Beginning , Section IV

Chapter 19

Posted on October 21, 2009

Elizabeth desperately needed some fresh air. Fighting the urge to run, she hurried down the hall and out into Everton's gardens. As she reached the first steps leading down from the terrace to the summer garden, now barren and awaiting the coming autumn frosts, she took several deep breaths of the cool September air, trying unsuccessfully to calm the panic rapidly overcoming her. Walking through the long afternoon shadows, she struggled to regain her stunned senses, but her mind could only focus on the awful letter still clutched in her hand bearing Wickham's devastating words.

"…I have had news from our dear Lydia that your father is seriously ill. It has occurred to me that you may have thoughts of returning home. While your father's condition is a most unfortunate turn of events, it does not alter the terms of our agreement. Should you manage to arrange return passage, consider the difficulty you would add to your family's heavy burden by forcing me to make public Lydia's most passionate letters…"

The anguish that had been building since she first read the letter now flowed freely in a rush of unrestrained tears. She walked on in blind misery until she came to the small folly which guarded the east boundary of the gardens, its leaded dome held aloft by six Grecian columns. Reaching out with trembling hands, Elizabeth steadied herself against the cool, stony surface as another wave of anger and frustration washed over her, draining her strength.

She struggled against the debilitating numbness, trying to determine a plan of action. How could she not go home when her father's very life was in question? The shame and humiliation of Lydia's disgrace would be nothing next to the pain of losing her father without ever having seen him again. To be forced to remain at Everton was unbearable and she loathed Wickham all the more for having robbed her of the little bit of money that would have carried her home regardless of the consequences. She had no idea what she would do, but she did know she could not survive the loss of her father if she did nothing.

But what was to be done? A low moan rose in her throat as she realized there was nothing that could be done. She was alone and penniless. Slowly sinking into a frightening gulf of despair, Elizabeth did not hear the footsteps behind her.

"Miss Bennet, is something wrong?"

"Lord Grissholm!" Elizabeth spun around in surprise at the close sound of his voice. "I…I did not see you."

"Rebecca said you left suddenly and seemed upset, so I came to find you. Are you unwell?"

No, I am fine," she lied, wiping quickly at her face to brush away the tell-tale wetness.

"I think not," he answered gently, stepping nearer. "I am sorry to say it, but you look rather wretched."

"Really, I am fine. I have just – " Renewed thoughts of her desperate situation brought more irrepressible tears that choked off her words.

Grissholm took her arm to guide her to the folly's small bench, pleased with her unmistakable willingness to accept his support. His letter to Wickham suggesting he send some news of her family had proved more effective than he anticipated – a little too effective, it seemed.

"Miss Bennet, allow me to assist, if I can. What is it?"

"I am sorry for my outburst. It is just that I have received some distressing news about my father."

"Your father? You have heard from your family then?"

"No. Actually, the news came from…someone else, but I have learned that my father is very ill. When I did not receive any reply from my letters, I worried that there may be some trouble at home, but I never thought it would be as bad as this."

Once again she was overcome by frustrated tears. Lowering himself onto the bench next to Elizabeth, Lord Grissholm waited silently for her grief to subside, then gently took her hand in his.

"That is terrible, indeed. Surely there is something I can do to help."

The surprising tenderness in Grissholm's voice permeated Elizabeth's misery and carried a glimmer of hope to her tortured mind. Dare she confide her troubles to him? In her first weeks at Everton, she had been convinced he was a cold and indifferent man; and yet for some time now, with only a few exceptions, his manner had been quite amiable, and even attentive at times. Was it possible he would prove to be more generous than she had first believed? Her first impressions had been wrong before – very wrong. This time, she would not sketch a man's character by a few ungracious words, spoken early in their acquaintance.

Destitute as she was and with Quarter Day still weeks away, her only prospect for getting back to Longbourn any time soon was to obtain an advance on her salary. She was not certain what sum it would be, but surely it would be enough for passage to Hertfordshire.

"My lord," she began hesitantly. "I thank you for your generous offer. There is something I might ask of you."

