Section I, Next Section

Author's Note: I have always thought Darcy and Elizabeth would make a rather good detective team, given their talents and personalities. I have read one or two mystery stories based on P&P but wanted to do one where the mystery element was as important and developed as character etc. I must acknowledge my obvious debt to Dorothy L. Sayers, R. Austin Freeman and, most importantly, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, whose unfinished work provided me not only with the title, but from the fragmentary remains of which I obtained all of the chapter heading quotes for this story.

Part One

Posted on Tuesday, 9 April 2002, at 11:58 a.m.

Spring seemed to arrive early in Derbyshire that year, as if nature itself wished to express its own approbation of the recent marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy to the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire. It returned the leaves to the trees and the buds to flowers, it spread its cloak in multiple shades of green as the fields and woods emerged from the grip of the winter, and it freed the rivers and lakes from sheets of ice which had held them fast for weeks, to the delight of the skater and the despair of the fisherman.

The people who lived on the estate of Pemberley - tenant, farm-worker and servant alike - and those from the surrounding villages of Lambton and Kympton, were heard to express the opinion, to any who would listen, that they had not seen it in such a happy and prosperous state for many a year. The Master had been home almost constantly since his wedding and had taken a personal interest in all the estate business and all had noticed a new openness and amiability in his manner which few had experienced before. They declared they had never seen him so happy.

That this was attributable to the new Mistress was commonly accepted by all and she too had found favour with all who came into contact with her. That Mr. Darcy had married a woman without title or fortune had surprised some, indeed several of the matriarchs of the more prominent local families had expressed views that would not be unfamiliar to those who knew Lady Catherine De Bourg, Mr. Darcy's aunt. However, some were disabused as soon as they met the lady and those who were not were regarded, by those who knew Mrs. Darcy, as jealous that they had failed in their attempts to secure for their own daughters the position she now held.

Daily life at Pemberley settled into a happy routine which even the departure of Miss Georgiana Darcy to London could not disrupt. Darcy had his estate business and financial affairs to manage. Elizabeth had the joys of discovering Pemberley in spring for the first time, the task of learning to manage such a large household and her charitable works in the local community. Always a good correspondent, she kept in regular touch with her family and friends; there was her Aunt Gardiner's advice and counsel, her sister Jane's newly-married bliss - alloyed by her increasing unease at their mother's interference - and, most recently, her sister Lydia's announcement that she was expecting her first child. More precious still, the times spent together; companionable walks among the groves and woods, lively debates over dinner and intimate evenings before the fire in the library.

In this manner things progressed through the spring and approaching summer. But even the brightest of skies can soon be blighted by unforeseen cloud and one such was lurking over the horizon, unseen but casting its shadow before it.

The late spring sun cast a shaft of dazzling light through a chink in the curtains of the master bedchamber of Pemberley house. One occupant of the bed watched it absently as it travelled slowly across the floor towards the far wall like the hand of some celestial clock. It gradually shortened while it moved as the sun rose in the unseen sky outside the window, and the watcher divided his attention between the bar of light and the other occupant of the bed, of whom only a mass of dark curls and fair cheek were visible, the rest of her face hidden in the crook of his shoulder. The light breathing he could hear told him she was sound asleep, but he knew it would not be long before she would awaken.

His thoughts flitted between his companion, his sister Georgiana - whom he had recently watched with pride blossom into an exceptional young woman - and his estate business, but came back again and again to rest less agreeably on a letter he had received ten days previously. Its contents had disturbed him and he could not help fearing that stormclouds lurked on the horizon, threatening the haven of peace and contentment that had been his newly-wedded life. True, the second hand information carried in it may be erroneous or exaggerated, which was why he now awaited the further details he had requested, but every day that passed without them made him more uneasy. This uneasiness was compounded by the fact that he had not shared the information in the letter with the woman who now lay beside him. He had made himself the promise six months earlier when she had consented to be his wife that never again would he allow his reserve to threaten the closeness that had grown between them. He knew by bitter experience that his failure to acquaint people with his dealings with George Wickham - and the latter's attempt to elope with Georgiana - had enabled Wickham to spread falsehoods which made many who did not know the real facts believe that he had acted in a vindictive and ungentlemanly manner. More painful still it had caused a breach, which at the time seemed unresolvable, between himself and the one woman he so imperiously wanted to be his wife.

That ladies head, however was at the moment still nestled in the crook of his arm and he yet again thanked providence, fate or whatever agency was responsible for the fact that they had overcome the obstacles that had separated them and were together in the place he had once believed they would never be. But his dilemma remained. Should he speak, and risk paining and worrying her unnecessarily should it turn out to be a mare's nest, or hold his tongue and risk anger and alienation should things take a serious turn and events be taken out of his control? He would not hurt her if he could help it, but he knew she was not the sort of woman who liked to be kept in the dark, the sort who would allow herself to be hushed into a corner when unpleasant things happened, as women usually were. He smiled in spite of himself. He knew men who would go distracted if treated that way and she was as resourceful and intelligent as any man he knew. That much he had learned in the eighteen months he had known her. As he looked he saw that the bar of light had crept still further across the floor, seeming to count down the minutes he had remaining to make a decision.

A small movement next to him told him that his time for consideration was coming to an end. He shifted slightly onto his side so he could see her face more clearly and softly traced one finger down the line of her cheek. Her only response was the curl of her lips into a smile and he continued to caress her face lightly with one finger, passing it back and forth over her brow, cheek and jawline. She turned her face upwards towards him, which allowed him to more easily continue his endeavours, all the while keeping her eyes closed. Unsure if she was fully aware of his actions or still half-asleep he stayed silent and just allowed his fingers to wake her gently but his uncertainty was banished when she uttered a very long, contented, "Mmm.."

It was probably that enticing sound as much as the sight of her which decided him. He could not pain her. Certainly he could not broach such an unpleasant subject, one which also would remind them both of past estrangements between them, at the present time. The further information he hoped to receive would surely arrive in a day or two and he would be in a much better position to decide when it did. Why, he may hear something today if his correspondent was diligent and quick in his inquiries, as he had every expectation he would be, knowing him as someone to be relied upon implicitly in such matters. No, he would wait until he knew more before broaching the subject with her. If the worst were to happen and she were to discover by some other means the rumours that had reached him, then he would tell her the truth; that he had not wanted to distress her until he had firm facts to impart and knowing he would have them in days he had delayed discussing it with her. He knew from experience that while her anger could be fierce it was a short lived when she realized it was misplaced and while she could jump to conclusions she would always be fair when she discovered all the facts. He had been even more happy in the last six months than he dreamed he could be and he trusted her more now than ever.

It was during the short few seconds that these thoughts were passing in his mind that the object of them sensed something unusual was happening. She had been woken up from her pleasant sleep by the gentle caresses on her face and, having given some indication of her awareness and enjoyment of them by her smile and subsequent sigh, had expected them to continue, if not increase in their intensity, but they had stopped. Also she could sense, without opening her eyes, that her husband was in an introspective mood by his stillness, and there was a tension in his body, imparted to her as she lay against his shoulder, which was not normally found in him in these moments. She was almost fully awake immediately and pondered its meaning, all the while keeping her eyes closed and her body languid, in case he should sense her awareness. She was as positive as she could be that she was not the cause of any distress on his part, indeed the events of the previous night belied that belief completely. Georgiana? She had been in London some two weeks but had sent a letter only three days previous full of her happiness at her music lessons and her recent visit to the Gardiners'. No, it must be some estate business which occupied his thoughts, though she could not reluctantly come to this conclusion without a slight pang of jealousy that any estate business could be uppermost in his mind at such a time. But she decided she would not question him, as she would not have him think she did not trust him to tell her anything which she needed to know. She knew he had learned a hard lesson from his previous reticence to disclose to people, especially her, his thoughts and actions. She had been incredibly happy these last six months and he had opened up to her more than she would ever have believed possible before. She trusted him and wished to show it. Then his body seemed to relax and his hand was on her face again and she forgot about her meditations.

His hand had recommenced its activity as soon as he had realised that he had unconsciously stopped it while sorting out his confused thoughts. He had thought he saw her eyes flicker slightly but they had remained closed and she did not stir. He wondered if she had sensed his tension, but she did not betray any symptom of it that he could see. Her breathing changed almost imperceptibly, however, and he could almost believe he had seen her lips form a small pout before he realised that he had stopped his ministrations. He relaxed, and once he had rectified the mistake he was rewarded with another soft "Mmm" and her arm came up to wrap itself around his neck. She moved in closer and began to softly kiss his jawline.

"William..."

There was an almost questioning tone mixed with the mischievous in her voice, as she said the one word which always had the power, when she uttered it in that tone, to render him helpless.

"Dearest Elizabeth.."

He wrapped his arms around her and forgot about his meditations.

As they sat at the breakfast table sometime later, Elizabeth stole occasional glances at her husband with an amused expression, contemplating that if he had something on his mind earlier then it had certainly not affected his appetite - or brought about a return to his previous reserved manner. Indeed, he had been positively loquacious. He had caught her looking at him her once or twice but she had quickly looked down at her food or coffee cup and he had not remarked upon it. Instead he had ploughed on with details of his ideas and plans for the estate in the coming year and local matters, but in a distracted way which piqued her curiosity more than any silence would have. Luckily, this verbiage required but a minimum of response from her, as her amusement increased by the minute at his obvious attempts to speak on any subject but the one uppermost in his thoughts and give her no opening to question him should she have any suspicion that he was preoccupied.

