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She deliberately changed her focus back to the two-year-old who was now being scolded for one thing or another and then past him, out the shop window into the street. Her gaze landed on a very fine, heather colored pelisse, worn by a woman of beautiful stature and demeanor. All this, Anne could tell even though the lady’s back was turned to her. Surely such an elegant creature did not reside nearby? What would she be doing in this part of London?

Just then the lady turned and Anne was catapulted out of her seat, not just by the shock of recognition, but because she saw that Elizabeth was about to fall! Dashing through the sweet shop and out the door, she lost sight of her as a carriage passed between them. Scooting round it, she came upon her cousin struggling for balance as she attempted to make her way across. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of her, then closed as her body crumbled into Anne’s outstretched arms. How would she hold her upright? How would she support her, Anne wondered, as she braced herself for the added weight. Her knees were growing weak and she was certain that they would both hit the ground together amidst the horses and carriages racing past them.

From out of nowhere an arm suddenly tighten itself round her waist while another reached powerfully over her to catch Elizabeth under the arm. They were both pulled back towards the curb to safety, where Anne found herself snuggly wedged between her cousin and this beautiful stranger. They fell into a heap, with their rescuer bearing the brunt of the fall and miraculously managing to keep both their heads from hitting the cobbles. Shaken and terribly embarrassed to find herself clutching him, she struggled to get to her feet and to help him bring Elizabeth into the shop.

The proprietor had come rushing out to assist them, and the two gentleman soon had Elizabeth seated in a chair just inside the shop door.

“Would you support her shoulders so she doesn’t fall forward, Miss?” asked he, accepting a serving girl’s offer of smelling salts and a glass of water. He seemed to have taken charge of the situation and Anne could do nothing but nod. She was winded, embarrassed and greatly troubled at having been discovered by Elizabeth. What would she do now? Before the young man could bring the salts to Elizabeth’s nose, she regained consciousness and strained against Anne’s hold of her to sit upright.

“Good heavens, did I faint…did I really faint? I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. Anne? Is that you? Is it really you? What are you doing in…”

“Anne-Marie, Mrs. Darcy. Anne-Marie Burton. I’m surprised that you remember me at all! It was so long ago that we met.”

Anne pressed Elizabeth’s hand painfully hard and looked at her with such intensity that Elizabeth simply shook her head in confusion. “But…you…” she began rather inarticulately.

“Now, do not strain yourself with unnecessary talk. Rest quietly, Mrs. Darcy and I’m sure things will clear up for you soon,” interrupted Anne, widening her eyes in such a way as to signal her cousin to obey.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, Mrs. Darcy?” asked the hero of the hour. “Perhaps some tea with bread and jam would boost your energy.”

“Yes, you are quite right. I ate nothing for breakfast,” murmured Elizabeth. “I had no appetite this morning,” she answered him, while continuing to stare at Anne. Though completely bewildered, she understood enough to keep silent.

“Then, please, Mrs. Darcy, allow me to get you something. What is your pleasure?”

“Oh anything will do, but please, none of the pastries, nothing too rich,” said Elizabeth, surprised at her own words. She adored pastries—normally the richer the better.

As the young man turned to place the order, Anne bent close to Elizabeth’s ear and whispered, “Please, Elizabeth, don’t give me away. I’ve left home and don’t want Mama to find me. Please play along and I will explain everything when we’re alone.”

Elizabeth stared at her in shocked silence. Fitzwilliam had not been informed that Anne had gone missing. To the best of her knowledge, no one in the family had heard anything of it. Richard had been with them only yesterday, and had he known, surely he would have told them? Why hadn’t Lady Catherine enlisted their help in finding her? Was her pride so much greater than her desire to find her child? Elizabeth nodded slightly, holding tightly onto Anne’s hand.

As she ate and sipped her tea, the gentleman introduced himself.

“My name is Simon Fennimore, Mrs. Darcy. I’m a physician and have a laboratory just two doors down. I recommend you take a carriage home straight away, but if you would allow me a short examination, it would relieve me to know that I did not release you from my care while still in any sort of danger. I assure you that it will only take a moment or two.”

Although she would have trusted Simon Fennimore with her own life without any hesitation, Anne immediately reacted to the impropriety of Elizabeth being examined by a perfect stranger claiming to be a physician, and without Fitzwilliam’s knowledge and approval. “Perhaps I should accompany you to your own doctor, Mrs. Darcy. You might be more comfortable with that,” she said, not daring to look at Dr. Fennimore’s face. Here he was, being so kind and gracious, and she was dismissing him with obvious distrust. Her cheeks colored with shame.

“Yes, of course, if you prefer it,” said he, showing no sign of being wounded by the slight. “I just wanted to assure myself that you were well enough to go home unaccompanied. I don’t believe Miss Burton here is strong enough to support you for long should you lose your balance again.”

He had taken note of her name and remembered it! And he was certainly right about her inability to be of any real use to Elizabeth should she faint again. Besides, she had no intention of going as far as the Darcy home or anywhere near it. She would have to swear Elizabeth to secrecy and forget that they had ever met.

“Do you think there is a good chance of it happening again,” said Elizabeth, looking horrified. “I consider myself a rather healthy, vigorous person.”

“Now that you have eaten something I think the chances of it recurring are very slight, but without my instruments I cannot give you any assurances.”

“Alright then,” said Elizabeth, getting up rather suddenly, “I think I should let you examine me, Sir. And if I am not well enough to travel, I shall send a message to my husband to come and fetch me.” But feeling immediately woozy, she was obliged to sit down again.

Dr. Fennimore laughed. “I’d get lightheaded too if I jumped up so quickly. Try it slowly, Mrs. Darcy. And would you be so kind as to accompany us, Miss Burton? I have no nurse and require another lady present.”

“Of course,” Anne murmured, still too distressed to look at him directly.

“This way, if you please. Lean on me, Mrs. Darcy. Miss Burton will be on your left hand side and between the two of us we shall not let you fall.”

Dr. Fennimore led them up four shallow steps to a door with no sign of a surgery on it. Anticipating their question, he answered it without hesitation. “I do not see patients on a regular basis, ladies, although I do have several people whose health I monitor. I make medical experiments here in my laboratory. That is why I have no nurse in attendance. But I assure you that I am well trained to do what needs to be done.” His smile was warm and artless. Anne smiled back at him, hoping he would see it for the apology that it was.

His examination was a cursory one, for as soon as he had listened to her heart, taken her pulse and looked into her eyes, he declared Elizabeth fit for travel. If she moved slowly and deliberately she would reach home safe and sound. He did recommend that she see her own physician soon and get a thorough examination.

“May I ask the name of your doctor, Madam?”

“Yes, we see Dr. Morrison in Harley Street,” Elizabeth replied.

“One of the best physicians in London, Mrs. Darcy. He was my mentor for many years, and we are still the best of friends. I am very glad, for I shall then be able to ask after you. In fact, I should like to write him a note describing this little incident today, as a way of apprising him of the particulars. Would that be agreeable to you?”

“Yes, indeed. Please do, Doctor,” said Elizabeth. She smiled at him warmly until, suddenly remembering her appointment, drew her hand to her mouth and cried out, “Aunt Gardiner! Oh, Anne, you must go and fetch her! She must be worried sick about me. What is the time?” she asked, fumbling to open her new watch which hung as a pendant round her neck.

Happily it was only ten minutes past the time they had arranged to meet, for everything had happened so quickly. Elizabeth gave Anne the address and begged her to fetch Aunt Gardiner, but Anne would not oblige her so quickly.

“Dr. Fennimore,” said Anne, turning to him before replying to Elizabeth’s request. “Would you be so kind as to help me get Mrs. Darcy back to the sweet shop? Once she is seated comfortably I shall be able to leave her and run the errand she has asked of me.”

This statement would certainly be seen as further evidence of her distrust of him, but she could not go for Mrs. Gardiner before she had Elizabeth’s promise to keep her secret. Thank goodness, she and Mrs. Gardiner had never met.

“Certainly,” he murmured, this time rather red-faced and obviously offended. Would she not trust him with her friend for the five minutes it would take to bring the lady hither?

With Elizabeth seated at Anne’s back table, Dr. Fennimore bowed and bid the ladies good day. Elizabeth thanked him sincerely, saying that she would give a very good account of him to Dr. Morrison, while Anne could barely get her thoughts together enough to be civil. She didn’t want to be parted from him, to lose him to the world of strangers who routinely passed her in the street and knew and cared nothing for her.

