Prologue

Posted on September 4, 2009

"Wickham, I am going to rip your heart out!"

Fitzwilliam Darcy grabbed the man who had been his childhood companion, shoving him against the oak paneled wall with a force that sent a violent tremor reverberating throughout the fashionable Ramsgate lodgings.

"You have been a thorn in my side since the day your father brought you to Pemberley, but no more!"

Struggling against the deadly grasp, George Wickham instantly seized upon the one subject that had any chance of deflecting Darcy's blind rage.

"Can I help it if your father took a liking to me?" Wickham gasped. "You know how benevolent he was – famously generous nature and all that. And temperate too! He advised you many times to follow his example, did he not?"

The calculated words found their mark and Darcy hesitated. Wickham's mouth twitched in triumph; but his confidence in the son always doing the honorable thing, especially where his dead father's memory was concerned, crumbled instantly when Darcy's hands suddenly closed around his neck.

"You dare to mention my father?" Darcy's fingers tightened dangerously. "It was for his sake, I have ignored the detestable way you defile his memory with your reckless, miserable excuse for a life. Be assured even his generosity would not excuse your behavior now. Your vile attempt to lure Georgiana away to Scotland to marry her fortune is utterly contemptible. She is but fifteen, you disgusting libertine – she trusted you!"

Wickham fought without success to free himself from Darcy's iron grasp and a strangled choke wedged in his throat. He had seriously underestimated the man. His surprise at Darcy's unbridled fury was now only exceeded by the growing, urgent need to breathe. He clawed furiously at the hands that prevented it, and his mouth gaped wide in a desperate attempt to obtain even the slightest measure of fresh air.

Through the mist of darkness that was rapidly engulfing him, Wickham saw the raging battle warring within Darcy. The unbridled desire to avenge Georgiana's honor pushed hard against the abiding allegiance to his father's memory. Wickham's eyes drifted closed with the vague realization that he had at last pushed Darcy too far. His hands slid limply away from Darcy's grasp with another fleeting acknowledgment of how badly he had miscalculated the cost of failure.

Just as he felt himself slipping into the darkness, there was a sudden, almost imperceptible change in the crushing hold on his neck; and then it was gone, allowing a flood of oxygen-rich air into his lungs. Opening his eyes, he was relieved to see that honor and allegiance had won the day and the cloud of rage was lifting.

The muscles in Darcy's face smoothed into a stony mask of contempt. "Get out," he growled, dropping his hands to his sides.

Taking in deep gulps of delicious air, Wickham cautiously withdrew, straightening his rumpled clothing as he went. In spite of the narrow escape, his eyes held a glint of arrogant satisfaction. Old Darcy had saved him once again, just as he always had. Taking advantage of the shelter his ghostly protector had provided, Wickham could not resist one last riposte.

"You see, Darcy? Even beyond the grave, your father has a care for me."

Darcy started for Wickham, hissing fiercely, "Get out of here before I change my mind and give you what you deserve!"

Wickham recoiled from the fresh explosion of cold fury, stumbling over a chair and nearly falling in his haste to reach the door. Once he was safely on the other side, he collected himself and hurried down the hallway, relieved to hear no footsteps pursuing him.

Reaching the foyer, he paused only briefly when he saw Georgiana waiting for him. She took a hesitant step forward, hurt and confusion shining in her eyes; but he merely shouldered past her as he made his way to the front door.

"George! Wait!" Georgiana called after him in a small voice. "Please! I…I thought Fitzwilliam would be happy for us. I did not know he would be so angry."

Her forlorn plea only fueled the bitter disappointment and resentment swelling in his chest. He paused in the open doorway, gazing out past the Ramsgate clockhouse to the bustling harbor beyond, struggling to master his emotions. The waning summer sun glinted off well-oiled riggings of a ship as it made its way out of the harbor and into the wide, open sea beyond – sailing away. So like my fortunes, he thought bitterly.

He heard Georgiana's footsteps behind him. "Please, George; you must believe me. I had no idea," she repeated softly to his back.

Turning slowly, he met her devastated, pleading look with an icy stare. "That's the trouble. You have no idea at all, you brainless chit! If you had just kept your mouth shut one more day, he could not have stopped me."

"You do not mean what you are saying," she whispered in a tone that was more hopeful than certain.

Wickham snorted derisively. "Be assured, I mean every word."

"But Fitzwilliam will come round, you will see!" Georgiana desperately threw her arms around him. "What is another week or two when we love each other so?"

"A week or two? Not hardly! We are finished."

"But I love you, George, and you love me!"

"Love you?" Wickham looked her over with a bitter laugh. "Your brother was right, you are a child. It was never about love. It was about your thirty thousand pounds – nothing more. And now that your brother has placed that out of my reach, I am done playing nursemaid."

Wickham grabbed her arms, roughly prying them from around his neck, and callously shoved her away. Georgiana staggered backwards, unable to catch herself, and tumbled awkwardly to the floor. He met her confused, deeply wounded expression with a cold smirk, almost giddy at her misery. It served her right – served Darcy right for dashing all his hopes. If he was to suffer disappointment, then they could bloody well share in it!

"It cannot be true; it cannot," she sobbed, anguished tears streaming down her cheeks. "You said you loved me."

"Do you think any man could love an awkward, plain thing like you?" he sneered, emphasizing each word and raising his voice to be heard above the sound of her increasing cries. "You had better take care of that precious fortune of yours for it is the only thing about you that holds any attraction. No man will ever give you a second look without it!"

Georgiana sat in a heap, flinching at each cruel, calculating insult as if they were physical blows until, unable to bear any more, she dropped her head to the floor in great racking sobs.

"You are a miserable, pathetic creature!" Wickham barked in contempt. "All I can say now is good riddance!"

He was turning to leave when the sound of a door opening down the hallway caused him to look up. Darcy emerged from the library and stopped. In one frozen moment, Wickham saw him take in Georgiana's crumpled form sobbing on the floor and then hurtle forward with a murderous roar.

Instinctively, Wickham ducked, jumping sideways just as Darcy reached for him. He shrank against the wall, his heart thudding. In the next moment, he lunged for the open door, only to have Darcy anticipate his action and slam it shut, cutting off his only immediate means of escape.

With a desperate, calculating look, he sprang for Georgiana. His grasping fingers brushed the edge her skirts before Darcy caught him from behind, grabbing his coat and throwing him forcefully back into the wall. The impact sent a blinding burst of light roaring through his brain. He had no time to protect himself before two crushing blows landed squarely in his mid-section, forcing the air from his lungs. He struggled for breath as the next blow caught him fully in the face, knocking his head back into the wall. A warm trickle of blood flowed down his cheek and over his rapidly swelling lip, bringing a salty, metallic taste to his mouth.

Wickham tried to fight back, swinging his fists sightlessly in the air, but found nothing. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he swung again, this time landing a glancing blow to Darcy's face which was immediately answered with another punch to his ribs. He tried to return the blow, but a sharp pain now stabbed at his chest with every gasping breath he drew. Darcy's fury rained down on him unchecked, and then one powerful blow struck the side of his head, making the room spin wildly as he slid down the wall.

Blindly, he raised his arms in a feeble attempt to fend off the relentless onslaught. Through the blackness, he heard a voice somewhere above Darcy's feral snarls. It was Denham, Darcy's valet. Somewhere in the darkness of his addled mind, Wickham smiled wryly to himself. For once, the servant's uncanny ability to interrupt at just the wrong time was of some use.

"Mr. Darcy! Sir, you must stop! You will kill him!"

Denham's cries went unheeded as Wickham felt the brunt of several more vicious blows.

"Please sir; no more – for Miss Darcy's sake. She needs you – terribly. Can you see what state she is in? Mr. Darcy!"

The assault ceased as suddenly as it had begun. After what seemed an eternity, Darcy's hold that had kept Wickham upright loosened and he slumped over. With a disgusted oath Darcy stepped back, panting heavily from his efforts.

"Get him out of here. Get them both out!"

It was then Wickham heard a swish of skirts and felt cool hands gently press a cloth to his swollen, bleeding face.

"George? George, can you hear me?" Ann Younge's frantic whisper filtered through the painful haze surrounding him.

"You had better hear me, the pair of you!" Darcy growled menacingly. "Neither of you will breathe a word of this to anyone. Not a single word. My sister's honor and reputation shall never be called into question. Do you understand? And if you ever attempt to profit from me or Georgiana again, I give you my solemn word that nothing – nothing – in this world will prevent me from finishing what I started this day! Now get out!"

Wickham moaned an unintelligible reply which quickly turned to a whimper and then a loud sob of pain as he was lifted to his feet and dragged to the back of the house, Ann's footsteps sounding close behind. With little ceremony, he was carried out the kitchen door and dropped next to the dust bin. He lay unmoving, feeling the effect of every blow Darcy had inflicted. Ann knelt beside him, murmuring encouragement as the door slammed loudly behind the servants and a stray cat, startled from her afternoon nap, hissed indignantly in their direction.

"It's all right, George, I am here," Ann's voice quivered with worry. "Come, let's get you to your rooms. You can't stay here in the alley."

"I don't think I can stand," he mumbled through swollen lips.

"Take my arm and I'll help you. There's a lad. Just a bit more and then I can support you."

Wickham struggled unsteadily to his feet, fearful at once that he might pass out from the increased pain brought on by the effort. Ann moved quickly to his side, sliding her arm gently around him. Once he felt her shoulder solidly beneath him, he took a tentative step; and then another, finally managing to limp blindly as she guided him forward.

The disheveled pair cautiously made their way through the back streets of Ramsgate. Every halting step brought excruciating pain. Wickham earnestly hoped to get to his rooms with little notice, but before they had reached the first street corner the shocked whispers and horrified gasps from everyone that passed left him in no doubt that his injuries and bloodied clothes were too much to be concealed. The public humiliation, however, was of little consequence compared to the keen mortification and growing anger he felt from Ann having witnessed his degradation.

At last reaching his rooms, he collapsed onto the bed utterly exhausted. The piercing pain in his ribs flared hideously with each labored breath he took and every inch of his body throbbed from Darcy's assault. Ann came with a basin of cool water and began gingerly washing the blood from his face and neck. Silently, he watched her through the swollen slits of his eyes and saw a grave concern glittering in her eyes. He began to wonder just how bad the damages truly were.

Once the worst was cleaned away, he demanded a mirror. After some persistence, Ann reluctantly handed one over. Peering intently at his reflection, he carefully examined the damage. His entire face was already purpling and swelling; there was a large cut on his lip; and both eyes were already blackened. Admittedly, he was a gruesome sight, but he knew that most of it would heal without any lasting effects.

His main concern was a deep gash across his left cheek; most probably from the ring Darcy always wore. The bleeding had finally stopped, revealing an open, half crescent cut just below his eye. There was no doubt it would leave a permanent scar. How would he attract any young ladies with such a mark on his face? His dashing good looks had always been a very useful asset - and now it was one more thing Darcy had taken from him!

"It will heal," Ann murmured encouragingly. "With good care and a little luck, it will be small enough – "

"Enough for what?" Wickham spat bitterly. "Enough to not repulse you or any lady I approach? And then what?" He tried not to think of the disastrous ending to a beautiful plan, but his mind would not rest. "I nearly had it! If only Darcy had come one day later – one damnable day – I would have the girl's fortune and we would have been set for life."

"And we shall be yet," Ann crooned as she replaced the cloth on his forehead with a fresh one. "You are a very clever man, George. You will find a way, I am sure of it."

Wickham pressed his hand over hers, wincing at the movement. "I suppose you are right. I have always managed to use Darcy's weaknesses to my advantage. He may have won this time, but I assure you, it is not over yet – not in the least!"

I will never forget this humiliation, Fitzwilliam Darcy; nor shall you! he vowed silently. Gritting his teeth against the sting of Ann stitching his face, he directed the pain into his hatred for Darcy. By the time she had completed the task, he had found a renewed purpose in life.

"Pemberley's heir has foiled my plans for the last time," he muttered, lightly fingering the six tiny stitches on his cheek. "Somehow, some way, I will exact a most exquisite revenge if it is the last thing I ever do!"

Looking up from her ledger, Ann Younge eyed the red-coated officer entering her Lombard Street lodging house. A faint scent of the Thames wafted in on the warm spring air stirred by his arrival. Pensively, she watched him shut the door behind him and saunter casually toward the table where she sat. He was as handsome as ever in spite of the small crescent scar on his left cheek, the only remaining sign of the brutal beating he'd received from Fitzwilliam Darcy some eight months before.

An unconscious tugging at his coat sleeves brought a tiny smile to her lips and she thought of the roguish boy that had dared approach her, all those years ago in Derbyshire. His youthful adoration had been nothing but a source of gentle amusement to her at the time; but when he returned from his years at Cambridge a grown man, still adoring and strikingly handsome, the ten years' difference in their ages had seemed no impediment at all.

"It is high time you showed up," she chided with a gleam of mischief in her eye. "I was beginning to think you too busy for old friends."

Ignoring the unconvincing display of bad temper, Wickham slid his arms around her. "Ah, well, St. Clair's mother is a very accommodating hostess, you see. She has us attending every social engagement she can arrange during our ten days in town. Now that her woefully backward boy has finally emerged from his reticent shell – thanks to my expert tutelage, I might add – she is quite anxious to show him off to the cream of London society."

"Perhaps I should meet your protégé. I wager I could help him out of his shyness."

"He is not your type, my dear. The third son of an Earl, and a lowly lieutenant to boot, does not offer much prospect for an ambitious lady such as yourself. No more than a steward's son," he added teasingly. Drawing her into a side room, he claimed her hands with a kiss. "Did you miss me?"

"Stop that! I am a respectable landlady, you know. Besides, why would I miss a rake like you? I have plenty of gentlemen to keep me entertained."

"Perhaps, but none as devoted as I, you must admit."

"No, none as devoted as you," she agreed softly.

He pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck. "And I always shall be."

"Enough of that, dear boy!" Ann gently pushed against him. "You must tell me how you are doing in Hertfordshire. Has that freckle-faced ninny accepted you yet? Molly, was it? I image her ten thousand will go a long way to compensate you for such a plain bride."

Having been reminded of his latest failure, Wickham dropped his arms with an exasperated sigh.

"It was Mary, not Molly – and no, her watchdog of an uncle whisked her off before I could convince her to run away with me. Another stroke of bad luck. Now, I face all the expense of the wooing without the reward of the dowry; not to mention several debts of honor that must be paid on my return to Hertfordshire." His countenance darkened. "I never realized military men could be so unyielding."

"Only for you," she quipped.

"Yes, well, in any case, I have every expectation of a profitable return on young St. Clair by and by, just not immediate enough for my present difficulty. I was hoping you might be able to –"

"Not me, my love" she kissed his cheek and moved away. "I haven't a schilling to spare. I am barely one step ahead of the runners myself."

"I am sorry to hear that. You were my last hope," Wickham sighed thoughtfully. "I shall just have to find another way out of this one, but I haven't much time."

"Take heart. There is bound to be an unprotected girl with a fortune somewhere in London."

"Yes, I know; but it all takes so long; and I, for one, am sick to death of this endless grubbing. I want us to be together without the constant worry for our comfort," he sulked. "And someday – someday soon – I shall find the means to make it happen!"

"Yes, I know," she squeezed his arm then trailed her fingers down the length of it, "but even if you could, the whole thing would be a little difficult. You need a wife to get the money and you need the money to get me. Three in a bed is a little crowded, my dear, and very few wives would knowingly share you and her money with me. No, we would still be living in the shadows."