Darcy, his plate full and coffee cup regularly replenished, felt he had started off quite nicely with his attempts to keep the tone light and avoid any awkward silences which might lead him to dwell on the subject that had monopolised his thoughts earlier. This was rendered more difficult as the time for the arrival of the post grew near and his tension increased, but he soldiered on gamely. However, as the meal progressed, he caught Elizabeth looking at him occasionally with an amused and tolerant look in her eye which made him believe that, as usual, she was more than aware of what he was up to. Indeed, he realized that he was being so garrulous that she would sense something was amiss from that in itself, it being unlike his normal demeanour, even with her in their moments alone. He felt he was babbling, and cleared his throat and took a few sips of coffee.

"Fitzwilliam, you must know by now that I trust your judgement and am sure you will do what is right for everyone concerned."

It took him several seconds, after his initial shock at this statement, to realise that she was referring to his last, rather unco-ordinated remarks, about a small boundary dispute between two of his tenants which he wanted to resolve in the near future, though he could not quite remember whether he had actually solicited her opinion. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked up with a smile of thanks when he caught that look again, accompanied by a characteristic arch of her eyebrows. If he hadn't known before he knew then that he had been wasting his time and energy in trying to hide anything from her, she would always out do him in any battle of wits. It amazed him afresh that this woman, who at one time claimed to have had no inkling of his most fervent affections could now read him like a book. Since in his eyes she had not changed, except to grow more dear to him than ever, he concluded that it must be himself who had undergone some transformation.

This was certainly no time for staring out of the window while he gathered his thoughts, so he replied rather hesitantly, "Thank you, Elizabeth... and I hope that you know by now how much I, er, value that trust and shall always endeavour to deserve it?"

"Of course I do," she replied, with a smile which this time was not of amusement but of reassurance. She was glad she had managed to ease his mind, without in any way making him feel that she was interfering in matters which did not concern her, and that he had given her an unwitting opportunity to do so.

Darcy pushed his plate away and placed his hand over hers in a gesture of understanding, before slowly raising it and kissing her palm. Elizabeth rewarded him with another smile, this time of pleasure, and he began to lightly kiss her fingers one after the other, before moving his attentions to the inside of her wrist. He could feel her pulse quicken under his lips and heard her sigh contentedly.

These diversions were interrupted rather abruptly by Mrs. Reynolds entering the dining room, carrying several letters in her hand. Darcy dropped Elizabeth's hand reluctantly and gave the housekeeper his attention.

"These have just arrived, sir," she said, handing the letters to Darcy and beginning to clear away the breakfast debris.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds," he replied, taking them and scanning the envelopes quickly as if in search of something in particular.

What he sought - and also dreaded - was among them, and he did his best to hide the affect its presence had on him, but Elizabeth's suspicions were already aroused by his having his letters brought to him in the dining room, rather than placed in his study to await his perusal later. She saw the flicker of his eyes as he recognised what he was waiting for, but did not betray the fact, turning instead to Mrs. Reynolds and asking brightly, "Was there anything for me, Mrs. Reynolds?"

"Yes, Ma'am, two letters. I have placed them on your writing table as usual."

"Thank you, I will read them after we have finalized tonight's menu."

This brief interlude had given Darcy time to collect his thoughts, and rising, he kissed Elizabeth on the temple and said, "I must deal with these immediately, would you excuse me, my dear? I will be in my study if I am wanted, though I would not like to be disturbed unless it is a matter of urgency." The last was said as much to the housekeeper as to her but Elizabeth replied for them both.

"Of course, we will ensure you are not interrupted."

"Thank you. I hope it will not take too long." With a purposeful air he was gone.

Part 2

Posted on Monday, 15 April 2002, at 8:29 a.m.

An hour or so later, Darcy was pacing his study reflecting on what he had learned. He had dealt with his other business matters and gone back to the letter to read it again but on second perusal it was no more palatable. At least, he reflected, his dilemma of the past few days was settled. He now had enough information to decide a course of activity and he knew he must consult Elizabeth, not only to inform her of what he had discovered but also because he knew he would greatly value her opinion on what action would be most appropriate. He scanned the letter for a third time,

Dear Darce,

I have made inquiries along the lines you requested and am sorry to report that the truth may turn out to be even less agreeable than appeared from the previous incomplete and, as we knew, less reliable information I received.

Well, that was to be expected. He knew in his heart of hearts that however much he hoped the rumours that had been reported to him were false, where that gentleman (he gritted his teeth even as he thought the word) was concerned, the truth would prove worse than he feared.

To separate truth from rumour is never easy in these circumstances or at this distance but my source, a Captain Perry (by all accounts a most reliable and discreet man) informs me that W is not well thought of among his fellow officers, who, originally charmed by his manners, have found him in the last month or two to be unreliable in his duties and of questionable moral character. This will hardly surprise you given our previous dealings with him but I know we both hoped, against our better judgement, that his marriage and removal to the North would steady him. As we feared, however, this would not appear to be the case. He is reported to have run up debts of honour with his gaming, the extent of which I have written to Captain Perry to request him to ascertain discreetly, though initial report would suggest they are substantial. It is also rumoured that he frequents houses the nature of which your own knowledge of him will supply, and is often the worse for liquor.

Just as he feared. Once again through his aid the man was living a life of drunkenness and dissipation and throwing his money away at the card and billiard tables. No, not his money. Not even just Darcy's money - the money his tenants had worked hard to earn for the estate which should be used for the good of them all, wasted on that scoundrel! Once again, he thought with relief that his father had never learned the true nature of the man.

The worst, however, I leave till last and even for W, I find it hard to believe. Perry states that in one or two of his most excessive debauches he has questioned the propriety of his wife's friendships with some of his fellow officers. Given, as you are aware, that she has recently become with child I can only wonder at his motives, if any, in thus sullying her character and that of his future son or daughter. Luckily, Perry tells me that only a small number of his acquaintances were present and heard these rantings. He has stated that he took it upon himself to convince those who were not too drunk at the time to remember them that they should be neither believed nor discussed with anyone else.

This was too much even for him! That the man could think it was bad enough, that he would express those suspicions to others, even when the worse for drink, was astonishing. He could not believe it. A wave of nausea washed over him as he contemplated that but for his timely and fortuitous appearance at Ramsgate eighteen months before his own sister, innocent and trusting Georgiana, would be married to that man!

The first time he had read the letter it had hardly registered, its content was so shocking. The second time he had read it to see if he had understood it aright and it had confirmed and increased his unease. Now, the third time, his reaction was anger, and he paced up and down his study with a white face and lips compressed together. For full ten minutes he could not bear to return to it, though he knew he had read the worst it contained. Was the man forever to be a source of embarrassment and shame to all who knew him? It was bad enough that he should have to constantly be dragged into the man's web of deceit and profligacy but now the man had relations. A wife, a child on the way, mother, father and sisters. As he thought this his anger, if possible, increased. That he himself was brother-in-law to the man was punishment enough for any sins but Bingley, Jane, Elizabeth too? Bingley, his good friend, with easy manners and always eager to please. Jane, sweet tempered and always ready to believe the best of anyone. Elizabeth...

"Damn the man!" he muttered involuntarily as he paced.

Elizabeth, who was now sister to that man! To be tainted by association to that worthless rakehell, along with Jane, Bingley, all the rest. As his aunt would so succinctly declare It was not to be borne!! That the man would drink too much one night and fall into the harbour and be drowned!

"Damn the man!" broke forth from his lips again as he continued to pace relentlessly, swearing like a navvy.

This activity could not continue indefinitely, however, and fortunately there is a mechanism whereby the body's exertions can act like a safety valve to relieve the pressure that the effect of shock or tragedy can have on the mind. After several more minutes of determined pacing, although within the confines of his study which he crossed from side to side in half a dozen steps, he was calmer and returned to the letter,

I am sorry I can bring you no gladder tidings, but you asked for any details I could obtain without censorship and that is what I have given you. Remember, I know not what is truth or rumour - but I am not sanguine.

As you know I am unable to leave my duties for the next ten days but I will pass on any information I receive from other sources, of which I have put inquiries in order. In the meantime, I have written to Captain Perry asking him to send you regular reports of developments and I am sure he will prove reliable and discreet. I know you will act with tact and delicacy but let me urge you not to be too lenient if these reports prove truthful. You will recall I have felt you have been so in the past and I know your father's regard for him as well as Georgiana's reputation has weighed heavy with you in your previous dealings. Now he is even more closely connected to you - do not let him use that to his advantage as he has done in the past. I know you must be thinking of Elizabeth, her sister and your friend. Believe me, I am too - as I think of you. I believe decisive action will be called for. For my own opinion, the man deserves to be shot like a dog, but if you find that too excessive then use your own judgement.

I am sorry that this letter contains only what will pain you but I will finish by expressing my hopes that you and Elizabeth are in good health and getting on as well as you seemed to be the last time I had the pleasure of visiting you. It has become a cliché for me to say this to you, but you are a very lucky man, and I know she will be a great help to you in whatever action you decide to take. Why, if I had thirty men with her character I would have a fighting force that would make any sensible Frenchman run a mile - as you know only too well! Do not shut her out of this, Darce.

I will visit Georgiana in London, as you were kind enough to suggest, when my duties permit but needless to say I will not mention this subject. I will pass on any new information when I receive it and will be happy to offer any more substantial assistance in a couple of weeks, should you require it.

I will only add,

Good luck

Richard Fitzwilliam

As Darcy finished the letter he could not but reflect that Fitzwilliam always had a way to make him smile even in his blackest moods. That bit about Elizabeth was just like him and Darcy could not but agree that many of her qualities were sadly lacking in a great number of the men and women of his acquaintance, including many who thought very highly of themselves. Nor could he do nought but admit he did know the experience of being the object of her anger and contempt, though fortunately that was something he had been free from for some time, certainly the latter. If they had disagreements now they were soon resolved and resolving them had often brought them closer, and been most diverting. He reflected with a wry grin that while he might find himself unequal to the task which seemed before him, she would probably cower the blackguard completely with one apparently innocent sentence and a characteristic arch look.

