Hello my dears! I am back again with another chapter. In this one, we get some sweet father-daughter moments between Darcy and Clara.

Thank you, as always, to everyone reading, favoriting, and commenting. I would be lost without your continued support and encouragement.

Also, a few of you have mentioned how it's a little confusing sometimes when there are so many titled persons in a scene, and you have trouble remembering who is who. One person asked why I didn't use first names for everybody. I am truly sorry for the confusion, but the truth of the matter is that back in the Regency period, people did not often use Christian names - even husbands and wives referred to each other as Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bennet, for example. Most often, the only people who would address each other by their first names were siblings and cousins who had grown up together, though even then, they typically used surnames or even switched to using surnames as they grew older. And for titled people, they were always addressed/referred to by their title, unless you were a close friend or relative, who might be given permission to use an abbreviated form of it (for instance, my OC Lord Winterbourne, who is now Georgiana Darcy's husband, might be called Winter; his first wife did it once in the first book).

In my story, when they are speaking to or about someone, both Elizabeth and Darcy use the first names of the people they are closest to, save for parents, aunts and uncles, acquaintances, and those nobles with whom they are not particularly close. Surnames and titles are used when they are speaking formally, and in the passive prose to identify characters with whom they are not close. Colonel Fitzwilliam is called Theo or Theodore in dialogue (depending on who is speaking), but always Fitzwilliam or Colonel Fitzwilliam in the prose, because not everyone realizes who Theo/Theodore is supposed to be, due to the over-use of Richard as his first name by other writers.

Hope this helps. I am probably going to have a character list at the beginning of the book when it is published as well.

Chapter Twenty-Two

On the carriage ride home, Darcy spoke to Clara about what had happened at breakfast.

"I don't like Lady Catherine," his daughter declared. "She's mean."

Darcy suppressed a chuckle. Anyone Clara didn't like was "mean"—though in his aunt's case, the descriptor was rather accurate.

"Do not distress yourself, dearest," said he. "Lady Catherine is unlikely to importune us again anytime soon."

He then drew a breath and continued. "I wish to know what your feelings are regarding the possibility of my courting Lady Stashwick."

Clara's expression brightened. "Do you mean it? I will get a mamma and sisters and brothers?"

"Is that what you want?"

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Papa! More than anything—all my cousins have brothers and sisters, and they all have a mamma and a papa. You and I are all by ourselves, but if you married the lady, we wouldn't be alone anymore. You would have a wife like Aunt Disley is Uncle Disley's wife, and I would always be someone to play with!"

"And you like Lady Stashwick and her children?"

Clara nodded again. "She is very pretty. And I like her smile. And she is so nice and has a really big house. And Lady Isabella is just as pretty as her mamma, and she plays the harp and draws such pretty pictures! And Lady Margaret is still little, but she is fun to play dolls with. And Lord Harry—Lord Stashwick, sorry—he was very nice to me when Cousin Anthony was teasing me. He punched him in the face for it!" she added with a giggle.

Darcy could not resist a slight smile. "I remember," said he. "Now, Clara, I am pleased you are enthusiastic about possibly having brothers and sisters and a new mamma, but I must ask a great favor of you. You cannot talk to anyone about it, especially not the lady or her children."

"But why not? Do you think they don't like me?" Clara asked, her cherubic face now appearing hurt.

"No, dearest, I am certain they like you very well!" he hurriedly assured her. "It's just that…"

Oh, how to explain the delicacies of courtship to a child just shy of six years? he wondered.

"Clara, I like Lady Stashwick very much, but how I feel about her is different than how she feels about me," he said slowly. "To her, I am only a friend. Courtship is a way for a gentleman to show a lady they can be more than friends, but it takes time and great delicacy. I must show her and her children that I can be trusted to be kind to them."

"That won't be hard at all, Papa! You're kind to everybody," Clara said with a smile.

Darcy grinned. "I am pleased that you think so, dearest."

