Hullo my dears! Good Saturday to you. I would have had this chapter to you last night, but there was apparently a server issue which has just in the last hour or so been fixed. So here you have Darcy's arrival in London, some more swoony daddy-daughter stuff, and a visit from the Countess of Winterbourne.

Chapter Four

Darcy and Clara arrived in London on Thursday evening.

They had set out early on Monday morning and for his daughter's sake, they stopped at a reputable inn every night. But the long hours of travel in between? In earlier years they had sometimes been tedious and boring; now they were a trial upon his patience.

It was his own fault, of course. Clara had never traveled so long a distance before—she had spent her entire life at Pemberley, from whence she had accompanied him occasionally to Lambton or Kympton—thus was not accustomed to being confined in the small space of a carriage for hours on end. The first day, she had fallen back to sleep with her head in his lap until their first stop to rest the horses. After a little exercise and some food, she had been rather a chatterbox, asking questions about the countryside as they passed it. Mrs. Annesley, who rode with them, engaged her in verbal lessons while Darcy alternated between listening and reading a book.

By the time they were ready to stop for the night, Clara was exhausted. Her father was glad, for it meant that she would sleep well. The next day started out much the same, but in the early afternoon she was showing signs of boredom. The passing scenery no longer held her interest, and Mrs. Annesley had increasing difficulty keeping her distracted with quizzes. On Wednesday, Clara threw a mild tantrum because she wanted to be doing something. Sitting in the carriage all day was boring.

Darcy had pinched the bridge of his nose more than once in an attempt to stave off a headache. When they stopped for an early dinner, he asked Mrs. Annesley if she had thought to pack any of Clara's favorite books. She recalled with sudden clarity that she had, and two of them were retrieved from his daughter's trunk. It was a little chilly to have the carriage sideglass open even a crack when they got on the road again, but worth it for the ability to burn a candle so that Mrs. Annesley could entertain Clara with a story. On Thursday, Clara did the reading, and the concentration required to pronounce all the words correctly was enough to distract her and give both the adults a reprieve from her complaints. When they reached Darcy House that evening, he sent her straight to bed before at long last relaxing with a brandy in his study.

When he entered her bedroom Friday morning for their regular hair routine, Clara jumped off her chair at the vanity and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she mumbled.

Darcy rested his hands on her shoulders. "What have you to be sorry for?" he asked, glancing briefly at Mrs. Annesley.

Clara tilted her head back to look up at him. "Mrs. Annesley said I should apologize 'cause I wasn't acting a proper young lady in the carriage."

Darcy knelt down so that he and his little girl were eye-to-eye. "Mrs. Annesley is right; you were not as well behaved as I expected you to be. But I am also to blame, for I have never brought you to London before. Had I done so, you might have been better prepared to spend so much time in the carriage. So, I must also apologize to you."

Clara tilted her head. "Why didn't we come here before?"

Darcy stifled a sigh. "I am not very fond of the city—I much prefer Pemberley and the peace of the country."

What he left out of his explanation was that he had also been avoiding the marriage mart, something a child her age would not entirely understand. Because his wife had died in childbirth, he could well have married again before his year of mourning was done because his daughter would "need a mother," but he had refused to disrespect Marian by supplanting her as Clara's mother before she was even cold in her grave. Had he made yearly trips to London after his mourning period, as he had used to do, he would have been besieged by match-making mammas and fortune-seeking debutantes just like in the years before his marriage.

Darcy had no interest in playing that game again. As he had always preferred the country to town, he'd been perfectly content to remain in Derbyshire with his infant daughter, and though Mrs. Annesley did tend her and dote on her like a mother, she was perfectly well aware that she had no claim to the title.

"So why are we here now?" Clara asked.

"Our Aunt Frances asked us to come," Darcy replied. "She wishes the family to all be together—your many cousins are here."

Clara's expression lit up at this revelation. "You mean Charlotte and Darcy and George and Theodore?!"

It was a relief to him that Clara remembered the names of his sister's children, as she had only ever seen them at Pemberley, and then only once a year for a few weeks in summer and at Christmas.

Darcy grinned and nodded. "Yes. Also cousin Philip's children and cousin Theodore's children, and the children of Aunt Frances's nieces and nephew."

His daughter's eyes grew large. "Oh, my goodness, Papa! That's a lot!"

Darcy laughed softly. "Yes, we have a very large family. And I am very glad of it, for in the past there have been too few of us."

"When can I see them? Will we be allowed to play instead of just doing lessons?" Clara asked as he stood.

