeting—they had, after all, colluded to separate their brother from Jane—yet they were acting as if they were all intimate friends.

He suspected that the only reason the sisters were suddenly so eager to see an Italian play—whether it would be performed in the language or not—was for the chance of being seen in the company of a marchioness.

Elizabeth, he believed, would want to see the play, but she would not want to have to endure the company of Bingley's sisters, whom she knew as well as he did only wished to have their names connected to hers. Though Darcy knew she could withstand their presence when the choice was not her own, as she was doing this evening, she had long scorned their blatant ambition and would give them no opportunity to take advantage of her noble status.

"I cannot speak for Mary," said Elizabeth with a glance down the table, for the middle Bennet sister had been seated next to Mrs. Hiddleston, "but you are right, I do have a fondness for tragic plays. I'm not certain, however, if I am quite ready for so public an outing—nothing says 'the Marchioness of Stashwick is in town' like being seen at a play. I'm really quite surprised that my luncheon the other day was not mentioned in the Society columns. Lady Jersey so likes to use them to her advantage; even if she doesn't like me very much, having her name connected to mine is something she would consider noteworthy."

She then smiled at both of her sisters and added, "After dinner we can talk to Mary about it. I cannot promise you a decision for myself this evening, but I will let you know."

Mrs. Bingley returned her smile and reached for her hand. "I understand, Lizzy. The premiere of the play is not until Tuesday, so you have plenty of time to decide if you are comfortable in going with us."

A subtle shift of his thoughts revealed a faint memory to Darcy, and he leaned closer to Elizabeth to ask, in a whisper, "Did not your husband keep a permanent box at Drury Lane, my lady?"

"He did, yes," replied, also in a whisper. "You must remember the family attending Hamlet together, nearly bursting the box at its seams."

Darcy chuckled. "It was a rather snug gathering that evening, I confess."

Elizabeth turned her head to look up at him, a calculating light in her eyes. "You see what I see, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, and because of that, I understand your reluctance, though I suspect you really do wish to go."

"I confess I do, especially to see a new play the night of its premiere," she replied, then turned her attention back to her food.

Darcy was then unable to speak to Elizabeth for several minutes, after being drawn into a discussion of horse breeds and which were best suited for certain tasks by Hiddleston. It was not until he heard Cate Faulkner cry out "A fencing club for ladies!" that he was drawn into the sisters' conversation again.

"Yes, Cate," Elizabeth was saying. "I am as fascinated as are you. I think I should at least like to try and learn."

"So would I!" said Mrs. Faulkner. "Perhaps we ought to help the lady look for a building—Uncle Gardiner would know who to ask about properties for lease or sale."

"Did you tell your sister, my lady, that you are to bring your sons and your nephew to meet with Mr. Niles and his daughter tomorrow?" Darcy asked Elizabeth.

She looked at him. "I did, yes," she said, and grinned. "Now Cate wants to join us with little Stephen and Alexander."

"I should like to get my boys into pugilism," piped up Stephen Faulkner. "But Catie is firmly against the idea."

His wife huffed softly. "They are but seven and six, Stephen. I think that a little too early to begin learning to beat each other up—they do enough of that without formal training."

Mr. Faulkner chuckled. "Our boys do get a little rowdy, I confess."

Conversation dulled as servants came in to clear the first course dishes, and picked up again after the second course was served. Elizabeth grinned first at Mrs. Bingley and then Mrs. Faulkner over her wine glass, then said, "Who does it remind you of, Cate—the squabbling of your two boys?"

Mrs. Faulkner rolled her eyes. "I do not wish to be reminded, thank you very much, Lizzy," she said. "Unfortunately, they do remind me—far too often—of when Lydia and I would argue and fight because she was always taking my things and claiming them as hers."

"It did your disposition and hers no favors that Mamma always gave in to her," Elizabeth said. "But thankfully, time, education, and the good husbands gifted to you by God have done you both wonders."

The Faulkners looked at one another, Cate smiling at Stephen as he took up her hand and kissed the back of it.

"You are right, Lizzy," said the lady. "I am so very blessed that my dear Stephen saw something in me that, at the time, I did not yet see in myself. I also know that I owe no small part of my transformation into a true lady to my late brother and his generosity towards his new sisters."

"My uncle was always a very generous man to those who were deserving," Stephen remarked. "He is deeply missed."

Elizabeth sighed. "He is, by his little children more than anyone," she said. "That is why I decided to seek activities for my sons and daughters that will serve to distract them from their grief. Harry and Thomas, as well as Bennet, showed a very marked interest in learning fencing when Mr. Darcy shared with us that he intended to introduce Miss Darcy to the sport."

"Do you really, sir?" Stephen Faulkner asked.

Darcy nodded his head. "As she expressed an interest in learning, yes. Whether or not Clara becomes a true student will be up to her."