These ruminations had brought him again to the window and he saw with some surprise the object of them walking in the grove which bordered the lake on that side of the house. Not that he should be surprized to see her there where she often strolled but it was her demeanour that struck him most forcibly. She was moving around without purpose, her hand occasionally raised to trail the leaves of the nearby willow tree. It was obvious she was contemplating something and at first the worrying thought that it might be his behaviour that morning assailed him. Then he saw that she held a letter in her hand and remembered Mrs. Reynolds information at the breakfast table. This sight, which at first assuaged his anxiety, soon increased it. What letter could hold her attention in such a way and dare he wonder, who was the correspondent? She was not close enough for him to read her expressions clearly but he thought he could see her brow contracted in a way which did not bode well for someone. He hoped he was not to be the recipient of those devastating verbal and physiognomic weapons he had just ascribed to her but he must talk with her immediately, letter or no letter. Then the thought struck him that she may have something to share with him, but being unable to do so while he shut himself in his study with orders not to be disturbed, had gone off to await the time when he was free to talk.

With a deep calming breath he headed out of the room in order to request an exchange of confidences.

Elizabeth, having dealt with such domestic matters as required her attention that day had gone to deal with her correspondence at the very writing table that her husband's late mother had previously used. One letter was from Mrs Gardiner and as such could only contain what would please and amuse her and she read the latest escapades of her nieces and nephews and her aunt's account of Georgiana's visit with Mrs Annesley with an indulgent smile but less than complete attention, before putting it aside to await her reply later. The reason for her distraction was the other missive she had received and this was one which she was sure would not bring her any pleasure or amusement. Indeed, as soon as she had seen the handwriting she had felt uneasy and had decided to peruse her aunt's letter first to better calm her mind before opening it. Having done the former, however, she found she could only sit with the letter unopened in her hand for a full five minutes, staring abstractedly out of the window towards the lake. However, her natural courage soon gained ascendancy over her concern with what it might contain, and she ripped it open with slightly more violence than was necessary and an expressive sigh.

It was not long and its contents were not such as to pose any challenge to her mental faculties to decipher its meaning, but her eyebrows went up in surprise as she scanned it. Having read all the way through to the end her surprise increased. It was not quite what Elizabeth had expected or feared when she had first seen the identity of the sender, but there were some aspects of it which did concern her, and she puzzled over it for some time.

She got up and walked over to the window to gaze out again at the prospect over the lake. She felt she needed air and movement to sort her thoughts and the grove she could see from where she stood was the perfect place. Because the letter had not contained the one request she had most expected she would liked to have discussed it with Darcy, though one or two phrases in it made it difficult for her to show it to him. Also, she realized that it was time that she made a confession to him which was long overdue, a thought which put her mind in turmoil at the possible reaction. She so valued his good opinion of her that to do anything to threaten it made her feel almost physically sick, but he had a right to know all. As he was presently unavailable, however, she decided to first settle her own thoughts on the subject. Taking the letter with her, she turned to leave, uttering as she went the name of the person uppermost in those thoughts in a heartfelt sigh.

"Oh Lydia, Lydia"

Part Three

Posted on Tuesday, 23 April 2002, at 10:35 a.m.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was no coward. Though he was often uncomfortable among strangers and nervous when he found himself in large gatherings, when circumstances required him to conquer his reserve and act decisively and with resolution, he could ordinarily do so with the appearance of confidence and composure. There was but one area of his life where this ability seemed to desert him with regularity and it would come as no real surprise to any of his more intimate friends -- of which he had only a small number -- that it was when the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet was concerned that his equanimity was often most sorely tested.

It is therefore unsurprising that as Darcy crossed the ground that separated the house from the grove he found himself with every step less confident at his ability to broach the subject which he had to discuss with Elizabeth. His legs seemed to slow of their own accord without any conscious thought on his part, and he was not less than fifty feet from her by the time that the effort of putting one foot in front of the other made him feel, in his mind at least, as though he were wading through treacle. Fortunately help was at hand and its source was, quite appropriately, the lady aforementioned. She, seeing him coming towards her, gathered her own wits quickly and greeted him with a smile which immediately made him feel more at ease, and he was able to navigate the last few yards a little more comfortably. He offered her his arm and she took it and, placing his other hand over hers, he led her towards the nearby seat which they had recently had placed overlooking the lake there. It was a secluded spot, where they often spent time together, and he felt the familiar surroundings would make what was to come easier for both of them.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and he continued to hold her hand and stole a surreptitious glance at her to determine her mood. She was looking out over the lake and seemed to be marshalling her thoughts, so he determined to provide an opportunity for her to confide in him should she wish it. He cleared his throat and started the conversation with a tentative, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes, dear."

"I have something which I must discuss with you but I have the impression that you too have something preying on your mind. If this is so, then before I unburden myself, is there anything I can do to help?" He paused to await her reply, but she continued to gaze out over the lake, her face betraying some inner struggle. As she did not respond he suspected that he had disconcerted her, so he continued with, "Forgive me if I seem to demand your confidence on a subject which is your own concern, I know you have always valued some independence in certain matters. If it is something that you are unable or unwilling to..."

She laughed a little nervously at that point, stopping him, and replied, "Sir, your definition of a demand is indeed a strange one, request would have been nearer the truth surely. First you offer your help, then apologise for the offer because it requires me to give you that information without which you could not do anything to help. Forgive me if my momentary silence caused you to believe that you had said anything to cause me distress. I do have something I would discuss with you, but was unsure how to begin."

He smiled at this confession of uncharacteristic reticence and said, "It is unusual in my experience for you to suffer any difficulty in expressing yourself. Indeed," he added in dry humour, "were it not one of the qualities that I find so enchanting about you, I may -- given some of my previous experiences -- have occasionally expressed a wish for you to learn to dissemble." She laughed again, without any nervousness this time, at this evidence of his ability to tease her, a technique he had developed since their marriage but which he exercised infrequently enough to make it always unexpected -- and therefore more successful. Seeing that she had regained her composure, he suggested, "Why not just begin at the beginning?"

Elizabeth nodded and sighed expressively. "Very well. I have this morning received a letter which has surprized and perplexed me. From, er.., from my sister."

"Jane? I hope she is well? I thought..."

"No, it is not from Jane. It is from," she cleared her throat, "Lydia, er, Mrs Wickham."

"I see." He could not help the colour draining from his face at this information, but fortunately she had turned her eyes away when she had uttered that name she knew would pain him, and he was able to control his features by the time she turned back. "And what does she say which has caused this uncharacteristic confusion?" He tried to keep his voice as steady and light as possible as he asked this but dreaded the reply.

Elizabeth pondered for a moment. "It is not quite so much what she says but what she does not say that is confusing. I have only received two letters from her in the last six months, one quite soon after we were married and one six weeks ago to inform me that she was with child. And I have here a confession to make, which I hope will not cause you to think ill of me."

He looked at her in surprise as she expressed this anxiety but refrained from retorting that he found that circumstance unlikely. "Go on," he prompted gently.

"Well, the first urged me to request of you that you do what you have already done time and again," she explained. "That you provide Wickham with monetary assistance. I believe she thought I only had to request it and you would find him a place at court and allow him a gentleman's income. I let her know in the plainest terms that I would never make such a request of you and, without giving her details of your dealings with him, told her that his acquaintances had been far too generous towards him in the past and he had not proven himself worthy of such kindness."

"Well, I cannot fault you on your actions in doing so," he stated. Then, seeing her discomfort and sensing more was to come he asked, "But what else?"

This was the moment Elizabeth had been anticipating with dread. "I, er, sent her a small sum from my own allowance to ensure that she would not want for any essential comfort if Wickham did not allow her sufficient funds to run her household." It was said hurriedly in one breath and she looked down as she finished, afraid to meet his eye. When he remained immobile and silent, she feared the worst. Eventually she forced her eyes upwards to steal a look at him and saw he was staring off into space with compressed lips and narrowed eyes. After a few moments of silence, which she found almost unbearable, he relaxed visibly and responded softly.

"I cannot blame you for wanting to ensure your sisters welfare, though I would have preferred it if you had consulted me. Then I could have provided any help that was necessary and you would not have been forced to use your own means. However, given my past dealings with Wickham, I believe I can understand why you took the course you did." He paused for a moment and then added hesitantly, "I am sorry that my previous history with him made it difficult for you to rely on my support in what must have been an unpleasant business."

The last of this speech was uttered in a hoarse voice which betrayed the strong emotion this disclosure had cost him and Elizabeth was at a loss how to react. That he had accepted her concealment without anger surprized and humbled her, that he should then attempt to take the blame for that concealment on himself made her ashamed for her lack of trust and she knew not what to say or do. Rather than debate inwardly, however, she allowed her instinct to guide her, and her response was all the more effective for it. She threw her arms around his neck and, pressing her cheek to his, said in a voice filled with emotion, "Oh my love. Please, do not believe that you have failed me in any way." She pulled back and, gazing directly into his eyes for the first time, continued. "I would not have you think less of yourself because I did not request your assistance. Truth be known I was acting selfishly, consulting my own feelings rather than yours. I did not wish to cause you pain and Lydia's first letter came so soon after our wedding that I feared that the remembrance of your dealings with Wickham last year would be too fresh in your memory."

He gave a wry grimace. "Yes, I believe it may have been."

"I told her in no uncertain terms the extent of what I was prepared to do for her, which I believed lowered her expectations considerably, but I did not want her to go in want of any essential comfort. Then last month when she wrote and told me about the baby and I realized the increase in expenditure that would entail, such as doctor's consultations, I did not want her to suffer should any emergency arise. I know she has made similar requests of Jane and that Jane made her a small gift on the first occasion, but when I heard of this I requested Jane to make no further contributions and to leave all future assistance to me."