"Well, it would not be for long. Tragic accidents do happen from time to time. Mr. Younge was himself a newly married man when he met his fate, was he not?"

"Indeed he was! I am only sorry we were mistaken as to his wealth," she sighed a bit wistfully. "And so it falls to you to raise our fortunes, my dear Wickham. You will just have to make your way into society and find a girl ripe for the picking. You must not give up; for if you do, you allow Mr. King to triumph – and even Fitzwilliam Darcy for he foiled us first."

"Blast Darcy!" The effect of Darcy's name on Wickham was immediate. "Why could he not be more like his father? The old man was always easily persuaded to help me, even if I was the son of his steward. It was fortunate that his friendship for my father ran deep."

"Yes, I remember. His extraordinary kindness to you was astonishing to the whole neighborhood. Did you ever discover the source of his attachment?"

"No. My father would never answer the question. I often wondered if it had something to do with their time in India. Whatever it was, he took it to the grave."

Wickham's simmering resentment boiled over with the well-worn thought of life's unfairness, and he wondered anew if either gentleman or steward had ever considered the fate to which they had consigned him – an ethereal half-life in the shadow of Pemberley's heir, tasting but never possessing any of the claims to Darcy's prosperous and privileged world. His hand rose automatically to finger the pale pink crescent on his cheek.

"From the moment of the old man's death, my dealings with Pemberley have been laced with disappointment; though I guess I should not be surprised, given Darcy's resentful nature. I saw it in him even as a boy."

"I suppose after last summer, there is no hope of a reconciliation," she said more to herself than Wickham.

"None at all. After Ramsgate, Darcy has refused to even acknowledge my existence. My best chance now is with the St. Clairs; and I have but a fortnight to make the most of it."

"I have every confidence in you, George," Ann touched his face encouragingly. "Our plans did not succeed with Georgiana Darcy nor Mary King, but there are others. And should you need my assistance with a young lady again, let me know. I am always happy to be of service."

Wickham surveyed the flurry of activity in the theatre seats below his box, seeking relief from the tediousness of the evening. Thomas St. Clair sat nearby, giving dutiful attention to his mother's opinions on Mozart's newest production. Opera was not Wickham's favorite pastime, but he recognized the importance of some proficiency if he was to find acceptance in society. Suddenly, Lady Gladston's questions called his attention back to the conversation.

"Tell me, Lieutenant Wickham, what is your opinion of Herr Mozart's latest offering? Is it to your liking?"

"It is only the first act, but I find I like it very well, madam," he replied assiduously.

"I am so glad you do. Thomas has never truly acquired a taste for opera, but I commend him for his effort. He is often…"

Wickham pasted a charming smile on his face as her words faded into the back of his mind. Normally attentive to even the most tiresome company, he now found the conversation overshadowed by his growing discomfort with the seating arrangements. Already he was miserable and there were two more acts yet to sit through. The St. Clairs were not large people and the furnishings of their theatre box did not readily accommodate a frame of his proportions.

He shifted slightly, attempting to find a more tolerable position, and casually leaned forward in his chair. Instantly, he was arrested by a familiar voice drifting in from the adjoining box. Intriguing bits of a conversation pulled him further as he strained to hear more. "…nephew is such a disappointment… should not forget what he owes to his family…".

Without a doubt, it was the distinctive voice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh; and she was definitely displeased! Since Wickham knew of only one nephew who could provoke such a passionate sentiment, the offending family member had to be Darcy.

Lady Gladston's voice momentarily intruded upon his thoughts. "But I have told him often enough, that he must if he is to find a respectable wife! So many young ladies these days…"

Wickham adjusted his smile and tried not to appear inattentive while he turned his real interest back to the conversation next door.

"…she is an impertinent country nobody….has taken advantage of my kindness…"

Wickham knew Darcy had always maintained a delicate relationship with his aunt, particularly after her sister, Darcy's mother, had died. Lady Catherine's overriding interest in her nephew from Pemberley was the expectation of his marrying her own daughter and his cousin, Anne. Impertinent was definitely not a word to describe Darcy's insipid cousin, so there was obviously someone else upsetting the old dragon's long-held expectations. What an intriguing bit of information!

"…scandalous connections…not to be borne…"

Lady Catherine's words became muffled and incomprehensible at that point, pulling Wickham forward as far as he dared with no success. Lady Catherine had moved out of his hearing completely. Disappointing, but he had heard enough to stir his imagination.

Wickham knew Darcy's annual habit of spending a few weeks at his aunt's estate in Kent. Apparently, this year he had also spent time with someone else! Is it possible Darcy developed an interest for a country miss right under Lady Catherine's nose! What a pity for Anne. But I wonder, who could this remarkable lady be?

Wickham's deliberating was abruptly interrupted when Mrs. St. Clair rose from her seat, motioning young Thomas to his feet as well.

"I should like to take in some fresh air before the next act. Thomas, you must come and meet Lady Beatrice's daughter. You will excuse us, Lieutenant?" Wickham happily made way for mother and son, grateful to be released from the pretense of being attentive.

Settling back into the hopelessly uncomfortable chair, he considered his newfound knowledge. It was intriguing, but not quite enough to be useful. He needed to know more. Mentally, he listed those who might be able to give him additional information.

He had been introduced to Lady Catherine's clergyman, his knowledge would be most helpful. And then there was Mrs. Collins, of course – formerly Miss Lucas; but neither acquaintance was so close as to allow him the liberty of addressing the intimate topic of Darcy's romantic affairs.

It was then he recalled the charming Miss Elizabeth Bennet, an intimate friend of Mrs. Collins. She had recently gone to Kent for a visit and doubtless would soon be back in Hertfordshire. Ah, yes! This was even better, for they had already shared several mutually agreeable opinions regarding Darcy's private affairs, not the least of which was his own sad tale of woeful mistreatment.

The delightful Miss Elizabeth had a keen sense of observation, and yet she was still as easily manipulated as any young woman he had encountered. Yes, she would be one who might have some knowledge. It was very likely she had seen him in Kent; and, having been in his company both in Hertfordshire and Kent, she would be in a perfect position to detect any changes in him. In fact, having been a full week in his company at Netherfield when her sister was so ill, she would be just the one.

Wickham rubbed his hands together with growing excitement. There was every chance she would be able to impart something of value! He reviewed the limited information he had collected so far, anticipating what Miss Bennet might have to add, when abruptly he shot upright in his chair – Can it be?

Wickham's mind flew to an astonishing possibility, immediately dismissing it at first and then returning to it again with amazement: could Miss Elizabeth Bennet be the lady in question?

He considered the evidence. Without a doubt, she had been in Darcy's company frequently enough for an attachment to form. By Lady Catherine's standards, Miss Elizabeth was unquestionably a "country nobody" with a family "scandalously connected" to trade. Wickham smiled to himself. And, yes, the unaffected, delightfully engaging manner of Elizabeth Bennet would most definitely be regarded as "impertinent" in Lady Catherine's eyes.

The sudden recollection of some long-forgotten gossip spurred his suspicions on. The day after the ball at Netherfield, Saunderson and Coburn had tried to make him feel some regret for his absence by describing the more interesting highlights of the evening, one being that the famously proud Mr. Darcy had actually deigned to dance with a lady other than his friend's sisters. Coburn had delighted in describing the wave of astonishment that swept the room when Darcy was seen dancing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

Intimately acquainted with Darcy's aversion to public dancing, Wickham knew the man's habit of participating only when forced by the dictates of civility. Yet, without any obvious dictates pressing upon him that night, Darcy had freely chosen to dance with Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed that Darcy had been motivated solely by a personal regard for the lady. Wickham's head wagged slowly at his utter failure to understanding the significance of the event until now.

The longer he thought on it, the more credible it seemed. How many times had he heard Darcy denounce insipid, artful women, whose only interests were fashion and gossip. What a contrast he would find in the independent thought and pert opinions of Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Yes, her quick wit and educated mind, her lively eyes and engaging manner, were exactly what Darcy would find irresistible.

Could it possibly be true? He knew Darcy always guarded his privacy with a passion and would never knowingly expose himself to talk of this kind. If his behavior in Kent had been so careless as to incite Lady Catherine's notice, then it must be true! His jaw dropping in amazement, Wickham let out a sudden burst of air. The conclusion was undeniable – Fitzwilliam Darcy did indeed have an attraction for Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

Wickham tensed with giddy anticipation, for he also knew Lady Catherine. If she was as unhappy as her tone had suggested, she would willingly pay a high price to prevent such a disgraceful attachment. What a most fortunate turn of events for him!

Wickham hurried out of the St. Clair's box, nearly falling over Thomas and his mother who were at that moment returning. With the briefest of apologies, he dashed off, returning only a short while later. In spite of the obvious curiosity at his sudden errand and the resulting high spirits, Wickham offered no explanation. With the proficiency of a practiced seducer, he skillfully diverted their questions with an engaging comparison of Italian and German operas. Their interest in his affairs was soon forgot and the remainder of the intermission was passed without any fear of the topic returning.

As the curtain rose on the second act, Wickham found his mind delightfully engaged as he contemplated his impending fortune – one large enough to relieve his present circumstances in Hertfordshire and also allow for a very comfortable living.

Settling back in a chair he no longer found uncomfortable, he smiled broadly in the dark. The events he had just set into motion would not only provide him with a comfortable financial arrangement, they would also bring a particularly delightful opportunity to give Fitzwilliam Darcy the excruciatingly painful disappointment he deserved!

Chapter 1

Feeling a pair of eyes upon her, Elizabeth Bennet looked up from the pages of her book and glanced around the fashionable London bookshop. It was a large establishment and a number of customers were browsing the stacks, but she detected no particular regard from any of them. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she returned to the volume in her hand; yet it was not another minute before her stomach knotted with the same, unmistakable feeling. Remaining very still, her eyes swept the room again, once more finding no cause for the disturbing impression.

Unable to completely dismiss the feeling, she finally approached Jane and suggested they end their shopping excursion. When Jane saw the troubled look on her sister's face, she immediately agreed. Quickly completing their purchases, they turned to leave. At the door, Elizabeth tucked her new book into the crook of her arm and gave the shop one last curious study before stepping out onto the busy street.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Fitzwilliam Darcy came out from behind one of the massive columns near the philosophy stacks. After watching Elizabeth and her sister leave the shop, he waited only a few minutes to be certain they would not meet, then left the bookseller's establishment as well.

"Home please, Harrison," he called to the coachman sitting atop the carriage as he entered the door held open by his footman. Settling into the soft, leather cushions, Darcy took a few deep breaths to calm the turmoil rising in his chest, and the driver flicked the matching grays into motion.

What is SHE doing in London? He sighed desperately to himself. This is impossible! It's not enough that she troubles my dreams every single night – now she must disturb my waking hours as well?

He looked out at the crowded streets, trying desperately to order his distracted thoughts. His heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw her again and he quickly snapped the curtain shut.

Ridiculous! He grumbled. I try to rid myself of these absurd thoughts by purchasing a new book only to have her materialize right in front of me, in the middle of the bookseller's shop! I can only be glad she did not see me! I do not know what I would have said to her. A smile played at his lips as he recalled the sight of her mystified look and the familiar arch of her brow which often appeared when she was piqued. But she is as beautiful and enchanting as I remember.

For one brief moment, he allowed himself the luxury of considering the extraordinary woman who had touched him in a way no one ever had. Elizabeth Bennet had been so irresistibly captivating that he, a man well-acquainted with bachelorhood, had wanted her for his wife, and offered himself in marriage.

Suddenly, Darcy bolted upright, trying desperately to push the thoughts back into the darkest corner of his mind; but it was too late! The self-indulgent moment breached the tenuous hold he kept on the painful memories and they came flooding back, bringing the hurt and humiliation of her words in excruciating detail.

"Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…"

The scathing censure washed over him, and he squeezed his eyes tightly against the image of her rising indignation; but the memory of her stinging words could not be stopped.

"Your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others..."

Every word she had pronounced surged against his heart until the bitter swell of her final, passionate declaration engulfed him entirely, twisting his face in abject misery.

"You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"

Unnerved at the sudden, violent emotions stirred by this chance meeting, Darcy fell back against the soft, yielding leather. What am I to do?! I had thought myself well on the way to forgetting Elizabeth Bennet until I saw her standing there. What is worse, her very presence accosted my senses long before my eyes ever beheld her. What a fool I am! She has rejected me completely, and yet I cannot help loving her still! Would that I could rip her out of my heart forever!

He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to regain control of his chaotic thoughts. As long as she lives, I shall be drawn to her. But she is not mine, nor ever will be, and I must find a way to reconcile my disappointment.

A ragged sigh fell from his lips as he struggled against the stark, painful reality threatening to consume his heart. I know I can put this behind me; I know I can! All I need is a little more time, but I cannot chance another near meeting like today until I am ready. It would be the end of me! I've got to leave London. I am for Pemberley first thing in the morning!

Heartened at last by a fixed course of action, he reached over and flicked open the curtains once again, taking in a deep, cleansing breath. I shall go to Pemberley, and I shall conquer this – I shall!"

Harrison soon brought the grays to a stop in front of Burnham House and Darcy emerged from his carriage resolved to banish forever all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet.

In the next moment, however, his newfound resolution was brutally crushed by the sight of Charles Bingley standing on his doorstep. It had been many weeks since their last meeting, but the span of time was instantly bridged by memories of Jane Bennet's downcast appearance and cruel treatment at the hands of Bingley's sisters. With thoughts of Jane Bennet, his tortured thoughts of Elizabeth reappeared. Would it never end? With a quiet, inner groan, he collected himself and stepped forward to greet his friend.

"Darcy! What luck! Jamison had just dashed my hopes by telling me you were out, and now here you are!"

"Indeed, Bingley. As you see. And to what do I owe the honor of this visit? I have not seen you since I went into Kent."

"I have come to get your advice…on a personal matter, if I may. I must be away today and have need of some counsel before I go. Have you time for me?"

"Of course! We can do it now, if you wish. Join me for tea, and we can discuss what is on your mind."
In short order, the two friends were settled comfortably in Darcy's study. Bingley busied himself with the assortment of sandwiches and cakes on the small table that stood between them as Darcy held only a cup of very strong coffee and observed his friend with quiet concern.

Bingley's melancholy that had first appeared upon his return from Hertfordshire nearly six months ago, was showing a marked increase since their last meeting. Darcy could not overlook the empty smile on Bingley's face, nor could he dismiss the obvious absence of his friend's usually abundant affability. He had thought Bingley would recover soon enough from the encounter with Miss Jane Bennet, as had been the case with so many other young ladies before. Now witnessing Bingley's prolonged unhappy state, he acknowledged he could not have been more wrong.

Still a bit unnerved from his encounter at the bookseller's shop, Darcy drew a slow, steady breath. An uncomfortable heaviness was slowly growing in his chest. The day, not half over, was looking more dismal by the hour. He dearly hoped Bingley's "private matter" was not one of the heart. His friend's ill-concealed wretchedness was proof enough that he had caused more damage than he cared to admit, and he certainly did not wish to be drawn into that hazardous territory again.

Darcy had thought to do Bingley a great favor by saving him from an unequal affection, but Elizabeth's passionate discourse on that subject had altered his opinion. Her vehement words in Hunsford, bitterly condemning his assessment of her sister's reserved nature as cold and mercenary, was compelling evidence that Bingley had not been the only one made miserable by Darcy's interference. Elizabeth had declared her sister's feelings to be every bit as engaged as Bingley's; and who would know Jane Bennet's heart better than her own sister?