The little girl tipped her head as though in thought, and after a moment she said, "You will be kind to the lady, and I will be kind to the children—even the boys. If we are both very kind, I think they will love us very soon!"

Darcy chuckled and leaned forward to tap the tip of Clara's nose. "You are a very clever girl. I think that is exactly what we should do."

Clara giggled, then leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially. "When do we start?"

"How about we call on them tomorrow?"

"Yes! I like all my cousins, but Isabella and Meg are my friends," said Clara. "It's different with friends, but now that they might become my brothers and sisters, it will be even better!"

"I do not doubt it, my dear, but remember, you cannot tell them just yet," Darcy cautioned. "I must secure Lady Stashwick's affections before we can tell her children."

Clara lifted her finger to her lips. "Shh, it's a secret."

"Yes, it is," Darcy whispered with a grin.

When they arrived at home again, Darcy turned Clara over to Mrs. Wilson to resume her schoolwork. He took himself into his study to write a note to Elizabeth, informing her of his intention to call with Clara the following day. As they were acquainted and had already been to each other's house, he could certainly have shown up unannounced, as people in London tended to do. But he'd been taught by his mother that it was a courtesy to give notice of his intentions, either in person or by note, and Darcy had kept fastidiously to that practice even after her death. He rather liked having some idea of how his day would go, as not all unexpected visitors were welcome surprises.

Lady Catherine had proven that well enough.

After sending the note off with a footman, Darcy sat back in his chair and contemplated the morning's events. His family were getting what they wanted—even the unpleasant Lady Catherine—and he was to court Elizabeth. But how to do so without drawing too much attention from the ton, or frightening Elizabeth away?

A part of him could not help but think the family's behavior despicable. They were making assumptions and decisions regarding Henry's family based on convention without consulting his widow or having any real regard for her feelings, under the assumption that they knew better and were acting in their best interests. But what gave his aunt and uncle the right to decide in what manner Elizabeth and the children were to be happy?

The irony that Elizabeth must have felt the same about him when he'd worked to separate Bingley from her sister was not lost on Darcy. Nor was the tiresome redundancy of having had the same conversation and making the same arguments for the last several days. However, as much as he disagreed with the attitude of his relations, Lady Disley had been right about one thing: What was done, was done. It was time to move forward.

The truth was, though, that despite their overbearing interference, he was in some small way grateful to them for giving him their approval to pursue Elizabeth. He would have done it anyway, at some point, but he would have respected her lingering grief and given her more time to cope with her loss. Darcy hoped that by taking things slowly, by continuing to just be a friend as Fitzwilliam had suggested, he was still doing that.

I still care about her, Darcy mused. As foolish as it was, and as much as he had truly cared for Marian, he knew that his heart had never been entirely his own to give away. Not when Elizabeth Bennet had held it for ten years without even knowing. Had his wife lived, things might have been different—he might even have forgotten that he'd loved another. But she hadn't, and they weren't.

And he had not forgotten. Though he could not say precisely when his love for Elizabeth had resurfaced from where he'd buried it in his mind, Darcy could not deny that it was still there … and always had been.

It was a delicate business indeed, courting a woman. Making it more of a challenge was the fact that she had lost her husband more recently than he had lost his wife. How was he to respect her loss and at the same time make it known to her that his feelings went beyond friendship?

Darcy groaned as he turned toward the desk and rested his elbows on it, dropping his head into his hands. This wretched uncertainty is my punishment for retreating from society for six bloody years, he groused silently. What was he to do next? How could he prove himself to be "exceptionally extraordinary"—someone that Elizabeth would come to love?

He was just realizing that he was far out of his element. He had only ever courted one woman, and it had been seven years since—and his courtship of Marian had been so brief that he hardly recalled it. He could only be sure that there had been balls, dinner parties, promenading about in Hyde Park, and a visit to Kensington Gardens. Oh, if only it were later in the Spring, or even early summer. The Gardens would have been quite perfect a place to invite her to, and even bringing the children along would not have hampered his efforts, as he could have offered her his arm as the little ones walked ahead of them.