But as soon as he was gone, she forced herself to deal with the reality at hand. There was very little time to explain.

“Elizabeth, before I leave you I must have your promise—no! your solemn vow that you will tell no one of our meeting today.”

“Of course, I won’t tell! Not if you don’t want me to. But why, Anne? I don’t understand.”

“There is not enough time to explain it all now. I will meet with you once more and tell you everything, but you must swear not to breathe a word of this to Fitzwilliam or anyone else.”

“Fitzwilliam?” gasped Elizabeth. “You want me to keep this secret from him? Impossible! We have no secrets from one another, Anne. And when he finds out…and he will, in time…he will never be able to trust me. You cannot ask this of me!”

“I can and I do,” said Anne with quiet resolve. ”My future independence depends on my present isolation from the family, and once Fitzwilliam gets involved I will lose all the credibility I will need for the fight ahead. You must swear to keep this confidence. I shall not leave here till you do. Please Elizabeth! When we meet again I shall lay out my entire plan before you, and you will see that what I say is true. Don’t fail me, dear friend, I beg you.”

Elizabeth looked into Anne’s tearful eyes and reluctantly nodded. “I swear to tell no one—even Fitzwilliam until after I have heard your reasons at our next meeting. That is all I am prepared to promise you.”

“Then we shall have to go through this all over again…but I will accept it for now and go and fetch Mrs. Gardiner. Hopefully, you be well enough to meet me next week. Can you come to the main library at noon on Wednesday?” asked Anne, waiting for Elizabeth’s nod. “I shall wait for you by the autobiographies…towards the end of the alphabet. I shall wait until one and then leave. But if, heaven forbid, you are too ill to come, do NOT send word. I shall come at noon every Wednesday until we meet again. I do love you all so very much,” said Anne, hugging Elizabeth to her. “Please believe that it is with a heavy heart that I ask this of you, but…I do have great hope for our future happiness together as a family.”

Elizabeth kissed Anne good-bye and watched uneasily as she left the shop. What had she done? How could she have promised to keep this from Fitzwilliam? She trembled at the thought of how all this would turn out.

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 12 February 2006

Once Anne had delivered Elizabeth’s message and had directed Mrs. Gardiner to the sweet shop, she waited in the shadows of the bookstore diagonally across the street until the hansom cab carrying them disappeared round the corner. Nervously fingering the small, brown bottle she always carried in her reticule, she crossed the street and ascended the steps to Dr. Fennimore’s door. Tentatively, she raised the knocker and with all the courage that was left to her on this emotionally exhausting day, she banged twice.

He came to the door, his look of curiosity instantly changing to one of genuine delight when he saw her. “Miss Burton! Have you forgotten something? Is something amiss?” He peered round her in concern to see if Mrs. Darcy was by her side.

“No, Doctor. It is nothing like that. And Mrs. Darcy is on her way home with her aunt. I…I hoped you could spare me a few moments of your time. I have an important question that I would like to ask you.”

Bewildered, but curious, he opened the door wider to allow her to enter. “Of course! I am at your service, Miss Burton. How can I help you?” He motioned for her to come in, but she remained rigidly in her place on the landing.

“Forgive me, Doctor, but would it be possible for us to talk over a cup of tea?” She gestured towards the sweet shop, her cheeks coloring slightly. “It is not that I do not trust you,” she blurted out awkwardly. “It is just that I must be very careful…”

“No, no! You are right, of course. It was completely improper of me to invite you in. Forgive me, I was simply not thinking of propriety just then. It is a failing of mine, I’m afraid.”

Anne looked shyly down at her gloves. She was always putting this poor man on the defensive when he was doing nothing more than being instinctively kind and generous. If she continued so, he would soon come to despise her.

“Allow me to get my hat and coat, and I shall join you straight away,” he said with a warm smile. It was only then that she realized that he had appeared at the door in his vest, his neck cloth removed and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She nodded, blushed, and turned to wait for him at the bottom of the stairs.

Seated now at the table that he had originally occupied, Anne became increasingly nervous. Should she confide so much of her personal history to this stranger? Could she trust him to keep everything she told him only unto himself? And if pressured by others, would he remain steadfast in his confidence? She clutched the bottle inside her reticule and trembled slightly.

Seeing her distress he struggled to think of what to do to relieve her discomfort.

“I hope you don’t mind, Miss Burton, but I think I shall have something more than a cup of tea. When you went flying out after your friend earlier, I was having my noonday meal, and as I never returned to it, I find myself quite hungry. Will you join me? You certainly could not have finished the meal you had started. Or was it a pastry you were indulging in?” he asked with a teasing smile.”

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t think I could eat anything just…” she started. But seeing the disappointed look on his face, she quickly changed her mind. “Well…perhaps I will have something…but only if you agree to be my guest.”

“Miss Burton!” was all he could say—the look of real offense creasing his brow.

“It is the very least that I can do after all the kindness you have shown me and Mrs. Darcy. After all, neither one of us thought to offer you any compensation for your work and…”

“I did not run out to help you with any thought of compensation!” he protested indignantly. “Surely you don’t believe that! I only did what any man would have done under the circumstances.”

“Yes, of course! I know that! I would not think so meanly of you…but you did also examine my friend and then took the time to write a note to her doctor. Any man would not have been willing or indeed able to do half so much. But you are a doctor. It is your profession—the way you earn your living—and therefore, you should be compensated for your work. Now please, do not deny me the pleasure of thanking you properly by inviting you for a simple meal. I think I’ll have the cold plate of roast beef and salads. What will you have?” she asked very matter-of-factly, leaving him no way to refuse without making an even bigger fuss.

He looked intently into her face and sighed. “All right then. The roast beef plate sounds good to me as well. Thank you.”

She saw from the look in his eyes that he knew what she was doing. She had summed up his situation in the span of an hour, with no more than two-dozen words passing between them. She had seen right through him, it seemed, and although it humbled him, he was glad of it. No need to dissemble with Anne-Marie Burton.

He placed the order with the serving girl and turned his attention back to her. She was much more relaxed now; the trembling was gone. “Well then, how can I help you, Miss Burton?” he began again.

She lowered her gaze, interlaced her fingers and stared at them.

“Doctor Fennimore, you will probably think it very odd that after such a short acquaintance, I wish to make such a personal and confidential request of you, but…my instincts tell me that you are a very fine man—a true gentleman—and as a doctor, I believe you are bound to keep confidential the things you learn about your patients. Is that not so?” She swallowed hard and waited for his reaction.

“It is unethical of a doctor to reveal private patient information, of course…but as a man, I would not betray anything told to me in confidence, in any case. Do you wish to become my patient, Miss Burton?”

“In a sense, yes.”

He looked at her curiously, his beautiful blue eyes never leaving her face.

“To help you understand, I must divulge some personal history. I do not do this lightly, sir, and I hope it does not shock or offend you.”

“I am a physician, Miss Burton—very little shocks me, and I doubt that anything you ever say to me will be offensive.”

At that awkward moment their meal arrived—two cold platters and a basket of steaming rolls and butter. She saw his eyes light up as he turned back the napkin to offer her a roll. She took one, smiling at him, knowing that he could not wait to bite into one himself. She buttered hers slowly, giving him plenty of time to savor the bread before reclaiming his attention.

“I am not originally from London,” she said when she finally continued. “I was raised elsewhere but left home because of family difficulties. I am at present not on the best of terms with my family.” She lowered her eyes to her plate, pretending to be engrossed in cutting her meat.

Doctor Fennimore put both his knife and fork down and gazed at her compassionately. “I know all about family problems, Miss Burton. I do sympathize.”

“Well, actually, there is no need for sympathy, really. I am happier now than I have ever been. I love being responsible for myself, and I believe that I have grown a great deal since I left home. There is one obstacle, however—one that I cannot overcome on my own—and that is why I seek your assistance.”

He nodded, picking up his utensils and enthusiastically digging into his food. She could see how much he was enjoying it.