Darcy's mouth pressed into a thin line. In truth, Bingley's case was not one of unequal affection. Jane Bennet loved Charles; and therein lay the difference between Bingley's misery and his own. In his own case, Elizabeth's declaration of "so immovable a dislike" had made her feelings painfully clear. She had not the slightest affection for the him.

The heaviness in Darcy's chest was becoming unbearable. Honor demanded that he confess his role in separating the two lovers; yet he resisted, knowing it could very well break the friendship he and Bingley shared. Charles was one of a very select group with whom Darcy could truly feel at ease and speak his mind, and he did not want to lose that.

Fighting down the urge to retreat from the obligation, Darcy steeled himself. It must be done. He would not keep his unhappy friend ignorant of the possible joy a return to Netherfield could bring.

"Darcy, have we not been together since the middle of March? You must tell me what you have been doing. What of your visit to Rosings Park - is your family in good health?"

"Yes, they are in good health. The visit this year was somewhat more difficult than I anticipated, but it is an obligation I bear willingly."

"Ah, yes. I see. Your aunt continues her campaign for you to wed your cousin, then?" Bingley's voice held a hint of despair, for it was obvious any thoughts of marriage brought a painful reminder of his own misfortunes.

"The subject of marriage did arise once during my visit," said Darcy uncomfortably, "but that is a stone better left unturned. Charles, I am at your disposal. Tell me what business this is that calls you from London so urgently, and I shall endeavor to give my best advice. When we have finished, if you will permit me, I have something I wish to discuss with you."

"You have something you wish to discuss with me? I daresay, Darcy, you have my interest already!"

"Yes, I imagine I do; but it is for you to begin."

"Very well, then. Do you recall my cousin, John Ashworth, from Scarborough? He is – was – the only child of my father's sister, Aunt Celia."

"Yes, I recall you saying something about him after your last visit to the north. He was ill, was he not?"

"He was, for some time. The doctors did everything in their power, but were unable to effect a cure. The short of it is, he died last week."

"I am sorry to hear that. May I offer my condolences?"

"Yes, of course. I thank you; however, we were not close. I saw him but once a year. Still, being the nearest relative he has, his wife, Mary, summoned me at his passing. I have been in Scarborough these past three weeks trying to sort out his affairs. I am finding the task somewhat overwhelming."

"Is there trouble with the terms of his will?"

"No, not exactly. It is just that John's long illness left many things unattended at the factory. Mary managed to keep it going, but the receivables have not been called in. Her ready cash has been reduced to almost nothing and the creditors are at her door night and day. There is even talk of seizing the assets, so I must return as soon as possible to prevent it. Travelling back and forth to London to meet with my solicitor has been very inconvenient, to say the least; and I am in need of a competent attorney who is a good deal closer to Scarborough. I thought you might recommend a reputable firm in that part of the country that would suit my purpose."

"I can recommend an excellent one. Pemberley has a long-standing association with Sneed and Bybee of York. They have served us well since my grandfather's time."

Searching his desk for a moment, Darcy copied the directions and handed them to Bingley. His friend eagerly examined the sheet of paper before folding it and slipping it into his pocket with a pat to his chest.

"Thank you, Darcy. I am indebted to you. When my father died, I was too young to be of much use in settling his affairs, and I am completely bewildered with all the demands that seem to be flying at me. I will say I am glad to have a friend such as you; someone I can trust and on whom I can always depend, especially when it comes to this sort of thing! And now it would be my pleasure to return the favor. Tell me, what is it you wish to discuss with me?"

Darcy measured his friend, coming to the decision that the dreaded conversation should be postponed. He would not add to Bingley's worries just yet.

"From the experience of my own father's passing, I know that settling an estate can be very demanding. Given all you have to do and the urgency of your business, I would not think of burdening you further. It can wait for another day."

"Nonsense! You have always given me good advice and encouraged me in all my endeavors. What kind of friend would I be if I could not do the same for you?"

"Believe me, Charles, with all that you have in front of you, you do not need another thing to occupy your thoughts. It will keep until you have finished your business in the north."

"Darcy, I won't have you refusing my help if I can give it. Tell me what is on your mind; and if I cannot oblige you at present, I will acknowledge it. Come now - I insist!"

Seeing Bingley would not be persuaded otherwise, Darcy took a deep breath, eyeing his friend with some trepidation, and then began.

At the end of the account, Bingley sat motionless, staring at Darcy in open disbelief. As expected, it was a wretched beginning. Darcy looked away in embarrassment and absently studied the stitching on his boots. There was no more to say. Now he could only wait.

After some moments, Bingley's disbelief expanded into a singular show of quiet fury. Refusing to look at Darcy, his cool words were filled with a bitter accusation.

"Do you mean to tell me…she had been in London above three months…and no one…not even you…said a word?"

Shame and remorse filled Darcy's heart. He had allowed himself to be blinded by his own foolish pride and callous prejudice. He had betrayed his principles and wounded his friend deeply.

"Yes, my friend, I mean just that. I deeply regret my interference. It was presumptuous of me and I apologize most sincerely. I know now I was mistaken in judging Miss Bennet's heart. I was wrong in believing it would not be easily touched."

Steeped in resentment and the anguish of a festering wound laid bare, Bingley seemed not to hear Darcy's words. In another moment, though, their meaning finally penetrated his dazed senses and he narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Mistaken? Did you say you were mistaken?" He leaned forward with guarded interest. "What makes you say that?"

"I, ah…" Clearing his throat, Darcy shifted slightly in his chair. "Her sister, Miss Elizabeth, was visiting the wife of Aunt Catherine's parson, Mrs. Collins, at the same time as my visit to Rosings. I was in her company on several occasions and she was very much of the opinion that Miss Jane Bennet did, in fact, hold you in high regard."

Bingley's face brightened with a flash of hope that quickly died as doubt took its place. "Miss Elizabeth? Are you certain? Forgive my frankness, Darcy, but the two of you do not get on well at all. Why should she express such an opinion to you, of all people?"

"I am afraid I am not in a position to disclose the particulars as it involves a private matter; but you must believe me, Charles. There was an affection on Miss Bennet's side."

Bingley eyed Darcy suspiciously.

"I do not believe you!" he muttered impassively. "It has not been above six months that you convinced me she felt nothing for me! And now, after months of a most miserable existence, you tell me you were mistaken? I am sorry, but your word is not enough."

"I tell you, I could not have been more wrong when I said she had no particular regard for you. Six months ago, I did not fully comprehend her amiable temper, but I stand corrected." He sighed at the memory of Elizabeth's eyes flashing their disapproval. "I assure you, Miss Elizabeth was quite clear in expressing her sister's disappointment regarding you."

Try as he might, Darcy's assertions would not sway Bingley; and he knew it required the complete truth if Bingley was to be convinced of Jane Bennet's true affection. There was nothing left but for Darcy to confess everything, including his own reprehensible part in preventing the attachment.

Remorsefully, he recounted his involvement in Caroline's scheme to quit Netherfield and follow Bingley to London, leaving the Bennet family with the expectation that they would not return. He also confessed his knowledge of letters written, and particulars of the barely-civil visits between Bingley's own sisters and Jane Bennet when she was in London. He could not, however, bring himself to disclose the exact source of his knowledge regarding Jane's feelings, which was, of course, his disastrous proposal to Elizabeth.

At the conclusion of his account, he looked anxiously to Bingley whose motionless figure crumpled with a devastating comprehension of the abuse his sweet Jane had suffered these past months. A fresh wave of misery enveloped Bingley as he dropped his head into his hands, giving a low, mournful cry of despair that pierced Darcy to the very core.

Just as Darcy had feared, the revelation had shattered the steadfast faith and trust that marked their years of friendship. What had he done? Darcy drew several deep breaths, swallowing hard to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, but the effort only increased his misery. With clenched jaw, he fought against the tears now welling in his eyes until they no longer threatened to expose him. Bingley's dreadful silence pressed heavily on him.

At last Bingley spoke in a tone that was barely audible, "What must she think of me? I am undone!" He then sank once again into the gloom of his own private despair.

Darcy waited for Bingley's wrath to descend with well-deserved condemnation, but nothing came. The grandfather clock near the window marked the silence as his tortured mind searched desperately for a means of repairing the damage he had done. A possible remedy finally materialized and he seized it. He was hesitant of the outcome, but it seemed to be his only hope of spanning the awful chasm that had opened up between the two of them. Anxiously, he broke the excruciating silence.

"Charles…may I offer a suggestion?"

Laced with bitterness, Bingley's voice came from behind his hands, "You may, but I may choose to ignore it, given my success with your advice thus far."

Darcy sighed quietly at Bingley's response. It was stiff and formal, but it gave him hope that he had not lost the friendship completely! Encouraged by his friend's faint attempt at civility, he leaned forward, eager to make amends and assist Charles in securing a happiness he himself had no hope of obtaining.

"You could start by returning to Netherfield," Darcy began, then waited for a response. When there was only angry silence, he quickly finished laying out the entire plan for Bingley's consideration. "There are matters to attend to in giving up the place, and while you are there, you could make a few social calls. The society of your neighbors would afford an excellent opportunity to see if the lady's acquaintance may indeed be renewed. If you find it is too late – which I sincerely expect is not the case – then you simply close up the house and be gone. What do you say?"

Bingley lowered his hands to eye Darcy with bitter skepticism. "And you think that after what you have just told me of Jane's ill treatment these past months, I could dare to hope my return to Hertfordshire would be a welcomed event?!"

"Charles, I realize under the circumstances you may be somewhat reluctant; but would it not be better to undertake the matter directly and discover the lady's feelings for yourself? Should you endeavor to do so, I suspect you will find her regard to be quite the opposite of what you suppose."

"I do not know, Darcy. It has been so long, and so much has happened. I fear I have lost my chance for happiness with Jane Bennet."

"Then is there any more to lose by making the attempt? If you do not even try, consider this: Can you live with the endless misery of wondering what might have been had you acted differently?"

Too absorbed in considering the possibility of a second chance, Bingley failed to hear that very same misery manifested in Darcy's desolate tone.

With all his heart Darcy hoped his letter to Elizabeth had explained his family's connection to Wickham well enough to acquit himself of any offense in that quarter; and in particular, convince her that his own actions toward the man were justified.

His behavior in the matter of her sister and Bingley, however, could not be justified. Too late, he had come to realize the true nature of their affection for one another, and that knowledge made the arrogance and pride with which he had carried out and defended his actions all the more reprehensible. He had only himself to blame for his disappointment in love, but Bingley and Jane Bennet could not be blamed for theirs. That responsibility rested squarely on his shoulders.

The two men now sat side by side, each lost in their own melancholy memories of a particular Bennet sister – one man filled with hope and longing, and the other with loss and despair. Neither one had ever imagined their brief journey into country society would be the means of changing their lives forever, but it had indeed.

Bounding from his chair, Bingley suddenly broke the spell with an enthusiastic thump to its arm as he rose.

"I will do it! I shall return to Netherfield and try my luck. You are right, Darcy; it would be better to know her heart for certain than to go through life always questioning what might have been."

Darcy gazed happily at the enthusiastic expression beaming down at him. It was good to see his friend's heart finding its compass after months of aimless drifting. "I think you shall be pleasantly surprised," he affirmed. "When shall you go?"

"I shall leave directly. Far too much time has passed already!"

"It is good to see my impulsive friend restored once more! Perhaps I can help by contacting Sneed and Bybee and get things started for you in Scarborough while you are at Netherfield."

"Scarborough?! Bingley cried, at once crestfallen. "Blast, I almost forgot! I cannot go to Hertfordshire! Cousin Mary is desperate and I have promised to return without delay. That is why I am leaving London this afternoon. Oh, what am I to do?!" He paced the floor, muttering to himself. "Even if I were able to settle everything in a week or two, there are still the arrangements for opening Netherfield…and the staff. Uh! I cannot afford to waste another minute and this will all take far too long!"

"Perhaps Caroline, or even Mrs. Hurst could be of some help?" Darcy offered.

"Caroline?! After what you have told me, she is the last person that would hurry my return to Netherfield! And you know Louisa – where Caroline leads, she follows." The heel of Bingley's hand pressed tightly into his forehead. "This is impossible! If I am to have any luck with Jane, I must have as much opportunity as possible to be with her, speak with her – explain myself to her. The best chance of that is at Netherfield, but I obviously cannot extend an invitation without another woman in the house. It simply cannot be done. Like it or not, my sisters must come to Netherfield."

"What of Mr. Hurst? Will he be in the party as well?"

"No, not even if he was so inclined to venture back into Hertfordshire; which he has assured me he is not. He is in Bath, taking treatment for his gout, and expects to remain there two months at least." Bingley chewed his lip in frustration, trying to unravel his predicament. All at once, his face lit up with renewed excitement, and an peculiar sense of foreboding began to grow in Darcy's stomach.

"Darcy, you must assist me! I have to return to Scarborough and fulfill my obligations, but the business should only take a couple of weeks – three at the most. Once it is done, I should very much like to travel directly to Netherfield. Hurst's absence would require me to go to London to fetch Caroline and Louisa; but if YOU bring them to Netherfield, that would save me a week, at least!"

Darcy stared blankly into Bingley's expectant countenance. Travel to Netherfield? The gnawing in his stomach exploded into a vicious wrench at the idea of returning to Hertfordshire. He had planned to leave London to diffuse the anguish brought on by the mere thought of running into Elizabeth again, and now Bingley was asking him to go to the very place where he would see her at every turn, be frequently in society with her, and be expected to exchange empty courtesies as if nothing had happened!

Darcy considered the far-reaching effects of the venture. If Charles was successful and achieved a marriage to Jane Bennet, his close friendship would most certainly weave his life into the affairs of the entire Bennet family, including Elizabeth. His stomach tightened painfully. There would come that inevitable day when he would witness her marriage to another. Suffering such a moment was unthinkable, yet it would be unavoidable. There was nothing to be done for it.

He knew this first meeting would be the most difficult. At least he would have Bingley's affairs to occupy his time and most of his thoughts. Hopefully, Elizabeth would be too occupied with her sister's happiness to dwell on his past mistakes. It was an undertaking Darcy would have paid dearly to avoid, but the cost of Bingley's friendship was too great a price. He owed his friend whatever help he could give.

Fearing Darcy's prolonged silence would end in a rejection of the idea, Bingley pursued his argument, coloring slightly at his own boldness.

"Come, Darcy, I need your assistance. A long carriage ride with Caroli – that is, with my sisters -- is not very inviting, to be sure; but if I have a chance with Jane, as you seem to think, I must begin as soon as may be. The delay of coming back to London before going to Hertfordshire would add several more days and that just will not do! I must go directly and you must bring Caroline and Louisa. Surely you cannot deny me after all that has passed?"

Feeling the sting of Bingley's mild rebuke, Darcy reluctantly acknowledged that any refusal would be less than honorable. There was no other answer to give. Struggling to conceal the ache in his heart, he quietly replied, "I am happy to be of service, Charles."

As they discussed the details, Bingley's spirits climbed steadily with each decision, and before long he could not contain the grin created by the prospects that lay before him. His enthusiastic smile was matched with a clap of his hands as everything was at last decided.

"An excellent plan! I shall send a letter this afternoon for Mrs. Middleton to make ready."

Rising from his chair, he collected his things and addressed Darcy with an energetic bow. "And now, my dear fellow, I am off to inform my sisters of our arrangements."