"Whatever is in my power, Miss Bennet, I should be happy to assist."

"I have no money and to wait for Quarter Day may be too late. If you have found my services to be satisfactory, perhaps you could advance enough of my wages for me to purchase a seat on the post. Surely what I have earned thus far would cover the expense."

"An advance? Hmm…that is a surprising request, but I suppose some arrangements can be made. However, are you certain you want to travel the post alone? What of your traveling companion – Mrs. Younge, was it? Can she be sent for?"

Elizabeth's mouth hardened at the thought of her journey to Everton. "No, my lord, I could not travel with Mrs. Younge again."

"Well, then, a male relation or Mr. Wickham perhaps? I would not want to see you on the road for so long with no protection."

"No!" she cried, shuddering at the thought of spending any time alone with the man that had been the cause of all her misery. "There is no one. I shall have to take my chances."

"Miss Bennet, that you would rather travel post across the length of England, all alone and nearly impoverished, tells me there is much more to the story than just your father being ill."

Elizabeth contemplated his words. He seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being.

"Sir," Elizabeth began. "May I ask how well you are acquainted with Mr. Wickham?"

"Not very well. We were introduced at university, but I have had little contact with him since. We do not travel in the same circles, you see. Our paths happened to cross again when I began looking to fill the post of companion for Rebecca. Why do you ask?"

"He…I mean, um…I am afraid I have come here under false pretenses, my lord."

"False pretenses?" Grissholm exclaimed, presenting a suitably shocked expression, his eyes betraying nothing of what he already knew. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Please believe me, it is not what you may think. I did come to Everton under Mr. Wickham's recommendation, but the position was accepted most unwillingly."

"You accepted the position against your will? We had not even met before your arrival. Did you think us so inhospitable?"

"You mistake my meaning, sir. My situation here is better than I had ever hoped it would be." Except for the first few weeks, she recanted to herself. "Miss Ballard is a wonderful young lady, and my situation is quite comfortable. It is only that I was compelled to accept the position when I would have been content to stay with my family in Hertfordshire."

"And it was Mr. Wickham who compelled you," he stated with a convincingly grave countenance.

"Yes, it was."

"How is it that Wickham managed to compel a woman as independent as you are?'

A gust of wind swirled around them and Elizabeth regretted having left her shawl on the back of her chair in the sitting room. She could feel him looking at her as she deliberated how much she should tell him. He was sitting close, almost too close; but his presence was oddly comforting, and she shifted, unconsciously drawing closer to him for protection from the chilly air.

"First I must tell you that I risk the ruin of my entire family if any of this gets back to Mr. Wickham."

"Whatever it is, you may be assured of my discretion, Miss Bennet."

"Very well," she said carefully, taking a deep breath. "Mr. Wickham has certain letters – from my youngest sister – in his possession; letters that would ruin my family should they become public knowledge. He threatened to publish them if I did not accept this position."

"Ah," Grissholm replied calmly. "Did he happen to give his reasons for sending you here?"

"No, and that is the worst of it! I cannot determine his purpose, although I am certain he is working on some contemptible scheme and has forced me here to advance it. The letter I received today was from him. He told me of my father's illness yet insisted that I remain here at Everton – which is an impossibility! I cannot stay here; and yet, if I go to Hertfordshire, I risk my sister's reputation and my family's ruin."

"That is a very difficult situation. Even with the risk, you are still determined to go?"

"I must! I simply cannot stay away when my father is so ill." She paused as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. "I…I am telling you this because…because I thought perhaps you could help; that your position and connections might somehow persuade Mr. Wickham to give up the letters. If they could no longer be used to hold me here, I could make the trip to Longbourn without exposing my family. I would, of course, return to finish my commitment to Rebecca. I owe her – and you – that much."

"And what of this scheme you speak of? Could your leaving affect anyone else?"

