Hello my dears! I must confess that I almost had this chapter to you yesterday, but my sleep schedule is so messed up right now, I near fell asleep writing it, so had to put it off. But here it is for your reading pleasure! In this chapter, the men weigh in on the possibility of a relationship between Lady Stashwick and Mr. Darcy - I do think you'll find some humor in it. I also have a nice moment between Darcy and Elizabeth toward the end.

Oh, and my brain short circuited last chapter - I gave Lady Charlotte the wrong surname. My error has been corrected.

Chapter Eight

Darcy aimed a pointed stare at Lady Catherine as the ladies departed the dining room, which he had little doubt would be ignored.

"Did little Lord Stashwick really bloody Anthony's nose?" asked Lord Rowarth when the men were alone.

"Aye," said Fitzwilliam. "I'm glad it was no more than that—a real fight could have ended worse."

"It's too bad they don't take boys younger than thirteen at Gentleman Jack's," observed Mr. Parker. "Young boys require a healthy means of expressing aggression just as much as older ones."

Fitzwilliam snorted. "Good luck convincing a mother to allow her son to take up pugilism," said he before taking a drink of his port. "My wife doesn't even like my going there."

"Perhaps fencing," suggested Darcy, who was an afficionado of the sport himself. "Squire's takes students as young as five. They can also learn archery there."

"Perhaps you might suggest it, Will, when you call on Lady Stashwick next week," said Fitzwilliam with a grin.

Darcy resisted the urge to frown. "Perhaps I shall."

"You intend to call on Lady Stashwick, Darcy?" asked Mr. Faulkner.

With a nod, Darcy replied, "I asked Her Ladyship if I might call on her with Clara, that she and the lady's daughters might play together."

"I daresay that would be good for Clara, but take care, Darcy," advised his uncle. "If you associate very much with Lady Stashwick, your aunt Catherine will think you're taking her advice after all."

Now Darcy did frown, but quickly schooled his expression. "Uncle, my interest—such as it is—lies solely in securing agreeable companions for my daughter. Whatever Lady Catherine—or your own wife—may have to say on the subject, I have no interest in paying my addresses to Lady Stashwick or any other lady."

"Do you not desire an heir for your estate and fortune, Darcy?" asked Lord Winterbourne.

"Pemberley has an heir—her name is Clara," said Darcy through gritted teeth. "I do wish everyone would cease haranguing me about the subject."

Lord Disley sat forward, his hands clasped around his glass of port. "Fitzwilliam, our concern is not solely about securing Pemberley through a male heir," said he. "Frances and I are also concerned about your emotional well-being, and Clara's. You were only married for a year and men have needs, my boy, that a wife would be best suited to fulfill."

"Uncle, I have managed six years without sating my carnal desires—clearly, it is not as much a need as you seem to believe," said Darcy in a droll tone.

"And what about Clara, Darcy?" asked Lord Rowarth.

"What about her, Philip?"

"What about when she begins to mature and develop into a young woman?" spoke up Winterbourne. "Daughters have questions about their bodies that only a mother can answer—Georgie has been such a blessing in that regard to my Lottie."

Stifling the urge to growl, Darcy said, "Arthur, my daughter does have someone she can talk to when that time comes. Mrs. Annesley, as you know, has been with my family since your wife was sixteen years."

"A companion and governess is all well and good, Darcy," said Rowarth, "but a mother is so much more! She can be a friend to her child as well as a parent. Servants cannot fulfill either role."

Darcy cast a sour glance at his cousin. "Servants fill both roles in far too many of the first families, Philip, as you well know."

"But they don't in this family," said Lord Disley firmly. "It as a matter of pride for me to be able to say that there's not a man at this table that is not active in the upbringing of his children, as a man should be."

"Every man at this table also has a wife, Will, except for you," said Fitzwilliam, "and every woman in the drawing room is married to one of us, save Lady Catherine and Lady Stashwick. You obviously cannot marry our aunt, and Elizabeth is a most eligible match."

Darcy set his drink down with a disgusted snort. "Theodore, you are speaking of the woman who was your uncle's wife for nine years, who bore him four children. She has been widowed barely a year—"

"And as has been already said, Darcy, she is now eligible to marry again, which you have been for five of the last six years," his uncle pointed out.

Darcy knew his expression showed his feelings as to the direction of the discussion when the earl continued with, "We do not mean any disrespect to Henry in suggesting Lady Stashwick as a potential bride, of course." He paused and turned his gaze to Stephen Faulkner, whom Darcy knew had looked up to the late Marquess of Stashwick as a father-figure after his own father's betrayal of the family.

"Then do get to the point, Uncle," Darcy said, his voice full of vexation.

Lord Disley sighed. "Fitzwilliam, I know how very happy you are to be a father—I have seen how you dote on Clara. But there's not a man alive in this world who doesn't long for a son, and do not think us remiss to your not having said you do not."

Darcy suppressed a sigh and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, Uncle, I have never said I do not desire a son. Only that I do not need one."

