Hello my dears! As always, I must thank you all so very much for your kind words. I share my struggles to be open and honest with my readers, and it warms my heart that you all are so accepting and encouraging when I share my truth with you. You are most excellent people and I am glad you are a part of my writing journey.

The first day of the "Chapter a Day" challenge is a success! This chapter sees a conversation between Darcy and Harry and a (hopefully) touching moment or two between ODC. Happy reading!

Chapter Thirteen

Darcy was not remiss to the blush that filled Elizabeth's cheeks, but he had little time to wonder at its cause.

The young marquess had not been boasting—he really was good at chess. Lord Stashwick had already made a number of strategic moves, forcing him to concentrate on his playing and not the boy's mother. It was not as easy a task to focus on the game as it normally was, given that the woman for whom he had once felt a deep affection was sitting little more than twenty feet away from him.

The woman for whom you still have feelings, Darcy, his inner voice reminded him.

However was he to resolve his situation? he wondered as he moved a pawn. Elizabeth's own words about not being ready to move about in society were very clear indicators that she was also not ready to move on from her loss. She might never be ready, and then where would he be?

No better or worse than before. He'd still be a widowed father of a young girl.

"Mr. Darcy, it's your turn."

Blinking, Darcy took in the expectant expression of Lord Stashwick. "Forgive me, my lord," he said, then glanced at the board to find that he had lost another pawn. Pay attention, Darcy! he admonished himself.

After a moment of studying the board, he made his next move. His opponent made one of his own, moving a knight dangerously close to Darcy's king.

"A shilling for your thoughts, sir."

The comment surprised Darcy. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

Lord Stashwick looked up. "That's what Mamma says to us when she catches us woolgathering. I thought I would try it."

Darcy chuckled. "I do apologize for allowing my mind to wander. A host—and a gentleman—should always have his attention on the task he is performing."

"Grown ups are always telling me what a gentleman should or shouldn't do," the boy said then. "Of course, Papa always said 'titled gentleman' when he would scold me."

"I imagine you miss your father very much," Darcy observed. "Though he has been gone nearly twenty years, I still miss my own on occasion—being it has only been a year for you, my lord, I am sure the pain and grief are rather stronger than what I feel."

"I do miss him," Lord Stashwick said with a nod. "Papa scolded me sometimes, but he was the best papa ever. He taught me all kinds of games, and he taught me riding. We used to go for walks in the woods, and we fished in the river. And he didn't always treat me like I was a little boy—he sometimes would talk to me like I was already a grown up, and I really liked that."

Darcy smiled. "My father was much the same. We did many activities together which were fun, but he was sometimes very serious, often impressing upon me the enormous responsibility I would one day take on."

"At least your papa didn't have titles," Lord Stashwick muttered. "Sometimes I wish we didn't have titles. People were always taking Mamma and Papa's attention from us because of their 'duty to the title'—Papa talked about that a lot, too, though Mamma would scold him sometimes and say 'Harry's just a little boy, leave him alone.' I always thought it was funny when she scolded him like he was one of us little ones."

"I am sure it was an amusing sight, though I would imagine one you were never meant to see—or hear," said Darcy.

The boy grinned sheepishly. "I listened sometimes when they would talk serious. I know I wasn't supposed to, but I didn't like being left out."

"I never liked being left out either, but I would advise you, if I may, to give up the habit of eavesdropping—you may get caught one day, and I do not think you would like the consequences," Darcy advised him.

Lord Stashwick's eyes widened. "Did your papa catch you?"

Darcy flicked his gaze briefly in Elizabeth's direction, then leaned forward slightly and said, "It was my mamma who caught me."

"Did you get in lots of trouble?"

"I did," Darcy replied with a nod. "I was not permitted to leave my bedchamber except for lessons with my tutor for an entire week—I was even made to eat my meals there."

"You didn't always eat in your rooms?"

"Usually only when my parents were entertaining," Darcy replied. "When it was just us, we would eat together as a family."

"Mamma and Papa did that in our house, too. Mamma still lets us eat at the table with her, even Meg."

A few moments passed in silence, in which Darcy's king was checked, then his young opponent said, in a lower voice, "Can I ask you something, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy's brows rose in curiosity. "Certainly, my lord."

"Is it… is it true that widowed people can marry again?"

Nothing could have surprised him more than that question, Darcy thought, as he sat back and contemplated the little boy before him. Marriage seemed to be on everybody's mind of late—even the children were thinking of it!

Suppressing the urge to sigh, he said at last, "Yes, it is true. A widowed gentleman or lady may marry again if they wish to. May I, in turn, inquire as to why you wish to know?"

Lord Stashwick peeked over his shoulder to where his mother sat; when Darcy looked as well, he noted that she had moved to join the girls before the hearth and was braiding one of the dolls' hair.