“I have been in frail health all my life, Dr. Fennimore, and have depended on certain tonics and medications to keep up my strength. When I left home, I took all the medicines in the house, but none of the bottles have any markings that suggest what they contain. Our doctor sends them automatically twice a year, I believe. Obviously, as I do not wish my family to know my whereabouts, I cannot contact him to obtain more. I have no doubt that my mother has her spies out everywhere, searching for me, and has undoubtedly contacted this physician. I’m sorry to burden you with such a personal matter, but it is the only way that I can make you understand what I need and why I depend on your discretion.”

Anne put down her fork and looked pleadingly into Simon Fennimore’s eyes. “I have been on my own for many months now, and in all other aspects of my life I have done very well. But in all this time I have not been able to figure out how to obtain this medication. When I saw your laboratory today, I realized that fate had brought us together for this reason. Is it unlawful for you to analyze and duplicate another physicians’ medications? Am I asking you to do anything unethical? Can you do it? Will you help me?” Her questions flew from her lips in rapid succession; her eyes searched his face with hope and trepidation.

“Yes, of course, I will help you, and no, unless this physician has patented his own formula, we have every right to make more of it. Do you have a sample of it with you?”

The strain that had etched itself on her face now faded in relief as she smiled and opened her reticule. “I pour a dose into this small bottle every morning and carry it with me, just in case.”

“Does it relieve your symptoms then? Does it really help you?”

“In all honesty, I cannot say. I sometimes think that it does, but then at other times I feel no better and sometimes worse. But everyone assures me that without it I would not be alive today. I must take it twice daily as it has a cumulative effect. There is still about a month’s supply, but then…”

“How often do you see this doctor? Does he live near your family home?”

“Oh no! He is a very well-known, London physician. In fact, I haven’t seen him in many years. Our local doctor sees to my minor ailments and informs him of any real concerns, I believe.”

“But the medications come directly from the London physician?” asked Fennimore, his face betraying his growing distress.

“Why, yes! Is there anything wrong with that? He is one of the most respected doctors in all of England.”

“Miss Burton,” said Fennimore heatedly, “do you not realize that doctors make most of their money from the tonics and powders they sell? For this man to continue to treat you with the same medication prescribed years ago—regardless of how your condition may have changed— is shameless! Who is this man?”

“I do not wish to tell you,” murmured Anne. “The fewer particulars you know about me the better.”

“If you have so little faith in me, Miss Burton, then perhaps you should not be trusting me with your health.” He put the brown bottle forcibly down between them on the table, glaring at her.

Anne jumped at the sound, but said nothing; her eyes filled with tears.

The look on her sweet face defeated him. He fumed for a while, but then picked up the bottle, put it in his vest pocket and reached out to cover her hand with his.

“I’m sorry. I shall analyze this as quickly as I can and let you know what is in it, and if I can duplicate it myself. If I cannot, I shall send it to a friend that can. Your secret is safe with me, Miss Burton. I do get rather angry when I hear of, so-called, respected physicians taking advantage of unsuspecting patients and playing havoc with their lives.”

She sighed. With flushed cheeks and watery eyes she gave him a shy, but grateful smile. The warmth of his hand on hers comforted her to the depths of her soul.

“I have a condition of my own, though. If I duplicate this medication and give it to you, then in effect, I am saying that I approve of it. So…if I am to prescribe it, I must take you on as a patient and monitor your health myself. And if I believe that this medication has been wrongly prescribed, I shall not permit you to take it. Those are my terms, Miss Burton, and they are hard and fast.”

From an upstairs window where she was dusting the draperies, Janet, one of the Darcy parlor maids, saw the hansom cab pull up to the front entrance and watched as Mrs. Gardiner stepped out. She only needed to glimpse the corner of her mistress’s heather pelisse before running out of the room and calling for Mrs. Pritchett and Mrs. Reynolds.

“The mistress is back! She’s back already!” cried Janet, racing down the stairs to find the Pemberley housekeeper deep in conversation with the London housekeeper. Both ladies simply stared at her.

“What are you babbling about, girl? The mistress is not due back for a few hours yet, and James is in the kitchen having something to eat before he goes back to fetch her. Now go back to your duties and stop making a nuisance of yourself,” scolded Mrs. Pritchett.

“But they have just arrived in a cab, Mrs. Pritchett. I saw Mrs. Gardiner get out.”

“Good heavens! Can’t that young woman stand to be separated from her child for more than two minutes together?” barked Mrs. Pritchett, taking off her apron as she hastened to the front door. There she collided with the butler who was just at the point of opening it, and to her great surprise was greeted by a rather grave Mrs. Gardiner who, without so much as a nod, asked her to turn down the mistress’s bed and have tea brought up her bedchamber.

Having noticed Mrs. Gardiner’s tight grip on Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Reynolds came to stand protectively on the other side of her. James, with his napkin still tucked at his throat now appeared breathless, shame faced and anxious.

“Did I misunderstand the time I was to pick you up, Mistress? Why did ye not send word for me to come and fetch ye? I…”

“Everyone, please stop fussing!” said Elizabeth. “James, you understood me perfectly. Mrs. Pritchett, I will have a rest, but you needn’t turn down the bed. I’ll just lie on the chaise with a coverlet…and in an hour or so, Mrs. Gardiner and I will have a simple lunch in the breakfast room. I’m sorry to have altered everyone’s plans, but I felt a bit lightheaded early and took a little spill. I am all right, though. No harm done,” she hastily added at the sound of their gasps, “but…it was obviously advisable for me to return home.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, but instead of going on about their business, stood gaping at their mistress with great concern.

“Really,” said Elizabeth laughing. “I am perfectly well. Ladies faint every day! Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, ladies that lace their corsets so tight that they can’t breathe,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “But not sensible, healthy girls like you!”

“Mrs. Reynolds!” gasped Mrs. Pritchett, swatting her friend and colleague with her apron. “There’s a gentleman present.”

James was now attempting to slink away, but Mrs. Gardiner stopped him, saying, “James, please go to Dr. Morrison’s surgery and ask him to come as soon as may be…”

“No, James, please don’t say that. Tell him that I have fainted, that I am now at home safe and sound, and that when he is able, I would like him to make a visit. Tell him specifically not to cancel any other patients to see me. Tomorrow will do just as well.”

“Elizabeth, dearest!” said Mrs. Gardiner, “do you not wish to get to the bottom of this? I am certain Mr. Darcy will be very concerned.”

“I am not ill, Aunt, and as you already know, I was given a good report by Dr. Fennimore—so a few hours here or there will not matter.” Elizabeth stopped to look up at Nanny Henderson looking rather irritated at the top of the stairs and understood very well what that expression meant.

“Is Edward behaving himself this morning, Nanny? Please don’t let on that I am home; I wish to rest. However, Mrs. Gardiner will wish to see him before she leaves, so we’ll be in later.”

Being now at a loss for words, Nanny nodded and returned to the nursery as Elizabeth and her entourage slowly made their way up the stairs.

“I think it very amusing that Mrs. Reynolds still considers you a girl, Elizabeth! I thought Mrs. Pritchett would faint herself when she made that remark,” chuckled Mrs. Gardiner between sips of her tea.

“Well, I sometimes think that she still envisions Fitzwilliam as her darling boy in short breeches come home from school,” Elizabeth replied. “He has never really grown up in her eyes. But that is only because she loves him so.”

“And what surprises me even more is how well she and Mrs. Pritchett get on. It is quite amazing.”

Well, they both know how much we esteem them. Each lady has her own domain and has nothing to fear from the other. But as we have been in town for so long and intend to remain until the end of the season for Georgiana’s sake, it seemed only reasonable to give Mrs. Reynolds a change of scene. Besides, she wrote every week begging to be allowed to come and see Edward. And it never hurts to have another pair of trusted eyes and ears.”

“Don’t you trust Nanny Henderson, Elizabeth?”

“I do trust her—but not as much as I trust Mrs. Reynolds,” said Elizabeth with an arch look.

Her gaze then fell on her reticule and the note from Dr. Fennimore lying beneath it, and her demeanor changed completely.

“Elizabeth, dearest! I’m afraid that you are far more concerned about this incident than you are willing to let on. Your distress is clearly visible. I think we should send another message to Dr. Morrison and ask him to come today, whatever the hour.”

”No, aunt, you misread my expression entirely. I am not half so worried as you imagine. But I must admit that I was reliving it all just now and remembered what I felt once I awoke and realized what could have happened had Dr. Fennimore not pulled us to safety. I pictured Edward and Fitzwilliam and I…” She could not continue, but dissolved into tears, holding her face in her hands and sobbing.