Darcy shook his head in wonder at this further proof of both her intelligence and kind-heartedness. "You did well," said he in admiration, then adding more doubtfully, "and I can only hope that any assistance you gave did go for the purposes intended."

She looked at him in concern. "Do you have any reason to believe it did not?"

"I am afraid to say that I do," he replied bitterly, "I know Wickham."

"I did wonder if Lydia was acting alone when she sent the letters and almost determined at first to offer no help until she had assured me it was not otherwise. But I decided that as I had made quite clear the limit of what I was prepared to do that she, or they, would realise any excessive future demands would be pointless."

Darcy regarded her with admiration. "I wonder that you seek my approbation for your proceedings when you appear to have acted with intelligence and discretion, not to mention some tact as far as I am concerned," said he sincerely, his voice almost breaking. "You said you feared I would think ill of you and yet again you rise in my estimation. I am proud of you."

His arms were about her now and he drew her slowly to him and covered her lips with a tender kiss. She responded, putting her arms about his neck and pressing his lips more firmly, but after a few seconds, which seemed to stretch into infinity, he withdrew slowly and said in a voice of mock severity, "Before I forget myself, madam, I believe you were telling me about your letter."

She smiled, and trying to collect her wits, answered distractedly, "Yes, the letter."

"You said that something it did not contain surprized you," he prompted, "I gather that it did not contain any further request for you-.. er, our monetary assistance?"

"No, and given that she wrote only last month I could think of no other reason for her to write, unless she was unwell, but that does not appear to be the case. It contains her usual accounts of her daily life, acquaintances, gossip and all but reading between the lines she does not appear to be content. She states that Wickham is busy with his duties and she sees less of him than she would like, so I fear he has grown bored of her already and neglects her, though she says that she is a favourite with many of the other officers." Darcy flinched involuntarily at this, given the contents of the Colonel's letter. "Also, it appears Lydia has extended an invitation for my sister Kitty to visit her in Newcastle, a request you will not be surprized to hear that my father has firmly rejected. She entreats me to use my influence with him to change his mind and allow Kitty to go, though she must know I am disinclined to do any such thing. Most surprisingly she expresses the wish that, should Kitty be unable to do so, Jane or I could find time to visit her so she could have more congenial company, though I can scarcely believe that she can expect me to do so and I can not believe that the reason she gives for the request is the real one."

This was a better opening than he had dared to hope for before, but he tried to control his features and replied as nonchalantly as possible, "Really, and do you think a visit would be a good idea?"

Her eyes flickered in surprise at his willingness to even consider such a proposal, and she said hesitantly, "Well, I had not, er, that is I did not seriously consider it. You could not want me to leave you here to visit surely. And I have no desire to be away from Pemberley and you."

"I do not recall any mention of you leaving me here."

This was a shock indeed. She contemplated Darcy for several seconds, her head tilted to one side, before saying simply, "I did not believe that you would ever willingly place yourself in Wickham's society again."

"If it were up to me you know that I would not," he replied, "but if circumstances required it you do not believe that I would leave you to face the consequences alone surely?"

"No," she admitted, lifting her hand to touch his cheek tenderly. She considered a moment. "But if she is in need of company or a change of scene then I could have more easily understood a request for an invitation to Pemberley."

"Perhaps her circumstances make it impossible for her to leave Newcastle at the present time," he suggested. "There is the expense of travel to consider and we do not know if she has a reliable person to escort her."

"Then why does she not ask that I provide her with the cost of travelling and send someone to meet her where appropriate?" she persisted.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, only she can provide the answers to your questions."

Elizabeth studied him closely for several seconds. "Fitzwilliam, you would appear to know something which relates to this, you did not seem as surprized or disturbed as I would expect at these disclosures. When you joined me you said that you had something to discuss with me. Tell me, does it have anything to do with this?"

Darcy took a deep breath, aware that it was now his turn to unburden his mind. He had expected it to be extremely difficult to broach the subject, however Elizabeth's revelations had not only made its introduction easier but also given him some confidence that she would excuse the concealment of his suspicions.

"Yes, I'm afraid it does," he told her, taking both her hands in his, "and I am sorry to say that some of what I am about to disclose will pain you, but I believe it is better that you should know all and I would very much appreciate your opinion on what I have learned." He paused to gather his thoughts and then went on, "Ten days ago I received a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam in which, among his usual jocular expressions, he mentioned that he had come into contact with a fellow officer who had recently been in company with some others stationed in Newcastle, and that this man had mentioned George Wickham in terms which gave Fitzwilliam cause for concern. He wrote to me asking what steps, if any, I recommended he take and I urged him to find out what he could from a reliable source still in the area. His reply came today."

The impact that this speech had as it progressed was evident from Elizabeth's countenance but she bore it as well as he could have dared expect. She managed -- though with some difficulty he observed -- to maintain her composure, looking at him with an expression that combined apprehension and devouring curiosity for the rest of the details, and he decided that the simplest and most direct method of revealing the rest would be appropriate. He handed her the letter from Fitzwilliam, saying, "Here, you may read it."

The effect that the perusal of Colonel Fitzwilliam's letter had on Elizabeth was approximately what he had anticipated. Indeed, Darcy could not but feel he could discern precisely which sentence she was reading from her reactions as she perused it. Shock, horror, mortification - and when -- as he guessed -- she reached that part pertaining to her sister - anger; an anger he had seen in her eyes once before and of which he could not think without feeling extremely uncomfortable. She got up and paced back and forth before him, reading it again and again, her lips compressed except when an unconscious exclamation broke forth. Darcy, in other circumstances might have been amused at her reaction most exactly mirroring his own, but he could hear not her barely audible cries of "Insufferable man!", "Poor, stupid girl!" and what he was almost sure was a most unladylike curse, without anguish.

Elizabeth, amongst the myriad of distressing thoughts and recollections the letter produced, found her mind in turmoil. She experienced, seriatim; surprise, disbelief, pain and wrath. She could not be insensible to the Colonel's praise of her, but this could not alloy what went before. As she considered it, the wider implications began to assail her. The shock and grief to her family in Hertfordshire, should things reach their logical conclusion. And there was not just her family at Longbourn to consider. There was her aunt and uncle Gardiner, Jane and Mr. Bingley and, she reflected with pain, her husband. What must he be feeling? To be reminded again of her sister's folly by the actions of the man he had every reason to despise. All the wounds which they had suffered the previous year re-opened! At the time she had believed those events would cost her the happiness she now enjoyed. Now she feared that happiness was under threat again. It was not possible, was it, that he would now regret the single-mindedness with which he had pursued her? As she reached this point, she experienced that odd sensation when, from among the multitude of reflections and remembrances passing through the mind, one unbidden thought enters without invitation, and it succeeded in breaking down all the barriers she attempted to raise against it.

Suddenly she was back at Longbourn six months earlier. Almost as though that lady now stood before her she could hear the strident voice and condescending tones; "I have another objection. Your sisters infamous elopement! I know it all; that the mans marrying her was a patched up business... Is such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, the son of his late father's steward, to be his brother? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" She gasped for air involuntarily.

Darcy, seeing the distress on her face this recollection effected, was by her side immediately and gathered her in his arms, holding her as tightly as possible without making her attempts to breathe more difficult. This action, coupled with that previous thought, caused Elizabeth's final remnant of composure to crumble and she cried into his lapel - not noisily, to the accompaniment of wails or lamentations, but quietly and with some degree of dignity. That some part at least of her tears were on his account did not enter his head.

After a short time she recovered her composure a little and her practical nature began to reassert itself. She drew back slightly, took hold of his arms and asked as composedly as she was able, "What is to be done about this?"

"That is what we must decide. As you can see from Colonel Fitzwilliam's note, things are likely to come to a head soon if these...activities continue. But we must not be precipitate. In a few days, no doubt, we will hear from Captain Perry, and as his information will come direct and not via Fitzwilliam, it will be more up to date. Hopefully, he has been able to take some steps himself which may prevent disaster."

"Will not any action on his part exacerbate the problem?" asked she, recommencing her pacing. "It may cause Wickham to do something rash."

"Yes," agreed Darcy, scratching his head in perplexity, "that is a danger. But I find it hard to believe he will take any drastic step unless things are very bad. He has his commission and the regular income our arrangements last year provide him. He knows his best interest and will act on it and I can not conceive how things could have got into such a state -- and so quickly -- as to make him endanger that."

"And we are in the same position," she reflected bitterly, "we can not take any action as it may make matters worse. But to do nothing is intolerable!"

"Yes, but we have an advantage compared to last year. That is, we have some indication of how things are before the crisis has reached a head. We must use that advantage if we can."

"How?" Elizabeth asked.

"By being prepared," he replied, leading her back to the seat and sitting beside her. "Our most valuable tool will be information. You said Mrs. Wickham kept up a correspondence with Jane?"

"Yes, and I believe my aunt as well, though she is a poor letter writer at the best of times. I don't think we will learn much from that quarter," she thought a moment and then ventured, "I think Kitty may be the one person she confides in, indeed she had some inkling of the way events were shaping in Brighton before anyone else."

"Then I suggest you write to her and try to gain any knowledge you can about Mrs. Wickham's situation. Wickham will always act in his own best interests and I do not believe that even his marriage will alter that, so it is her and her child we must consider. He can go to the devil as far as I am concerned were it not for his connection to us."

That last sentence, indicating his willingness to acknowledge that connection without distaste or recrimination, sent a wave of pleasure through Elizabeth which almost completely succeeded in obliterating her previous suspicion - that he may be regretting that connection. But then the thought that once again he was acting on her behalf despite his own feelings came to her. I believe I thought only of you. Those words from last autumn came back to her. But was it love and concern for her peace of mind or a sense of duty that motivated him this time? The Mistress and future mother of the heir of Pemberley could not be disgraced by a degenerate, rakehell brother or an immoral sister. She realized he was speaking again.