Darcy let out a long, deep sigh as Bingley left Burnham House. It was done and the course was set. Walking to the window, Darcy observed the renewed hope in his friend's countenance as Bingley paused on the steps and sent a joyous salute his way. Returning the salute, he raised his hand to Bingley's departing figure. With all his heart he hoped that Jane Bennet loved Charles still.

"May you find forgiveness and understanding in Hertfordshire, my friend. May we all."

Chapter 2

Posted on September 8, 2009

Darcy nearly choked on his coffee when his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, swept unexpectedly through the door of his breakfast room, a helpless footman in her wake. Slowly setting down his cup, he rose, greeting her coolly, "Aunt Catherine. What brings you to London…and so early in the day?"

Wholly unaffected by his reference to the impolite hour of her arrival, Lady Catherine continued into the room undeterred. Seating herself next to him, her eyes flashed in alarm at what she saw before her. The letter he had just been reading lay open on the table next to his plate with the words To Hertfordshire, and a most beautiful young lady! scrawled across the page in Bingley's hasty hand. Darcy smoothly retrieved the letter, folding its contents away from her prying eyes, knowing she would have gladly read further had he allowed it. She sniffed disdainfully at his interference and met his gaze.

"This is not a social call, Nephew. I have come on behalf of the family to address a matter of utmost importance."

Darcy took a slow, deep breath. Conversation with his less than favorite aunt was trying at any hour, but to be plagued with her demands at so early an hour was almost beyond the pale. His disapproving glance to the hovering footman who had failed to prevent the intrusion gave way to a nod of acquiescence. He knew there were very few people, and certainly no servant, who could have any effect on her Ladyship when she was determined to have her way. The footman quickly bowed low and quit the room, leaving aunt and nephew to themselves.

Raising an inquiring brow, Darcy looked to Lady Catherine for an explanation, which she supplied almost instantly.

"I will come directly to the point. During your visit to Rosings this month past, you exhibited an unseemly amount of interest in the young ladies who were visiting at Hunsford Cottage – one in particular. I thought it merely an inconsequential amusement for you and the colonel; however, since your departure, I have discovered a shocking rumor concerning you and Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Her obvious expectation of a fervent and immediate denial was quickly dashed by Darcy's impassive silence.

"You show no surprise? Do you realize it is being assumed your connection to the lady is of an intimate nature? Of course not! You have so little experience with these kinds of things; but I am aware of her designs, and we must act quickly to universally reject such a notion. For her to circulate this absurd piece of fiction is outrageous! You must contradict this scheming, artful girl at once, particularly since it is well known that you are intended for Anne."

Darcy struggled to remain civil, his expression quickly hardening with suppressed resentment. The five years since his father's death had been spent circumventing his Aunt Catherine's single-minded efforts to bring him into marriage with her daughter, Anne. The time had finally come to acquaint Lady Catherine with the absolute certainty of her disappointment in the matter. She must know that his choice of wife would be expressly his own – and that it would not be Anne.

"As you speak of fiction, Aunt, I will first address the matter of my presumed engagement to Anne."

"Presumed? There is no question –"

"It is not my desire to cause you unnecessary grief," Darcy continued on without acknowledging the interruption. "In truth, I must own some of the blame for not speaking sooner; but I tell you now that Anne and I have long since settled this matter, and we neither of us have ever been inclined to favor the union."

"That cannot be! Your mother and I planned this union between you and Anne while you were in your infancy! Do you have no regard for the desires of your family? Would you dishonor your own mother's dying wish?"

"My mother's wishes have no part in this." He countered icily, his anger beginning to rise. "You are widely mistaken if you believe her to have shared the understanding you claim; however, you shall not be mistaken in my sentiments. There has never been an engagement between Anne and myself, except one of your own calculating design; and when I am of a mind to marry, I shall do so in the manner I see fit. My choice of wife will be just that – my choice. Though I would welcome the blessings of the family, they will not be a material point in my decision."

"You cannot be serious! Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Miss Elizabeth Bennet is decidedly beneath us! She is of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unsuited to a life at Pemberley. It is beyond belief that you would even consider she quit her sphere and aspire to such an elevation!"

Darcy's color heightened at Lady Catherine's words. Her insultingly arrogant attitude toward Elizabeth was an unwelcome echo of the sentiments he himself had enumerated in his disastrous proposal to her. Knowing his situation in society to be highly desirable, he had been confident any woman would eagerly accept him; and it was with that prideful expectation he had declared for Elizabeth. He shuddered inwardly at the memory. Was it any wonder she had refused him? All his wealth and status meant nothing to the one woman he felt was his equal.

His quiet answer to the offensive tirade was deceptively calm. "Again you are mistaken, Aunt. I am a gentleman and she is a gentleman's daughter, so far we are equal. I see no disparity should such an alliance be formed."

"I have had enough of this! You will tell me once and for all – are you engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

In that moment, Darcy would have happily forsaken all he had to truthfully answer his aunt with a "yes," but that opportunity had been lost.

"No. I am not engaged."

Lady Catherine's relief was palpable. "And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?"

"No, I will not. I will not constrain my right to choose with such a promise."

Lady Catherine rose from the table, forcing Darcy to his feet as well.

"This is insupportable! I must have your word on this. You are bound by claims of duty and honor. They forbid any such union! Would you disgrace your family?"

Darcy's face twitched with the strain of maintaining his civility. "Disgrace? Should Elizabeth Bennet ever acquiesce to marry me, I would consider it an honor."

"Darcy, I warn you; if you willfully act against the inclinations of all, do not expect her to be noticed by any of us."

"I have heard quite enough, Aunt! Now you must excuse me as I have pressing business that requires my attention. Allow me to show you out."

"Heaven and Earth! – what are you thinking?" she cried indignantly, as he took her arm. "I had supposed to find you reasonable; but I have been thoroughly disappointed! Am I to believe you are resolved to have this country nobody?"

"I am resolved only to act in that manner which best suits my desires, not yours. I have nothing further to say on the matter. Good day, Aunt. "

Upon reaching the door, Darcy opened it swiftly with a terse command for the footman to escort Lady Catherine to her carriage.

Stiffening at the young man's attempt to assist her, she turned an angry countenance to Darcy. "I am most seriously displeased and I am by no means finished; you may depend upon it!"

Darcy's inflexible silence and stony expression did nothing to assuage her fury. Pushing aside the footman, she stormed down the hallway and out of Burnham House, muttering viciously, "You have made your choice, Nephew. Now I shall make mine!"

The avenue was nearly deserted as the elegant chaise-and-four slowly made its way around St. James Park. Within the equipage, Lady Catherine de Bourgh huffed with irritation. This was the second time in as many days that she was being forced to yield to another – something she was not accustomed to in the least. She would have refused the meeting entirely had it not held such alluring possibilities. A meeting with the devil himself would be endured if she thought it could bring Darcy to his senses!

Forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hand, Lady Catherine sniffed delicately and looked out to the green expanse of lawn. The slow, peaceful pace she had instructed the driver to follow only agitated her irritation.

"What is the hour?" she demanded, giving a sharp rap of her cane on the carriage roof.

Startled by the sudden outburst, the coachman quickly consulted his pocket watch. "Five past nine o'clock, m'lady."

Exasperated, she opened her mouth to order they leave at once, then snapped it shut as she spied the tall figure she had been waiting for striding across the lawn in her direction. Immediately, she ordered her driver to stop, allowing the young man to quickly close the distance.

She sniffed again as he neared. It had been several years since she last saw George Wickham, but he had not changed in essentials. The young upstart still had a look of inferior quality and lacked a certain air in the manner of his walk. He was not the sort of man she was in the habit of engaging, and she would not have condescended to this audience at all had Darcy been more accommodating.

This was yet another unpleasant duty forced upon her by the impudence of Elizabeth Bennet. Yesterday's failure to secure Darcy's assurances against any alliance with the scheming little fortune hunter had forced her hand. Lady Catherine's fingers absently toyed with the piece of paper lying in her lap. When Wickham's intriguing note had been delivered to her theatre box the night before, she had viewed it as a means of last resort; but now it was her only means of saving the family honor and Darcy from himself.

"You are late!" Lady Catherine snapped as Wickham entered the carriage.

"Yes, ma'am. I do apologize for my tardiness. The St. Clairs were quite attentive this morning and I did not think you would want any unnecessary notice drawn to our meeting."

"I do not want any notice at all, which is exactly why I am here! You have offered your services in a most impertinent way," she said, lightly waving his note in the air. "As a rule, I ignore such behavior for I am excessively attentive to that sort of thing. Fortunately for you, the offer was made in coincidence with the discovery of an especially vexing situation. One in which you may be of some use to me after all."

"I am very glad to hear that, Lady Catherine. I am at your disposal. What would you have me do?"

"You are a good looking young man, in a rough sort of way. I imagine you are attractive to many of the more common young women."

"I have been told my company is not unpleasant, my lady. Is there a purpose to your observations?"

"I merely wish for you to apply your persuasions in the direction of a particular young lady. One who should be no trouble at all for a man of your experience."

"You want me to seduce a young lady?"

"You may do whatever you like as long as her attention is distracted from Darcy. He has some how gotten himself entangled in the girl's scheming plans to marry him.

"Ah, yes. His attachment to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you mean? An interesting bit of news, wouldn't you agree?"

"How could you know her name?" Lady Catherine gasped in alarm. "The tongues have wagged more swiftly than I anticipated! That someone of your station should know of the particulars is beyond belief!"

"Your nephew's misplaced fascination is being viewed with great amusement all over town, madam. They are only whispers at present, but soon there will be no way of containing the humiliation. Unfortunately for you, when it is common knowledge, Darcy will be deemed a fool and your daughter, Anne, a jilted woman."

"This is intolerable! Miss Bennet's arts and allurements have made him forget what he owes to himself and his family. I have appealed to Darcy, but he has refused to do his duty. And now he makes ready to travel to Hertfordshire, doubtless to pursue this ruinous alliance! It must be stopped – for his own good. He must be made to see her for what she truly is!"

"Where persuasion fails, there are other methods that can be applied. For example, if he were to find Miss Elizabeth absent from Hertfordshire when he arrived, it would be impossible to pursue an alliance, would it not?"

"You can do this? You can keep her away from him?"

"I would be most happy to oblige," Wickham's mouth twisted into a smile. "Naturally, there would be expenses…"

"Yes, yes, of course; as long as you prevent them from meeting in Hertfordshire, or anywhere else. You must keep her away until my nephew has regained his senses, and I do not know how long that will be. Are you quite certain you can do that?"

"Quite certain. You say Darcy is preparing to leave London? I should like to make preparations as well; unfortunately, I find myself in an awkward financial position. Perhaps if you could advance a small sum…"

"Very well! I shall instruct my banker to have it ready this afternoon. For now, you shall be compensated for your time and all expenses; however, if you manage to make the separation complete, I am prepared to grant you an additional 10,000 pounds."

Wickham's eyes gleamed with anticipation at the mention of such a sum. Lady Catherine did not know or care the current state of his finances, but she did know that 10,000 pounds would be enough to set him up for life. With that sum at his disposal, he could do whatever he liked as long as it was in a very distant part of the country.

A satisfied smile crossed her face. A man like Wickham, driven by avarice and ambition, would be just the one to see her wishes carried out.

"Tell me, Mr. Wickham, what exactly do you propose to do?"

Wickham answered without hesitation, meeting her wicked smile with one of his own. "I believe I have a plan that will suit your ladyship's wishes perfectly."

Chapter 3

Mr. Bennet paced the floor as the clock in the hallway struck six o'clock, his agitation growing with each chime. Yet another feminine outburst sounded from above stairs, deepening his impatient scowl and provoking a small grumble. He could not abide being late. It was for this very reason he seldom ventured out into Hertfordshire society with his entire family. However, tonight was an exception. Sir William Lucas was hosting a dinner party to welcome Mr. Bingley back into the neighborhood. Mr. Bennet was not insensitive to the attention shown his daughter the last time Mr. Bingley visited Netherfield, and so for the sake of his Jane, he would go – that is, if his family could get themselves downstairs.

Above him, the ladies of Longbourn continued in a flurry of excitement. They had each met the extraordinary news of Mr. Bingley's unexpected return and the subsequent invitation to Lucas Lodge with varying degrees of concern.

Mrs. Bennet's excitement, as anticipated, was barely contained at the prospect of Mr. Bingley renewing his attentions to Jane, and she spent every waking moment devising a myriad of schemes to bring the two young people together. Her primary concern now was for how very fine her eldest daughter should look when they met again.

Mary's concern was that she had to go at all. Her unfortunate experience performing at Mr. Bingley's ball had created such a reluctance to venture into society that she nearly always preferred to stay at home with a good book. Tonight, however, her mother had declared that every Bennet would attend, and thus she reluctantly prepared for the ordeal.

It was no surprise that Lydia and Kitty's concerns were for nothing but fineries, ribbons, and lace. The invitation was merely another opportunity to enjoy themselves; and the fact that several favored officers would be in attendance only heightened their anticipation.

Jane had two concerns. The first was her mother's excessive attention to every detail of her appearance; and, the second was the endless whispers and sly glances she would have to endure while the whole room assessed her chances for Mr. Bingley's renewed addresses. For some time now she had endeavored to maintain an indifferent expression whenever the painful topic of Mr. Bingley was discussed. That feat had been difficult enough; but now that the man himself had come, she was not entirely certain she would succeed in her efforts.

Elizabeth's concern was for an entirely different reason. While she was happy for Mr. Bingley's return, she also knew that Mr. Wickham was among the officers invited to Lucas Lodge. Lydia's recent teasings that Mr. Wickham now preferred her own company above Elizabeth's had stirred some apprehension, especially in light of Mr. Darcy's account of the gentleman's misdeeds.

In the few weeks since her return to Longbourn, Elizabeth had succeeded in avoiding Mr. Wickham's company altogether. Now she would be forced to share the same room with him for an entire evening. The only redeeming feature of the dreaded affair would be the chance to observe Wickham and Lydia together and determine whether the attraction was factual or idle boasting. Any particular attention to a girl of fifteen such as Lydia, by a man at least ten years her senior, would certainly be cause for alarm.

Elizabeth's sense of justice cried out to expose Wickham for the scoundrel he was, yet she could not. Although Mr. Darcy had entrusted her with details of the villain's despicable acts against the Darcy family, astonishingly in spite of her impertinent words at Hunsford, he had not given permission to make public such intimate knowledge -- nor was he likely to. She could not reveal the smallest part of Wickham's deceit to anyone; it was not to be done.

"Jane, prepare yourself," Elizabeth murmured cheerfully as she gazed over her sister's shoulder. "Mr. Bingley is coming this way!"

"It is possible you are mistaken, Lizzy. There are others in this part of the room as well, you know."

"Yes, but he is not looking at the others. He is looking at you! He has not taken his eyes off you since we arrived. He looks a bit hesitant, but I would wager he is eager to speak with you."

"Truly?" Jane struggled to keep her rising panic from showing. "Oh, Lizzy, I cannot do this. I thought I would be able to face him, but I cannot!"

Elizabeth's reassuring hand shot out, catching Jane before she could escape. "Yes, you can. I have the feeling this will all turn out very well; but in any case, I shall stay by your side for as long as you need me."

Her hand remained on Jane's arm as Mr. Bingley neared. Hoping to ease the awkwardness of the moment, Elizabeth stepped forward with a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Bingley, how delightful to see you back in Hertfordshire! Is it business or pleasure that brings you back to the neighborhood?"