“Oh, my dearest!” said Mrs. Gardiner, holding her close. “What a frightening experience it must have been…but it is over, and you are safe at home. Your child is happy and content in his nursery and your husband is on his way home to you. You must not let it haunt you, Elizabeth.”

“No, you are right; I shan’t let it. But I am suddenly very tired. Perhaps I will stretch out on the bed and take a nap after all. Would it be very rude of me to excuse myself and neglect you?”

“Of course not! I shall go and play with Edward a bit and then go home to my own brood. Rest well, my dear, and send me word as soon as Dr. Morrison has left you.”

“I will; I promise. Thank you, Aunt Gardiner, for being such a good friend.”

Mrs. Gardiner kissed her niece’s brow and left her to rest, but Elizabeth had another objective in mind. As soon as she was sure that her aunt was well down the hall, she rose slowly and taking up Dr. Fennimore’s note, took it to the window. It was sealed, and she would not, and could not, open it. But determined to know what the note contained, she pinched the folded edges together and peered inside. She was only able to make out a few words here and there, and they were all very ordinary, but towards the bottom of the page she saw these words: “…it is very likely that Mrs. Darcy is simply with child and …”

’Simply with child?’ No, that could not be! She was still nursing Edward. That was what she had counted on and what told Fitzwilliam when she… No, it was impossible! They needed more time. They had hardly slept these past six months and were looking forward to a little respite. Besides, Edward deserved to be an only child for a little longer. It was too soon! It could not be! And if it was true, it was all her fault!

But in her heart she knew it to be true—the smell of the eggs this morning, the dazed, slightly confused feelings, the light-headedness. She did not need Dr. Morrison to confirm what she already knew. She was carrying another child, and Fitzwilliam would not be happy. Oh, he would say all the right things, of course, and they would surely come to love this child as much as they did Edward, but it was not what they had planned for themselves for the next eight months and beyond—it would not be easy. And with Anne to worry about and protect, she didn’t know how she would find the strength. But she alone was to blame for her situation. She had been shameless.

“Mrs. Pritchett, Mrs. Reynolds, I wish to tell my husband of today’s events in the privacy of our rooms, so please be sure that no one mentions my coming home early or Dr. Morrison’s visit this afternoon. We’ll be four for dinner tonight. The Colonel will be joining us,” said Elizabeth, as the two housekeepers straightened her bed, and she sat by her dressing table rearranging her hair. The doctor had just departed, confirming her suspicions, and she had no doubt as to the very moment she had conceived.

Dinner was a very lively affair, as it always was when both Richard and Georgiana were present. While Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s lives now revolved around Edward and their small circle of friends, both Richard and Georgiana had a great deal to grumble about concerning their individual quests for a life partner. Georgiana had met no one at all that she felt she could care for at many the lavish balls, dinner parties and outdoor entertainments that she had attended. And Richard had one awful war story after another to tell—though they had absolutely nothing to do with his profession as a soldier. Darcy laughed heartily at his cousin’s tales of woe, told with great wit and sarcasm, but understood only too well the great longing he felt. Richard wanted a wife he could love, and was very ready to give up his bachelorhood for the warmth and comfort such a love could provide. But finding a woman who would hold him in high esteem, who would want him as much as he wanted her, would not be easy as a second son. And he had no desire to be beholden to a father- or mother-in-law who believed that he owed them his gratitude and obedience because he had gotten the better end of the bargain— or a wife who felt herself superior for the same reason.

After dinner, the ladies entertained the gentlemen with some duets they had been practicing, but before too long, Elizabeth announced that she was very tired and begged to be excused. She knew that Fitzwilliam would soon follow, after a game or two of billiards or a quiet smoke in the library with Richard.

When he finally entered their bedchamber she was propped up in bed reading, wearing a beautiful new nightdress. Her hair, which she had left unbraided, was tied back loosely with a satin ribbon. He was surprised to see her thus, having expected to find her already asleep.

“I thought you were exhausted, my love?”

“I was tired, but more than anything I wanted to be alone a bit—and to encourage you to follow my example. I hope Richard was not offended.”

“No, of course not! Besides, if he is to treat this house as his own and turn up every other day for dinner and a bed, he must not expect to be treated like a guest. Edward is taxing on all of us, but none more than you, Elizabeth.”

She smiled at him sweetly and returned to her book. “Come to bed, Fitzwilliam,” she murmured as she turned the page. Her husband dutifully undressed and sank down beside her, sighing deeply as he stretched out on his back and closed his eyes.

Placing her book on the bedside table, Elizabeth now turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow and looking lovingly at his handsome face. His eyes were still shut, and she kissed each lid before saying, “I have something to tell you, Fitzwilliam—something you must know.”

He moaned softly and nodded, refusing to open his eyes, yet making it clear that she had his undivided attention. “What is it, darling? You make it sound so ominous.”

“Oh, no, it is good news really…I think…though I’m afraid my day started out rather badly.”

This statement certainly brought a swift reaction. His eyes opened wide as he rolled onto his side and raised himself up to face her. “What do you mean badly? Is Aunt Gardiner all right? Were you not able to meet?”

“Yes, we did, and we had a very pleasant lunch together once we arrived home—only an hour after we were scheduled to meet.” She saw the concerned look on his face and got to the point immediately. “Fitzwilliam, I felt a little dizzy this morning and…well, I’m afraid I fainted.”

“Fainted?” He had bolted upright and was now hovering over her anxiously. “When…no, where did this happen? And why did you not send me word, Elizabeth? Did you send for Dr. Morrison?”

Elizabeth brought her fingers to cover his mouth, smiled, and then sliding them over to caress his cheek, said, “Hush, I have seen Dr. Morrison and am perfectly well, Fitzwilliam. Now come lie back down beside me and I shall tell you all.” She held out her arms as she often did to invite his head onto her chest, stroked his curls when he was comfortably settled and continued with her story.

“I was a few minutes early for my appointment with Aunt Gardiner, so I walked down the street, looking in the shop windows. When I suddenly felt unsteady, I looked for place to sit down and saw that there was a café or sweet shop, or something of the sort just across the street. I waited until I felt better, then made the attempt to cross. The next thing I knew, I was seated inside the shop, surrounded by the lady and gentleman who had saved me from falling, the shop’s proprietor and his wife. They all said that I had only been out for a moment or two and that it had not even been necessary to use the smelling salts to revive me. In any case, the young gentleman introduced himself as a physician and offered to give me quick examination to ascertain if I was in serious danger—which I was not. The young lady then went to fetch Aunt Gardiner, and she and I arrived home in a cab. There, that is whole story,” she concluded.

“Hardly, Elizabeth,” said her husband raising his head to peer into her face. “What did Dr. Morrison say? Why did you faint in the first place?”

“Well, the reason is very common, actually. There is no need to worry.” She hesitated, looking very much like a small child who dreaded telling her father that she had broken his favorite pipe. But it was no use delaying. She knew exactly what was to come.

“It is not unusual for ladies who are early in their pregnancies to faint—though I never did with Edward.”

It was as if he had not heard her, for he neither moved a muscle nor said a word. Then slowly lifting himself up on the bed, he stared into her face and asked in wonder, “You are with child? I thought you said it wasn’t possible as long as you were nursing Edward.”

There! He had reacted exactly as she knew he would. He was shocked and not entirely pleased, though he would now do everything in his power to convince her that he was happy with the news.

“Yes, indeed, that is what I had been led to believe—and I did believe it! But Dr. Morrison said that once a woman decreases the number of times she nurses her child a day, there is a greater risk of conception. For the past month Edward has been eating solid foods as well, and I suppose that is why…” Here she stopped, a little sob escaping her throat, the tears that were welled up in her eyes now catching the glow of the candlelight.

“My darling, what is this? Are you unhappy at the thought of another so soon?”

“Oh Fitzwilliam, do not dissemble with me. I am no more upset than you are. You know it is too soon for all three of us. But it is I who am responsible for the predicament we now find ourselves in, and I am very sorry and heartily ashamed.” She drew up the hand she had been holding and brought it to her lips, covering it with kisses.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, but last I heard, a lady, no matter how beautiful, intelligent or accomplished, still needs the assistance of a gentleman to create a child.”