"I am not certain," Elizabeth frowned. "At first, I thought he was going to use my association with Rebecca for some kind of financial gain; but I can assure you, sir, as God is my witness, that I would have protected her against any such scheme! However, it has been completely unnecessary as he has not mentioned her once since my arrival; so now I have no idea of his true purpose. He has made no attempt against your wealth, and my family has none to offer. Still, I would not trust him on any account, my lord."

"Do not worry, Miss Bennet. I have had a good deal of experience with the likes of Wickham."

Elizabeth shuddered at the memory of their last meeting. She could still hear Wickham's menacing words whispering in her ear as Mrs. Younge searched for the money they stole.

Grabbing Lord Grissholm's arm with her free hand, she turned to him with sudden worry. "Yes, but please have an extra care for Rebecca and keep her safe. She has learned to be more outgoing and someone of Mr. Wickham's character would certainly take advantage of her. I could not bear to see her hurt."

"Be assured, I shall do everything in my power to keep her safe in your absence." Grissholm's hand came down over Elizabeth's, pressing it tightly to his arm as he pulled her up from the bench. "Now, shall we return to the house and see what arrangements can be made? It may take a day or two, but we shall get you on your way – and I will see what I can do about the letters as well."

"Lord Grissholm, I cannot tell you what this means to me," she whispered, her eyes now glittering with tears of relief. "You have my deepest thanks."

I would have that and more, he thought to himself as they slowly walked back toward the house. He found great comfort in the warmth of her hand resting beneath his own and the door to his heart began to open once again. It was a good feeling.

Nearing the steps leading up from the summer garden, Elizabeth ignored his slight frown as she gently removed her hand and self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself. She could feel her heart pounding with the realization that something had happened to alter their relationship. What it was, she was not exactly sure. She only knew that she needed some distance to sort out her own muddled thoughts before she faced him again.

"I…I think I should find Rebecca and make my apologies. She must be frantic wondering what happened."

Hurrying off to find her charge, Elizabeth could feel the intensity of Grissholm's eyes following her as she walked the length of the hall and turned the corner.

Grissholm studied Elizabeth's retreating figure with candid admiration. She was an intriguing woman – fiercely independent in many ways, yet surprisingly vulnerable when it came to those she cared about. What was he going to do with her?

The several ideas that he had been considering during their walk back to the house at last coalesced into a definitive plan. Seizing the moment before he could reconsider and talk himself out of it, he turned from the doorway where he had remained, and purposefully made his way to his study.

Sitting down at the huge mahogany desk, he fingered the catch to the small carved box, not quite willing to open it yet. He had kept it close by these past few months as a reminder of Darcy's betrayal and his goal to repay the master of Pemberley. His hand stilled upon the chest as he thought of Elizabeth and how close he was to obtaining that goal. But it was no longer the same goal; somewhere along the way it had changed.

Oh, he still wanted to punish Darcy, there was no question of that. He intended to make Darcy suffer as he had when Darcy destroyed his hopes with Catherine. What he had not intended was to actually want Elizabeth Bennet for himself; not just to use her and cast her aside, but to possess her, body and soul.

He had not thought he would ever feel anything for another woman after Catherine, but Elizabeth, with her pert opinions, captivating eyes, and naturally engaging ways had managed to reach through the stony walls surrounding his heart and touch him. It was time to let go of the past and make a new future for himself.

Lifting the lid, he examined the contents one last time, touching each item lightly. His hand lingered only slightly on the lock of silky, golden hair before he closed the lid with a flick of his wrist and turned the silver key in its lock.

He did not linger on the monumental decision he had just made. He would not go back now. He took out a sheet of pressed paper and bent to his task with the energy of a man awakened from a very long sleep.

It did not take long to pen his demands to George Wickham. He knew enough of the man to make the first move and take control of the situation before the scoundrel could use the now changed circumstances to his advantage. Grissholm had seen first hand with Fitzwilliam Darcy what the man was capable of, and he would not fall victim to the same fate.

Sealing the letter, he penned another short note before summoning Newcomb. The butler entered the room almost instantly, ready for instructions.

"Send these letters express, right away," Grissholm ordered tersely. "And have this box put with my personal effects in the attic. I will not be needing it again."

