Shamakh, my fellow Austenians! Look what I have for you - another chapter!

Chapter Eighteen

There was a definite coolness to Elizabeth's greeting.

Darcy could not help but wonder at it. They had gotten on so very well Friday afternoon. She had thanked him again for his kindness to her children, had thanked him for hosting the fencing lesson—she had even praised his performance during the demonstration match between himself and Miss Niles.

Now she was treating him with cool civility. What had changed?

The cause of her indifference was soon revealed to him. At the intermission, when the gentlemen left the Stashwick box to seek refreshments for the ladies, Darcy noted pointed looks in his direction. People whispered and smiled. As they stood in line for refreshments, a man with whom he was familiar approached, though the name of the fellow escaped him.

"You are a sly dog, Darcy my good fellow," said the man.

Colonel Fitzwilliam huffed and crossed his arms. "What the devil are you on about, Travers?" said he.

Ah, Humphrey Travers, Darcy thought. Another firstborn son who, like himself, had been given his mother's family name as a Christian name.

"Oh, come now, Colonel," Travers said. "Everyone is talking about it."

"About what, pray tell?" said Darcy.

Travers' gaze roamed over the men with whom he stood. Darcy could not see all their faces, but from the way the other man blinked and swallowed, he imagined his cousins, his brother, and his uncle were not smiling.

"Well, there's been some talk of you and Lady Stashwick, that's all," Travers said at last. "Word is that the two of you are courting in secret, to be respectful of the lady just coming out of mourning."

It was an effort to stifle a growl of annoyance—the gossip was why Elizabeth was pointedly ignoring him.

"Travers, allow me to set the record straight for you," said Darcy in a cool, controlled tone. "Lady Stashwick and I are friends, nothing more. We have called on each other to introduce our children, nothing more."

"Oh, now there's an idea!" said Travers. "You're not trying to secure the lady for yourself, you're hoping to make your little girl the next marchioness!"

"My nephew said nothing of the kind, Mr. Travers," said Lord Disley. "You would be wise, sir, not to give any credit to rumors—or to start one."

Though he had been fool enough to bandy gossip just moments before, Travers was wise enough then to understand that he had been dismissed—and that it would not be in his best interests to press the matter before several peers. He merely bowed from the shoulders and turned to walk away from them.

Darcy turned to his uncle. "Is it true? People are saying that Lady Stashwick and I are courting in secret?"

Lord Disley sighed, and it was Lord Scarborough who replied, saying, "I'm afraid so, Darcy. I heard a couple of fellows talking about it when my lady and I came in."

"Lady Londonderry," began Fitzwilliam, "approached us after Elizabeth and her sister arrived, saying she had been told my young aunt was seen entering your house on Friday. Elizabeth gave her a polite sendoff, saying that you were extended family and pointing out that the children had been there also."

"Most unfortunate that my sister's first public appearance has already led to such speculation," said Stephen Faulkner. "Elizabeth loathes gossip."

"It will make things more difficult," Lord Disley muttered.

"It will make what more difficult, Uncle?" Darcy asked.

The earl did not immediately answer as it was his turn at the refreshment table. When each gentleman had chosen drinks for themselves and their ladies, they sent two footmen off with the laden trays and began to follow at a more sedate pace. Darcy moved to walk beside the earl.

"What will the gossip make more difficult?" he pressed.

"Lady Stashwick's return to society, of course," his uncle replied as they began their ascent of the stairs. "No doubt she wished for a smooth transition, but one innocent visit to Darcy House has already started the gossipmongers' tongues wagging."

"Makes one wonder who saw her and thought it worth mentioning," mused Lord Rowarth.

"And however did it get round to Lady Londonderry?" added Lord Winterbourne.

"That is neither here nor there, Arthur," said Darcy. "It grieves me that the ton have started gossiping about us after one bloody social call. I fear this will make Her Ladyship reluctant to call again, or to receive me, as then Clara will lose contact with her new friends."

As the group of gentlemen approached the Stashwick box, Lord Disley paused and turned to Darcy.

"Do you like Elizabeth, nephew?" he asked.

Darcy frowned. "Of course I admire Lady Stashwick, uncle. She's a remarkable woman," he said. "Her Ladyship has proven herself more than worthy to be among the ton."

"Elizabeth is more a lady than half the ladies in London," murmured Fitzwilliam with a snort.

Lord Disley's expression shifted to one of mild exasperation. "I do not refer to her character, William, though I agree she has proven herself more than worthy. I meant do you find her attractive. Could you imagine yourself becoming attached to her again?"

"Again?" Darcy echoed, glancing at Fitzwilliam, who colored and studiously avoided his gaze.

"Darcy, we've talked about it," said Rowarth. "And we think it would be in the best interests of Lady Stashwick and her children that if she should marry again, it should be to someone we know will not take advantage or try to swindle her fortune away from her or my cousins."

