Page 1 of The Twelfth Knight

Pemberley, 22 December 1815

“Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth Darcy looked up at her husband, Fitzwilliam, from where she sat before the blazing hearth with their 18-month-old son Richard.

“Yes, my love?” she asked.

Darcy turned away from the window out of which he had glanced a moment ago. “Are you expecting any visitors? I know I am not, yet a man on horseback has just arrived before the house.”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, hoping that the excitement now coursing through her was as carefully concealed as she wished it to be. She was, in fact, expecting a visitor—one who would be most heartily welcomed by her husband once he was shown into the house. His arrival, however, had been a carefully arranged surprise, and she had no wish to give it away at the last moment.

“Odd that anyone should come,” she mused aloud, “given the weather.”

“Indeed,” agreed Darcy, as he moved across the room to where Elizabeth and Richard were playing with blocks. “The snow is two or three inches deep—if it gets much worse, my aunt and uncle will not come for Christmas, for the countess will not want to travel in bad conditions.”

“As well she should not,” said Elizabeth as the butler, Ralston, stepped into the drawing room.

“A visitor to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” said the man. “He is known to you but has asked me not to give his name. He said, and I quote, ‘Do let me surprise Darcy, if you please.’”

Again, Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who again fought the urge to grin.

“Did you recognize the gentleman, Ralston?” Pemberley’s master queried.

Ralston nodded. “I did, sir.”

Darcy drew a breath and held it, then released it slowly as he frowned. “Very well. Let the mystery guest be shown in.”

“Very good, sir,” the butler replied, before turning smartly and quitting the room.

A moment later, he returned with the visitor on his heels, and as soon as Darcy set eyes on him, he gasped.

“Theodore!” he cried, an instant before he crossed the room to heartily embrace his cousin.

Theodore Fitzwilliam laughed even as he warmly returned the embrace. “Surprise, surprise, my dear cousin!” said he. “Are you happy to see me?”

“Happy does not begin to describe it, Theo,” Darcy replied. “It was my understanding you were to remain with the occupational forces in France until next year.”

“That was the initial plan, but there are some extenuating circumstances which demanded my early return to England,” Fitzwilliam replied. He then stepped to the side and grinned heartily toward where Elizabeth was just standing with her son in her arms.

“Is that my dear little cousin?” he queried.

Elizabeth smiled. “He is indeed—which you would know, Theodore, had you not been away so long.”

Fitzwilliam approached slowly. “Now Lizzy, I get enough harassment about being away from home from my good mother, and I shall tell you as I have often told her: you know I must follow orders. Believe me, I’d have returned sooner could I have done.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Elizabeth replied in a droll tone, though she smiled as she looked at him. “Would you care to meet my son?”

“Indeed, I would—though I once again express some small measure of disappointment that you and Will named him after my father and not me,” Fitzwilliam said.

Elizabeth chuckled, then looked to her little boy, whose eyes were wide with curiosity as he stared at the man before him. “Richard,” she said softly, “this gentleman is our cousin. His name is Theodore.”

Richard’s gaze turned to her, then back to Fitzwilliam. “Cousin?”

“Yes, he is our cousin,” said Darcy softly. “You will come to know him very well, in time.”

“Greetings, little cousin,” Fitzwilliam said to the child. “It is a very great pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Pleasure,” Richard repeated.

“Yes, it is,” Fitzwilliam said, then he turned back to Darcy. “Speaking of cousins, where is Georgiana? Unless you have married her off since last you wrote to me.”

Darcy scoffed. “No, I have not—”

“Though not without some measure of effort to keep our sister single,” interjected Elizabeth with a laugh.

“Oh?” returned Fitzwilliam with a cheeky grin. “Do tell, Lizzy.”

“Allow me to have the nurse take Richard to the nursery; it is time for his nap,” said Elizabeth. “Then we shall talk.”

The nursemaid, who had been seated quietly in a corner reading a book, was immediately on her feet and crossing the room to take her charge in hand.

“I’ll send another of the girls to fetch the little master’s blocks, Mrs. Darcy,” said she as she settled Richard on her hip.

“Thank you, Hannah,” Elizabeth replied, before she lifted a finger to caress her son’s cheek. “You be a good boy and go to sleep after Hannah reads you a story, Master Richard. Mamma and Papa will see you later.”

“And cousin?” Richard asked.

“Yes, Cousin Theodore will also be here, my son,” said Darcy with a smile full of love as he looked at the boy.

Oh, how that expression melted Elizabeth’s heart.

When the maid had carried Richard out of the room, Elizabeth turned to Darcy with a smile of her own. “So, dear husband, how do you like my surprise?”

“Your surprise?” Darcy returned with some confusion. “You mean to say that you knew of Theo’s coming?”

“Well, our surprise, really, Will,” said Fitzwilliam with a grin. “I sent a letter to your charming wife some weeks ago to let her know that I would be coming home earlier than expected. Told her I should like to surprise the family.”