"Very good, m'lord." Newcomb quickly retrieved the letters and the box, balancing them in one hand as he reached for the door.

"Oh, and Newcomb," Grissholm stopped him in the threshold, "Please inform Miss Bennet I would like to see her."

"Please, sir! You cannot ask that of me," Elizabeth whispered, gripping the soft leather at the edge of her chair.

"It will not be long," Grissholm assured her quietly. "A few short weeks at most."

"A few weeks?! Who is to say how long my father has been ill? A few weeks – a few days even – and it may be too late!" she cried. She could feel a crippling panic rising in her chest and pushed it down, her courage rising in its place. "You made me a promise, sir. Do you intend to keep it? I only need enough for the post."

"Miss Bennet, be reasonable. I am only asking you to stay long enough for me to make some arrangements. It is a foolish plan for you to go running off, all alone, on a moment's notice. Think about it."

"I have thought about nothing else since I received the letter! My family needs me and I cannot delay!"

"Your family needs you to be prudent. What good will you be to them if you bring shame and ruination with you? From the sounds of it, Wickham would not hesitate to destroy your family if you thwart his plans and return to Hertfordshire without his consent." He paused as Elizabeth's eyes closed in sheer frustration. "I understand your impatience, but it really will be better for everyone if you allow me the time to clear up this business with the letters before you make the journey."

"My lord, time is a luxury I do not have at the moment. I could not live with myself if my father…if something happened to my father before I could see him again."

"I have already dispatched a letter instructing my doctor in London to attend your father. He is one of the best physicians in the country and will do everything possible for him. If the doctor finds the situation is critical, I shall personally take you there without delay."

"Your doctor?" Elizabeth blinked. "My family could never afford – "

"Neither your family nor you need be concerned with the expense. I am happy to do it. It is a small price to pay if it can ease your anxiety in any way." He leaned toward her with a crooked smile. "Besides, all this distressing business has had a rather disturbing effect upon your charming countenance, and we cannot have that, can we?"

"Oh," was all she could say. She felt the color flooding her cheeks and looked away, carefully avoiding his gaze. "I thank you once again for your generosity; but I can only accept your help with the understanding that any money spent on my behalf will be repaid as soon as I am able."

"Very well, I shall consider you in my debt," his smile deepened. "And I shall be pleased to have you so."

Elizabeth stared at him in amazement, trying to determine what response she could give to such a provocative statement. Propriety required that she object to his words, and avoid any suggestion of owing him a personal debt; and yet, to deny that he was doing her a tremendous service, at great trouble and expense to himself, would be impossibly rude. Why, or why, had he placed her in the position of having to acknowledge the great debt she owed him for his aid?

Propriety allowed her to neither object nor acquiesce; and so Elizabeth changed the subject. "What will you do to retrieve the letters, sir?"

"I have already sent a message, and as soon as it can be arranged, I shall meet with Wickham. "

"He will not give them up easily," Elizabeth murmured. "They keep me at Everton and my position here seems to be vital to his scheme."

"I have no doubt of my success, Miss Bennet. I can be very persuasive."

"Can he be spared from the militia long enough to make the journey? If they are still at Brighton, it would take four days to reach Everton."

"He is not coming to Everton. London will be the most logical location for negotiations and I am keeping you as far away from him as I can. You will stay here with Rebecca."

"London!" Elizabeth exploded. "You must take me with you."

"Absolutely not! Did you not hear what I just said? I am keeping you out of his reach."

"You may want to, but I refuse to sit idle, hundreds of miles away when my family's very existence is in peril."

"You will do exactly that!"

"No, I will not! We both know Mr. Wickham cannot be trusted, and I am the only one that can verify the authenticity of my sister's letters. You must take me with you."

Infuriated once again at her obstinacy, Grissholm rose from his chair , glaring at her across the desk. "For once, would you just do as I say without debating the issue?" The stubborn set of her mouth gave him his answer. The woman was unbearably vexing at times – but deliciously alluring at the same time. He was certain a lifetime with her would never be dull.