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet. It is good to be back. So very good! I have come on some business, but I hope to spend some time renewing old acquaintances as well. Some time…I hope."

Bingley's silent appeal to Jane for a sign of encouragement was rewarded with a small, diffident smile. It was a beginning!

Elizabeth cheerfully commented on the weather and amused Mr. Bingley with tidbits of neighborhood news until Jane felt strong enough to venture some remarks of her own. In a very short time, the two were conversing comfortably enough that Elizabeth made her excuses and left them alone. Walking away, she could not help smiling for Jane. From the looks of it, Mr. Bingley did indeed intend to renew old acquaintances!

At the announcement of dinner, Mr. Wickham moved in Elizabeth's direction only to be diverted by Lydia laying claim to his arm. Casting an enigmatic glance in Elizabeth's direction, he allowed himself to be pulled into the dining room. While Elizabeth had no wish to be in his company, her sister's flirtatious manner was fast becoming an object of great concern.

Her troubled thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Bingley approached with Jane firmly established on one arm, and offered to escort the two sisters into dinner. Coming to the table, Elizabeth worried that she would be forced to make polite conversation with Wickham during the courses, but she soon found her place far enough from him so as to make any conversation impossible.

Happily, Lydia's place was also at a distance which prevented conversation with Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth was quite pleased with the arrangements until she observed that they were not sufficient to prevent Lydia from catching Wickham's eye and sending him a mischievous smile.

After the meal was cleared away, the gentlemen remained for brandy and cigars while the ladies withdrew to the salon. Elizabeth persuaded a reluctant Mary to play the piano-forte and an unobtrusive melody filled the room as the ladies talked of fashion and neighborhood affairs, Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield being the favored topic.

When the men rejoined the ladies, Elizabeth observed Mr. Wickham's veiled attempts to single her out. More than once, she bit back a smile when his efforts were thwarted by Lydia's sudden demand for attention. Changing her position whenever necessary, Elizabeth purposely maintained a comfortable distance from the only man in the room she wished to avoid.

Moving away from him once again, she joined Sir William and Lady Lucas in their conversation with Colonel Forster. Sir William was enthusiastically describing his most recent experience at court when Elizabeth's gaze drifted to Jane and Mr. Bingley seated in a corner of the room, their heads bent in private conversation. The sight gave her pause. What did Mr. Bingley's presence in Hertfordshire signify? If Mr. Darcy takes such prodigious interest in Mr. Bingley's affairs, surely he knows of the return. Could it be Mr. Darcy has reconsidered his interference and has encouraged his friend to this present course?

She owned that she had been so very wrong about Mr. Darcy! Her cheeks flushed with the memory of how Mr. Wickham had skillfully employed his charm and good looks in such a way that she had eagerly accepted his attentions and his stories without question. The malicious account of ill-treatment at the hands of a prideful Mr. Darcy had been especially satisfying as it had served to give substance to her own pronouncements against the man's character.

The truth of the matter now pricked her conscience and Elizabeth came to a grave realization. Perhaps she would have allowed for Mr. Darcy's pride had not her own been wounded by him. Her pride, obscured by faulty conviction, now lay exposed in its true nature. Until this moment, she never knew herself, and she acknowledged that her existence had been profoundly altered by this man whom she thought to never see again. Oddly, this reflection brought a sad, puzzling tug to her heart.

Forcing her attention back to Jane's plight, she very much wanted to believe - hoped, even – that a goodness on Mr. Darcy's part was the reason for Mr. Bingley's return. Carrying that thought to a logical conclusion, her eyes widened in alarm. Was Mr. Darcy here as well?!

"Sir William," she blurted suddenly as he paused in his animated narrative. "I beg your pardon, but I wonder – has Mr. Bingley told you of his plans? Will he be long in the neighborhood?"

"Oh, that I cannot say for certain. However, he did say he had some pressing business that may take a little time."

"And has he brought his entire party back to Netherfield?" she asked tentatively.

At this, Lady Lucas was happy to add her knowledge to the conversation. "He is come alone at present; but we look forward to the pleasure of his sisters' company at tea next week, for they are to come with his friend, Mr. Darcy, in a few days' time."

Elizabeth's fleeting relief turned to alarm at the news of the impending arrival. She felt herself growing warm as the blush returned and deepened noticeably.

"Miss Eliza! Is something wrong? You look very ill, indeed!"

"No, Sir William. I mean, yes! I am fine. I just…it seems a little warm in the room. I am sure a little fresh air is all I need."

"Shall I send for your mother or father to assist you?"

"No, please! I am quite all right. I just need some air and I shall be right again in no time!"

Elizabeth escaped to the terrace and leaned against the low stone wall that overlooked the expanse of lawn beyond. It took several deep breaths before she could begin to calm her racing heart, and then she sighed miserably. Oh, why did I not comprehend the full implication of Mr. Bingley's return? Of course he would have Mr. Darcy with him! This is impossible! I cannot possibly think to greet him with any composure! Conflicting sentiments waged war within her heart. I am happy for Jane that Mr. Bingley has come back, but I cannot bear to think of facing Mr. Darcy! Will he even abide my company after I spoke such hateful words to him?

Standing in a pool of moonlight, the soft rays illuminated each emotion as it crossed her face. Happiness, sadness, hope, despair…such a jumble of feelings! What was she to do?

The overwhelming distraction of her thoughts obscured the approaching footsteps until it was too late. Before she could turn away, Wickham was beside her, the soft tenor of his voice belying the annoyance she had seen on his face all evening.

"You are looking quite lovely this evening, Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Wickham, you startled me! I think it unkind of you to intrude upon my solitude."

"I had not thought the intrusion unwelcome. We have had many pleasant conversations together, have we not?"

His question brought to Elizabeth's mind the many reiterations of his woeful misfortunes inflicted by Mr. Darcy. Misfortunes indeed! Wickham's true character was now exposed, if only to her, and she was determined to have nothing more to do with him.

"Mr. Wickham, I beg you would excuse me. I must return to the party."

"So soon? You have only just come out."

"I came out to get some fresh air, which I have now done."

Elizabeth took a step forward, but Wickham moved at once to block her way.

"I require only a moment of your time," he said, flashing a charming smile which was no different than any she had seen before, but something in his look caused her to shiver in spite the warm summer air.

She stepped back, gaining some comfort in the distance, only to have Wickham move in again, a disconcerting smile on his lips. Silently she chided herself for letting her guard down and allowing him to catch her like this. A slight breeze stirred ominously, making his nearness all the more unnerving, but she refused to be intimidated. Gathering her courage, she met his look with cool indifference.

"What is it you wish to say, Mr. Wickham?"

"I understand you were often in Mr. Darcy's company during your recent visit to Kent."

"I was."

"And did you find him much changed? Is your opinion of him still what it was when last we met?"

"No, Mr. Wickham, I did not find him changed at all. As to my opinion, I have found that, contrary to some, Mr. Darcy improves upon closer acquaintance."

Wickham's smile broadened a bit at her reply. "Yes, I thought as much."

The two were silent as another breeze blew through the foliage of a nearby elm and then swirled down and around the pair, tugging at Elizabeth's dress. She frowned, wondering where the conversation was going.

Wickham looked as if he was about to speak again when Lydia's loud laughter suddenly drifted out from the crowded drawing room and his eyes flashed mischievously.

"Your sister, Lydia, is quite outspoken in her enjoyment of life, is she not?"

"I cannot say. There are many girls of fifteen who enjoy life in a high-spirited manner."

"I must say that I find your sister's high spirits very pleasing. Yes, very pleasing, indeed."

His evocative tone sent fear and alarm coursing through Elizabeth's veins. These were not the words of a gentleman, and they were adding a sickening reality to Mr. Darcy's account of Wickham's vile character. His close proximity was suddenly more than she could bear and she took a small step back, colliding with the rough, unyielding surface of the wall behind her. She was trapped! Her heart raced with a new fear. He had already blocked her once from returning to the house. There was no easy means of escape, unless he chose to allow it.

Again laughter was heard, this time from two young ladies seeking relief from the heat of the drawing room. With a muttered oath, Wickham stepped back as the girls came into view. Giving them an especially charming smile, he tipped his head in acknowledgment and received a cascade of nervous giggles in reply.

Relief flooded Elizabeth's strained senses and she released the breath that had caught in her throat at his last words. Regaining some of the spirit Wickham's nearness had drained from her, she met his gaze with an icy stare.

"I do not know your meaning, sir; nor do I care to. I believe this conversation is at an end!"

"I had not reached my point; but perhaps you are right. It is at an end for now. Shall we return to the party?"

He offered his arm, which she reluctantly took, and led her back inside where he promptly released her when Lydia called to him from across the room. Leaning close as he moved away, he breathed a parting whisper into her ear, "Another time then."

Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips and bent her head to cover the shudder that shot through her body at the intimate gesture.

Wickham leisurely walked away in the direction of Lydia's laughter, clearly unhappy that he had not accomplished whatever his purpose had been. Joining the group of officers now entertaining Lydia and Kitty, Elizabeth watched as Lydia immediately pressed him for a dance. He willingly obliged and took his place in the line, looking one last time at Elizabeth before turning his full attentions to his partner.

Across the room, Jane sent her sister an enquiring gaze, looking quickly to Mr. Wickham and then back again. Elizabeth promptly dismissed Wickham's unsavory gesture with a roll of her eyes and an amused smile.

On the inside, Elizabeth did not feel the least bit like smiling. A cold dread began to settle in the pit of her stomach, giving an urgency to the desire for her sweet Jane's advice. She had to tell someone of Wickham's true character, and Jane's calm, even-tempered opinion was just what she needed to sort things out. Again she glanced at the happy couple who were still deep in conversation. She could not disturb Jane now. There would be time in the morning.

"Lizzy, why are you standing there with such a long face?" Lydia demanded as she poured herself a cup of punch. "You should be dancing like the rest of us! I shall even let you dance with Wickham if you promise not to take him off again."

"I thank you, Lydia, but no. I have no wish to dance with Mr. Wickham or anyone else at the moment."

"Well, I wish you would just once. Then you can answer all his silly questions."

"Questions?" Elizabeth stiffened in alarm. "What sort of questions?"

"Do I think you will be walking to Meryton tomorrow…do you often accompany Kitty and me…that sort of thing. Really, Lizzy, you had your chance with him; now it is my turn. It is unfair of you spoil it for me."

"I can promise you, Lydia, that I have not the slightest interest in Mr. Wickham. I do my best to avoid his company, and I think you would do well to follow suit."

"La! You are just jealous!" Lydia quipped, finishing her punch with alacrity. "Just you wait and see, I shall hold on to him much better than you ever did! I must go now. He is waiting for me!"

Elizabeth frowned at her sister's departing figure. Something had to be done to separate Lydia from Wickham. It was obvious she would not willingly give him up, but his dishonorable nature was becoming more apparent and it would not be long before any family connected with him would be censured and despised. It would not do to ruin Jane's chances again.

She had to find a way to convince her father of the danger to them all brought on by Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner. It was crucial that he check her exuberant behavior now or she would soon be beyond the reach of amendment. A fresh outburst of raucous laughter erupted from the group of officers surrounding Lydia and Kitty, underscoring Elizabeth's thoughts.

I will speak to Father as soon as I return from my walk in the morning. Lydia's behavior must be checked at once before it destroys Jane's happiness forever!

Chapter 4

The morning sunlight filtered through the small window of the officers' quarters, bringing George Wickham awake with a jolt. What time is it? Peering at the ebony mantel clock, he scrambled from his bed. I've got to hurry! Fortunately his companions were still deep in slumber, compliments of the large quantities of wine punch Sir William had served the night before. He did not need any prying eyes or curious questions this morning. Dressing quickly, he slipped silently out into the cool, quiet morning.

It was an ungodly hour for him, but necessary if he was to succeed. Moving swiftly through Meryton's deserted streets, he shook off the last vestiges of sleep; but he could not shake off the growing desperation brought on by Lady Catherine's recent communication. "Your failure to improve the state of my nephew's health as promised is a great disappointment. I expected more to be done by now. I shall not recompense a physician who cannot cure. Should you desire my continued patronage, you will give proof that my nephew is rid of this malady once and for all, with no chance of it ever returning."

Wickham smiled to himself. Darcy was about to be cured of his "malady." There was one last detail to finalize and his plan would be set. Elizabeth Bennet had slipped through his fingers last evening; but she would not do so again. Failure at this point was not an option. Wickham accelerated his pace, eager to secure his future. He would need to reach Pettigrew's Meadow before Elizabeth if he was to gain the advantage.

Approaching the meadow, Wickham slowed his pace and began scanning the wide glen for his quarry. Lydia had been more than cooperative in providing information regarding her sister's habits. He did not know the exact location, but he knew this meadow was her destination of choice. His gaze swept the wide expanse several times without finding any sign of her, but he was not giving up so easily. Selecting a spot that would conceal his presence while still giving a clear view of the entire meadow, he settled in the shade of a large split birch and waited.

Feeling secure from the world, Elizabeth lay on a soft bed of grass, absently picking at the wildflowers in her hand. The ominous feeling that had been her companion since daybreak pressed a crease in her brow. She was stunned at Mr. Wickham's intimidating conduct exhibited the night before. Mr. Darcy's account had warned her of Wickham's true nature; but to experience it first hand was an unsettling experience. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of his menacing nearness and her frown deepened in contemplation.

Wickham was a man of some intellect, and also one who needed to make his own way in the world. Were his intentions toward Lydia honorable? He must know there would be no fortune in marrying her. Surely he would not trifle with Lydia knowing she is not without friends, yet. . . She could not bear to consider the possibility his words had implied.

At least there was one bright spot in all this. Her face softened at the thought of Jane and Mr. Bingley. In spite of all the misery they had suffered, she was very hopeful they would find the happiness they deserved.

Sighing wistfully, she laid back with closed eyes, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and wishing for the carefree days of her childhood. The past twelve-month had turned her life into a hopelessly complicated muddle. If only she had not overheard Mr. Darcy's careless remark to Mr. Bingley at the assembly, or had she been less swayed by Mr. Wickham's charms and good looks, or perhaps been more willing to acknowledge Mr. Darcy's attempts at civility when he danced with her at the Netherfield ball. There were any number of seemingly insignificant instances where the slightest change would have made the present so very different. What a fool she had been!

Re-examining the impromptu bouquet she had gathered on her walk, she inhaled deeply, allowing the fragrant blooms to dispel the melancholy that had crept into her thoughts. She could not do anything about the past; but she could do something about the present. She could prevent Mr. Wickham from destroying Lydia's reputation and that of the entire family.

Rising slowly, Elizabeth brushed at her skirt, considering what to say to her father. The resolve to speak to him as soon as she returned was edged with doubt. Through the years, her admiration for him had been moderated by his inclination to avoid anything troublesome. The unwillingness to stand by his convictions in the face of opposition was a weakness Elizabeth tried hard to overlook; a weakness she was certain would now be tested by her mother's blind eye to the faults of a man in a red coat.

Squaring her shoulders, she drew a deep, fortifying breath from the solitude of her much-loved sanctuary then turned to make her way back home.

Elizabeth moved slowly toward the split birch that marked the edge of the meadow, too deep in thought to be aware of the eyes that followed her progress. Coming out from the thick underbrush into the meadow, she was startled to see the very subject of her thoughts materialize in front of her.

"Mr. Wickham!" she cried, quickly covering the panic she felt with a lift of her chin.

"Miss Bennet, what a pleasant surprise!"