“Yes,” she said softly, looking into his loving eyes, “but it only takes one to be so selfish, so manipulative and deliberately seductive when the other is being so careful, so willing to sacrifice his own pleasure…”

“My darling wife! If you think that I have felt neglected these past six months, you know not the power of your love. Have we not loved and pleased each other to great satisfaction, with passion and ever-growing tenderness?”

“Precisely! And yet that night it was not enough for me, and I had to have you! I behaved shamelessly! I left you no choice!”

“No, indeed, you did not, my little vixen, and no man could have resisted you. But you bestowed that precious gift on me, my love, no other. More heartfelt prayers of thanks could not have been uttered for the blessings I received that night. Elizabeth, few men go to their graves ever having experienced such happiness—knowing that the woman they love desires them as much as they are desired. You gave me a gift that I shall hold in my heart and treasure forever, and now G-d, in his wisdom, has blessed us with another gift. I was surprised when you first told me, Elizabeth, but I am pleased—a bit overwhelmed and a bit frightened,” he chuckled, “but pleased.”

She had known that he would make her feel better, but the fact that he could also make her laugh at herself astonished her. For so many hours now, she had been distressed, more about Anne and the secret that she had been forced to keep than the baby, really. But both dilemmas had weighed so heavily on her, and suddenly she felt light and easy and comforted. He was kissing her neck now, his hands having slid beneath her back, lifting her off the bed and crushing her body against his.

“Fitzwilliam!” she said, drawing his head back firmly by his thick, beautiful hair. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the damage is done, my love, so we might as well enjoy it. You can’t remind me of that incredible night and not expect to whet my appetite.”

She laughed and caressed him as he resumed his loving attention of her. Then suddenly, he raised his face to hers and asked, “This physician…what is his name? I must go and thank him in the morning. He deserves a great reward for so gallantly protecting you.”

“I don’t think he’ll accept payment, Fitzwilliam. My impression of him is that he would consider it insulting. But you can certainly bring him a gift. His name is Simon Fennimore and he resides in Crestwood Lane, near Rosewood.”

Chapter Four

Posted on Monday, 20 February 2006,

She had expected him to be waiting for her inside the sweet shop, but there he was, pacing back and forth, obviously impatient for her to arrive. Or perhaps he had come to tell her that he couldn’t stay. Her heart quickened at the sight of his countenance.

“Ah, Miss Burton, there you are. Finally!”

“Am I late, sir? I hope I have not kept you waiting.”

“No, no, not at all! I have simply been anxious to speak to you. Could we walk a bit? I don’t think I can say what must be said in a subdued or civil tone. It would be best if we went somewhere more private.”

“You are frightening me, sir. But, of course, I will walk with you. Shall we walk through the park?”

He nodded and offered her his arm as they proceeded down the lane. He remained silent until they entered the quiet sanctuary of the park’s gardens, the muscles of his forearm drawn so tight that she could feel them stretched taut beneath his sleeve. When they were out of the hearing distance of any other garden visitors, he turned abruptly to her, but said with utmost gentleness and restraint, “Miss Burton, I have analyzed your medication and am deeply sorry to tell you that you must never to take another drop of it again. It is a dangerous concoction, given to you by a greedy, irresponsible man.”

Her mouth dropped open, but he continued on. “Now I know that you wish to keep his identity secret, Miss Burton, but you cannot. If he has prescribed it to you, he is surely prescribing it to others. We cannot stand by while innocent people are being weakened and possibly seriously harmed. There may be children involved, and it would be more detrimental to their small bodies.”

Anne’s anger at this unbelievable accusation caused her to become defensive. What ridiculous things was he saying? Why was he frightening her so, further turning her world upside down and inside out? Was she not permitted to keep even a few of her innocent beliefs about the goodness of human beings? Why was he demonizing this venerated physician? What a terrible mistake she had made in trusting him!

“I don’t believe you! I can’t imagine what motive you might have to libel such a man? Perhaps he is your rival or has crossed you in some unpleasantness, but you shall not convince me that a man trained to save lives—especially one that has earned himself such an outstanding reputation—would knowingly and deliberately hurt me!”

“I know it is a painful thing to ponder, Miss Burton, and perhaps I should have been more tactful in broaching the subject with you, but, forgive me, I have been very anxious about you since I tested the sample in your bottle the very evening you gave it me. I needed to contact you, to warn you, to seize the poison from your lips, but I could not—knowing neither where you lived, nor how to contact you. And I have been going quite mad with rage.”

She swallowed hard, but kept her resentful pose, daring him to continue.

“It is the sad and unfortunate truth that physicians cannot charge enough for their services to earn a decent living. What money there is to be made in the field of medicine comes from the cost of the medications doctors prescribe to their patients. I am ashamed to say that many are forced, by the very nature of this ludicrous system, to cheat a bit and prescribe a few more doses of one thing or another. But that is generally not terribly harmful. Some, however, become greedy and lose all sight of what is right and wrong. Miss Burton, the main ingredient in your medication was prescribed regularly by almost every doctor in England some twenty years ago. But then, some ten or twelve years ago, it was discovered to have precisely the opposite effect on the heart than it was intended for. In short, it was proved, in one experiment after another, to weaken the heart rather than strengthen it. The headlines of all medical publications around the country told of its danger and warned physicians against its use. Unfortunately, it can still be purchased because, mixed together with other chemicals, traces of it are still useful in the treatment of some serious diseases in cows and sheep. But I know of no one who still prescribes it to human beings,” he said softly. He knew it was a harsh and ugly thing to say, but he had to make her understand the seriousness of the situation. How he would have liked to take her hand and comfort her, but obviously, he could not. Propriety would not allow it, and she was in no mood to accept it.

She had stood there defiantly the entire time that he was speaking, but now that defiance was crumbling. She was ghostly white, with tears welling in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together to prevent herself from crying openly.

“I beg you to take yourself to the library, Miss Burton, and to ask for the medical journals published between 1809 and 1811. I am not certain as to when this news was made public, but if you persevere, you will find it. Here,” he said, handing her a piece of paper, “I have written down the name of the substance. It is in Latin and difficult to pronounce, but you will surely recognize it in print. I am sorry to have upset you so, and I shall press you no further, but the material point is that until you have proven to yourself that this medication is safe, I beg you not to take another drop of it.”

“And what will you sell me in its place? Something of your own to line your pockets?”

As soon as she had said it, she was painfully sorry. The look on his face said it all, and he turned and walked away without so much as a nod or a parting word.

She watched him leave, her tears flowing freely now in anger and frustration, until he was out of sight—having crossed the road to Crestwood Lane. Only then did she sink onto a nearby bench to weep her heart out.

He was hovered over a small plate of bread and cheese when she approached his table with her eyes now dry, but red and swollen. He raised his head slowly and acknowledged her wordlessly, waiting for her to address him.

“You are not going to make this easy for me, are you?” she whispered.

He said nothing, but gave her a gentle smile.

“May I join you?” she asked.

“Yes, but only if it is understood that it is my turn to pay for lunch.”

“Do you call that lunch?”

“Well, as you know, I have no private patients to sell my concoctions to. It seems you see things the way my father does, Miss Burton. He does not approve of my interest in research either.”

“I do not know enough to approve or disapprove…nor is it my place to do so. I do approve of you, however,” she said, blushing to the roots of her hair, “and for some strange reason that I cannot explain, I trust you implicitly. Please forgive me for my earlier outburst. It was I who came to you with a favor, and I know you have no other agenda than to help me.”

He reached for her hand and pressed it.

“I was shocked and hurt—disenchanted with the world like a little child. I have led such a painfully restricted life because of my health, and the thought that some stranger had the power to keep me so, overwhelmed me. I will throw all those bottles out immediately and follow your advice, whatever it may be.”

He gave her hand another little squeeze and said, “Good. I am glad of it. But do not throw out the evidence. Bring the bottles to me, and I shall call the charlatan to task for what he has done.”

“But…”

“No buts, Miss Burton. I cannot allow this man to continue putting his patients at risk—nor do you want it on your conscience. I promise you that I shall find a way to do it without involving you in any way.”

“But he will know where these bottles came from, and then…”

“You just said that you trusted me implicitly, Miss Burton. Now you must prove it.”