"...I will contact my attorney so we are ready to face any legal difficulties."

She started. "You will not have to go to London, will you?" The thought of being left alone, especially at such a time, was distressing to her and she had spoken before realising it. She was being selfish, she knew, but he was like a rock in a tempest and she wanted to cling to him. If it was necessary for him to go for Lydia's benefit, then she should support and encourage him, not let her own feelings interfere.

"No," he answered decidedly. "I am sure that if any negotiations have to be conducted in person then Mr. Gardiner will act on my behalf. He is a most trustworthy man and has a fine business sense. It will be much better if I am here, I think."

"Yes," was all she could reply as relief and gratitude for his words assailed her.

"I believe I will also write to your father, to tell him we have received some information and are taking steps to verify it and respond should the need arise," he continued. "I would not like him to think that I am taking an officious interest in what he may believe is chiefly his concern."

"I can not believe he would do so," replied Elizabeth with some feeling. "Not after all that you have done for my family before now."

"Our family," he corrected, and suddenly found himself being passionately kissed.

Two days later, Elizabeth was seated at the piano in the music room practising some of her favourite pieces, though in a rather distracted manner, when she was disturbed by the door opening softly and Mrs Reynolds entering. Looking around, she seemed to fail to find whom or what she sought and was about to retreat when Elizabeth stopped her playing and asked curiously,

"Yes, Mrs Reynolds, what is it?"

"I am sorry to disturb you so ma'am," answered the housekeeper, "but I was looking for the master. He is not in his study and I thought he might be in here with you."

"Can I help?"

"Well, ma'am, we have just received an express for the Master and..."

"An express?" cried Elizabeth, jumping up and coming toward her, "Is there any indication of its sender?"

"I do not know the name of the sender, ma'am, but the messenger informed me that it is from Newcastle." Mrs Reynolds said this gently, as she had some regard for the feelings of the Mistress, knowing who was now resident in that quarter, and that he was married to the Mistresses sister, though she knew no other particulars.

"Thank you Mrs Reynolds. I will take it and find Mr Darcy at once."

"Of course ma'am," she said, handing the letter to Elizabeth. "The messenger is awaiting any reply that may be required." She turned to go but, pausing at the door, turned back and said affectionately, "I do hope its not bad news ma'am."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied with a small smile of gratitude for the housekeeper's concern, though I very much fear...

Elizabeth found Darcy soon enough, out in the stable yard, where he was at that moment engaged in looking over a recently purchased horse with his head stable lad. They were discussing whether it was of congenial enough temperament to be used as a mount for Elizabeth, who was not an accomplished rider - being somewhat afraid of the animals - or Georgiana, who was.

"I do not know, Hobbs," Darcy was saying, "he has a rather restless look in his eyes, though he seems calm enough in manner."

"Tha's just 'cause ee's been coop'd up these last few days, sir." Hobbs opined. "Only been for a couple of trots 'round the small park. Give 'im some reg'lar exercise 'e'll be right as rain. Needs a good long gallop. Mebbe 'e'll be more suited to Miss Georgiana."

"Very well," Darcy replied. "I am sure you are right - you usually are. See he gets some proper exercise and I'll have another look at him in a few days."

At this moment he observed Elizabeth coming towards him and immediately saw she had a purpose. Dismissing the stable lad with, "Thank you, Hobbs," he went to meet her and asked without ceremony, "Is everything all right, my dear?"

"That is what I do not know," she replied. "This has just come for you from Newcastle," she added handing him the express.

He closed his eyes and sighed expressively before taking it, as though steeling himself for what might be to come. Ripping it open with practised deliberation he scanned it in silence. The only response she could observe was a compression of his lips and another, more extended exhalation. Having reached the end he returned to the top and read it again. By now Elizabeth was losing all patience and was about to barrage him with questions when he turned and shouted for the head coachman.

"Parker!" The man came running from out the nearby tackle store and was by his side in seconds.

"Have the carriage and best horses readied. I am travelling North tomorrow on urgent business." He paused a moment and then added, "And Parker, I shall want Farrow to accompany me, see that he is informed." Without another word he turned again and was off towards the house at an alarming rate. Elizabeth, despite being an excellent walker, found it impossible to keep pace with him and after a few seconds he had outstripped her by several yards. Suddenly he stopped, looked about as though he expected to see her right beside him and, when he realized she was not, turned around and returned the way he had come.

"I am sorry," said he apologetically, when he rejoined her. "I must write a reply to this before the messenger leaves. How long ago was it delivered?"

"Mrs Reynolds told me he was waiting for a reply. I am sure she will not let him depart until you have given him leave." He relaxed at this reply.

"Good, good."

"And now will you tell me the contents?"

For reply he simply handed it to her, "It is from Captain Perry. Read it."

She took it and, with no little trepidation, read;

Dear Sir,

As you are no doubt aware Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the --shire has requested of me that I keep you informed as to the activities and situation of Mr George Wickham, of my regiment. I am sure by now you have received from him the particulars I sent on his first requesting me to make some discreet inquiries on your behalf. However, I am sorry to report that the information I have gathered in the week since writing to the Colonel has done nothing to ease my concern over Mr Wickham's affairs.

In truth what I have learned, though it is likely to be but half the story, is of such a nature that I have resolved to send this letter to you directly to request your immediate help in resolving this situation before it is beyond my power of aid.

As you know, Mr Wickham has debts of honour from card playing and billiards, and I have also since learned that he has been taking the plunge somewhat recklessly on the turf. I am sure you are well aware that the kind of people this would bring him into contact with are not likely to be patient or understanding should he prove unable to settle his accounts and their methods can be extremely direct. Colonel Fitzwilliam requested that I try to discover the extent of these debts. This has, of course, proved most difficult as I am aware of the need not to alarm the subject of my investigations or the creditors themselves, who, finding that inquiries are being made, may get cold feet and demand immediate payment - an action that I am convinced would cause Mr Wickham's flight or ruin. Since he has a young wife who is with child I am anxious to avoid either of these consequences - quite apart from the disgrace to the regiment. As an approximation, however, I would suppose his notes of hand to amount to at least two thousand pounds, though it may be much more - I have little idea of the extent of his horse racing debts.

His habits seem dissolute and he neglects his military duties. I have it on good authority that he has been seen several times visiting a certain notorious house near the docks. He is known in the rougher ale houses in that area and is often much the worse for drink. I have reports that on several occasions he has been involved in altercations - both with other patrons and innkeepers. Once or twice these have become violent and he has worn the evidence of them on his face.

Sir, I cannot but beg that you come to Newcastle yourself if possible to avert a catastrophe. I know you will want to do all in your power to aid Mrs Wickham and I fear her husband is headed for debtor's prison, dismissal from his commission and public disgrace - or worse. What further I have heard about Mr Wickham habits and domestic situation is also of a nature to give me great uneasiness but these details I am uncomfortable relating by letter without confirmation.

If it is your power to come I will be happy to arrange that suitable accommodation is available for you on your arrival. I should add my superior officer General Ashe is a friend of your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and thinks very highly of him. I am sure he will be honoured to help you in any way possible.

I will await your reply

Yours & c.

Captain Anthony Perry

Elizabeth sighed and, handing the letter back, declared with some bitterness, "I had not thought it possible that George Wickham could lower himself further in my estimation. I fear I find once again that my discernment is severely lacking."

"Elizabeth," Darcy replied, taking hold of her shoulders and looking her squarely in the eyes, "you are only one in a long succession of people who have been deceived by the manners of that man. I could take you into Lambton right now and introduce to you to a great number of them; respectable tradesman, women of the village and their sons - and daughters. You have heard of some of the intrigues and seductions he engaged in before he left Derbyshire. You know well of the debts he ran up in Hertfordshire and Brighton, before his situation forced him to flee and involve your sister in his plans. My own father and sister were deceived by him. I believe even your aunt found him a charming man and gave credence to his assertions, and I think we would both agree that your aunt is a woman of insight and understanding. You have no reason to chastise yourself."

Elizabeth sighed again. "I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. You should be planning how to deal with this situation, not listening to my self-recriminations. I believe I am still blaming myself for not having made Wickham's character known to my family last year after I returned from Hunsford. If I had, then none of this would matter as he would not be connected to us."

"You could do no such thing since the information I gave you was imparted in such a way as to make your divulging it a breach of confidence," replied he with increasing anger, "God damn the man! I thought I had received punishment enough for my mistaken pride in not making his character generally known, but it seems he is to forever torment me."

Observing the effect that her outburst, which she now felt with shame had been egotistic and unhelpful, had on Darcy, Elizabeth berated herself silently and decided to concentrate on practicalities. "Well, but Lydia is Mrs Wickham now, and no amount of self-reproach will change that. We must deal with the situation now."

"Yes, you are right," he agreed, calming somewhat. "I will write that reply without delay....what do you mean we?"

She looked at him determinedly. "Fitzwilliam, I am going with you to Newcastle."

Darcy, who had in fact been cogitating on this very idea while Elizabeth had been reading the letter, was unprepared for this assertive statement. He had come to no decision himself, torn between the thought that he felt Elizabeth's help might be useful in dealing with Lydia and any other ladies caught in Wickham's web and the possibility that the consequence on her feelings of any actions he might take could affect those actions. He knew he would go through any mortification, bear any cost, to ease her mind and that thought made him worry that he would be less effective in what he had to do. Also there was the possibility of some danger. Wickham had put his own and his wife's safety at risk if he had involved himself with the 'race gangs' and anyone connected with him may become a target of their methods.