"A surprise indeed; but to say it is pleasant is a matter of opinion," she replied coolly and stepped back, remembering the unpleasant experience of the night before.

"I consider it very fortunate we should meet."

"And I consider it peculiar that we should meet at all at such an early hour."

Wickham flashed one of his most charming smiles. "Very well, then, I confess. I have purposely sought you out. We need to finish the conversation we started last evening."

"You, sir, have wasted your time in discovering my habits and coming all this way. I have nothing further to say to you, and I pray you do not importune me any further."

Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth spun away and started across the meadow.

"It is unfortunate our little meeting on the terrace was interrupted before I had the opportunity to fully explain myself. I have a proposal to offer."

Wickham's astonishing words stopped her in her tracks and she turned back to him, staring in disbelief. "A proposal? Surely you do not mean marriage?"

"No, I am not speaking of marriage. Quite the opposite, in fact. I offer you freedom from that obligation which, given your recent experience, you seem to dislike very much."

Elizabeth's temper flashed. "Mr. Wickham, it is fortunate you do not speak of marriage, for I fail to see where my interest in matrimony should concern you; especially in light of your obvious partiality for my sister."

"Your sister? Lydia? She has nothing to do with this; at least not at present. My proposal refers to an opportunity for independence. Specifically, I offer you a most advantageous position with an acquaintance of mine. He is a respectable gentleman of good family who lives in the north. He has the care of a young ward who is preparing for her bow and he seeks another young lady of your age and station as companion to her. It is an excellent opportunity. It would free you from any difficulties with your mother should you wish to refuse any additional offers of marriage in future."

The whole neighborhood knew of her rejecting Mr. Collins; but she could not help wonder if by some strange occurrence Mr. Wickham knew of Mr. Darcy's offer. If he did, it made his appalling proposal all the more offensive. Barely able to control her mounting indignation, she faced him.

"How dare you, sir! You would stand in my father's place? My wedded status, or lack of it, is none of your concern. Above that, I am a gentleman's daughter, and for you to suggest that I accept employment is a contemptible interference!"

Wickham only smiled. "I am sorry you feel that way. I thought perhaps a young lady of independent spirit would welcome an opportunity to have independent means."

"You are greatly mistaken, Mr. Wickham. I have no desire to be independent in such a way. Furthermore, your behavior gives me liberty to relate my true feelings in this matter. I do not like you. From the moment I was informed of your true character, I realized you have taken every advantage of our hospitality and used us all very ill. The manner in which you forced yourself upon me last night and again this morning has given proof to the ungentleman-like sketch of your character. I have nothing further to say. Good day, sir!"

Wickham's smile flattened into an inflexible line as he moved swiftly, reaching out and capturing her wrist in a crushing grip.

"I pray you stay one moment." The tenor of his words betrayed his impatience. "I had hoped to appeal to your sense of independence; but I see you require additional persuasion to fully comprehend the advantages of my offer."

Wickham's brutal intimidation gave rise to Elizabeth's courage. His painful grasp warned her that any display of weakness could prove disastrous.

"You will release me, sir! There is nothing you could possibly say that would tempt me to accept such an offer!"

"Ah, that is where you are greatly mistaken," he replied serenely. "You will recall our conversation last evening and how much I have enjoyed your sister Lydia's company. Have you not wondered why?"

His leering words halted Elizabeth's attempts to free herself, an ominous foreboding gripping her heart. Wickham released his hold and she stood motionless, waiting for him to continue.

"I observe you are a most devoted sister. I take it that you would not wish any disgrace to come to Miss Lydia?"

"Do not play games with me, sir. What is your meaning?"

"My meaning is this," he responded lightly, "Miss Lydia thinks herself in love with me. It must be the uniform. Do you think? She does love a man in a red coat, you know. More importantly, she has professed that love quite eloquently."

"You cannot be serious if you think to ruin my sister's reputation! You cannot succeed. The word of our family against yours would certainly prevail!"

"It would not be my word at all, but your sister's own words that will ruin her." Smiling widely, he pulled a thick packet of letters from his coat and held them up for Elizabeth to see. "She has been very generous - and might I add explicit - in her affection for me. Here, you may examine one for yourself."

Elizabeth took the letter he offered and immediately recognized Lydia's cramped hand. Reading the first few lines, she blushed furiously at the words and knew he spoke the truth. Her sister's obviously unbridled passion and boldness in expressing it would be her own ruin. This was bad – very bad – for Lydia, for Jane's hopes with Mr. Bingley, for the whole family. She raised her eyes to Mr. Wickham.

"Are you two engaged, sir?"

"Oh, no! Nothing of the kind!" he laughed scornfully.

Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "Have you…has my sister been compromised?"

Wickham paused, enjoying the moment as he watched Elizabeth struggle with the reality of her sister's reckless behavior.

"Not yet; although I must say she is very persuasive."

Wickham's amusement and lack of concern for Lydia's reputation or that of her family was obvious. The feeling of dread that had shadowed her since their conversation on the terrace now threatened to engulf her. What had Lydia done? Stupid, stupid girl!

"But, do not distress yourself so, madam. I offer hope for a brighter future. You see, I could be persuaded to part with the letters and discourage Miss Lydia's affection. It would only require your cooperation in the matter of my friend's ward."

"I will not be blackmailed!" she replied coldly, pushing down her rising panic.

"Blackmail is such an ugly word. Let us call it a friendly persuasion. Do you not think it unfortunate that your sister would expose herself to ridicule, especially now that a certain gentleman has returned to the neighborhood? If these letters were to be made public, your whole family would most assuredly partake of Lydia's shame. Very unfortunate, indeed."

"There is more here than you are telling, sir. I do not know what your purpose is, but I know what you are capable of, and you are sadly mistaken if you think for a moment that holding my sister's unfortunate behavior hostage will force my participation in whatever scheme you are constructing. It will not take long for you to be exposed for the rake that you are, and you will be called upon to answer for this despicable behavior!"

"And what would you do? Make known the letters? Expose your sisters – all of them – to public ridicule and disgrace? I won't marry her. With the estate entailed, do you think your father would be so foolish as to fight me? Do not be so hasty in refusing my offer. You have until tomorrow evening to decide. If you do not choose to accept, I shall be forced to make public your sister's delicious letters. My fellow officers would rather enjoy the entertainment. Remember, tomorrow evening. I shall wait for your answer in the small garden on the east side of your grounds."

With a smirk and a deep bow, Wickham turned and walked away, leaving Elizabeth staring after him. As he passed from view, she took several hard breaths to contain the crushing despair . This was much worse than she could have ever imagined. Think, Lizzy, think! There has to be another way!

Wickham could not be allowed to publish the letters. It would certainly dash Jane's newfound hopes with Mr. Bingley. In a love so new as theirs, all of Jane's goodness would not be sufficient to blot out the scandal of Lydia's misdeeds. It would take more time for a greater understanding to form.

Yet, she could not agree to employment either. Aside from the distasteful notion of subjecting herself to the will of an employer, Elizabeth could not help but think of what Wickham attempted with Mr. Darcy's sister. It was a very great possibility that Wickham's proposal involved some mercenary scheme regarding this young ward and she could not be any part of it.

If she were to disclose Wickham's deeds, it would force actions that could only end in misery. At best, honor would demand he marry Lydia, but he had already declared he would not. Elizabeth closed her eyes against the worst. If Wickham refused to marry Lydia, Mr. Bennet would be compelled to demand the satisfaction of a duel. Her heart ached at the very thought. She knew her father's age and sedentary lifestyle could never hope to triumph over the youth and training of a military man such as Wickham. With the agonizing loss of her father would also come the loss of life as they knew it. With Longbourn entailed, all her mother's fears of destitution would be realized. No, it was not to be attempted.

Elizabeth paced in a circle, searching desperately for a means of solving her dilemma. What was she to do? Her father had always been her anchor in stormy seas such as this, but she could not go to him with Lydia's disgraceful letter…or could she?

A plan of her own now beginning to form in her head, Elizabeth set out for Longbourn with a determined stride.

Chapter 5

Posted on September 18, 2009

Touching the two letters hidden in the folds of her dress, Elizabeth offered a fervent prayer for success and then rapped lightly on the door to her father's library. At his invitation, she quickly turned the knob and entered. Looking at the affectionate expression with which he greeted her, her heart contracted painfully at the thought that it was something she would not see again for some time; but there was no turning back. Her whole family would feel the devastating effects if she failed now.

"Lizzy, my dear! What do you think? We have all survived the madness of last night's dinner party and it looks as if your sister is in a fair way of recapturing her young man."

"Yes, it seems very likely; but, if I may, sir, I have another matter I wish to speak of."

"Of course, my dear. What is it? You look a little troubled."

"I am, very much." Elizabeth's resolve waivered for an instant and then rallied in an ardent rush. "I am sorry to be so direct, Father, but you cannot be unaware of Lydia's reckless behavior."

"I will admit she is very silly, but no more than most girls her age; although I will say you and Jane were an exception," he smiled tenderly.

"You must see that if you do not take the trouble to check her wild behavior, it will end in shame for the whole family. Last night's exhibition at Lucas Lodge is proof enough. Did you not see what a determined flirt she made of herself with all the officers?" Elizabeth was careful not to single out Wickham.

"Come now, Lizzy. She does no real harm. I am convinced she will not be satisfied until she has made herself ridiculous; and it would be better for her to do so now, when her age allows for some indulgence. Take heart, my dear; her follies will fade and be forgotten soon enough."

"I am sorry, sir, but there are some things that will not fade, and I must tell you she has already done more damage than can be forgot." Elizabeth stopped, her courage wavering once again at the pain she was about to inflict. Taking a deep breath, she began. "I have just received a most disturbing letter. It was written in Lydia's own hand and expresses her affection for a gentleman in such unspeakable terms that, if made public, would bring disgrace and ruin to us all."

Drawing the first letter out, she placed it on the desk in front of her father, being careful to keep the second one in its place. It would come later.

Mr. Bennet's amused smile faded into an anxious frown as he took up the letter. Anxiously she watched as each line passing beneath his eyes engendered an even greater degree of passionate abhorrence until he finally threw the letter onto the desk in disgust.

"This is outrageous! That a daughter of mine would write such a letter is unbelievable! It is a revolting piece of nonsense and I should like to meet the man who has encouraged this!" he cried, his face flushing to an alarming shade of crimson as he leaned back in his chair. Elizabeth started at his high color and trembling hands.

"Father, you look very ill! Please calm yourself!" she exclaimed and reached out for the decanter sitting near his desk. "Let me get you a glass of wine and we can discuss this with some degree of reason."

"Reason? There is no reason in someone taking advantage of an ignorant young girl!" His indignation brought him to his feet with such violence that he was obliged to steady himself before peering intently over the desk. "What do you know of this, Lizzy?"

"No more than you," she lied smoothly. "And, as you can see, the name has been torn off, leaving us no clue as to who this man is."

"He shall not be nameless for long. I will speak to Lydia and get to the bottom of this immediately! He will be found out and made to marry her or give me satisfaction."

"No, Father. That is not sound! You must know you cannot fight him. It is strictly prohibited; and even if you managed to arrange it and prevail, you would only be trading one scandal for another. Worse than that, if you should not prevail…oh, Father, I could not bear to lose you! The entail of Longbourn would be nothing to losing you!"

Her words gave him pause, and seeing the truth of them reflected in his face, she pressed on.

"Lydia has been ill-used, indeed; but I fear it gets worse. There is a deeper purpose to her seduction, sir, and that is blackmail." Elizabeth drew forth the second letter and somberly placed it on the desk next to the first.

She had practiced diligently to create the fictitious letter in a hand that would not betray her as its author. It was the only way to hide the true source of Lydia's own shameful letter and still win her father's approval – something she needed if she was to accept Wickham's proposal and carry out her plan.

"Lydia's letter was enclosed in this letter. You may read it, but I will tell you it does not contain anything that would lead us to discover who sent it. I do not think it would help to know the blackmailer's identity in any case as he threatens to expose her if he is found out. However, it does say that Lydia has written several more letters just as appalling and scandalous as this one." Elizabeth paused to gauge the effect of her words, searching her father's face. "We both know that Lydia is incapable of keeping a secret – and she thinks herself in love. I fear any attempt to force her confidence would push her further into his power. Most certainly, the letters would become public knowledge and then our family's reputation would be ruined regardless of the outcome."

Mr. Bennet took up the second letter, but didn't have the heart to do more than skim the page as Elizabeth went on, carefully broaching what she knew would be the greatest obstacle in her plan.

"There is one more thing. If we are to retrieve all the letters, he requires my cooperation in a another matter. I am to accept a position in the north as companion to a young lady - a ward, I believe. It does not specify, but I cannot believe it would be for very long."

"A companion? In the north? No! Absolutely not! I will not hear of it. I'll not give way to blackmail and sacrifice you, Lizzy; not to save Lydia from her foolishness! We will find another way."

"Father, there is no other way. I must go, at least for the time being. Do you not see that it is more than Lydia's reputation at stake here? What of Jane? The slightest hint of scandal could ruin forever her chances of happiness with Mr. Bingley. I cannot let that happen again!"

"But why would someone want you to go into service? I cannot imagine such a thing!"

"I do not know why nor do I know who would ask it; but I intend to find out, and the only way to do that is to accept the terms."

Mr. Bennet dropped into his chair. "You are telling me you would sacrifice your own reputation for the sake of your sisters'? Not you, Lizzy! It is too much to ask."

The grief in her father's eyes was almost more than she could bear, but Elizabeth stood her ground. She could see the beginnings of capitulation, and was grateful now for this weakness in his character.

"Being a companion is a respectable position, Father; though I would not freely choose to do so on my own. And, no one need know exactly where I have gone. The position is certain to be too great a distance for anyone to discover me, and I shall be back as soon as the letters are recovered. You will, of course, need to prevent Lydia from writing any more. In the end, I think no one shall be any the wiser."

"Lydia will not write another word, you may depend upon it. But, Lizzy, how do you propose to keep this colossal secret from the rest of the family – from your mother?" Mr. Bennet gave her a knowing look.

Elizabeth's departure would indeed cause unavoidable excitement. The insistence on knowing every detail of her situation and Mrs. Bennet's inability to keep those details private was a significant problem. But it was a difficulty Elizabeth had already considered and she gave a ready answer.

"We shall invent a distant relative who is in need of a traveling companion. Perhaps a rich relation of your cousin's widow? A sister-in-law. Given the disagreement between the families, Mama would feel an obligation for me to accept, but would not wish to know her better."

Mr. Bennet sat in silence. Elizabeth's heart ached at the sight of him, weighed down with disappointment at Lydia, and even more so with his own inability to change the consequences of her actions. He was fighting a losing battle, but his heart would not let go so easily and he gave her a look that spoke of his desperate hope she could be persuaded against this madness. She returned his gaze with an unyielding expression that told him otherwise.

"And what of letters?" he offered, grasping at the only excuse he could think of. "For you to not write would instantly raise suspicion; and for anyone to write from Longbourn would require a knowledge of your travels. In short order your little charade would come to an end."

Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully. She had not considered this impediment. Letters could be passed through her father once she was situated, but she could not send the directions directly to Longbourn and risk her mother finding the letter. After a few minutes of deliberation, she gave him an exultant smile.

"Mrs. Pennwyth!"

"Mrs. Pennwyth?" her father stared. "Old Pennwyth's widow that lives in Granley Cottage?"