She nodded and squeezed the fingers that still remained wrapped around hers. “There is something I would like you to explain to me though. If this substance is so harmful, why have I gotten somewhat stronger over the years? I was much more frail and prone to illness as a young girl.”

“I cannot say for certain,” said Fennimore. “Has the dose increased over the years? Are you taking more now than you did as a child?”

“No, it has always been one teaspoon, mornings and evenings,” she replied.

“Then perhaps its harmful effects were lessened as you grew to adulthood. After all, the effect would be proportional to the dose and the size of the patient. At least he did not increase the dose…Had he sent you sugar water and continued cheating your family out of their money, I would not be half so angry. But he cared nothing for your safety or well being.”

“So what you are saying is that Dr. Cotswold knowingly kept me in a weakened state so that my family would keep paying him for his medications,” she said softly. “How cruel of him! What if I would have succumbed to the effects of his medication? Would he ever have been found out?”

“I’m sorry to say that I doubt it. Your death would have been naturally accepted after a lifetime of illness. People would have been saddened by the news, of course, but not surprised. No one would have thought to delve deeper into the cause of your death, and he, this Cotswold, would have gone unpunished.”

Anne closed her eyes for a moment as if to escape this painful reality. She had left home wishing to live in the real world with all its pleasures and problems, knowing full well that there was cruelty, greed and ugliness to be encountered in it. But she had never thought that it would touch her so personally. She mourned the loss of her innocence. Yet obviously, one could not hide from evil. It sought you out even in the manicured gardens of Rosings Park, and fooled the young and old alike. She had no doubt that her mother was a pawn in all this. However self-serving and egotistical she was, her mother would not physically harm her.

She opened her eyes to find the face that had captured her heart smiling back at her. What would she do if she didn’t have him to depend on? Returning his smile, she said, “So how do we begin, Dr. Fennimore. What will you prescribe to help my condition? Is there still hope?”

“A great deal of hope, indeed!” he replied enthusiastically. “Your body, though compromised for so many years, has proved amazingly strong and resilient. It is really quite extraordinary that you have the stamina that you do, Miss Burton. Therefore, we shall give your body the opportunity to heal itself and do nothing at all but aid it in its work. I shall prescribe nutritious food and moderate exercise that we shall build on, week by week. I wish to monitor your progress, if you will allow me, and to make recommendations as the need arises. I believe that once this poison is out of your system, you shall see a significant change in how you feel. Now, I don’t want you to think that I can cure you of the problem altogether,” he warned. “Though I have never examined you, I imagine you were born with some small heart defect, or perhaps you had a childhood disease that damaged your heart. Perhaps your mother could shed some light on that subject.”

“Perhaps she could. But I will not ask her for some time yet. You must allow me to continue with my plans, Dr. Fennimore. I have relented on Cotswold’s identity, but that is as far as I am prepared to go. And I expect you to keep all my confidences—medical and otherwise.”

“You have my word! Now, can we set up a schedule of appointments for you? Shall we say, once a week? I shall not accept any payment from you, and do not even think of arguing with me,” he said holding up his hand to prevent her, “but we will need to hire a woman to be present at all your examinations and I will ask you to pay her directly. Unless, of course, you would like to ask Mrs. Darcy to accompany you when you come.”

“Oh, I could never ask her to do that! She has a small child and is very much involved in the needs of all her family.”

“Of course, I understand. I just thought you might feel more comfortable with her present.”

“Indeed I would, but I cannot ask it. I am seeing her again tomorrow. Perhaps I shall ask if she can come for the first appointment. Does Wednesday morning suit you? At eleven, perhaps?”

He smiled, and it was then settled. Anne sat back and expelled a slow even breath. Never in her life had she felt so at peace. The Tilson sisters were caring for her at home, and now this beautiful, wonderful man was making her health his responsibility. Alone in this large city, she had found friendship, compassion and…dare she even voice the feeling? She must be deceiving herself! Perhaps after living such an isolated life she imagined any kindness to be affection. Yet she could not help it. She thought she heard, and felt, and saw evidence of it.

And here lay the dilemma. It would be wrong for her to encourage such feelings in him—if indeed they really did exist. But the fact that he was a physician who understood her situation better than anyone further complicated the matter. Perhaps he was so devoted to his work that he had no desire for children? But surely he would want intimacy in marriage?

Anne shook her head and chastised herself for her foolishness. She was surely misinterpreting his kindness and getting herself all worked up over nothing. She would have to take herself in hand before she made a complete and utter fool of herself.

Elizabeth had been perusing a book in the stacks when she saw Anne enter the large, imposing room that housed the biographies, autobiographies and history books. She smiled, her expressive brows raised in recognition and anticipation, but Anne ignored her and walked to the other side of the room. There she sat down at one of the tables and pored over a book she had brought in with her. Elizabeth understood. Anne wished no one to believe that their meeting had been planned, and she waited patiently for her to make the next move.

After some minutes, Anne left the table and wandered about the stacks, stopping to take out a book here and there and examine it. She finally came to stand just a few feet from Elizabeth.

“Oh, that is an excellent book you are holding, Madam. I hope you are not offended by my forwardness, but I did enjoy it so and cannot refrain from recommending it to everyone I meet,” said she.

Elizabeth turned to smile at her. “I am not at all offended. Please tell me, did you find the writing easy and flowing?”

With that casual opening the two of them made their way to a corner of the room to talk quietly, hoping that anyone observing them would think they had just struck up an informal association.

After several minutes of whispered questions and answers about the family, Anne suggested that they leave separately and meet at the park. All was arranged, and Elizabeth went to the front desk to check out her book.

When they were comfortably settled by the park fountain, with children and their nannies, elderly ladies and young sweethearts all about them, they were finally able to talk freely. An hour went by rather quickly.

“But I still cannot understand why you feel that Fitzwilliam’s help would be harmful to your cause, dear Anne.”

“My goal is to live independently, Elizabeth, and that requires money. I may very well lose Rosings, and for that I am prepared, but the funds my father left me would suffice for a comfortable life. My mother makes me dependent on her by controlling those funds, and she has everyone convinced that it is for my own good— as I am obviously too frail to manage on my own,” Anne added sarcastically. “Mama has great influence and many people to do her bidding in a dispute between us. I fear she will use anything and anyone to her advantage. My only hope is to prove that I am strong, and clever, and perfectly capable of handling my own affairs. And Fitzwilliam, my dear, sweet cousin, would only contradict that by his involvement. You know him well enough to know that he would not hear of me living with strangers in a less than fashionable part of town, that he would wish to fight Mama on my behalf and that he would ruin everything with his good intentions. Please believe me, Elizabeth, this is the only way. And as it is my future that is at stake, it must be my decision.”

“But how will I ever keep such a secret from him? How will I keep an even countenance when we speak of you? And what will he say and feel when he finally finds out?”

“He need not find out at all. Once my year of self-determination is up, I will come to him for a recommendation of legal counsel, and he will have the honor of standing beside me during the ordeal. But for now, he must not interfere in any way, and the only way to assure that he does not, is to keep this from him. I know I am asking a great deal of you, Elizabeth, and he may be angry when he first finds out. But I will assure him that I gave you no choice. Indeed, your loyalty to me will be a credit to you. He will see that in time.”

“I wish I could be convinced of it, Anne, but you need not fear; I will not betray your trust. Tell me now how else I can be of service to you. Cannot we meet informally like this from time to time so that I can be assured of your safety? It would be very hard to be left to wonder if you are well. And besides, you will wish to know about Edward’s progress and adorable little antics.”

“There is nothing that would please me more, but I do not think it advisable. I cannot risk contacting you, and I certainly will not tell you where I am living. I know I can trust you not follow me.”

“No, I never would. I might lead one of her Ladyship’s spies right to you. But if we fix a time and place, we could have the pleasure of each other’s company and gain some peace of mind. I will know that you are well, and you will have a way of communicating with the family without anyone else finding out.”

“I don’t know. There may be a way, but I shall have to think about it. In the meantime, I have a little plan. If you can come to Dr. Fennimore’s next Wednesday at eleven o’clock, I shall meet you there. You shall enter from Crestwood Lane as we did before, and I shall take the servants’ entrance from Bentley Street. That way, we can meet without being observed together. Can you come? We can then see how the arrangement works out and take it from there.”