Elizabeth glared back at him, refusing to be intimidated. "You are undertaking a great deal of trouble and expense to save my foolish sister, my father, and indeed my entire family. It is only right that I should accompany you and offer whatever help I can."

They remained locked in yet another battle of wills as Grissholm silently studied her earnest expression. Her brows arched defiantly above deeply passionate brown eyes and the soft curve of her lips spread into a tight smile, causing his heart to beat hard against his chest. Even in the heat of battle, she was lovely – and she wanted to be by his side. How could he refuse that? He couldn't.

Releasing a small sigh of surrender, he broke the impasse.

"Very well, you shall go. It will take a little longer to make the necessary arrangements, but unless we receive news that would take us to Hertfordshire, we shall all go to London, even Rebecca."

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that nearly felled him and he exerted great effort to bring his mind back to the matter at hand.

"But I will have your word that you shall not attempt to see Wickham or speak one word to him. It is too dangerous. I will not give way on that point. You are to verify the letters once I have them in my possession – and that is all!"

Elizabeth was only too happy to agree. She was going to London! Not only would she be out from under Wickham's power, but she would be close enough to reach Longbourn and her father in a matter of hours instead of days.

"My lord, you may rest easy on that point; and I think I may safely promise never to speak to Mr. Wickham again!"

Chapter 20

The afternoon sun seeped through the windows, casting broad shafts of light across the shadowy interior of the room as Elizabeth sat staring at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Her maid silently entered the room, bringing a current of air that stirred the skirt of the beautiful dress hanging on the closet door and Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to it. The pale blue gossamer satin gown, its edges richly ornamented with tiny silver designs, glittered enticingly in the sunlight and Elizabeth frowned.

It was a beautiful dress, but it had been made to satisfy the viscount's expectations more than her own. She had not wanted it. Her cream sarsnet gown would have served just as well.

Elizabeth drew a long sigh and turned away from the dress, looking instead to another recent addition, the girl who had become her personal maid. As she watched Molly busily preparing a bath, she tried to determine when it was that his lordship had come to be so attentive. The condition had come about so gradually that she really could not determine an exact time. All she knew was that it had gone on far too long, and now she did not know how to stop it – or even if she wanted to.

Lord Grissholm's disagreeably cold and indifferent manners she had encountered when first coming to Everton were now charming and engaging, especially when he cared to apply himself – which he did quite often. It was a pleasant transformation for the most part, but there were times his interest extended beyond what she would have liked.

That thought brought another sigh and she looked back to the dress she would wear to Sir Henry Gerring-Smythe's private ball. 'The affair will be nothing grand, I assure you,' Lord Grissholm had said. 'Just a few families from the neighborhood. An opportunity for Rebecca to see what is expected of her. She will not dance, of course, but it will help accustom her to the society of her peers.' In spite of the viscount's reassuring words, Elizabeth could not help feeling there was more to tonight's foray into Cumberland society than just Rebecca.

Within two hours, Elizabeth was nearly ready to join the others below in the drawing room. She watched her reflection in the mirror as Molly gathered the last of her chestnut curls, deftly weaving the silky ribbon in and out before pinning the locks tightly to the back of her head. Finishing her work by adorning Elizabeth's ears with a dainty pair of exquisite sapphire earrings, Molly stepped back admiringly.

"You look wonderful, Miss Bennet. The master was right to insist on the blue. It's the perfect color for you!" she beamed.

"Thank you, Molly," Elizabeth answered, still looking at herself with a critical eye, "but I am sure the cream would have done just as well; particularly since it would have left a little more to the imagination!"

Not only had Elizabeth objected to the idea of a new dress, but the much lower neckline and the emphasis to her figure was a little too French for her taste, even if it was the latest fashion.

"I'm sorry about that, miss, I really am; but I couldn't disobey the master. I just couldn't!"

"I know, and you were quite right not to listen to me. I just feel a little overdone, that is all. At least you have kept my hair to my liking. As for the rest, I shall just have to make the best of it." Elizabeth gave the maid a reassuring smile and then walked out of her room. Perhaps if she didn't look in another mirror for the rest of the evening, she would forget her appearance.