But all this was overshadowed by the purely selfish thought that he would miss her. He did not want to be parted from her at all - let alone to go on such an unpleasant errand. He had always thought himself rational but that quality seemed to desert him when it came to her. Not wanting to make any decision based on what he felt was emotion rather than logic, he decided to let her arguments help him determine the answer. He crossed his arms on his chest and asked simply, "Why?"

He said it in the tone one of his former college masters would have used on a pupil required to prove a propostion in logic. It carried no encouragement, though he was quite ready to be convinced, and conveyed only a desire for rational justification of her statement.

Elizabeth, at first expecting a flat refusal or incontrovertible reason as to why she should not go had used the few seconds while Darcy was cogitating to plan her response to any argument he might use. When he merely used that one word in that tone, however, and therefore left it to her to open the attack, she realised he was open to reasoned argument. Mustering her thoughts, she replied in a measured tone, "Fitzwilliam, you can not wish to deal with Lydia alone, you know what she is like from your efforts on her behalf last year. She has an unreasonable prejudice against you from your time in Hertfordshire, made worse when you discovered them in London. It has been encouraged even more so since, no doubt, by Wickham's account of what transpired between you at the time of their wedding. She will not listen to your advice - not only because she does not know her own best interest but because it will be you giving it. If I am present, as representative of my family, it will be much easier to guide her. She will be more open in her confidences with me and if her removal from Newcastle becomes necessary then it will be accomplished more easily if I am there.

"Also, you know that in the past women have often been the victims of Wickham's lies and attempted seductions. I believe that I will be much better placed than you to obtain any relevant information from any of the parties involved, which might not be passed on to you or Captain Perry." She paused for a moment. Having sent in the rational artillery to break down his defences, she decided that the emotional cavalry would finish the job. "Lastly, I will be much happier in my mind if I was there than here, not knowing about what is happening and worrying." She then administered the coup-de-grace. "And I would miss you so."

Darcy had listened in silence to this speech, merely nodding his head occasionally as she made a succinct point, and as she reached the end of it he nodded again and seemed to consider for a few seconds. Her rational reasons for going were similar to his own, though organized much better. He also remembered Colonel Fitzwilliam's advice:

I know she will be a great help to you in whatever action you decide to take...Do not shut her out of this, Darce.

Elizabeth watched in apprehension - needlessly as it turned out. She had decided him. Trying to persuade himself -- not altogether successfully -- that it had been her rational arguments and not those final half a dozen words that had convinced him, and ignoring her adroit manipulation, he nodded again. "Very well, you have made your point. Indeed, how can I argue against such logical analysis?" He took her arm and they proceeded toward the house. "I will ask Captain Perry to arrange accommodation for us both. I'm sure you will need time to organise the packing of trunks and make any necessary arrangements with Mrs Reynolds."

Elizabeth, gratified and slightly surprized that she had won the day so easily, nodded and replied, "Yes. I take it you do not wish me to write a note for Lydia to be taken back with your reply?"

"No, I believe surprise will be our best line of attack," Darcy responded. "If Wickham discovers we are on the way he will know that his affairs are more widely circulated than he would wish and he may take precipitate action."

"You mean he may flee Newcastle?" asked she in concern.

"Yes, and that would be extremely injurious to Mrs Wickham. We will be there in two days, we cannot make the journey all the way tomorrow. Hopefully, we will not be too late."

By this time they had arrived in the main hall and Elizabeth said, "I will inform Mrs Reynolds of our plans and organise the packing of our trunks. I should also like to write to Jane and my aunt Gardiner and inform them that we are going, though I will not divulge the details. There will be time enough for that later if the situation is as grave as we apprehend."

"Yes, of course," replied Darcy, "please inform the staff that we leave at first light."

Early the next morning, a carriage stood outside in the courtyard at Pemberley. Trunks were being loaded by the staff and final preparations made for the journey. Darcy stood nearby giving last minute instructions to his Steward when he noticed Elizabeth, who had been engaged in the same activity with Mrs Reynolds and now stood waiting, turn suddenly to walk back inside.

"Elizabeth," he asked, interrupting his discourse, "is all well?"

"Yes, I will be ready to depart directly," she replied, "I have just had the notion to fetch something that I overlooked before. I will be but a moment."

She was gone only a minute or two and returned without mentioning the reason for her errand and Darcy found his curiosity piqued. He finished his business with the Steward, though now in a slightly distracted way, and they made their adieus. As he handed her into the carriage, however, he could not help inquiring, "And what, pray, did you have to fetch that you could not send Mrs Reynolds or another member of the staff for?"

She laughed at him beguilingly and replied teasingly, with an arch look, "Surely you, a man of sense and education who has lived in the world, can supply the answer to that question yourself?"

"Very well," he responded to her challenge, smiling, "during the journey I will attempt to give myself the trouble to work it out."

Part Four

Posted on Tuesday, 30 April 2002, at 5:36 a.m.

At about the same time as the Darcy carriage was exiting Pemberley -- and some one hundred and sixty miles away -- George Wickham was woken by the sun streaming through the window of the bedchamber where he lay. The light, forcing itself unwanted through his tightly closed eyelids, acted like a sledgehammer on his brain and aggravated the headache which already pounded therein. He tried to close his eyes more tightly but it had no effect except to make the stars he could already see dance and multiply in a multitude of garish colours, so he grabbed the coverlet and pulled it over his head. It, however, was altogether too thin to adequately perform the task of shutting out the light and he knew any attempt to go back to sleep was futile. It was easier to awaken by degrees, though, and so he opened his eyes groggily with his head still under the bedclothes and adjusted to the light slowly, occasionally shutting them again when it became too painful to keep them open.

His body ached from head to toe and he felt a raging thirst which he had to quell, so he cautiously peeked over the top of the coverlet with his eyes open as narrowly as possible and scanned the bedside table for any sign of a water jug, without any real hope of seeing one. In that expectation he was correct, though he did spy the wine carafe he had all but emptied the previous night -- or was it early this morning? -- and in want of anything better took a swig. He regretted it immediately. The wine was like vinegar and he nearly spat it all over the bed. Typical - just the sort of thing I would expect! They wait 'til you are half drunk and then give you this abominable bilge-water! It did however have the advantage of waking him more quickly.

By now he was better able to concentrate on his surroundings. The room was small and shabbily furnished. The bed hangings were worn, as were the curtains. Standing on the threadbare carpet were two chairs and small sofa -- which looked as though an african elephant had been its most recent occupant -- and he could see the stuffing escaping from the side of one of the chairs. His clothes were strewn about the floor and furniture and he groaned as he recognised their crumpled state. It was then that his nostrils were assailed by the scent of cheap perfume and an unladylike snore beside him revealed its origin. He groaned again, more quietly this time in case he disturbed his companion, and turned in the bed. A plump arm and untidy mass of frizzy blonde hair were all he could see and the events of the previous night came back to him by degrees. He recollected with exasperation the garishly over-painted face and loud, strident voice that appertained to that form beside him, and had no inclination to inflict either on his senses again if it could possibly be avoided.

He rose with caution and quickly checked his money belt to confirm no one had taking advantage of his comatose state after the excesses of the previous night to lighten it. It was untouched, but he realized that its contents were not sufficient to cover his expenses with the establishment. Well, he knew the back way out, useful when the authorities paid a visit.

As quietly as possible, he started to gather his clothes together with the intention of departing before anyone else was astir.

The weather was fair, with a bright sun and very little cloud, and the Darcy carriage made steady progress northward over the dry roads. They passed Matlock very early, then, with the beautiful Peak country visible out of the carriage windows to the left, progressed on towards Chesterfield. Another consequence of the good conditions was that Darcy's valet and Elizabeth's maid were able to travel outside, providing them with some privacy to discuss the reasons for their journey and some of the likely ramifications of what they had discovered - as well as some conjecture as to what further disclosures might await them.

The one aspect of the situation they had not discussed to any real degree was the one Elizabeth most wanted to, and yet most feared contemplating. Darcy, who felt he could not conjecture on something which, even though it may be an unfounded rumour, would be painful to her, decided that he would leave the introduction of the subject to her, if she wished to broach it. He had, however, ruminated on it since receiving the Colonel's letter, as well as in the intervals of silence during their journey, with distaste.

It was during one of these brief intervals of silence that Elizabeth decided that she must have his opinion on the matter. Whether it was more in the hope of hearing him assuage her anxieties than the hope that they could construct an argument to dismiss the accusation summarily she could not quite determine. The confines of the carriage offered privacy and made any evasion on his part much more difficult and so she gathered her strength as well as she was able and broke the silence which had settled over them with a hesitant, "Fitzwilliam?"

Darcy, who had been looking out of the window at the passing countryside and ruminating on the subject she was about to open, turned to her and replied, "Yes, my dear?"

"There is one aspect of the Colonel's letter which we have not considered fully," she continued, "though I fear the exercise may do more harm than good. I am sure you know to what I allude."

"Yes," he answered with a sigh, reaching over and taking her hand in his own, "I believe I do. You mean Wickham's drunken ramblings about your sister and her friendliness with the other officers no doubt."

"Yes. I can not believe it. Lydia has always been a silly girl, and from the moment the regiment were quartered in Meryton there was nothing but officers and flirtation on her mind, but I can not believe her capable of..." she struggled to finish the rest of her sentence and Darcy squeezed her hand in sympathy. After a moment she recomposed herself and concluded, "I do not know which I find harder to comprehend - that it might be true or that Wickham, without any reason, should broadcast such a rumour."

"Yes, those were exactly my own thoughts when I first read the letter myself," agreed he, and continued haltingly, "but perhaps he does have some reason for spreading such a tale."

Elizabeth's head shot up at this. She regarded him with dismay and asked, "You do not believe that horrible accusation do you?"