“All I had to do was not say a word about it,” added Elizabeth.

Darcy chuckled. “I ought to have known something was amiss,” said he. “You’ve been smiling a great deal more these last weeks. I thought it was because of our recent news, and here it was all about Theo.”

Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. “Your news? Dare I hope to be told immediately that there is another little Darcy coming?”

Darcy moved to Elizabeth’s side and slipped an arm around her waist; she slipped her arm about his as she looked at her husband’s cousin and smiled widely.

“You do not hope in vain, Theodore,” she replied. “I shall bear my husband another child in June, if mine and the midwife’s calculations are correct. I daresay when my sister Lydia finds out, she will demand the child be named after her if it is a girl, as her birthday is also in June.”

“Have you not told the family?” Fitzwilliam asked.

“Not as yet,” said Darcy. “The news was to be one of our gifts to them all.”

“And you are another,” added Elizabeth. “I really am so relieved you have arrived at last, for it has been terribly difficult to keep your homecoming a secret from your mother more than anyone. You know how she worries.”

“Indeed, I do,” replied Fitzwilliam. “In every letter she conveys how deeply she wishes I would sell my commission and return home, find a wife, and settle down.”

“Well, you have done at least one of those things, cousin, which should make her happy for a short while,” said Elizabeth.

“A very short while,” said Darcy and Fitzwilliam in unison, leading them both to laugh.

“Now, I have been a terrible hostess,” Elizabeth said then. “Allow me to ring for some tea, and we can catch up while your room is prepared.”

“I should like that very much, madam,” replied Fitzwilliam with a grin.

In only a few short minutes, a tea service was before them, as well as a tray of cakes, fruits, and cheeses. Fitzwilliam was delighted by the tale of Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, confounding the young men of the ton the last two Seasons. Her hand was much sought after, but Darcy—who was exceptionally protective of his sister after a near elopement with a scoundrel some years before—had only to look sternly at any of the young men who expressed more than a passing interest to scare them into giving up their pursuit.

Fitzwilliam laughed heartily. “Oh, come now, cousin!” said he. “You’re going to have to approve of one of them, eventually.”

“They are not good enough for her,” Darcy said gruffly. “And Georgiana is still a girl.”

“She is a woman grown, Will, if she has had two Seasons,” Fitzwilliam pointed out. “And as Mother has no doubt reminded you, if you continue to discourage any young man from forming an attachment to Georgiana, they may stop trying.”

“Good.”

Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head as she leaned to set her teacup on the tray before her. “Darling, it is not good to deny our sister the chance of finding a match as happy and full of love as ours.”

Darcy sighed and reached over to pat her hand. “I know, dearest. I do—it is just so blasted hard to let her go. She is almost a daughter to me instead of a sister, I have had care of her for so long. It is so terribly difficult to accept that I will eventually have to give the protection of her over to another and trust him to keep her safe and well.”

“I understand how you feel, Will, truly I do,” Fitzwilliam said then. “But as much as I sympathise, even I know that we must give her away someday.”

He looked at Elizabeth. “Is that why she is with my parents instead of here?”

Elizabeth looked sidelong at her husband. “Yes, and no. Lady Disley is, of course, guiding her in manners and dress, but Georgiana actually requested to spend some time at Disley Court because she and William had a disagreement.”

Fitzwilliam glanced at Darcy. “Dare I ask what the disagreement was about?”

Darcy cleared his throat. “It does not matter,” he said.

“Well, tell me anyway—perhaps I can help smooth things over.”

“I daresay you shall only be of use if you can convince your cousin to stop scaring off suitors,” offered Elizabeth. “This last Season, Georgiana was introduced to someone she liked very much, but William does not approve.”

Fitzwilliam frowned. “Why not?”

“Because his family endured a small scandal,” Elizabeth said.

“Small scandal?” countered Darcy. “I would hardly call a very public affair, a divorce, and an elopement a ‘small’ scandal, Elizabeth.”

“Mr. Bertram was not the one who had the affair or suffered the divorce,” Elizabeth retorted. “It was his sister who displayed such a terrible lack of judgement. And I remind you that his other sister is respectably married in spite of having eloped.”

“Mr. Bertram?” queried Fitzwilliam. “Not Tom Bertram, heir of Sir Thomas Bertram of Mansfield Park?”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Do you know him, Theodore?”

“Not intimately, but I do recall we were at Eton at the same time—he was a year behind me,” Fitzwilliam said, a hand scratching his chin. “I believe he was to attend Oxford after, and we had a good-natured row once about whether his preferred university was better than mine; as you know, Cambridge is a Fitzwilliam family tradition. As I recall, he was a bit wild, rather into gambling. Horses and drink were his greatest vices.”

“They still are,” Darcy grumbled.