She could not have been more wrong.

Entering the drawing room, Elizabeth stopped short as Lord Grissholm's appreciative gaze swept over her. His eyes were more revealing than any mirror, and his approving look brought a heightened glow to her now flushed cheeks. She could not decide if the accelerated beating of her heart was a welcome response or not.

Fortunately, Rebecca appeared just then, her own youthful beauty enhanced by an elegant gown of fine white India muslin. The viscount complemented her as well in an uncommon show of attention, making the girl fidget nervously under his brief inspection.

Much to both ladies' relief, Newcomb stepped into the room, announcing the arrival of the carriage, and Grissholm quickly ushered the two women toward the front door.

Rebecca linked arms with Elizabeth and leaned close as they walked. "You are beautiful, Elizabeth!" she whispered softly.

"Thank you," Elizabeth mouthed back, giving the girl a smile of gratitude as his Lordship hastened them into the carriage.

It was not a long ride to Hartley Park, the ancestral home of their host, Sir Henry. Within half an hour Lord Grissholm was handing them out of the warm carriage and into the cool night air.

Offering his assistance as the ladies ascended the steps to the second floor, Elizabeth's hand unconsciously tightened on Grissholm's arm. As much as she loved to dance, the stares she attracted before they even reached the ballroom made her feel distressingly conspicuous.

When they reached their destination, Elizabeth took in the large number of people that filled the dazzling ballroom to capacity. She had not danced since Mr. Bingley's ball, which was nearly…had it really been almost a year now? This room was grander in size and furnishings; but memories of that night at Netherfield flooded her mind all the same, furrowing her brow with the mortifying recollection of her appalling behavior toward Mr. Darcy.

She gently removed her hand from Lord Grissholm's arm, prompting him to glance down with a curious eye. "Miss Bennet, is anything wrong?"

"No, not at all! I just had not expected so many people. I can only imagine what you would consider a 'grand' affair!"

"I trust it has not overwhelmed you?" he asked with a hint of humor.

She rose to his challenge with an impish grin. "Not in the least, my lord. I believe I can manage quite well regardless of the size of the room; however, my young companion here may be another matter entirely."

Rebecca stood stiffly beside them, her eyes staring wide in trepidation at the teeming throng in front of her. Elizabeth moved quickly before the girl became totally paralyzed with fright.

"Please do not concern yourself, my dear," Elizabeth murmured encouragingly. "It is not as bad as it looks. Just follow my lead." Turning to Lord Grissholm, she gave him a meaningful smile. "Would you excuse us, my lord? I believe Rebecca's new friend, Miss Allsop, wishes our company."

Grissholm looked at Rebecca with mild disappointment before glancing in the direction Elizabeth indicated. "Of course. I shall not detain you."

Keeping her eye on Fanny Allsop, Elizabeth steered Rebecca determinedly across the crowded room. Coming to the side of Rebecca's equally young and intimidated friend, she tried to focus on her two charges. While neither girl would be dancing, it was still their first experience at a ball and this one was daunting enough for any novice. Elizabeth endeavored to put them at ease, explaining what to expect during the evening.

Glancing about the room, she could not keep her thoughts from returning to her last ball and Mr. Darcy. Memories of their dance together loomed large, and she felt the familiar sting of regret that had plagued her from the moment Mr. Darcy's letter exposed her foolish prejudice.

At one time, he had regarded her favorably. Had he not made her an offer, astonishing as it was? And he had trusted her with the knowledge of his sister's troubles, even after her abominable abuse in Charlotte's parlor. She was certain he played a part in Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield, but all this was before Mr. Wickham had turned her world upside down. Time and distance had blurred everything in her mind and, in truth, she had now come to believe the worst. His regard for me has been justly reconciled and his good opinion is lost forever. The worst of it is knowing that he is somewhere in the world and thinking ill of me.

She shook herself slightly, refusing to dwell on circumstances that could not be undone. It was not likely she would ever see him again and it would not do to remain in a quagmire of lamentable memories.