Cate Faulkner raised her glass to him. "I like your way of thinking, Mr. Darcy. Though the best lesson I ever learned was that some structure and education are important for bringing up children, so is allowing them the freedom to choose for themselves."

Darcy inclined his head, quite impressed with the grown-up and mature Catherine Bennet.

Discussion of activities to do with their children commenced, eventually involving nearly everyone at the table. At one point, Hiddleston leaned forward and said to his new wife, "We have much to look forward to, my dear, among such friends as these!"

Darcy could not help but agree. All the easy conversation, the laughter—even the Bingley sisters' attempts at getting in Elizabeth's good graces for their own benefit—it all reminded him that there were many times during his self-imposed isolation at Pemberley that he missed being among friends. He missed being among people his own age who didn't work for him. He missed his family.

Coming to London was, he saw, as much for his benefit as Clara's.

After dinner, the sexes separated as per usual. For a brief moment, Darcy contemplated having a word with Sir Frederick, Hurst, and Bingley about exercising more control over Lady Dornan and Mrs. Hurst, as Bingley, at least, should know very well that Elizabeth would have little tolerance for their attempts to take advantage of the peripheral connection they shared with her.

What stopped him was the realization that Elizabeth would not appreciate his interference. He knew, from how easily she had deflected the blatant attempts of the sisters to entice her into an engagement, that the lady could fight her own battles—she didn't need him to fight them for her.

Seconds after coming to this conclusion, he was greatly surprised when, after taking a big gulp of his port, Bingley said, "Freddie, Reg, I know they're your wives and therefore not mine to manage anymore but do please exercise some control over Caroline and Louisa, if you would."

Reginald Hurst, not unexpectantly, ignored his brother-by-marriage as he filled his plate with leftover food.

A glutton and a lush, Darcy thought derisively. I wonder what Louisa ever saw in the man, and why Bingley agreed to the match.

Sir Frederick Dornan snorted as he lifted his own glass of port to his lips. "Ah, so you noticed, did you?" the knight asked before taking a drink.

"My sisters have never been anything but obvious in their attempts to rise higher in society," said Bingley. "My sister Lady Stashwick is a tolerant woman, but her patience only extends so far, and I can tell you for certain that she'll not appreciate Caro and Louisa trying to get themselves noticed by being seen with her. She has been courteous over the years in accepting their presence at balls, both public and private, and sharing meals with them in my home, but I am certain you've noticed they have never been invited to hers, not has she accepted an invitation to yours."

Sir Frederick grimaced and nodded. "Aye, that's true. Sad, because I like the lady very much. Very witty, that one. I shouldn't mind knowing her better myself, but Caro can be too heavy-handed in her never-ending quest to be a leading lady in the highest circles of society."

He looked at Darcy then and lifted his glass in his direction. "Darcy here has the right idea for knowing Her Ladyship better, I think."

Darcy arched an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"The children!" Sir Frederick cried. "The best way to get to know a lady who has them is by involving the children. Wait, you've actually known her for some years, haven't you?"

Nodding, Darcy sipped his port, then said, "As long as Bingley has, yes."

"Well, Darcy," spoke up Weston, one of the other friends of his host that was a part of the company, "given the way you've been looking at the lady, it's a wonder you didn't marry her yourself."

Had he really been that obvious? Or was Weston baiting him?

Darcy chose to ignore the comment altogether. "I was not inclined to marry at the time, Weston, not to mention the lady was being courted soon after forming our acquaintance by my cousin's uncle. She was, thus, unavailable by the time I had decided to marry."

"Well, she's available now, isn't she? All due respect to the man, but the marquess is dead," Weston pointed out.

"I suspect that is the real reason—aside from avoidance of socializing with my wife and her sister," said Sir Frederick, "that Lady Stashwick is hesitant to be seen out and about. She's an eligible widow now, and nearly every single man of consequence—and even some of the married ones—will be after her to try and get their hands on her husband's fortune."

"What, like you?" said Hurst over a mouthful of food. "Good luck trying to make her one of your mistresses."

The knight turned to one brother-by-marriage while the other sighed and shook his head. "My dear Reginald, do not be so crass. Even if I did have designs on taking the lady into my bed—which I am not saying I do—I should never admit as much to you. You'd blab it all to Louisa, and she would tell Caroline, and between them they'd have the whole of the ton knowing within half a day. I much prefer to keep my conquests to myself, until such time as I am done with them."

Darcy was glad he had long ago perfected a mask of indifference, which he used to advantage in that moment as he sat back to drank his port, now observing Sir Frederick with a more discerning eye. He'd liked the man when he first met him, had even admired that he made the choice to keep working instead of simply living off the interest of what remained of his wife's dowry. But hearing him so casually talk of his affairs just now had been disturbing. He could not help but wonder if the denial was a pretense—that he was, in fact, one of the married men who would purportedly try and seduce Elizabeth.

Over my cold, dead body, he thought.