"Basically you," quipped Faulkner. "Lord Disley thinks it would be best to keep the fortune in the family, as it were. I happen to agree with him—I should not like my aunt to be taken in by a scoundrel."

Darcy snorted. "If you think Elizabeth would be taken in by anyone, then none of you know her as well as you think you do," he snapped angrily.

She was taken in by Wickham, came the unpleasant thought.

She fell for his lies only because she disliked me at the time, and that was my own fault, snapped his inner voice. Had I not insulted her, she would not have been predisposed to believe any slander against me.

Sighing heavily, Darcy looked to his uncle. "Do you really believe that if the lady should marry again, I should be the one?"

Lord Disley nodded. "I certainly do. We must keep the fortune in the family, as Stephen said. That is the best way to protect the Faulkner legacy and those that may be served by it. You loved her once, as Theodore has told us—"

"I'm sorry, Will, please do not be angry!" broke in Fitzwilliam.

"—and all due respect to dear Marian, while she was an admirable woman and a more than suitable match, a man does not forget his first love. And if you loved Elizabeth once—"

Darcy lifted a hand and waved off his words sharply. "That is enough, sir. I will not have this discussion with you here. There is enough gossipmongering going on concerning myself and the lady and I will not be party to it."

"As long as we have it, Fitzwilliam," said Lord Disley. "You're not getting any younger, and Clara should have siblings."

With that he turned and moved the few feet remaining between their group and the door to the box. The others moved past Darcy in silence, save for Fitzwilliam.

"I am sorry, Will—"

"You told them?" Darcy seethed, turning an angry glare on his cousin. "How could you betray my confidence, Theodore?"

"We are concerned for you, cousin!" Fitzwilliam replied. "You have been a widower for six years, for goodness' sake. Do you really mean to be alone the rest of your days? For Clara to have no mother at all?"

He immediately gasped and took a step back. "Forgive me, cousin. That was unfair."

Darcy spent several heartbeats reining in his temper, then said coolly, "I will not have this discussion with you here, Colonel. If at all, as it would seem you can no longer be trusted to hold my confidence."

He turned away from his cousin then and made his way back to the Stashwick box. Darcy could now sympathize with Elizabeth's feelings—though her indifferent manner towards him was rather unfair, given he was not at fault—and he intended to serve his family the same cool civility as she had shown to him.

Their own family, he thought sourly. Their own bloody family had been talking about them like gossiping busybodies—the men, at least. Keeping the fortune in the family seemed more to be the goal than his or Elizabeth's happiness. They were as bad as Lady Catherine.

Did he like her? Yes. Would it be nice for Clara to have siblings? Yes. But Elizabeth was not ready. Even if some feelings had been stirred, she was more likely to run away from them than toward him.

Though initially intending to sit in a dark corner of the box and brood, Darcy found he could not resist claiming the seat to Elizabeth's right when he saw that it was empty—whether by chance or design was beyond his concern. He knew he was only giving the other gentlemen fodder for more gossip, but he did not care.

Leaning toward her, he said softly, "Lady Stashwick, I offer you my apologies."

Elizabeth turned her head to look up at him. "Your apologies, Mr. Darcy? Whatever for?"

"I have just been informed of the latest bit of society gossip going about the theatre," Darcy replied. "I am sorry that your visit to my home has been turned into something it was not."

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "Do not make yourself uneasy, sir, I do not blame you. I blame whoever it was that started the rumor, for they clearly had nothing better to do with their time."

"I had thought my neighbors more respectful than to spread gossip about my callers."

"Perhaps it was someone's servant going about their business," Elizabeth suggested. "Though I confess I had hoped there would not be too much talk amongst your neighbors should they notice the Stashwick crest on Friday, hopeful as I was of avoiding the kind of salacious talk going about tonight."

She scoffed softly. "You see how well that worked out."

When Darcy looked down at her again, Elizabeth looked up at him with a half-smile. "Do not distress yourself, Mr. Darcy, it is not your fault. In fact, I should be apologizing to you for the cold manner of my greeting—I am rather vexed, but I should not take it out on you. To own the truth, I half expected something would be said of me the moment I showed my face in public. For some reason I have never quite understood, the people in this city love to speculate about me. I suppose I could understand the fascination at first, given my lack of fortune and connections, and the fact that I had somehow managed to make a marquess fall in love with me. But for goodness' sake, I've been among the beau monde for nine of the last ten years. You'd think they would find someone else to blabber about in their boredom."

Darcy chuckled. "I know the feeling all too well, my lady. Long before I'd married—before I'd even met you—anytime I appeared at a public gathering, I was besieged by matchmaking family members trying to interest me in their daughter, sister, niece… My aunt Lady Disley was forever introducing me to this or that girl. Every time I danced, which as you know is as little as possible when I am not intimately acquainted with my partner, I could feel the stares of people gauging how much interest in the lady I was or was not displaying. Even now the family wishes me married, as if I were still a young man in need of an heir."