"At, um, at risk of speaking out of turn," piped up Parker, "besides your own daughter needing a mother's influence, do not you think Lady Stashwick's sons could use a father? Yes, they've a father already, as Miss Darcy has a mother already—but sadly neither is here anymore to care for their children. Do not you think my uncle and Mrs. Darcy might want their children looked after as only a mother and father can do?"

"That is another thing I think we all ought to consider—the protection of my aunt and her children," said Lord Rowarth then. "Lady Stashwick commands one of the largest fortunes in the whole of England, which makes her a target for rakehells and rogues of the worst sort."

"That is a good point, Rowarth," said Lord Scarborough. "I know that Addy's been very concerned for her brothers and sisters—the twins are younger than she was when her mother died."

"Protect Elizabeth and her children, by all means," said Darcy with exasperation. "I should certainly not like to see her be taken in by a scoundrel or some other fellow who needs funds to pay his debts or to save his estate from ruin. But do not press her to marry—and stop pressing me to marry. If it is God's will that either of us should marry again, let it be our choice and in our own time."

With that, he threw back the last of the port in his glass and stood. Darcy bowed his head, first to his uncle and then to the other gentlemen, before wordlessly taking his leave.

-…-

"Is it my imagination—and I do admit, my eyes and ears do sometimes deceive me in my old age—or doth the gentleman protest too much?" said Lord Disley.

His elder son snickered. "I think you are right, Father. Darcy seemed awfully defensive for a fellow who claims no interest in marrying again—or the lady in question."

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. "He, um… He was in love with her once."

Cries of "What?" and "Are you serious?" followed his confession. The former army officer grimaced and said, "Now, you cannot say anything to him—Darcy will murder me for revealing his secret, and you'll never find my body. But yes. He was in love with her when she and Henry met but was too absorbed in how her family's situation made her 'unsuitable' to take to wife to act on his feelings. Henry's interest in her, when he had more reasons to avoid the connection than my cousin, showed Darcy what a fool he was—as did Elizabeth's remarkable transition into the ton."

His father scoffed. "Well, that explains better why Darcy avoided their wedding," said he. "Poor sod. To realize you're in love with a smart young woman like that only after someone else has engaged her interest."

"Wait, if Darcy was in love with Lady Stashwick," asked Parker, "then why did he marry the late Mrs. Darcy?"

"Because it was expected," said Rowarth with a shrug. "As it was expected of all of us. Pemberley needed an heir, and Darcy could hardly spend the rest of his life pining for another man's wife. He needed to take a chance on being happy with someone else, and I do believe he and Marian were happy together."

"Agreed, brother," said Fitzwilliam. "His letters during that year certainly seemed to indicate that he was well on the way to overcoming his attachment to Elizabeth. Of course, Marian's death put an end to that, and then there was Clara to focus on."

Lord Disley drew a breath and blew it out slowly. "Far be it for me to interfere—and God help me if Catherine ever finds out we had this discussion, after the set-down I gave her this evening for the very same reason—but I wonder if we shouldn't … help them along. Darcy and Elizabeth, I mean. They have so much in common, those two—and I do mean besides having lost a spouse."

"Indeed, Father," agreed Rowarth. "By her ease and liveliness, his mind might be softened, his manners even more improved; and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must receive benefit of greater importance."

"At the very least," added Winterbourne, "they might bring each other cheer again."

"Greater importance than being a marchioness?" quipped Scarborough. "Before she married Henry, they were equals—now she is far above him."

"My nephew may not have rank, Lord Scarborough, but his mother—my sister, God rest her—was the daughter of an earl," said Lord Disley. "That is good enough a connection for a marchioness, and my wife's sister will not be required to give up her precedence or her rank for marrying again."

Faulkner snorted. "But is not our family tree complicated enough? After all, Elizabeth's sister married her husband's nephew, and Darcy's sister married Winterbourne, who is the father of Henry's eldest granddaughter."

Lord Disley knocked back the rest of his port. "That is all true enough, Stephen, but we must take into account the character of the man we would have become an addition to this family, should Lady Stashwick choose to marry again. While I own that there are other young men of the nobility and even the gentry with whom I would not mind forming a connection, it must be someone who can be trusted not to wrest control of my brother's fortune from its proper manager. By rights that is Elizabeth, until Harry has reached his majority. And other than those of you who sit here, there's no one I trust more in this world than Darcy."

"I give Darcy and my mother-in-law leave to like each other," said Scarborough with a laugh. "Have they not both liked many a stupider person in their day?"

Fitzwilliam snorted. "I am sure they have," said he. "So, we are agreed that if they are to marry again, it should be to each other?"

When the others had nodded or murmured their agreement, the colonel threw back the rest of his drink and stood. "Well then, I'd say this meeting of the Matchmaking Men of Society is ended."

He quit the room to the laughter of the other men and went in search of his cousin.

-…-

Darcy frowned at Fitzwilliam, who entered the drawing room several minutes after himself. About time, he thought. What the devil could they have been talking about in there?

His cousin approached where he stood at the window. "Has Aunt Catherine behaved herself in our absence?"