“Of course, I shall come. Happily, we plan to stay in town as long as Georgiana has parties to attend. Once the season is over, however, we will certainly return to Pemberley. Fitzwilliam complains that his son does not know his own home. Till then, I am at your disposal, dear Anne.”

Chapter Five

Posted on Sunday, 26 February 2006,

Colonel Fitzwilliam had a duty call to make. One of his officers, Lieutenant Logan, had had his leg broken in a tavern brawl and had been forced, by reason of dwindling finances and sheer helplessness, to resort to imposing on his widowed mother’s hospitality. The lady was none too happy about the situation. Having to cater to a son who offered little towards her support, and yet expected to be fed and cared for when flattened in a row, made her normally sharp tongue even sharper.

The men of his regiment believed that a visit from their commanding officer might garner the poor devil some much-needed deference from the lady, and the Colonel was only too glad to perform the service. Logan had more than once come to his aid, on and off the battlefield, and so he pinched a bottle of port from his cousin’s wine cellar, grabbed a lovely bunch of flowers out of the vestibule vase and brought them along as further proof of his regard for the man.

The visit lasted only a half hour, but its effect could be felt even before he had stepped back over the threshold. If her son’s commanding officer thought enough of him to pay a visit, Mrs. Logan decided, her darling ruffian must not be such a bad sort after all!

Once out in the fresh air again, the Colonel breathed deeply and reflected on how easily one could alter the way a person was perceived, simply by treating him with a measure of respect. He was very happy to have been able to effect such a change, for Logan was not really a bad chap; he simply spent too much time with lonely men who had little reason to leave the pub before they were too far gone with drink. Perhaps that was why he himself spent so many evenings at Darcy’s. The domestic felicity of his cousin’s home drew him like a moth to a flame. Though it was obviously not his home, nor his family, the comfort offered there was both restorative and addictive. He sometimes had to remind himself that Edward was not his flesh and blood, but only his nephew—so much did he love the boy! And was there anything sweeter than sitting between Georgiana and Elizabeth at breakfast, listening to their lively chatter, and breathing in the delightful fragrances that surrounded them after their morning toilette?

He had originally thought that escorting Georgie during this London season would give him the opportunity to observe this year’s crop of young ladies, newly out in society, without having to put himself on the auction block. But he was tired—so terribly tired of the entire, sordid game. Yet he could not expect to find a wife if he refused to look for one—and he sorely needed a wife! It was difficult indeed when one no longer had the spirit for the battle.

“Dash it!” he said, suddenly remembering. Georgie and he were expected for an evening of supper and cards at the Dennisons’ tonight. He had hoped to get his hair trimmed this afternoon but had not arranged to get it done. So, meandering down the street, he looked for the nearest barber’s shingle. Rather than imposing on Darcy’s valet again, he decided to venture into the first establishment he came upon, hoping to emerge from it looking decently well groomed, if not rakishly handsome. The old barber did an admirable job, and as the Colonel was about to leave, he consented to have his boots shined as well.

As he sat thus restrained, he smiled at the sight of a handsomely dressed lady leaving her residence directly across the street. With her head down and her bonnet shading her face, she descended the stairs and then turned to continue down the lane. The Colonel started as her face and familiar demeanor came into view. She was in an obviously sunny mood, and her smile and bright expression could not have been duplicated. It was indeed Elizabeth!

But had she not said at breakfast that she was to join her aunt Gardiner for lunch today? Obviously the two ladies had not yet met. Perhaps Elizabeth was just going off to meet her.

The young man polishing the Colonel’s boots had been forced to pause for a moment when his customer leaned forward to have a better look at someone he must have recognized. Turning round himself, he said, “Aye, sir! Is that not a pretty sight? The neighborhood is graced with the lady’s beauty every Wednesday at just this time, and believe me, there are few who do not wait at their windows for the privilege of seeing her. Do you know the lady, sir?”

“Hmmm, no,” replied the Colonel, now taken aback by the information and reluctant to add anything to the neighborhood gossip. “I mistook her for someone else, I’m afraid. She is a handsome lady, though.” And after a few moments of contemplation, he inquired, “So, she does not live there, at that address?”

“Oh no, sir. That is the residence of a single gentleman. A scientist he is—very clever they say, and very well liked by all in the neighborhood.”

The Colonel blanched.

Don’t jump to conclusions, man! There must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, he thought. I will simply ask Elizabeth about it this evening and then have a good laugh at my own foolishness. How could I ever suspect Elizabeth of anything improper?

But he could think of nothing else all day. What would she be doing on Crestwood Lane, of all places, and why would she be secretly visiting a gentleman there?

“You are looking very handsome this evening, Richard,” said Elizabeth, as she affectionately smoothed away a fold in his neck cloth that had not suited her.

“Why, thank you for noticing, my lady,” he joked. “I had my hair trimmed this morning in the most unlikely of places, but I must say the old barber did a surprisingly good job. In fact, I saw you through the window of his shop, but was in no position to call out to you.”

“You saw me?” said Elizabeth, appearing ever so slightly flustered. “When was that? And where?”

“It was almost noon, and you were coming out of a residence on Crestwood Lane, near Rosewood. I had been visiting one of my officers there.”

“Oh, but it could not have been me,” said Elizabeth coolly. “I was with my aunt at the time, picking out some leather to take to the cobbler for Edward’s first shoes. There must have been a great resemblance between us for you to think so, Richard, but I’m afraid you were mistaken. Had I not suffered a little mishap on that very street a few months ago, I would not even have recognized the name.”

“But Elizabeth, I know it was…”

She interrupted him with a stern glare. “It is impossible, Richard; I was not there,” she said in a tone that brought the conversation to an end. And turning away from him, she busied herself with rearranging the flowers that had been gathered from all over the house to replace those that had mysteriously disappeared that morning. Georgiana soon appeared at the top of the stairs, and her cousin was thankful for her good timing.

There had never been any awkwardness between him and Elizabeth before, but the tension now was palpable. Perhaps he ought to sleep at the officer’s club tonight. He had suddenly become an intruder in a house he had considered almost his own from the time he and Darcy had been at university. He certainly had no wish to know the intimate details of his cousin’s married life…but, on the other hand, how could he now ignore the situation he had so unhappily stumbled upon? More than anything, he was devastated by the thought that there might actually be something happening to overturn his belief in the powerful love and devotion that united this family. Urging Georgiana to hurry, he whisked her out of the house with only a murmured, “Good evening,” to Elizabeth.

Throughout the seemingly endless evening and wretchedly sleepless night, he pondered what should be done. Best do nothing at all than be responsible for … He could not even bear to put it into words! How could Elizabeth be doing this to his cousin? And what motivation could she possibly have? Surely, she was one of the most beloved and cherished women in all of England! Was she not cognizant of what she had to lose? And what of Edward? How could she even contemplate risking his happiness? The Colonel taxed his brain with such painful questions till exhaustion claimed him for a few hours’ sleep. And when he awoke the next morning, his desperate need to make things right again brought him to an entirely different way of thinking.

The facts were these: It had certainly been Elizabeth who had emerged from that private residence on Crestwood Lane and it was evident that she had been upset at his having discovered her there. It also had to be true that she frequented the place regularly, for the young man at the barbershop would have had no reason to speak of her thus, had it not been. But in the light of day, the Colonel had to admit that had he not accidentally discovered her, he would not have guessed that anything was wrong in the Darcy home. Elizabeth was as easy and loving as she always was with his cousin. Their knowing looks, their furtive little caresses when they thought themselves unobserved had not diminished or altered in any way. Elizabeth’s devotion to Edward was beyond questioning, and her liveliness and good spirits were totally unchanged. How could a woman as artless as Elizabeth Bennet Darcy have an affair with another man and not have it affect her behavior in some way? It was not possible! It simply was not…and therefore, there had to be something else, something, at the moment inconceivable, that was going on.

If Elizabeth would not answer for her own behavior, then perhaps he would have to look elsewhere for the information he sought. He would go directly to the source of the problem and demand an explanation. Perhaps he was taking upon himself the role normally best left to the husband involved—but he would sooner cut out his own heart than injure his cousin with this knowledge. No, he would get to the bottom of this immediately and then decide what needed to be done. Hopefully, it would be nothing at all, and he could allow Elizabeth her innocent little secret without regret. He would dress, sport his best uniform to be as formidable as possible, and wait for the man to show himself. By the end of the day, his heart would again be light.