Elizabeth scoffed again. "No doubt they will soon be suggesting the same to me, spouting such nonsense as 'Harry and Thomas need a father to guide them into manhood'—and Heaven forbid that a woman be in command of a large fortune, as if there are not some among the fairer sex who actually know how to manage their money wisely."

"I am certain you are among that number," said Darcy. "You strike me as one who puts a portion of her pin money away each quarter, and I happen to know that the late Lord Stashwick's maintenance expenses took less than a quarter of his forty thousand per annum income, so there is likely a very large sum in your account at the bank."

Elizabeth grinned. "It is an astonishing amount of money," she whispered. "The servants are paid extraordinarily well, and though Henry and I both had fine tastes in food, clothing, and entertainment, our spending was not extravagant. Our grandchildren will want for nothing, even after my daughters' dowries are subtracted."

"My finances are managed similarly," said Darcy. "I always put money away for emergencies, either for myself or the tenants. I like fine things, but don't make many superfluous purchases. Clara will have her mother's dowry as well as another thirty thousand from me."

"As pretty and precocious as she already is, Mr. Darcy, I can just imagine your vexation when it comes time for her debut," Elizabeth observed. "Her fortune will make her a very desirable wife, as will Pemberley from what I hear of it, but no young man will ever be good enough for her."

Darcy tipped his head to the side. "I am reminded again that you've never been to Pemberley. Your sister has seen my home, but you have not."

"I would suggest we dash off there with the children so that Miss Darcy can show her home to my children, but that would only give the wagging tongues more to speculate about."

A chuckle escaped him, then Darcy said, "I feared you would be ready to race back to the country after tonight."

"I confess that the thought crossed my mind," Elizabeth said. "I may still go, at least to Hertfordshire, as I should like to talk with Charlotte and my Aunt Gardiner about some things that have been on my mind of late."

"But… you will come back?" Darcy asked.

"I am obligated to return, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied. "Isabella is to take part in the children's musicale, and I have promised her a trip to the theatre after."

Darcy noted she looked up at him then with slightly narrowed eyes, as if expecting him to judge her for choosing to take her nine-year-old daughter to see a play. Lady Isabella was rather young, but Elizabeth would hardly be the first to introduce a child to the theatre. So long as the play was appropriate for a child to see…

"I take it Lady Isabella has an interest in the theatre?" he asked.

"She has read several of Shakespeare's plays," said Elizabeth. "Only the comedies, of course. But I do not know what will be playing in a fortnight."

"Come now, Lady Stashwick," said Darcy with another grin. "You have been a member of the ton long enough to know that not a Season goes by without at least half a dozen Shakesepeare plays being performed."

Elizabeth laughed. "As you say, Mr. Darcy. No doubt a reputable theatre will have one planned."

She then slowly turned her gaze about the theatre; Darcy did the same and noted that the curtain was just closing before the actors on the stage.

"Gracious me!" cried Elizabeth. "We have conversed through the whole of the act!"

"It would appear we have, my lady," Darcy mused.

"I swore to Mary that I came only to watch the performance and have a pleasant evening with my relations," she went on. "And I have missed an entire act."

"Does that mean your evening among your relations has not been pleasant?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth looked at him, a small smile on her lips. "It has been indeed, Mr. Darcy—except for the intermission, in which we were visited by several people who only wanted to know if it was true that you and I are courting."

"I had one gentleman in the lobby suggest that I was putting Clara forward as the next marchioness," he offered.

"Are you serious? She is not even six years old! And Harry is only nine!"

"My dear Elizabeth, whatever is the matter?" asked Lady Scarborough.

Elizabeth colored, apparently not having realized how loudly she spoke. "It is nothing, Addy, forgive me for alarming you," said she. "Mr. Darcy has just shared his encounter with a gentleman in the lobby regarding tonight's prevailing gossip—or rather, an alternative for it."

"Good heavens, Darcy, do you mean what that fellow Travers said about your daughter and my cousin?" asked Faulkner. "What stuff and nonsense; they're only children."

Lady Scarborough turned to him. "What did the man say, Stephen?"

"He suggested that I mean to make my daughter Lady Stashwick's successor, my lady," Darcy said.

"They're just children!" Lady Scarborough cried.

"Child betrothals have been made in aristocratic families through the ages, Addy," said Lord Scarborough. "Though I daresay such is not the case in this one."

"No, indeed," said Elizabeth firmly. "Mr. Darcy and I have paid calls to each other's homes to further Miss Darcy's growing friendship with my daughters and my sister's daughters, and for no other reason."

That was not entirely accurate, Darcy mused, feeling Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes boring into him then. While it was true that he wished for the girls to become good friends, he was also hoping to further his relationship with Elizabeth. Not because the other men in their family seemed to think it a good idea, but because he was finding himself increasingly unable to resist her.