Turning back, the young marquess said, "Mamma and Aunt Mary were talking of it the other day. I couldn't help overhearing this time, as we were in the same room! Mamma said she wouldn't even be thinking of it if other people would not bring it up. They said some other stuff, too, but I don't remember it all."

Based on his expression, Darcy was certain little Lord Stashwick was not being entirely truthful in his last statement—but he did not press him for what else had been said between his mother and her sister. It was unfortunate that Elizabeth was already being harassed about a second marriage little more than a week after her year of mourning was done, and by one of her own family, no less! She did not need to remarry, why could no one see that?

But you are hoping she will think about it, Darcy. Do not deny it.

I do not deny it, he thought in reply to his own musings. But nor will I press her for an attachment she has no interest in. The lady must be allowed to move on or not in her own time.

It occurred to him then that he was being tested. Lord Stashwick was clearly an observant, inquisitive boy, and having overheard talk of his mother possibly marrying again, he might just be concerned as to what Darcy's intentions were.

"I don't think I want Mamma to marry again," the boy continued. "I already had a papa."

Darcy knew in that moment that, whether Lord Stashwick was testing him or not, he would have to earn the boy's admiration and respect before he'd have any chance with Elizabeth. After all, any man who married a woman with children wasn't just marrying her, he was—in a way—marrying her children as well.

"Any gentleman worth the distinction, my lord, would never attempt to take the place of your father," Darcy said slowly as he made another move on the chessboard. "He would understand that is a title he cannot claim, but I am sure he would hope that you will one day see him as a man as honorable as your good father was, and perhaps that you might look up to him as much as you do your father's memory."

Lord Stashwick looked up, capturing Darcy's gaze with his own as though taking his measure—and for the first time in his life, the latter found himself feeling a little intimidated by a nine-year-old.

One who, without breaking eye contact, casually moved a piece on the board and said, "Checkmate."

Before Darcy could even react, Tolliver entered the room and announced that luncheon was served. Blinking his eyes, Darcy shook his head minutely and stood.

"My ladies, my lords," he said. "Shall we go and dine now?"

"Yes, please!" said Lord Thomas enthusiastically. "I'm hungry."

Elizabeth laughed softly, reminding Darcy yet again of how musical the sound was. "Tom, you are always hungry. One would think I never feed you!"

Darcy then crossed over to where she stood, then turned and offered her his arm. "Shall we lead the way, Your Ladyship? I promise, I will not lose my way to the dining room."

His jest elicited another laugh. "I should hope not, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "We are in your house, after all."

"Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, sir," said Bennet.

Darcy turned and looked at the boy. "Yes?"

"I'm not a lord like my cousins, sir. I'm just a mister. But I'll be Sir Bennet one day—my papa is a baronet. Everybody calls him Sir Robert, but I just call him Papa."

Darcy grinned and bowed his head. "Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Winstead. I am acquainted with your papa, as it so happens, though it has been some years since we met last."

"You should come to Stashwick and see our house—we live in a parsonage," Bennet continued. "And Aunt Lizzy and my cousins live in a real castle!"

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth with a grin. "Do you really?"

"You know perfectly well that I do, sir!" Elizabeth chided him. "It is a drafty old stone building which will one day pass into the hands of my son, the eleventh generation Faulkner son."

"Very impressive, my lady," said Darcy with a smile, then he turned and began the procession to the dining room. As they walked, he heard Clara ask if the other girls could sit by her. Lady Winstead gently replied that as Lady Margaret and Miss Sarah were still young and in need of some assistance, they would have to sit next to someone who could help them.

"Oh, I see," Clara replied. "But I hope I can still sit near them and talk to them."

"Of course, you can," Lady Winstead told her. "And Prudence, I am sure, will be happy to sit near you."

"I should like that, Mamma," Prudence spoke up. "I'm so happy I have a new friend!"

"So am I!" Clara chirped happily.

Darcy tilted his head closer to Elizabeth's and said softly, "I am very pleased that the girls are getting on so well."

"As am I, Mr. Darcy," she replied. "Meg and Sarah are a little younger than Prudence and Miss Darcy, but they have not had any trouble playing together. I think it helps that they are all still very interested in dolls."

"And Lady Isabella is not?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "She still keeps a few of her favorite dolls in her room but plays with them much less than she used to—she was more focused on her art and music the last year or so before her father died. She gave both up when he passed, too grief-stricken was she to do either, but now that she is finding herself able to draw and play again, I daresay she may become as accomplished a young lady as your sister was once boasted to be by the former Miss Bingley."