Elizabeth sighed. “Husband, you know that is not entirely true. We have both of us spoken with Mr. Tom Bertram, and on more than one occasion. The terrible illness he suffered the year of his sister Maria’s unfortunate conduct led him to reflect on his own, and he no longer imbibes more than he ought. He has also curbed his inclination to gamble, though he remains passionate about good horse flesh.”

Fitzwilliam scoffed. “He should meet our friend Edmund Hiddleston, if he has not already.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Oh yes—never have I met a man more knowledgeable about horses and their related husbandry than Mr. Hiddleston.”

The visitor was again silent for a moment, his expression contemplative, before he spoke once more.

“What of the sister who eloped? Who is her husband?”

“John Yates, second son of Baron Quigley,” Darcy answered. “Gossip about London drawing rooms and clubs was that Julia Bertram feared her freedom being restricted by her father following Maria’s affair with Crawford. As Yates had been courting her for some time, she allegedly decided that marriage to him was better than being imprisoned at home by Sir Thomas.”

Fitzwilliam nodded, then turned to Elizabeth again. “Do you believe, Lizzy, that Bertram has changed his ways?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I do. From our conversations, I gathered that since his recovery from the illness that nearly ended his life, he has endeavoured to model his character on that of his father and his brother, who are entirely respectable. He has been diligent about learning to manage the estate of which he will one day be master, where before he cared little about it but what the fortune it earned could do for his pleasures.”

“And Georgiana is genuinely attached to him?”

“I cannot speak as to how deeply she admires him, but I do know that she liked him very much,” Elizabeth replied. “Georgiana has corresponded with his sister-by-marriage, Mrs. Edmund Bertram—whom we also met along with her husband, Mr. Bertram’s younger brother—and she was hoping William would invite the couple and their brother to holiday here at Pemberley. William refused, leading Georgiana to seek refuge at Disley.”

“Why will you not give the man a chance, cousin?” Fitzwilliam asked then. “If your wife is willing to speak on his behalf—and we both know how much good sense she has—then why not?”

Darcy lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, which both his wife and cousin knew was a sign of growing frustration.

“Theodore, Bertram’s sister Maria had a very public affair with Henry Crawford only months after she married James Rushworth of Sotherton Court. Crawford, not unexpectedly, refused to help repair her reputation with a marriage—all he cared about was the chase, and once he’d had his fill, he was done with her. The story was all over London for ages, and it took nearly two years for Rushworth to be granted a divorce.”

“The poor sod,” Fitzwilliam murmured.

“Indeed,” Darcy said. “I do not doubt that some men can change—it is entirely possible that Tom Betram has learned from his own and his sister’s mistakes—but if I allow him to court Georgiana, people will begin talking about her . I do not wish her to be subjected to such scrutiny, or to be associated with a family involved in a scandal.”

Fitzwilliam inclined his head, then sat forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Will, have you not considered the benefit that being associated with your family—and my own, by association—will bring to the Bertrams? Yes, there will undoubtedly be some whispers about the previous scandal, which I imagine was within the last five years?”

“It was 1809, from what I understand,” Elizabeth said, “and Mr. Rushworth’s divorce from Maria Bertram was granted in 1811. I knew nothing of those events at the time they occurred, of course, but Mr. Bertram conveyed the history to me on our second meeting.”

“Hmm… And I was in and out of England so often back then that I hardly ever looked at a newspaper or paid heed to any gossip while I was here; that’s why I was unaware of it all,” Fitzwilliam mused. “In any case, while there may be some talk about associating with a scandalized family, there may be just as much—if not more—about how the Bertrams are distancing themselves from said scandal by gaining the notice and approval of so respectable a family as Georgiana’s. I mean, I assume that the former Mrs. Rushworth has been sent off to live out her days in the country somewhere.”

“She was,” Darcy said. “An aunt was dispatched to see to her comfort, but Bertram assured me that none of the family aside from that lady have seen her since her exile began. She writes letters to her mother and father occasionally, mostly to complain of her reduced circumstances, but Sir Thomas does not allow Lady Bertram to reply, and his only response is to continue paying her expenses.”

Fitzwilliam sat back in his chair and sighed. “Well then, Will, I daresay the family have all done what they must in order to preserve the respectability of the those that know how to behave themselves. If they’ve cut ties with the daughter, and Tom Bertram has mended his ways, I see no reason not to allow the latter to court Georgiana. And consider this: he will one day be a baronet and your sister will be a lady of rank.”

“She is already a lady of rank, and could certainly do better as to a title,” Darcy groused.

“Oh, William, do not be so elitist,” Elizabeth admonished him. “While I do not deny that Georgiana’s beauty, accomplishments, fortune, and connexions are qualities that would attract a gentleman of rank higher than a baronet—and certainly some have shown their interest—what matters is what sort of man attracts Georgiana. And the only man who has truly captured her interest is Tom Bertram.”