"Perhaps today you may see some of them," Darcy replied as he guided her over to her vanity. When they had seated themselves and he had her brush in his hand, he continued with, "Papa must first send a note to Aunt Gigi and Aunt Frances to tell them we are in town. I do not doubt they will call on us after breakfast."

"But what if Aunt Gigi doesn't bring my cousins?" Clara asked as Darcy began brushing her hair; the tone of her voice told him how very much she was looking forward to seeing Georgiana's children. He was then painfully reminded of how little interaction she'd actually had with other children, and he began to curse himself for not doing better by her.

"If she does not, you will see them when we return her call," he replied.

Clara beamed at him in the mirror, and he smiled back at her. Her happiness never failed to make him feel better, even when the fault was his own. After he finished plaiting her hair and tying it with a ribbon, he walked with her to the schoolroom where she would have a light repast of toast and juice with Mrs. Annesley before beginning her morning lessons. It was the same as their morning routine at Pemberley, and he was determined that a change in location would not disrupt his daughter's education.

One thing he recalled from his own lessons as a boy was something his father had taught him: children needed routines and rules. Structure was important to their development. Darcy certainly wasn't a strict father—he and Clara ate meals together, he had taken her out in his curricle for picnics, had rode with her on his horse, taken her for walks about the garden… He knew he spent a great deal more time with Clara than many gentlemen and nobles spent with their children, which they would likely term an "overindulgence of attention." Whatever could be done to bring her joy was done in a moment—he already had plans to gift her a pony for her sixth birthday—but he did insist that his daughter follow basic rules. Going to lessons every morning was one of them, though if Georgiana did bring her children to Darcy House after breakfast, he would indulge her with having the rest of the morning to play.

After consuming his own toast and coffee in his study, Darcy penned three short letters—one to his aunt, one to his sister, and one to his cousin Theodore—to let his relations know he was in town; friends he would start calling on next week. After sending the notes off with a footman, he turned his attention to going over the accounts with his housekeeper before dealing with letters of business that awaited his attention. If he stayed longer than eight weeks, he would have to arrange for Clara's pony to be transported to London, as her birthday was in May.

He was not much surprised to receive a quick response to all three of his letters. His aunt was overjoyed that he had decided to come to London and insisted he …must dine with us at Disley House this evening. Bring Clara with you, for Philip and Sophia are here with five of my grandchildren, so she will be vastly entertained. If Theodore and Antoinette don't leave their children at home, the nursery will be fairly bursting at the seams!

Darcy had chuckled with amusement on reading that. Lady Disley might appear to be annoyed with the noise and bustle related to children, like so many of her set, but he knew from his cousins that she was absolutely thrilled to have so many grandchildren.

Theodore's note was brief, stating that he was glad he'd chosen to come to town and that he hoped their families could get together soon. Georgiana, as expected, declared she would come right after breakfast, and would bring her girls with her.

Clara would be thrilled.

By eleven o'clock that morning, Georgiana and her daughters were walking through the door. Clara bounced on her toes with excitement, and Darcy could tell that only his hand resting lightly on her shoulder kept her from running to them as the butler opened the drawing room doors to announce their guests.

"Lady Winterbourne, Lady Charlotte Beckwith, and Lady Darcy Beckwith to see you, Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy," he added with a wink at Clara, who clapped a hand to her lips and giggled in reply.

"Thank you, Tolliver. Do show them in," Darcy instructed him.

Tolliver bowed and opened the doors wider, then stood aside so that Georgiana and the girls could step into the drawing room.

Goodness, Charlotte and Darcy have grown since last I saw them, Darcy mused.

Georgiana smiled brilliantly. "Good morning, my dearest brother and niece!" said she as she stepped up to Darcy and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Good morning my dearest sister and my dearest nieces," Darcy replied as he returned her affection. He then glanced down at his daughter. "Clara has been most anxious to see you all."

"But where's the boys?" Clara asked.

Georgiana looked down at her with a smile. "George and Theodore are too young to make calls, I'm afraid. However, should you come to Winter House, you will be able to see them."

Clara looked up at Darcy. "Can we go to the Winter House, Papa?"

Darcy shook his head. "Not today, dearest. Perhaps tomorrow. We shall be visiting our Aunt Frances and Uncle Richard at Disley House this evening."

Georgiana grinned. "So, you've been summoned to dinner as well?"

"I have," he replied.

His sister then turned to her girls. "Charlotte, Darcy, come and greet your uncle and your cousin."