Pushing all thought of Mr. Darcy out of her mind once and for all, she drew a deep, cleansing breath, determined to enjoy everything an evening at Hartley Park had to offer.

"Darcy, I am surprised you agreed to come at all," said Robert Driscoll, descending from their carriage. "You certainly never showed any interest at Cambridge!"

"That was then, my friend," replied Darcy. "It is possible for one to change, you know. I was at Pritchard Abbey just last week and I do not think Thomas Nielsen found me wanting at his soiree."

"I think you are an imposter, sir! The Darcy I remember would never spend idle weeks gallivanting about the country, giving hope to swooning maidens and scheming mamas. I do not believe it! What has effected this amazing transformation?"

Darcy had no intention of discussing the real reason for his travels through the north country, so he merely smiled and replied, "Believe it, you must. I have seen the error of my ways and am endeavoring to rectify them, although I think I shall never be as easy in company as you. How do you do it?"

"Watch and learn, my friend; watch and learn!" Driscoll laughed, setting his bicorn to the precise angle required before leading Darcy up the steps of Hartley Park.

Chapter 21

Posted on October 25, 2009

Darcy followed his friend up the steps of Hartley Park, his eyes narrowing in anticipation as he looked up at the row of windows standing open to the night air. Sounds of merriment from Sir Henry's ball drifted out into the darkness. He stifled a weary sigh. How many more of these dreaded affairs would he have to attend before he would find success? The thought of an evening with a roomful of strangers still brought out his reserve in large measure, but he had to admit he was getting better at it. He had learned a hard lesson in Hertfordshire.

Elizabeth Bennet's frank and honest opinion of his manners had taught him a great deal indeed. His mouth tightened into a thin line. Although it was nearly a year to the day when he had first seen her at the Meryton Assembly, the intervening months – the last three in particular –seemed a lifetime. That he had ever considered her unworthy of his attention was beyond his comprehension.

A well-worn vision of Elizabeth sprang easily to his mind. Her smile, her wit, her fine eyes that sparkled in her expressive face when she found something amusing – they were all an inseparable part of him now. She was the reason he was here, hundreds of miles from London, renewing old acquaintances and facing strangers with growing equanimity.

His visit to Robert Driscoll, an old classmate from Cambridge, was one of many in the excruciatingly delicate scheme he had developed to discover Elizabeth. For more than six weeks, he had been making his way through the western counties on the pretense of a tour of the north country, calling upon families he knew. While he attended the obligatory social engagements associated with the visit, Denham would make discreet inquiries of the household staff to determine if a young lady of Elizabeth's description had been seen in the neighborhood.

It was a cumbersome process; but any more direct approach would have almost certainly alerted Wickham, and Darcy would not run the risk of further harming Elizabeth or her reputation.

There had been no success to date, but as long as there was a great house to be visited, Darcy would persist. The scarcity of news from the eastern coast told him that Bingley was faring no better. Even though their only clue to finding Elizabeth had been the postal stamp on a letter he had never seen, it was enough for him to know she had to be somewhere in the northern counties.

And so tonight he was attending Sir Henry's private ball with his friend, Robert…and unlike the time in Hertfordshire, he would dance. He would not be the man he was a year ago. He had labored hard to practice "performing to strangers" in the months since Elizabeth's painfully accurate judgment laid bare this deficiency in his character. As in other areas of his life these days, he would show himself to be a better man, for her sake.

Entering the room, Darcy flinched involuntarily. "Good heavens, Driscoll, I thought you said this was a small gathering."

"It is!" his friend laughed sympathetically. "You should see when they really go all out!"

"Well, I would say this is closer to a crush than a gathering," Darcy murmured. "It is a wonder there is any room to dance at all."

"Rest assured, Darcy, there is always room for dancing. You will not get off that easily. I will hold you to your promise to dance at least one set. You are not at Cambridge any more, my friend; and you must join the rest of us in assuming the responsibilities of an unattached, eligible male at a ball."