The last she said as they were entering the dining room. Darcy led Elizabeth to the chair on his left, as Clara always sat to his right. His daughter was led to her place by Lord Stashwick, who was very gentlemanlike in pulling out her chair for her. He then pulled out the next chair for his cousin Prudence, which led to both girls smiling and giggling at each other. The three boys took the remaining chairs on that side of the table. Lady Margaret was seated next to Elizabeth, Miss Sarah next to her, and Lady Winstead on her daughter's left side with Lady Isabella sitting at the end next to her aunt.

When the whole party was settled, the waiting maids helped the older children to fill their plates while the two mothers took care of their youngest and then themselves. Soon everyone had full plates, with cups of tea and chocolate to drink.

"Speaking of the former Miss Bingley, my lady," said Darcy to Elizabeth, "her brother called here on Monday afternoon, inviting me to a dinner at his home scheduled for this evening, which his sisters and 'a few friends' were to attend. He said that Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner had already accepted their invitation, and that Mrs. Bingley was to call at Stashwick House to extend an invitation to you and Lady Winstead."

Elizabeth set down her teacup before nodding. "Jane did call Monday afternoon with her invitation."

"May I inquire as to whether I shall have the honor of enjoying your company twice in one day?"

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow at his words, then smiled. "I was at first hesitant to accept, but I knew that Mary wouldn't go if I did not, and Jane seemed to be so looking forward to this dinner party. So, yes, Mr. Darcy, you shall see my sister and I again this evening at Bingley House."

Darcy smiled, while at the same time tamping down the flare of excitement that he would get to dine with her again. "I am pleased to hear it, Your Ladyship."

She was distracted then by Lady Margaret's need for assistance, and Darcy took the opportunity to glance around. It felt both strange and … and right to be looking upon so many young faces at his table, and for the first time in a long time, he felt some level of regret that he and Marian hadn't had the opportunity to create a larger family.

It then struck him that if Elizabeth opened her heart and considered a second marriage—and accepted his proposal should he make one—such a scene would become commonplace. The thought stirred hope within him, and he found himself suddenly determined to follow Fitzwilliam's advice. He wanted a larger family, for Clara's sake as much as his own, and he would have one if he could but stir the heart of the woman seated at his left.

When Elizabeth was able to give him her attention again, she said, "Pray pardon my blatant attempt at soliciting gossip, Mr. Darcy, but have you been much in Lady Dornan's company in recent years? I know this is the first time in seven that you have quit Derbyshire—that one Christmas in Cheshire notwithstanding—but I also know from my sister Jane's letters that her family has been to your infamously fabulous estate at least once a year in the last five."

"Infamously fabulous?" said Darcy with a chuckle. "Now there is a descriptive phrase I have not heard before; I shall have to remember it. As to your query, yes, the Bingleys have been to Pemberley several times, but Sir Frederick and Lady Dornan have been only once since they married."

"No doubt due in large part to his managing a business in Pall Mall—a print shop, if memory serves," Elizabeth said. "Jane told me that his spendthrift ways led to his having to take employment, but that Sir Frederick was rather surprised to find he liked the work. Much to Caroline's chagrin, I am sure."

"Yes," said Darcy. "I understand from Charles that Caroline refuses to go to her husband's shop and likes to pretend he is an investor in the business rather than an employee."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Where would he find the money? The man cannot even afford to keep his own estate at present, even having used the majority of her dowry to pay his debts."

"It is a rather different scenario than the lady had envisioned for herself," Darcy observed.

"I cannot help but wonder where Lady Dornan gets the funds for the dinner parties she arranges," Elizabeth said then. "Jane and Cate—especially the latter—are forever writing me letters comparing their dinner parties to hers and declaring theirs are infinitely better."

"Given the inclination for each of them to upstage each other, as the theatre lot might say, I would surmise their respective connections play some part in the competition," Darcy replied. "Sir Frederick has some rich and titled friends, certainly, but Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Faulkner are sister to the Marchioness of Stashwick—not to mention the latter lady is wife to the grandson of a man who once held the same title."

"And is now cousin to the Marquess of Stashwick," said Elizabeth, as her gaze moved down the table to where her sons and nephew sat. "Heavens, Darcy… I have read of peers being born to this or that title—Harry himself was called the Earl of Greymoor from the day of his birth—but to be forced to assume your father's rights and responsibilities when you are just a child?"

She looked back at him, and it pained Darcy to see sadness had taken over her countenance. "It pains me deeply that my son feels so much of that responsibility already. He knows that he is the marquess now, that much will be expected of him when he is older, and I fear that the pressure will be too much for him without his father here to prepare him for it."

Instinctively, Darcy reached over and laid his hand atop hers, pressing it warmly. "Do not distress yourself, madam. He has a strong mother, not to mention my uncle and our mutual aunt, his father's sister, as support. With such remarkable examples to guide him, young Lord Stashwick cannot fail."

Elizabeth smiled at his words, then her eyes fell on their joined hands and color filled her cheeks as she pulled hers away.