“Has Richard taken to sleeping in?” asked Darcy as he perused the newspaper over his breakfast.

“Oh, I am sorry! I should have mentioned it first thing this morning as you had already retired when we arrived home last night. Richard did not stay. He said he had an early meeting and would therefore sleep at the officers’ club.”

Elizabeth colored slightly, but tried desperately to hide her distress. Poor Richard! What terrible thoughts he must be having! What a dreadful dilemma he must think himself in! It had been ridiculous to deny her obvious presence on Crestwood Lane, and she had to get to Richard before his loyalty to Fitzwilliam caused her beloved husband any unnecessary pain. But how could she keep her promise to Anne and at the same time convince the Colonel to keep her secret? There seemed no answer to this terrible predicament, but it was clear that she could no longer meet Anne without putting her in danger of being discovered.

She determined to go out on some errand or other and wait for Richard outside the officer’s club. The sooner she spoke to him the better, although what she would say eluded her.

Having paced back and forth for almost an hour across from that now infamous door, Colonel Fitzwilliam was finally rewarded with his first glimpse of the man. He was of average height and wiry, carried himself well, dressed somewhat shabbily, but had the air of a gentleman—that could not be denied. Yet, he lived here on Crestwood Lane. Why? He seemed carefree as he made his way towards the street, obviously indifferent to the pain that he was causing others!

Wait! Calm yourself! thought the Colonel. Your anger will get you nowhere. You are right to have your suspicions, but be fair. Give the man a chance to explain. This might be completely innocent—though it could hardly be proper, in any case! Approach him calmly or he will never give you the information you seek. Colonel Fitzwilliam waited until the man was half way down the street, then crossed and hastened to catch up with him.

“Excuse me, sir, but perhaps you’d be kind enough to help me,” said the Colonel. “I am looking for 49 Crestwood Lane. It must be nearby, but I can’t seem to find it.”

“May I ask for whom you are looking, sir?” said the man with an easy smile.

“Why yes, I am looking for the gentleman who resides there. I do not know his name, but I understand he is a man of science and I seek to…”

“Then you have found him, sir!” said Fennimore, grinning broadly and holding out his hand. “My name is Simon Fennimore and the address you seek is mine. How can help you?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam ignored the offered hand and drew himself up to his full height, his expression now grave. “You can explain to me your connection with my cousin, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, sir, and why it is that she comes to see you every Wednesday…on her own.”

Fennimore drew back his hand and stared resolutely at the Colonel. “I’m afraid I am not at liberty to answer any of your questions, Colonel. May I suggest that you apply to your cousin for that information?”

“You are not at liberty?” hissed the Colonel angrily. “How dare you hide behind such a cowardly reply? You will not tell me, and that is evidence enough! What kind of a man are you to so callously ruin the lives of others for your sport? There is a child involved here…an innocent baby that depends on its mother…”

Simon Fennimore held up his hand. “Forgive me, sir, but you are completely off the mark and upsetting yourself for nothing at all. I cannot answer your questions, but I will assure you that no personal relationship exists between Mrs. Darcy and me. Her reasons for coming are personal and are not for me to divulge. I repeat, please ask the lady directly for I cannot help you.”

The situation was unbelievable and utterly ridiculous! What reason could Elizabeth possibly have to come to this part of town on a weekly basis and enter this man’s private residence if not for…? If nothing else, it went against every sense of propriety for her to be alone with him.

“And are you alone with her the entire time that she is in your home? Is there anyone else present?” asked the Colonel, almost choking on his words.

“I am there whenever she comes; that I will not deny. But that is all that I will say. Now I ask you to let me be on my way. We have nothing further to discuss.”

The rage that had been building during this frustrating exchange now channeled itself into the Colonel’s fist, which suddenly and explosively found its mark on his victim’s chin. Stunned, Simon Fennimore fell to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth, his hand gripping his throbbing jaw.

“Get up, you sniveling coward,“ growled the Colonel. “I’m not finished with you!”

By now, a small crowd had gathered, and the Colonel, even through his blinding rage, realized how all this must look. Simon Fennimore had obviously never been in a physical altercation in all his life, and he, a man trained to fight—in his best uniform, no less—was taking unfair advantage. Confound it all! This would not do!

Reaching down to give the man a hand up, he was suddenly taken completely off guard by someone from behind. The attacker thrust an arm about his neck, while at the same time pummeling his ribs with some heavy object.

He grabbed for the arm to twist it round when he realized the wrist was as thin and delicate as a child’s. His peripheral vision made him aware of crimson silk! Stunned into immobility, he was not prepared for the powerful blow that now struck his chest. Enraged by it, he pulled the arm forcefully off his neck and twisted it round the back of his opponent, coming face to face with a pair of light blue eyes, as intensely wild and angry as his own. A splattering of freckles adorned the cheeks and strawberry curls bounced wildly about as she tried to shake him off.

“You’re hurting me!” she shouted at him. It was not a plea for mercy, but an indignant accusation, accompanied by such a ferocious look as he had not thought possible on a young lady.

“Forgive me,” he spat back, “but you’ve inflicted some discomfort yourself, Madam!”

Why he refused to let her go and pulled her arm even higher, he could not fathom, but to his great shame, he did, and as she cried out in pain, she swung her unknown weapon against his head. The blow landed against his ear, sending shooting pain deep inside it and down his neck. He had never felt anything so excruciating! Something inside his ear seemed to explode and fill with warm liquid, sending him reeling.

The next thing he knew, Fennimore was on his feet, restraining his attacker, while at the same time coming to his aid, as he struggled to regain his balance and orientation. But it was of no use and he reluctantly allowed himself to lean against Fennimore, praying he would not pass out.

Conscious but unable to function for the terrible pain, he heard, as though through some thick fog, the confusing conversations of those around him. Fennimore kept saying that he was well, that no harm had been done. The young lady was insisting that the constable, who had appeared out of nowhere, arrest “that military man” as she put it, for savagely beating a defenseless citizen. He waited to hear her accuse him of violence to her own person, but she never did. Fennimore ended the discussion by saying that, as the injured party, he was not prepared to press charges. The last thing that Richard Fitzwilliam saw, before his body blessedly gave him some respite, was Fennimore kissing the tear-stained cheeks of his attacker, while she gingerly dabbed his bloodied lips with a handkerchief. Then everything went black.

He awoke in Dr. Morrison’s surgery with both Morrison and Fennimore hovering over him and whispering to one another. He was in terrible pain, but nothing like what he had suffered before. Dr. Morrison smiled at him and lifted his head slightly to facilitate the spooning of some liquid into his mouth.

“The pain will soon subside, Colonel. I’m afraid you are going to develop an intimate relationship with Laudanum over the next few days. There is some damage to your eardrum, but it will heal in time. I do not believe your hearing will be permanently affected. ”

Fitzwilliam turned his gaze towards Fennimore, whose entire left jaw line was a deep, angry purple. His lips was split and swollen, but his eyes were gentle and compassionate.

“Ah yes! You are wondering what your victim is doing here. Well, he was the one who brought you to me in a cab. Quite honestly, I didn’t know which one of you to treat first,” laughed Dr. Morrison.

By now the Laudanum was taking effect and Fitzwilliam sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Morrison patted his shoulder and told him to sleep. He would spend the night under his care, and hopefully feel well enough to be transported to the Darcys’ for a few weeks of convalescence. Word had been sent to them, and they were expected at any moment. All would be well.

At this news, the Colonel opened his eyes to gauge Fennimore’s reaction to it. The man gave an odd smile and said, “Well, I had best be off then…as you are in such good hands. I cannot say it has been a pleasure, Colonel, but I hope that when we meet again it will be under more pleasant circumstances.”

There was more to that statement than met the eye, but Richard was too exhausted and in too much pain to try to decipher its meaning. He stared at the man with bitter resentment. What was it about him that made two of the loveliest women in all of London lie for him and fight for him in the street? He couldn’t understand it.

He groaned in reply, then grabbed Fennimore’s wrist as he began to walk away.

“What did she strike me with?” he asked with faltering breath.

“Our dinner, Colonel. A five-pound ham, with the bone in, swung from a mesh bag. I am sorry, but there is no one more vicious than a woman defending someone she loves.”

Continued in Next Section