He considered this question carefully, then replied. "Well, you know your sister better than I, but I must confess I do not." She sighed in relief at this assertion and after a pause he proceeded, "When I discovered them both in London last year she struck me as very much attached to him. Indeed, as you know, I tried everything in my power to persuade her to leave Wickham and return to the Gardiners' with me. But she was implacable. I have never regretted my failure on that account more then I do today. If I had been successful there may have been a way of returning her to home without any lasting damage to her reputation. But she would not give him up -- and so they had to be married -- and we are now embarked on this journey."

"You have no cause for self-recrimination, my love," stated Elizabeth firmly, squeezing his hand in assurance, "if it were not for your efforts, she would have been abandoned and disgraced. But if it is not true, why does he make such an accusation? If he does not believe it, through some mistaken idea about Lydia's unguarded behaviour, then does it have some deliberate, cold-blooded intent behind it?"

Darcy considered. "Well, if it is the latter, then I can think of only one possible motive, if such rantings can have any rational reasoning behind them," he answered at length. He paused there and cleared his throat. This was a subject which he knew he must handle with some delicacy. "This is difficult, my love. You, er, remember that part of the Colonel's letter which referred to Wickham's visits to certain houses?"

"Yes, I do," she affirmed, noticing from his manner his discomposure.

"I assume you can conjecture what sort of establishment Fitzwilliam alludes to?" he asked, gently.

Elizabeth realized then the reason for his embarrassment and, determined to make it as easy for him as possible, replied with more nonchalance than she really felt, "Yes, I believe I can. I assume he means houses..." having reached that point, however, she could not finish the sentence. She was no prude, but was unsure what language would be appropriate.

"Yes, bawdy houses, or as they are sometimes called, stews," he supplied for her, noticing her dilemma. "I am sure you can comprehend what sort of unfortunate women it is that frequent these places and the conditions that exist in them. Any man who visits there regularly puts himself in danger. Disease is common and can spread quickly and, since the symptoms often do not manifest themselves for some time, a person may disseminating it without being aware that he or she is afflicted." Elizabeth stared at him in shock and disbelief.

"I see," she cried in disgust and anger, "what you are saying is that it is a form of insurance. Wickham is risking both his own and Lydia's health and should anything happen he will be in a position to blame her for it. This is quite unbelievable! The man is without any scruple or redeeming feature whatsoever!"

"Yes," he replied grimly, "I have never thought this as strongly as I do know, but I wish in some ways I had listened to Colonel Fitzwilliam's advice after what happened at Ramsgate!"

"What advice?" she questioned, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"He said I should have called him out and killed him before the blackguard could ruin any more innocent lives."

An astonished, "Fitzwilliam Darcy!" was all she could say.

"He even offered to perform the task for me if I found it distasteful. If I had let him then so much could have been avoided!" he exclaimed bitterly.

Elizabeth, despite her distaste for violence, or the idea of her husband involved in such activity, could not quite repress the wish that Colonel Fitzwilliam had prevailed in his arguments.

George Wickham, having safely negotiated his escape through the back of the establishment without discovery, exhaled a sigh of relief and turned up the narrow alley that ran between the backs of the houses. It was a less than celubrious neighbourhood, and he had to pick his way through piles of refuse and the prostrate forms of those forced to sleep in the street by lack of money for a bed or overindulgence in gin - or whatever other noxious liquids they sold in the nearby drinking shops and taverns. He was accosted by one or two beggar children as he made his way along, but he waved them aside imperiously and increased his pace, determined to get out of the area as quickly as possible.

Catching his reflection in the window of a dirty, unkempt pawnbrokers shop which faced on to the alley -- no doubt it was the back premises of some other shop in the main thoroughfare beyond -- he stopped to check his appearance. It was well he did, for a couple of seconds later a window in the top floor some doors further on opened and the contents of a very full chamber-pot were thrown into the street. He realized with distaste that he would have been right under that unholy precipitation if he had not stopped and after straightening his cravat and adjusting his coat he proceeded, stepping gingerly around the puddle which now lay in the dirt.

His success at escaping the house and that irresponsible person on the top floor cheered him a little and he whistled softly to himself as he came to the end of the alley and turned into the street at the end. The sun was out, the air was fresher here and his head throbbed less and Wickham began to feel that all was right with the world.

Unfortunately this impression lasted no longer than it took for him to go less than one hundred paces. Before he was aware of it, a figure emerged from a side street and was upon him before he had time to react. Both recognised the other at the same instant. Wickham started, paled and looked around nervously, as if determining if escape were possible. He would have gladly gone back and taken his chances with the proprietors of the bawdy house -- or even the lunatic with the chamber-pot -- than face this gentleman. The other's reaction was a broad smile, but when he spoke there was no sign of congeniality in his address.

"Wickham." It was more statement than greeting and Wickham, like all unscrupulous and unimaginative people, fell back on his standard routine. He attempted to appear pleased to see his interlocuter and replied with as much charm as he could muster, "Why, Sutton! How good to see you. I have not had the pleasure since we met at Nash's last week."

"Yes, though I had expected to see you before now." This was said with some emphasis and Wickham licked his lips nervously.

"Ahh, well I had intended it so," he replied, "but my duties have been rather pressing of late and I have not had the opportunity to avail myself of your kind invitation to call."

"Really?" Sutton asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "And it is your duties that call you out at such an early hour in this neighbourhood?"

Wickham started and for once was tongue tied. He surreptitiously observed the other. He was a deep-chested, powerful looking man of about five and forty, though he seemed younger on first sight. His face was a mask and Wickham, whose manners were better suited to flattering young ladies with little experience in the world, realized any attempt to dissemble would be in vain and felt his confidence draining away.

"Not in your uniform, either," continued Sutton drily, when he did not reply, "well, I am sure you have ample reason for being discreet."

"Yes, erm, well I must be on my way," Wickham said, circling round him in an attempt to make his retreat. He could think of nothing more than ending this conversation and getting as far from there as possible.

"Of course," said Sutton, tolerantly, "but before you go, a matter of business." He stepped closer, using his large form to block the way.

"Oh, yes?" Wickham asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Yes, well you know the situation old boy. Since we last spoke, however, my circumstances have taken a more pressing turn. I really must insist on at least a small token of your willingness to settle matters."

"Of course," Wickham responded, with an unconvincing smile. "I can assure you that will not be a problem."

"Good, good," the other said, "well, I don't expect you would be carrying anything substantial on you at the moment, especially in this neighbourhood."

"No, quite," Wickham replied with a nervous laugh, "when would you like..?"

"Shall we say tomorrow? I am busy 'til then and that will give you some time to arrange things. Not at my place; where we met before - at dusk?"

"Certainly. I will see you then."

"I hope so, Wickham," Sutton said wistfully, "I sincerely hope so. Good day." He raised his hat and stood aside to let Wickham pass.

Wickham, making his escape deep in thought, could not but curse his bad luck at such a meeting, in this of all places. As always, however, his thoughts were centred on himself only and, unfortunately, it never struck him to wonder what Sutton himself was doing at 'such an early hour in this neighbourhood'. As he reached the corner he glanced back to see Sutton still standing in the same place, watching his progress intently. When he had turned into the next street and was out of sight he could not help breaking into a run and making off like a lamplighter.

Around mid-morning that day, Mrs. Lydia Wickham awoke slowly from a deep sleep and groggily surveyed her room. She felt a little queasy and, ringing for her maidservant Clara, lay back on the bed with a groan and closed her eyes. Forthwith, the door opened and Clara entered quietly, knowing the mistresses dislike of noise at that time of day.

"Ohh Clara, I am very ill today," exclaimed Lydia with a groan.

"I am sorry, ma'am," the maid replied, thinking however that it might have less to do with her condition than the amount of wine she had partaken of the previous night. "You would not like some breakfast brought to you, then?" she asked innocently.

Lydia appeared a little disconcerted by this question, which required her to choose between sating her not inconsiderable hunger and maintaining the fiction that she was really ill. However, as usual her own selfish needs took precedence over appearances and she answered in a tone which unsuccessfully attempted to convey that she was being persuaded against her wishes, "Oh yes, I think I can manage a little toast. Ohh, and tea. And perhaps a little scrambled egg -- and bacon too."

"Very well ma'am," Clara replied, suppressing a grin, "I'll have it brought up."

"Thank you," Lydia said. "Is my husband here?"

Clara's smile vanished. "No ma'am. He was here but he went out about an hour ago," she informed her flatly, crossing the room to open the curtains and presenting her back to her mistress, lest her unease be noticed.

"Really! I have hardly seen him this last week. What time did he arrive home last night?"

Clara, fully aware that he had returned home only that morning, not the previous night, replied disingenuously, "I am afraid I could not say ma'am. As you know it was my night out last night and I was not here."

"Oh well, it doesn't matter," Lydia stated, "did he say where he was going or when he would be back?"

"No ma'am," the maid replied.

"Oh well, I suppose we can do without him for a while. I shall have breakfast and then I think I will go and see the Misses Fitton."

"Are you sure you are well enough, ma'am?" asked the maid, conscious that the 'Misses Fitton' did not seem as happy in Mrs Wickham's society as she was in theirs, though they were too ladylike to intimate it to her.

"I shall be fine once I have eaten and I can not sit around the house all day," declared Lydia firmly.

"Very well ma'am, I shall fetch your breakfast," said Clara, and departed with alacrity.

Having paused for luncheon at Wakefield, the Darcys travelled on through the afternoon, with only one stop to stretch their legs. They passed Leeds by mid-afternoon, but then the weather began to appear threatening, with banks of massed clouds forming on the north-eastern horizon. As a consequence, Darcy's valet and Elizabeth's maid were thereafter accommodated inside and any further discussion was curtailed. They had planned to reach York, or possibly Boroughbridge -- a major coaching stop on the great north road and some few miles beyond -- by sunset but the weather broke and a steady rain began to fall. This slowed their progress as the visibility and condition of the road deteriorated and they did not reach York until after dark. Deciding that venturing further would be slow going and possibly dangerous, they decided to stop there for the night. They arranged rooms in a comfortable and homely inn and discussed arrangements for the morrow. Hoping that the rain would have ceased by the morning and the roads would be dry, they arranged with the coachman to have the carriage ready again from first light and, after supper in a private room, retired for the night.