Darcy's musings were disturbed when his butler entered carrying a note. He knew it could not possibly be from Elizabeth, as the footman had only just gone ten minutes before. When he took the letter, he noted it was from Albert Hanning. As he had just called on his brother-by-marriage the day before, his curiosity was piqued.

Hanning House

28 March 1822

Darcy,

Just a quick note to do you a brotherly courtesy and warn you. I've just learned that the dinner my mother invited you to on Saturday is actually a clever attempt to introduce you to a cousin of ours that she hopes you'll take a liking to. It seems that Mother's sentiments are the same as your aunt and uncle, and she thinks you ought to give Clara some brothers and sisters.

I reminded her, and pray forgive me for doing so, that the prevalent rumor going about town at present is that you are courting the Marchioness of Stashwick. She brushed it off, saying—and I quote—that "Darcy has more sense than that." Whether she refers to the lady just coming out of mourning, or she thinks her too far out of your reach, I cannot say.

I almost wish you were courting Lady Stashwick, as then you could bring her to the dinner party. All due respect to my cousin, but I've not seen her since we were children, so I really cannot tell you anything about her. And besides, as I tried to tell my dear mother, you'd not appreciate being manipulated and you're old enough to make your own decisions. I warned her she ought not to interfere. Mother said that though Marian is no longer with us, you are still her son, and she will see you happy again if it is within her power to do so.

There you have it. Prepare yourself accordingly.

Your friend and brother,

Albert Hanning

Darcy sighed and shook his head. Matchmaking mammas were the very reason he'd avoided London as much as possible before he'd married, and it was the reason he'd avoided it following his year of mourning. Why was he not surprised that the first time he did step foot in the city, there were matrons hoping to set him up with some girl or other? First it was Lady Catherine. Then the Disleys. Now it was his mother-in-law.

However, Albert's note had given him an avenue of escape, so to speak. Mrs. Hanning would be disappointed to have her machinations thwarted, but she would also be so thrilled to have a noblewoman at her party that she would be forgiving.

All he had to do was convince Elizabeth to attend the dinner with him. Then there was the fact that Albert had referenced the rumor—Mrs. Hanning was likely to ask Elizabeth about it, which would make her uncomfortable.

Blast and botheration, Darcy groused again as he folded the letter and slipped it into a drawer of his desk. However was he to both properly court Elizabeth and yet keep her from realizing she was being courted until her heart was ready to let him in when every gossip in the ton had it in their heads that they were already a couple? Their being seen in company together would only fuel the gossip and make things harder the more they both denied the truth.

For the briefest of moments, he wished he'd never decided to join the family in London. He would not be so incredibly vexed with the situation in which he'd found himself, both wanting to respect Elizabeth's grief and yet wanting to make her his at the same time. At least he did respect her grief, he mused. Not every man would be so conscientious. Then again, had he not come to town, surely his aunt and uncle would have set their sights on some other man to marry Elizabeth off to. Darcy knew that his aunt and uncle did care about Elizabeth, but he simply could not understand the extreme focus and pressure by the family for her to marry again, unless it was for the hope of having some influence over how she spent her husband's money until her son took command of the fortune.

Would serve them right, he thought, if she decided to marry one of her footmen.

Darcy sighed and pulled paper from the center desk drawer, intending to send Albert a note of thanks. As he finished the brief note, Tolliver came in with a second missive. He thanked the man and took it and held his breath on seeing Elizabeth's handwriting on the address.

He expelled the breath in great relief as he read the note, seeing that it did not contain a refusal of his company.

Stashwick House

28 March

Mr. Darcy,

I should be delighted to receive you and dearest Miss Darcy again tomorrow morning. Margaret, Prudence, and Sarah will certainly be happy to have their new friend over to play dolls again, and I would not discount Harry challenging you to another game of chess, as he told me last time that you did not play well for being distracted. I must forewarn you, however, that there may be much talk of gowns and balls and dinner parties, as my Aunt Gardiner and her eldest daughter are here in town. I have offered my services to my cousin in bringing her out into society.