"Yes! Do you not see? As Mr. Pennwyth was such a faithful employee and your steward for more than 20 years, she is just the one! She is a dear old woman who can certainly be trusted to keep our secret. I am confident she will aid us. And since she is pensioned by Longbourn, it would not be out of the ordinary for you to visit and see to her needs. It is perfect! As soon as I am settled, I shall write to you in care of Granley Cottage."

"I do not like this, Lizzy; not one bit. You cannot ask me to send you out into the world unprotected, without the slightest idea of where you are going!"

"I am not unprotected, Father; I have you! I can always send an express and I know you would come at a moment's notice. For whatever reason, it seems vastly important to this person that I take this position, so I cannot think any harm would come to me. In the worst case, I shall have money enough to turn back at any time, if need be. So you see, it is not as desperate as you would imagine."

She felt his thoughtful gaze as he studied her for some time. She was no longer the child he wished her to be, but a woman, fiercely independent in thought and deed.

With a deep, heart-wrenching sigh, he finally nodded his head. "As you have so aptly pointed out, the welfare and respectability of our entire family is threatened; and in truth, I can think of no other way to save it. As much as I do not want to let you go, I do not think I have a choice."

Elizabeth welcomed his arm around her shoulder and his gentle kiss on her forehead. "It will all come right, Father. Do not worry."

She gave an affectionate pat to his arm and turned to leave, the encouraging smile she had displayed fading as she went. I am sorry to deceive you, dear Papá, but I had no choice. Our family's reputation must be saved and the risk of a duel with Wickham is out of the question! thought Elizabeth sadly as she emerged from the library. The alarming effect produced by just one of Lydia's letters was proof that she could not involve him any further. It was enough that she had persuaded him to her scheme for a precipitous departure from Longbourn; but thankfully, once she was on her way, he would no longer be at risk. It would be up to her to save the family's reputation.

She was not looking forward to the uncertainty that lay ahead, but it seemed the best path to follow if she was to beat Wickham at his own game. There was a valuable ally to be had in the north and she intended to use it.

They must have great wealth, else I doubt Mr. Wickham would put himself to so much trouble. Perhaps he intends to try his hand at seduction again and mistreat this girl as he did Georgiana Darcy – hoping for an elopement or even blackmail against the family! In any case, I am certain he plans to separate them from their money by some foul trickery. He means to use me as he once used Mrs. Younge – but he is in for a great surprise!

As soon as she could, she would discover Wickham's plan and obtain proof sufficient to expose his misdeeds. When she saved the unsuspecting family from scandal and disgrace, their gratitude would almost certainly be turned into an advantageous alliance against Wickham, one that would save her family. And, if they are as rich and powerful as I expect, they will easily be able to crush him as he deserves!

Wickham's eyes flashed with victory as he watched Elizabeth approach his position in the private garden to the west of Longbourn's main grounds. The lift of her chin and set of her countenance told him she would accept his proposal, however unwilling she may be.

He had planned well, for she had no choice but to acquiesce or allow Lydia to bring her whole family down. Mr. Bingley's return to the neighborhood had been an unexpected but favorable turn of events. Most advantageous, in fact, for Elizabeth, as well as anyone who looked upon the doting couple, could see the hopes of the previous November would soon be realized. Disgrace to the family now would dash those hopes, and he knew enough of Elizabeth to expect she would do anything in her power to secure her favorite sister's happiness.

Wickham stepped forward eagerly as she reached him, restraining the satisfied grin playing at his mouth. "Miss Elizabeth, do I take it from your coming that you find the terms of the proposal agreeable?"

"Agreeable, sir?" she replied tightly. "Your appalling proposal is anything but agreeable! However, as I am sure you are well aware, I have little choice in the matter and I must accept."

"Indeed!" he agreed condescendingly. "It is a simple thing, really; however, I must caution you on your lively expression of thought. It is imperative that you execute your duties with all civility and the utmost deference to your employer."

Elizabeth bristled at his admonition. "You may be assured I shall be the very model of civility."

"I am glad to hear it. The situation is nothing too difficult, I promise you. For my part, each month you fulfill your duties satisfactorily, I shall deliver one of Lydia's letters for you to dispose of as you see fit. However, should you choose to be difficult in any way or prove to be a less than admirable companion, I will be obliged to expose your sister's indiscretion."

"You need not worry on my account, Lieutenant. Just you keep your end of the bargain and send the letters. Exactly how many letters are there, if I may ask?"

"Hmm…not including the one I have already given you – I believe your sister has graced me with fifteen very remarkable expressions of her affection," he grinned complacently.

"Fifteen! Certainly you would not separate me from my family for so long! I beg you would give me two or even three letters each month!"

"Alas, my dear, I must refuse. I agree it is a rather difficult arrangement, but a necessary one."

"Necessary? Dare I hope you would explain yourself?"

"Unfortunately, there are circumstances which I am not at liberty to disclose."

"Naturally. And if my services are no longer required before I have recovered all the letters; what will happen then?"

"That depends upon you. There are certain circumstances beyond your control that could arise to change our little arrangement; which circumstances, again, I am unable to divulge. But, if any one of them should come about, then the letters are yours. However, if you should in any way present a disappointing performance in your situation and fail to retain your position, I shall publish them immediately."

Elizabeth waited for Wickham to continue, but he merely observed her silently.

"And this is all the explanation I am to receive, sir?"

"Yes, I am afraid so."

"Very well, Mr. Wickham, but I have a condition of my own."

"Indeed? And what would that be?"

"You will keep your distance from Lydia. Her behavior is already called into question, and as you have made it perfectly clear that you have no intention of marrying her, you cannot allow her to continue in her attentions to you."

"Hmmm. Why should I deny myself the very great pleasure of your sister's company?"

"Because if you are the cause of her complete ruin, the letters will make no difference and I will be at liberty to reveal all you have done. If that happens, I promise you that you shall suffer equally in her misfortune."

Wickham pursed his lips in irritation. Darcy would have to fall in love with an intelligent woman! He considered Elizabeth's defiant countenance for a moment. It did not really matter to him. Lydia Bennet was entertaining, but he could be equally satisfied with any number of girls in Meryton. "Very well, as difficult as it may be to convince your sister, I shall keep my distance as long as you keep your part of the bargain. Have you spoken to her?"

"No, only my father." She smiled archly at his startled look. "But do not make yourself uneasy, sir. I judged it wiser your identity should be kept a secret for the time being. He only knows that I am to take a position in the north. Everyone else shall believe me to be traveling with a distant relation. I would not embarrass my family with the knowledge that I have gone into service."

"Of course. You may be assured of my secrecy as well."

"Indeed," she replied with a measured look. "And shall you tell me when I am to begin?"

"Arrangements have been made for you to travel in two days' time."

"Two days?!" Elizabeth reeled with astonishment. "That is not possible!" In the next moment, her simmering glare told him she had finally realized his absolute certainty of her acceptance, and he smiled at her perception. There had really been no choice.

"Oh, but it is! I have arranged for a coach to be sent for you the day after tomorrow at half past seven in the morning. Do not be late, for you will have to make a change to the post and cannot afford to miss it. Bring only a small case and one trunk for your travels. Everything else will be provided, including a travelling companion. We could not have you arrive unescorted, could we now? With good weather, your journey should not last longer than four or five days at the most."

"Five days travel? I had not realized I would be going so far! Am I not to know my destination or the name of my employer?"

"The less you know of our little arrangement, the less others will know; and so much the better. Once you have arrived, I suppose you are at liberty to say what you will, but I would again caution you against saying too much if you wish to keep your secret. The gossips have a way of finding out the truth when there is promise of scandal, you know," he grinned again as she drew herself up with a strained composure. "I wish you a pleasant journey, madam."

Offering a formal bow, Wickham turned and walked away, leaving a furious Elizabeth to stare after him. He was too far away to hear anything when she finally gave voice to the loathing in her heart. "You may have won this battle, Mr. Wickham, but the war is not over yet. You shall pay dearly for the misery you have brought to my family."

Elizabeth moved about as silently as she could, placing the few remaining items into her traveling bag. She carefully checked the packet of coins hidden beneath her skirt one last time before taking the bag in hand and retrieving her spencer and bonnet from the bed. One cursory look was all she gave her room before making her way downstairs, being careful not to wake the rest of the family. She had made her farewells to the family the night before, knowing this morning she could not maintain the façade of a happy adventure in the face of any prolonged parting.

Announcing her departure had been difficult enough. In spite of the animosity her mother harbored against her father's side of the family, Elizabeth had been pressed for more details than she cared to give. It was only through a concerted effort that she and her father satisfied Mrs. Bennet without exposing the true nature of her departure. Mary had shown only a polite interest in Elizabeth's plans, while Kitty and Lydia were wild with envy at the romantic notion of traveling through the countryside with a rich relation. The hardest part had been lying to Jane. A swell of guilt rose anew, but Elizabeth pushed it back, reminding herself that it was Jane's happiness she was protecting.

Coming down the stairs, Elizabeth's courage wavered at the sight of her father and Jane waiting for her. How could she leave these two people she loved most in the world?

"Well, Lizzy, the carriage has come." Mr. Bennet's voice was heavy with emotion. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but thought the better of it and silently took her bag out to the waiting coach.

Elizabeth looked to Jane who was standing quietly in the doorway; a forced smile beaming in contrast to the sadness in her eyes. She could not hold her sister's penetrating look for long for fear that she would betray the anxiety she felt. She trusted Jane implicitly, but she knew her sister could not know what she was doing. No one could.

"I shall miss you, Jane."

"Oh, Lizzy! I shall miss you, but I am happy for you to have this adventure. Perhaps this opportunity will acquaint our families well enough to mend the breach. You are the perfect choice for such a task, I am sure of it!"

"I shall do my best," Elizabeth answered with a false cheerfulness. "I do not think I shall be able to write very often, but you will hear from me as soon as I have an opportunity."

The sisters linked arms as they walked out and Elizabeth fought back her response to the tears she saw glistening in Jane's eyes. It was uncertain how long it would take for her efforts to bear fruit; but she was confident it would be long enough to hold the gossip at bay while Jane and Mr. Bingley came to an understanding. Long enough for their love to grow stout enough to withstand the rigors of scandal, should it come to that.

An older carriage, clean and in good repair in spite of its worn appearance, stood waiting in the drive. The coachman wore a uniform of no distinction and looked to be impatient for their departure.

The cool morning air revived Elizabeth's flagging spirits. Taking a fortifying breath, she approached her father who was speaking to a pleasant-looking woman of about five and thirty sitting within the carriage.

"Lizzy, this is Mrs. Ann Tipton, your traveling companion."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tipton. It looks like we have pleasant weather for our journey."

"I believe we do, Miss Bennet."

"Yes, indeed, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet agreed affably. "I have been asking Mrs. Tipton, here, about the roads you will take, but she is unable to give me any details. Tell me, madam, do you know how far you will go today?"

"It is not certain, my dear Mr. Bennet. I am but a simple companion and have not a thought in my brain for such things. However, I do know we must be on our way if we are to get anywhere at all." Smiling broadly, she ignored Mr. Bennet's frown and urged, "Shall you come, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth embraced Jane with some restraint, not wanting to cause any undo concern. Nevertheless, she absorbed every minute detail around her as a parting memory. It would be a great comfort in the unknown days ahead. Turning to their father, she met his eyes and exchanged a look of encouragement before kissing his cheek.

"Look after Jane for me, Father," she whispered.

Mr. Bennet pressed her arm and nodded slightly. Casting a glance in Jane's direction, he lightened the mood with a merry smile and led Elizabeth to the door of the carriage, helping her in.

"Well, Lizzy, off you go! I wish you God's speed. Do not worry about us for a minute, we shall be fine – all of us."

Fighting a desperate feeling of loss within, Elizabeth entered the carriage and took her place across from Mrs. Tipton. Waving one last farewell, the ache in her heart swelled as the pair standing in the drive and all that had been her life until now passed from view.

Much to Elizabeth's consternation, the journey did not begin well. Once they were away from Longbourn, her attempts to engage Mrs. Tipton in conversation were met with short, unresponsive replies. She was still puzzling over the mystery of the woman's abrupt change in manner when the driver brought the horses to a stop and Mr. Wickham stepped into the carriage. Her concern and surprise only increased when Mrs. Tipton's distant manners instantly transformed into a warm and inviting welcome.

Wickham kissed the older woman's hand, and turned a gleeful smile to Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I introduce you to an old friend of mine – Mrs. Ann Tipton…Younge."

Elizabeth caught her breath at the name. With sinking heart she realized her companion was the very same woman who had betrayed Darcy's trust and exposed his sister to ruin! What was Wickham up to? Had she made a fatal error by placing herself in the power of these two people?

Their obvious amusement at concealing Mrs. Younge's true identity did nothing to assuage Elizabeth's concerns. Wickham's callous manner underscored his non-existent regard for Lydia's feelings or those of her family. …your selfish disdain for the feelings of others… The words burned in her memory. How very wrong she had been! It was not Mr. Darcy who was deserving of those words, but the man who sat down across from her as the carriage moved off.

The party travelled for some time in an awkward silence. Elizabeth tried to focus on the passing scenery but was frequently distracted by the knowing looks and occasional whispers of her two companions. After one such exchange that required her to find a diversion in the handiwork of the small cushion beneath her arm, her curiosity was roused by a tiny monogram she discovered embroidered into the decorative edging. Looking closer, she saw "LDB" worked in elegant, impressively minute stitches. Her contemplation as to the owner of the initials was interrupted when the carriage came to a stop in front of a small country inn. Looking out, she observed a building sadly in need of attention. Guests of any quality, it seemed, were not a common occurrence.

Wickham handed the ladies out of the carriage and Elizabeth stifled a involuntary shudder when her gloved hand connected with his. As they stood in the courtyard, he whispered something to Mrs. Younge, then bowed to Elizabeth with murmured instructions to wait a moment. The two women remained where they were without speaking as he entered the long, low structure, then returned a few minutes later to escort them inside.

Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, Elizabeth found herself being guided down a long hallway that emptied into a sparsely furnished sitting room whose only light was a low, smoldering fire in the soot-laden hearth. Although there were several private rooms that opened off this main room, Elizabeth deduced from the eerie stillness permeating the air, that they were quite alone. They entered one of the private rooms and she found that it too exhibited the same worn and shabby condition as the rest of the building. She was in the midst of looking around at her bleak surroundings when the rasp of a bolt sliding solidly into place sounded behind her.

She spun around and saw Wickham coming toward her, a menacing look on his face. Stepping backward as he approached, Elizabeth ran into the solid figure of Mrs. Younge standing behind her. She turned to plead for the woman's help, but the words lodged in her throat as she saw Wickham's cruel smile echoed on Mrs. Younge's face. She gasped as Wickham's arms wrapped around her, his hands forcefully grabbing her wrists in a crushing grip.

"Unhand me!" Elizabeth cried, trying to hide her terror.

"In a moment, my dear. This will not take long," he calmly assured her as she struggled against his grasp. "Be quick about it, Ann. The coach will be here soon!"

"I can't do anything with her thrashing about. Hold her still!"

With a wicked grin, Wickham obliged by pulling Elizabeth's arms tightly behind her back, bringing her firmly against his body. She gasped anew at the pain in her arms but refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing her panic. Terrified and furious at the same time, Elizabeth strained in a violent effort to free herself, but Wickham's superior strength held her fast. Forced to endure Mrs. Younge's vigorous examination, Elizabeth could only shut her eyes against the horror of the woman's searching hands moving roughly across her chest and down her legs.