Darcy turned to glance over at his shoulder. Lady Catherine sat in a chair by the fireplace opposite Lady Disley. The other ladies were clustered about the sofas talking of their children … or so he thought.

Returning his attention to Fitzwilliam, he said, "Your mother has been so good as to keep her occupied. She has not importuned Lady Stashwick again, at least since I have been in the room."

"Good," said Fitzwilliam with a nod. The other gentlemen then entered the room, and he turned back to say, "Listen, Will, about what was said in the dining room… You must know that we all just want to see you happy again."

Darcy sighed. "Theo…"

The colonel held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know… Clara is all you need. But think about what you want for a change. I have no doubt that you still want to love and be loved, and if those feelings you once had for Elizabeth are still in there somewhere—blazes, even if they're not, you could learn to love her again—"

Darcy crossed his arms. "And what about her? What about what she wants—or does not? Have none of you taken even a moment to consider that Elizabeth may not wish to marry again? I should be wasting time and energy I can ill afford to spend courting the lady if her heart is closed off forever after losing someone she truly loved."

"You'll never know, cousin, if you don't try," said Fitzwilliam. "Don't court her openly—at least not at first. Start off being her friend—visiting so the children can play together should make that easy enough for you. Spend a week or a fortnight getting to know her again, then test the waters by inviting her to a play or a concert."

After a moment of absorbing and mulling over his cousin's advice, Darcy scowled. "I hate it when you make sense."

It was the wrong thing to say; Fitzwilliam's countenance lit up like a fresh wick in an oil lamp and he grinned in triumph. "There now, that wasn't so bloody hard, was it?"

"Oh, shut it, Theodore," Darcy said with a soft growl as he turned away to look out the window once more.

"Mr. Darcy?"

Turning round at the sound of Elizabeth's voice, Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, Lady Stashwick?"

"Pray excuse me for interrupting, but the ladies and I were just discussing arranging visits so that our children can get to know each other better, and I was reminded that you had asked about calling at Stashwick House with Miss Darcy." Elizabeth paused and smiled. "I thought that, as you had officially been the first to request a visit, I should give you the first appointment."

"That is most generous of you, my lady," Darcy replied. "Had you a particular day in mind?"

"Would Monday be too soon for you? If you have any fixed engagement, we can of course select another day."

Darcy chuckled. "As no one but those present know I am in town, I have no engagements at all, at the present. I had intended to begin calling on friends and acquaintances next week, but as my daughter and I have been invited to the home of a marchioness, I shall delay paying those calls until I have honored her request."

For the second time that evening, Elizabeth's expression showed both surprise and delight, and he would have wondered why she should feel either if it had not immediately occurred to him that she had only once before seen him so at ease. She could not have known he had something of a teasing nature himself when she had never witnessed it and had certainly never been on the receiving end.

A hint of pink bloomed on her cheeks, then Elizabeth said, "My daughters and I are much obliged to me made a priority for you, Mr. Darcy. And Miss Darcy will have more new acquaintances than Isabella and Margaret, for my sister Mary and her children are staying with us for a few weeks, so she will be introduced to them as well."

"Pray forgive my lack of memory, but does Miss Mary—I mean, Lady Winstead—have daughters?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "Mary has two daughters, Prudence and Sarah. She also has a son named Bennet."

She then turned her gaze to Fitzwilliam. "Colonel, I should like to apologize again on behalf of my son for injuring yours. He had no right to—"

Fitzwilliam cut her off with a wave of his hand. "My dear young aunt, you have nothing to apologize for. While it's true that violence was not the proper reaction for my little cousin, he was acting in defense of a young lady, and I cannot say I would not have done the same at that age. I daresay Darcy here would have as well."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Really? I mean no offense, Mr. Darcy, but you do not seem the sort who would engage in fisticuffs to resolve a dispute."

"I certainly do make every attempt to resolve disputes with civility, my lady," said Darcy with a nod, "but I have been known to 'plant a facer'—as Lady Charlotte so eloquently said earlier this evening—when sufficiently provoked."

A grin graced her features, then Elizabeth said, "And to think I once said you were all politeness."

Darcy recalled the evening instantly: a party at Lucas Lodge, at which Sir William had encouraged him to dance with Elizabeth. He had asked her, and she had responded with a polite but firm refusal, declaring she had no intention of dancing that evening—though Darcy knew then as he did now that her refusal to dance with him was in response to his own refusal to dance with her a fortnight prior.

It was also the first time he had allowed himself to admit that she had a pair of fine, dark eyes and a pretty face.

Inclining his head, he replied, "Indeed I am, Your Ladyship. At least, I try to be. As you know, I sometimes fail."

Elizabeth grinned again. "Oh yes. I remember how unsociable and taciturn you were in Meryton all those years ago. Shall I discover you have altered your manner to include being introduced in ballrooms? Have you since developed a talent which some of us naturally possess of conversing easily with strangers?"

Darcy could not help himself—he laughed. "I sincerely hope, Lady Stashwick, that you will find I have indeed changed for the better."