Charlotte, who had not been born to Georgiana, resembled her birth mother more every time Darcy saw her. The first Lady Winterbourne, Henrietta Faulkner, had been a beauty—on the outside, at least. Inside she was a jealous, self-centered, entitled shrew. In his mind—and her father's, as Arthur had once confessed it to him—it was a very good thing she did not remember her mother, and an even better one that she had been raised with love and kindness by Georgiana, who delighted in being called "Mamma" by her as well as by the children of her blood. Lord Winterbourne said that he would, eventually, tell Charlotte the truth about her origins, when he felt she was ready to hear the awful tale. Until then, he was content to allow her to believe that Georgiana was her mother, because she was "a much kinder and loving mother to Lottie than Henrietta ever was."

"Good morning, Uncle Darcy," said Charlotte as she curtsied.

"Morning, Uncle Me!" said her sister with a giggle. His younger niece was of an age to still find it quite humorous that her Christian name was the same as her uncle's family name. She'd been addressing him as "Uncle Me" ever since she was old enough to understand the reason their names were so similar, and Darcy could not help but think it endearing and adorable.

He smiled and bowed his head. "Good morning to you both. Thank you for coming with your mother to Darcy House today."

"Do you know I am six years old now, Uncle Me?" little Darcy asked.

"I did indeed," Darcy replied. "Congratulations, my lady."

"I'm going to be six too!" cried Clara excitedly. "My birthday is in… how many more months, Papa?"

"Little more than two months, dearest," Darcy answered automatically, feeling a pinch in his chest, as he did every year, when he remembered that the day of her birth was also the day of her mother's death.

"Would you like to play dolls with me, cousins?" Clara asked then.

"I like dolls!" cried little Darcy.

"I do not play with dolls anymore," said Charlotte, whom Darcy knew would be thirteen in June, "but if Uncle Darcy will permit us to go into the music room, I will play the pianoforte for you while you play with them."

"How very kind of you, Charlotte," said Georgiana with a smile. "You know I enjoy listening to you play."

Darcy echoed his sister's sentiment, then added, "If you will ring for a servant, I will send for Mrs. Annesley to bring Clara's dolls for her and Darcy."

Charlotte nodded and went to the bellpull. In only a few minutes, a maid responded and was given instructions to find Mrs. Annesley and tell her to bring a few of Clara's dolls to the music room. She was then to deliver a request to the kitchen to send a tray of tea there.

Darcy then led Georgiana and the girls to the music room, where Charlotte sat at once to the grand pianoforte there. Charlotte and little Darcy sat on the bench with her until Mrs. Annesley appeared, and the governess sat near the little ones before the hearth to watch over them while their parents sat at a table across the room.

"So, brother… Your first trip to London since you married," Georgiana said softly. "That's what, seven years? How do you like it?"

Darcy scoffed. "I've seen little of it, as we only arrived last evening. But I imagine it remains much the same as it ever was."

"It certainly does," Georgiana confessed. "Though as I have told you, I understand why you stayed away."

"And I appreciate that you do," said Darcy. "If only our aunts had your understanding, I might not be here now."

Georgiana frowned. "What do you mean?"

He lifted an eyebrow at her but dropped it quickly when a maid brought in tea. He offered a cup to Mrs. Annesley and had the maid carry it to her before sending her away.

Turning his attention back to his sister, he said, "Do you not know? It is the same reason I stayed away."

Georgiana's eyes widened. "Aunt Frances and Aunt Catherine want you to get married again?" she asked. "Are you quite serious?"

Darcy nodded. "They are both of the opinion that Clara needs a mother and I need an heir—both forgetting that Pemberley is not entailed, thus I already have an heir in Clara. And before you mention the family name again, I can quite easily make it a stipulation in her marriage articles that whomever she marries must take our name."

"Certainly, you could," Georgiana agreed, then took a sip of her tea. "But what if she falls in love with a titled man, as I did?"

"Simple: Their firstborn son would keep his father's name and inherit from him, and the second born would take the Darcy name and inherit Pemberley."

"And if Clara should only have daughters?"

"The eldest would inherit Pemberley," Darcy said, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "My dear, we have already had this conversation."

Georgiana conceded the point with a nod and took another drink of her tea. "Then if not to do as our aunts wish, why did you come?"

Darcy glanced over to where the younger girls played and felt his tension ease. "Because I have kept Clara from her family long enough. She needs to know she has people besides myself that she can depend on."