As she lay in bed later that night, Elizabeth found sleep hard to come by, despite the tiredness she felt from the journey. She stole a look at Darcy, barely visible in the light from the small fire, and contemplated the last forty eight hours. Since the Colonel's letter he had acted with purpose and determination and she had seen a new side to him, the man of action who could work with intelligence and resolve to solve a problem. It was, no doubt, how he had been the year before when Wickham and Lydia had eloped, but she had not been a witness that time. Now she was with him and could only wonder at his ability to organise and plan. Every aspect of their journey was handled with aplomb, from dealing with the innkeeper or blacksmith to ensuring those who travelled with them had every comfort they needed. He seemed to be in his element and she was glad to be there to see it.

The cost -- or was it also partly the cause? -- of this efficiency, however, she feared may be detachment. She hoped he was not suppressing his own feelings in an attempt to assuage hers. She determined that if he was providing the material and organisational skills needed for this endeavour, she would provide the emotional support if and when it was required. She could not believe he would be able to meet that man again with equanimity. Indeed it would be hard for her too. And Lydia was sure to be a trial to his patience and tolerance, as would some of her acquaintance if past experiences were anything to go by. She would be needed as a buffer to prevent any unpleasantness. She reflected with dread on what Wickham may have related to Lydia about their previous dealings, considering how she had referred to Darcy in her letters. The thought that Georgiana's name might come up in any confrontation made her feel almost sick. She began to fidget with her hands and shifted in the bed restlessly.

These activities were interrupted after several minutes by one of Darcy's hands, which descended over hers, stopping their movement, and his deep voice was heard.

"Elizabeth," he said calmly, "please try to sleep. We will both need to be at our best tomorrow and we have a long journey ahead of us."

"How much further is it to Newcastle?" she asked.

"I did not mean that," he replied, "reaching Newcastle will be but the start of our task. You know I will need your help and support for what is to come."

"I am here," she stated simply, turning over and putting her arms around him.

"So you are," he affirmed drily, "and however much I am inclined to take advantage of that fact -- again -- I must still recommend you try to get some sleep."

The rain had ceased in the early hours of the morning and by dawn the breeze was already drying the roads, a process which increased rapidly when the sun began to shine in a crystal blue sky, peppered with occasional small fluffy clouds. They made good progress, passing Boroughbridge early and heading on towards Thirsk. Elizabeth watched the rolling Yorkshire moors pass by on the right hand side of the carriage as they travelled on, and almost wished they could stop to explore the strange beauty that they seemed to exhibit. But apart from a short stop mid-morning to stretch their aching muscles, they pressed on.

They halted for an early luncheon in a village inn some five miles beyond Northallerton and when they had eaten and rested the horses, proceeded on their way. Darlington was reached next and then the road took them towards Durham. Elizabeth marvelled again at the way Darcy and his staff managed to balance their need for swift progress with the need to avoid any risk of accident or injury to the carriage or horses by reckless haste.

As their final destination began to draw closer, they discussed the arrangements on their arrival.

"What will we do immediately we arrive?" asked Elizabeth.

"I suggest we find a good inn where we can obtain a private room," Darcy replied. "While we take some refreshment, I will send Farrow with a note for Captain Perry to tell him we have arrived."

"Farrow? Is that the groom you asked especially to be one of the party?"

"Yes, he will, I believe, prove helpful. Not only is he an excellent groom, knowing just about all there is to know about bird and beast, he is also discreet and trustworthy. I have relied on him before and he has never made me regret it," Darcy coughed and continued, "er, he also has a talent for obtaining information which has proved useful to me before. He seems to be just what any young housemaid could desire and they seem to be eager to share their confidences with him."

"I see," said Elizabeth, raising her eyebrows in humour, "well I trust you will warn him not to leave behind too many broken hearts when we leave?"

Darcy laughed. "Yes, I will remind him. But don't worry, he is a sensible man. His father was head gamekeeper before his death and he has looked after his mother and sisters since then. I try to do all I can to aid him in that but he does not like the idea of charity. I am sure he will do well and further himself, with or without my help."

"You think very highly of him, I see," Elizabeth stated.

"Yes, I do," Darcy answered simply.

"Then I should like to know him better," she said, "but to return to what we shall do when we arrive. Do you think we should attempt to see Wickham and Lydia tonight?"

Darcy pondered this thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he suggested after a few seconds, "we should wait to see what Perry has to say. No doubt he will have more information for us. I do not think we should act until we are sure of our facts. Perhaps tomorrow morning may be a more suitable time to pay our respects?"

The Darcy carriage finally reached Newcastle just as the sun was setting. Heading towards Quayside, the main residential and commercial area, Elizabeth watched with curiosity out of the window at the sights that were visible in the fading light. Newcastle seemed to encompass as much variety as London, though crammed into a much smaller area. Shops, markets, tenement houses and, towards the north side where the city was expanding, rows of new built houses of a much larger and imposing type. Here also the streets were wider and seemed to be laid out as part of a conscious plan to provide residences for the masters of the new industries and commerce's that were responsible for the growth of the city.

They found a comfortable looking inn and after ordering a cold supper -- an action which at first was made slightly difficult by Darcy's unfamiliarity with the strong local dialect spoken by the proprietor -- refreshed themselves after the journey. Darcy then dispatched Farrow with a note to Captain Perry and joined Elizabeth in the private room they had engaged for the meal. There was food in abundance and variety and they ate heartily, given the circumstance that the nerves of both were by now at high pitch.

When they had finished their meal they each took a seat before the fire and Elizabeth observed Darcy discreetly. He was studying the flames in an abstracted way, but with a face which reminded her of a person who was awaiting an unpleasant interview and was unhappy at the inaction the wait entailed. Deciding that he needed some reassurance, she got up and settled herself into his lap. Darcy, brought back from his reverie, decided that this action indicated her need for some comforting and he silently pulled her into him, resting her head on his shoulder and stroking her hair.

They were still engaged thus when there was a sharp rap at the door. Elizabeth, somewhat reluctantly, stood up and quickly rectified her slightly dishevelled appearance before Darcy called out, "Come in," and Farrow entered, followed by a gentleman in military uniform.

"Captain Perry, sir," Farrow announced, standing aside to let the Captain enter, then exiting and pulling the door closed behind him. Elizabeth saw that the Captain was a tall, fair-headed man with pronounced side whiskers. His age was difficult to determine, except that he must be between twenty and thirty, and he had a pleasant though not particularly handsome countenance. He held himself well, and gave the impression of physical strength, despite his slim figure. Despite her recent exhortations to herself to be wary of judging too much on first appearances, she took an instant liking to him and her confidence revived somewhat as she decided they had found an ally they could trust.

He bowed and said in a melodious voice, "Mr. Darcy, sir, I am delighted to meet you,"

"Captain Perry," Darcy replied. He rose and offered him his hand and the Captain took it, shaking it warmly. "I am delighted to meet you too. Allow me to introduce my wife," he motioned to Elizabeth.

The Captain bowed again, "Mrs Darcy, a pleasure."

Elizabeth came a little nearer and curtsied, replying with a smile, "Captain, I am glad to make your acquaintance." She could see on closer inspection that the Captain was more nervous than she had at first realized. There was a tension around his mouth and eyes which began to drive away the increase in ease she had felt since he entered. 'Oh dear,' she thought, 'he looks like a man about to impart unpleasant news.'

"Captain," Darcy continued, "thank you for coming. I hope we have not disrupted your business. I was not quite sure whether you would respond in person to my note, knowing that you have already devoted much of your time and energy on our behalf. Allow me to thank you for your help to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and for keeping me informed of developments."

"Well, sir," Perry responded, "as far as Colonel Fitzwilliam is concerned it was a pleasure to be of assistance. As you know, my General is acquainted with him and has spoken highly of him to me in the past. I knew he would not be taking a presumptuous interest in Mr. Wickham and so, as I was already beginning to become concerned myself, I was happy to oblige him. When he asked me to keep you informed I was sure he would not make such a request of me unless he knew you were the best person to help. I only wish we could have met under more agreeable circumstances."

"As do I, Captain, I assure you," replied Darcy drily, "but I am sorry to say that this is not the first time that I have found myself in this situation."

"Yes, I have heard some rumours which made me believe that might be the case," the Captain admitted. "I was in contact with an officer of the --shire a few months ago who intimated that Mr. Wickham had resigned his commission in that regiment because of similar difficulties. Indeed, from that moment on, I decided to keep a discreet eye on his activities and this enabled me to be of more help to Colonel Fitzwilliam when he contacted me than I might otherwise have been."

"I see. Well, I believe he and I could not have wanted for a better ally. Tell me, have there been any further developments since you sent me the express which brought us here?" asked Darcy.

The Captain looked from one to the other nervously and responded only with a hesitant, "Err.." 'Oh well, I knew it,' thought Elizabeth, 'here it comes.'

"Come Captain," urged Darcy, misinterpreting the reason for his uneasiness, "you can speak freely. My wife is fully aware of the situation and knows all the details of your communications. What further trouble has Wickham got himself into?"

"Well," answered Perry uncomfortably, "I am afraid, er, that is the problem. I... I do not know."

"What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth nervously, dreading the reply.

"I do not know," replied the Captain as firmly as he was able, "because Mr. Wickham has not been seen for nearly two days."

Continued in the next section