"There's nothing here!" Mrs. Younge complained.

"Keep looking. I am confident Miss Bennet would not travel so far without resources. Would you my dear?" he murmured darkly in her ear.

Renewing her efforts, Mrs. Younge soon gave a triumphant cry as her fingers closed around the coins pinned beneath Elizabeth's skirt.

"You were right! She did have money – and quite a nice sum at that!"

Elizabeth's heart plummeted when the coins that would have been her means of escape dropped into Mrs. Younge's own pocket. Wickham relaxed his hold and Elizabeth shook him off with an angry shrug.

"Are you satisfied?" she hissed.

"Quite. I am sure you would not want to jeopardize your family's reputation by backing out of our arrangement, but I was obliged to remove the temptation from you all the same. Now, shall we have some refreshment before the coach arrives?" he offered cheerfully.

Moving to a small table which held a tray of tea and biscuits, he filled a cup and held it out to Elizabeth. Badly shaken by the cold-hearted assault, she managed to quell the trembling in her hands as she accepted the cup. She had to do everything in her power to keep her wits about her for the situation was much more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. She realized it would take every possible stratagem for her plan to succeed.

With little appetite, it was not difficult to refuse the biscuits, and Elizabeth had only managed to consume half her lukewarm tea before a heavy hand banged on the door, announcing the arrival of the post coach.

Quickly finishing his biscuit, Wickham gulped down the last of his tea and hurried the two ladies out to the waiting carriage. Their luggage was already secured on top and the door stood open, showing them to be the only passengers. Handing Elizabeth and her companion in, he stepped back as the stable boy folded the steps and closed the door. She looked at him in confusion and he responded with a broad smile.

"This is where I leave you now. I am returning to Meryton as Mrs. Forster has invited me to dine this evening and I would not want to disappoint her. I wish you a pleasant journey, ladies. I do not expect there will be any difficulties now that we all understand one other – do we not?" His eyes swept boldly over Elizabeth before giving Mrs. Younge a sly wink.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but was suddenly thrown backwards as Wickham thumped the side of the carriage to signal the coachman, and the impatient horses were given their head. Her indignant cry was drowned out by the crack of the whip and pounding hooves as the carriage lurched out of the cobbled courtyard and onto the road leading northward.

Awkwardly, Elizabeth struggled to regain her seat as Mrs. Younge looked on with obvious amusement. When she finally managed to right herself, the woman turned to inspect the passing countryside, ignoring Elizabeth altogether. Elizabeth sat studying the woman who had happily aided Mr. Wickham in his despicable attack at the inn and wondered what had happened in Ann Younge's life to create such a vile and unprincipled creature.

Soon she turned away as well and gazed out the window though she saw nothing of what lay beyond. Her mind was too engaged with the enormity of her situation. Robbed of her money and her dignity, she was being carried headlong into the unknown with no more than a hope of finding help at the end of her journey.

She struggled against the tears now welling in her eyes, searching her mind for something – anything – that would lift her spirits, but even thoughts of Jane and Mr. Bingley were not enough; and at length, she lost the battle. Her misery spilled over in waves of hot tears that coursed down her cheeks unchecked. Wickham's ruthless behavior made her all the more desperate to save her family from his evil plans and she prayed that her efforts would not be in vain.

Chapter 6

Shifting her position yet again on the uncomfortable, well-worn cushions of the aging post coach, Elizabeth tried to find a way to shield her already bruised limbs from its brutally jarring motions. She was grateful there were no other occupants at present, but that fact was little compensation for the seemingly endless days of travel filled with hot, dusty roads, more than one leering gentleman, and Mrs. Younge's insufferable company. A sudden jolt of the carriage, which nearly threw her from her seat, drained Elizabeth's last ounce of patience.

"Shall we reach our next stop before nightfall, Mrs. Younge?"

"I did not know you were so anxious to begin your servitude," the woman scoffed in response, igniting Elizabeth's temper.

"I am merely wanting to know how long we shall have to endure the abuse of this particular road. The highways of the north are highly overrated."

"It is of no consequence. You will take what comes to you. Did you not learn that when we started this journey?" Mrs. Younge replied tauntingly.

"I learned that I am in the company of a heartless woman," Elizabeth shot back. "And, if you believe that despicable attack in Hertfordshire injured my spirits, you are greatly mistaken. You may have robbed me of my money, madam; but not my courage!"

"Oh, I see! Those must have been tears of courage you cried as we left Hertfordshire."

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at Mrs. Younge's sneering comment, and she turned back to her own window, more anxious than ever to free herself from the woman's petty cruelties. Just as she was beginning to think they would travel all the way to Scotland, the coach lurched to a stop in a small village and Ann Younge ordered their trunks to be removed.

Relieved to be off the road at last, Elizabeth examined her surroundings and discovered they were in the village of Hensingham. She had spent the greater part of the journey tracking their progress northward and, from her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's description of the Lake District, she believed herself to be in Cumberland, the very region she had thought to tour with them. The certainty of her situation sunk a little deeper as she realized that she would not be seeing them or any of her family any time soon.

After directing the care of their luggage, Mrs. Younge surveyed the streets and then smiled in success. She pushed Elizabeth toward a fine carriage that stood waiting at the next street corner. Two footmen dressed in dark blue livery came to attention at the sight of the two women.

Detecting Mrs. Younge's eagerness to reach the comfort of the handsomely appointed coach, Elizabeth slowed her pace and then stopped altogether, calmly smoothing her dress and adjusting her gloves.

"Hurry up! The coach is waiting," Ann Younge commanded, nearly quivering with impatience.

"Why, Mrs. Younge, it seems I have a stone in my boot. I think I shall have to remove it," Elizabeth observed lightly and sat down on a nearby bench.

"I don't care if you have ten stones in your-" began Mrs. Younge furiously before realizing that one of the footmen had approached close enough to overhear them. She snapped her mouth closed, her face coloring with suppressed fury, and several seconds passed before she could finally manage to choke out the words that courtesy demanded. "By all means, Miss Bennet. I am happy to wait for you."

Elizabeth turned a brilliant smile on the footman. "Please excuse my traveling companion. We have come a very long way, and her nerves are somewhat frayed."

"I understand, Miss. There is no hurry. We shall depart at your convenience," he replied with a smile of his own.

Mrs. Younge glared at the prolonged efforts to remove the imaginary pebble. After some frustrated minutes, she smiled slyly and addressed Elizabeth in a voice loud enough to be heard by those close by.

"Miss Bennet, please do hurry along. We would not want to begin your employment with a late arrival."

Elizabeth colored slightly, but still waited another minute before standing. "Of course, Mrs. Younge. I would not want to keep someone of importance waiting."

"Quite right," sniffed her companion triumphantly, missing the slur altogether.

Smiling to herself, Elizabeth accepted the hand of the footman and entered the carriage behind Mrs. Younge. Surveying the well-appointed interior and noting the blue and yellow crest embroidered on the cushions, she could not help wondering exactly what sort of employer she would find at the end of her journey.

After the tortuous, rough and tumble journey of the past few days, Elizabeth was grateful for the luxuriously smooth ride that took them along a narrow coastal road. Their southward course followed a rugged shore line, giving her brief glances of the rock-strewn beaches below. Looking away from the turbulent sea, she saw only sparsely covered hills that had been ravaged by unrelenting winds over centuries of time and were now pocked with gaping patches of sand and limestone.

They travelled through the cheerless terrain for some time before Elizabeth caught sight of a patch of green in the distance. As they drew closer, she could see the green spread over the hill and merge with a myriad of tree-covered hills beyond. The grandeur of the great house that appeared to be their destination and its surrounding park stood out in stark contrast to the bleak landscape they had just passed through. Somberly, Elizabeth took in every detail. There was nothing familiar, nothing even remotely like her beloved Hertfordshire.

The carriage soon came to a stop. With quiet determination, she pushed aside the painful thoughts of home and family as she emerged into the late afternoon sun to face her unsettled future. With genuine interest she examined the architecture looming before her and was surprised to see the form of a man watching their arrival from a window above. He made no gesture of acknowledgment nor did he attempt to conceal himself as she studied his tall, dark figure.

Looking out from the window of his study, Robert Grissholm took another sip of wine from the glass in his hand. He could not help a small smile at the frank examination he had received from the woman he concluded to be Elizabeth Bennet. Though not a classic beauty, she was handsome enough; and if her arrival was any indication, the plan to add his own contribution to Fitzwilliam Darcy's misery would prove to be an interesting affair.

It was another few minutes before Grissholm slowly drained the remaining wine in his glass and set it aside. With a quick shrug to adjust the cut of his coat against his broad shoulders, he headed for the drawing room and the task that awaited him there.

"Good afternoon, ladies. I trust I have not kept you long." Looking to the older of the two women, he added, "You are Mrs. Younge, I presume."

"Yes, Lord Grissholm, I am," Younge answered, somewhat awed by the grandeur of the house and its imposing master.

"I hope your journey was pleasant?"

"Oh, yes, sir. You are so good to inquire. Our journey was uneventful and we made good time, although the roads were a bit rough - the post, you know - but we are happy to have arrived safely." Realizing from the stern expression on his face that she was on the verge of babbling, Mrs. Younge turned and gestured toward Elizabeth. "Your Lordship, may I introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Bennet." He gave a small bow in her direction, and she made her curtsey.

"Your Lordship. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

A shock of surprise crossed her face as she rose to see him boldly examining her. Struggling to maintain a civil expression in the face of his intimate scrutiny, she looked away, unconsciously arching her brow in a rather provocative manner.

Grissholm cleared his throat and his mind as he returned to the matter at hand and motioned for the ladies to be seated.

"I shall come directly to the point, Miss Bennet. You have been engaged to act as companion for my ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. You are expected to attend her here at Everton each day and accompany her to any social engagements in the neighborhood that I may accept on her behalf. She has been schooled in all the usual accomplishments necessary for a young lady of her standing; however, she is to be presented next spring and must posses a greater degree of poise and self-confidence than she has at present if she is to get on in society." He then leveled a knowing look at Elizabeth as he finished. "Something I am certain you are more than capable of teaching her."

"I understand, my lord – I shall do my best to help her," Elizabeth's reply was suitably contrite in her attempt to amend the poor beginning, but it mattered little to him that she had displayed a lively spirit. It would be tempered soon enough.

"As for your living arrangements, Mrs. Moore shall instruct you in the rules of the house. I expect you to conform to our routine as quickly as possible."

"Of course. I shall certainly work toward that end."

After a long pause, when she realized he had nothing further to say, she ventured to speak.

"Sir, might I inquire after Miss Ballard? Should I expect to meet her soon?"

As if in answer to her questions, the door opened and an attractive, auburn-haired girl of about fifteen entered the room. First casting a short, inquisitive glance at Elizabeth, she then spied Lord Grissholm and moved quickly in his direction. In an instant, Elizabeth could see how devastatingly shy she was and it was heartrending to watch as the girl approached her guardian with timidity and downcast eyes.

"My lord, you wished to see me?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I present my ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. Rebecca, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"I-I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet," Rebecca said quietly, looking back to her guardian with apprehension and some confusion.

"I have engaged Miss Bennet as your companion. Mrs. Holiby's services are no longer required."

Rebecca's face instantly drained of any color and her voice faded to a mere whisper. "My lord, Mrs. Holiby has been with me since I can remember! I beg of you –"

"Nevertheless, she is gone. You are nearly sixteen and no longer require a governess. You will now welcome Miss Bennet to Everton."

Elizabeth was hard pressed to hide her dismay at his pronouncement. His lordship was obviously a man accustomed to giving direction and having it obeyed without question, but she found it profoundly disturbing that he took no notice nor showed the slightest concern for the distress he had caused.

Still alarmingly pale, Rebecca obeyed immediately in a strained, barely audible timbre. "Miss Bennet, I welcome you to Everton Manor."

Sensing it would only make matters worse, Elizabeth stilled the impulse to reach out a comforting hand to the devastated girl. Instead, she gave her the most sincere, understanding smile she could manage in front of the viscount.

"Thank you, Miss Ballard. I very much look forward to our becoming better acquainted."

The necessary introductions having been accomplished, Lord Grissholm brusquely dismissed the girl and turned back to the ladies with an obvious wish to be done.

"Miss Bennet, Mrs. Younge, you must be fatigued from your journey and will want to rest."

"I would appreciate that very much, sir," replied Elizabeth, "but I fear that Mrs. Younge must return to London immediately. Would it be too much trouble for your carriage to take her back to the post-station right away?"

"There is no need, I assure you," said Mrs. Younge, casting a dark look in Elizabeth's direction. "I have no pressing business to speed my return."

"You are to be commended for your devotion to duty, madam; but did you not mention your sister's illness to me just today?"

"It is nothing," she replied with a sudden wariness. "I am sure his Lordship would want me to stay a few days and help you settle into the household before I take my leave."

"It is very generous of you," replied Elizabeth sweetly, "but with your sister so very ill, and her family in such desperate need of you, it would be cruel indeed to keep you detained any longer. I thank you for bringing me all this way, and rest assured that I shall not forget the kindness you have shown me."

"She has a trifling cold," said Mrs. Younge desperately, looking to Grissholm for support and finding none.

"You are too good to make light of your troubles, Mrs. Younge; but did not the doctor send word it was very likely pneumonia? I know how worried you must be and I would not dream of depriving your family of your sisterly devotion. I urge you to make haste though; for I believe I heard the clerk say the late post-coach departs in less than an hour."

"But I cannot – I am not sure that –"sputtered Mrs. Younge helplessly.

"In view of these circumstances," Grissholm cut in, obviously intrigued by Elizabeth's clever ploy to rid herself of her companion, "I would not wish to detain you a moment longer. My carriage is at your disposal."

Mrs. Younge flushed with anger and mortification, but Lord Grissholm's presence prevented her from offering any strong response. "You are too kind to worry for me so, Miss Bennet," she finally replied in a voice stiff with resentment. "I look forward to the pleasure of returning the favor one day."

Lord Grissholm stood silent as Elizabeth watched her companion of five days briskly gather her things and stride angrily from the room. When the door finally closed behind Mrs. Younge, Grissholm addressed her once again.

"Your presence is not required for dinner this evening, Miss Bennet. A tray shall be sent up for you. I will, however, expect you at breakfast – seven o'clock sharp. Mrs. Moore will show you to your room now."

A slight motion to the footman standing at the door brought a stout, dark-haired woman of about forty almost instantly.

Elizabeth was astonished that she had been dismissed so abruptly, but was at the same time grateful that she would not have to summon the energy required to appear for dinner. She followed the housekeeper out, suddenly very tired and desperately feeling the need to be alone.

Some hours later, Elizabeth sat at the ornately-carved writing desk in her room and stared at the sheet of paper before her. How much she should tell her father of her journey to Cumberland? Would it do any good to tell him of things he had no power to change? Her indecision and the effects of a satisfying meal and a relaxing bath finally gave way to a brief note simply telling him she had arrived safely and giving him directions of where to send his letters.

Wanting to have the letter posted as soon as possible, she went in search of a footman. It did not take long to find one who could accommodate her and she returned to her room straight away. Reaching the hallway outside her door, she paused on the threshold, feeling a pair of eyes upon her. Turning around, she saw Rebecca peering out from a partially open door across the hall, her deep blue eyes swollen and red from hours of crying.

Elizabeth's sympathetic smile was greeted with a sullen stare. Hoping to offer some comfort, she took a step toward the girl but the gesture was rejected with a solid thud of the closing door.