Come any time after breakfast.

Sincerely,

E. B. F.

Darcy chuckled and shook his head. He would endure the talk of gowns and balls and parties, should the ladies discuss such things, as Elizabeth had just given him another means of courting her without being too obvious. He would, as subtly as possible, ask her which public balls she thought to attend so that he could be there as well; certainly, Almack's would be one. She would have no trouble getting a guest ticket for her aunt and cousin, as Mr. Gardiner was a highly respected merchant who had transitioned to being a gentleman when he took over the Netherfield lease from Bingley, and he had it on good authority that Gardiner had eventually purchased the estate.

Besides which, she was a very popular marchioness, and even Lady Jersey was unlikely to deny her request for their tickets.

Darcy knew that in order to even pass through Almack's doors he would need to purchase his own tickets, though he was not certain he was still a member given he'd not attended any balls there in seven years. Much as he wished it weren't necessary, he was going to have to make a trip across town to procure them, and he'd have to go himself—simply sending a footman wouldn't do.

He set about the task immediately, sending the first footman he saw after exiting his study to the mews to have his horse prepared. Darcy then went to inform Mrs. Annesley and Clara that he would be leaving for a short while but did not intend to be gone long.

Great was his relief when, on arriving at Almack's, he found no difficulty in purchasing tickets for the next three weeks. He was both looking forward to the balls for the chance of dancing with Elizabeth and dreading them because he would also have to dance with other women, some of whom would no doubt try their hand at securing him in spite of the rumor. Given his friendship with Elizabeth, however, he would assert no scruple in securing a dance with her cousin, and her aunt if need be. Lady Winstead also, come to think of it, if she should also attend.

An easy evening was spent at home with his daughter. Clara showed off her progress in reading by reading nearly five pages of a children's book without any mistakes, though it did take her some time to do so as she sounded out each long word. Darcy was very happy with how well she could read at so young an age and knew that he owed no small thanks to Mrs. Annesley for how accomplished his little girl was.

When he was tucking Clara into bed that night, she smiled and said to him, "We start being extra nice to the lady tomorrow, right?"

Darcy returned her grin. "Yes. But you needn't do anything extraordinary, dearest. Just be your natural charming self, as you have always been."

"You mean I just have to play dolls and games like before?"

He nodded. "That is correct."

"I think I like that game draughts—me and Mrs. Annesley played it today. And I like spilikins too. So, I will be able to play with the boys and the girls!" Clara cried triumphantly.

"That is very good of you," said Darcy, who smiled at her enthusiasm. "After all, if you want Lord Stashwick and Lord Thomas to think of you as a sister, you will need to do some of the things they enjoy as well as playing dolls with their sisters."

"I really want them to like me, Papa. And most of all, their mamma has to like me, so she will want to be my mamma," Clara said then. "If I am good to the boys as well as the girls, she has to like me, right?"

Darcy felt a pain stab his heart. How could he not have noticed how very much Clara wanted a mother?

"I happen to know, dearest, that Lady Stashwick already likes you," he said with a reassuring smile. "If you are kind to her sons and her daughters, I do not doubt she will come to love you as I do."

Clara sat up and threw her arms around his waist. "Nobody can love me like you do, Papa."

Darcy returned her embrace warmly and chuckled softly before planting a kiss on the top of her head. "Allow me to rephrase, then—she will love you as much as I do."

He then helped Clara to lay back down, resettled the counterpane around her, and made sure she had her favorite doll. "Now, you go to sleep, as the sooner you do, the sooner it will be tomorrow."

"All right, Papa. Goodnight."

Reaching to caress her cheek and smooth a lock of hair away from her eye, Darcy smiled and said, "Good night and pleasant dreams, Clara."

After snuffing out the candles and making sure the fire was blazing well to keep her warm, he left his daughter to her slumber. Darcy then took himself to the library for a book and wiled away the rest of his night reading…

…and trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. He could do this—courting a woman wasn't so hard, was it?