"I shall, Driscoll, I shall; but I see there are more than enough gentlemen in attendance so that I need not be in any hurry. I believe it may take some time just to find the dance floor!"

"Very well, but I refuse to see you sulking on the sidelines for long. He who hesitates finds all the best partners engaged, you know!"

"Go enjoy the hunt! I shall find you when I am ready to join in the fray."

Darcy watched his friend melt effortlessly into the surrounding crowd, returning the enthusiastic greeting of several young ladies in the process. Yes, it was getting less painful to mingle with strangers, but he knew it would be years before his ability to converse would come as easily to him as it did to Driscoll.

Robert Driscoll drifted amiably through the crowded room, convinced that his friend would not have an enjoyable evening without some assistance. It was the least he could do after all the consideration Darcy had shown him over the years. Assiduously, he evaluated the compatibility of the young ladies of his acquaintance to Darcy's naturally reticent nature. Because he had often seen Darcy dance a full set without saying a single word to his unlucky partner, it was requisite that the young lady be kindly disposed to his friend's temperament.

At first glance, there were several ladies that appeared to be excellent choices, yet upon further deliberation, they lacked the most indispensable attribute of all – an ability to encourage conversation in a man of reticent disposition. It did not take long, though before Driscoll spied the perfect partner for Darcy. She was young, clever, and witty. He had often observed her gentle and encouraging manner with those who found the demands of society particularly daunting. And though she was always handsome to look at, tonight she was exceptionally pretty. He was sure even Darcy would not turn down the opportunity to dance with her.

It was settled then. Once he secured her hand for a dance, he would set up an introduction for Darcy before anyone else had the chance to take her away.

With a little scheming on his part, he managed to succeed for the very next dance. Her company was everything he expected and he found her to be a surprisingly adept partner. Maneuvering to execute the fifth figure in the quadrille they were dancing, he proceeded to enlist her help.

"May I say you dance as beautifully as you look this evening?"

She gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "I thank you, and may I say that you are being very generous with your complements!"

"It is easy to be generous when the subject is as lovely as you," he countered sincerely. "I daresay you have been much engaged. I was quite fortunate to secure this dance."

"Only because I was in search of refreshment when you intercepted me, sir. I do believe Mr. Whitely is displeased with you for stealing me away. I shall have to promise him the next."

"The evening is young. He will have his chance, I am certain. As for me, I must confess that my purpose for dancing with you is two-fold."

"Really, Mr. Driscoll? Two-fold! I am intrigued. Am I to know your purpose?"

"By all means! The first was because you are quite easily the prettiest girl in the room."

"I believe we have already exhausted that subject, sir," she chided him gently. "And the second?"

"The second is that I am in need of a particular favor. May I be so bold as to ask a dance for a friend of mine?"

"You are asking for a friend? Tell me, Mr. Driscoll, what manner of man is he that he cannot ask for himself?"

"He is a very good sort of man, really. He has been a mentor of sorts to me, especially when I was inexperienced and in need of a friend. It is just that he seldom travels to this part of the kingdom and he knows very few people here. He also tends to be rather diffident in large crowds. I am very much indebted to him and I should like for him to have an enjoyable time."

"Very well then. With such a high recommendation as that, I cannot but like the man already! I should be happy to dance with him if he is agreeable to your scheme."

"Thank you very much!" Driscoll grinned broadly as the dance ended and he offered a low bow. "He is just over there. Shall I introduce you?"

"Certainly," she replied, and held tightly to his arm as he navigated the press of couples going to and from the dance floor.

"Here we are," Driscoll announced cheerfully, pulling her into a relatively clear space near one of the open windows. "May I present my friend –"

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth cried in amazement.

Darcy's eyes widened in shocked disbelief. What was Elizabeth doing here – at a ball? His eyes hastily swept her figure. The fit of her gown plainly revealed there was not the slightest possibility of her carrying a child. By all accounts, she should have been nearing her confinement; but the graceful figure beneath the pale blue silk was as slender and trim as it ever was.

Elizabeth dropped to a curtsey in an effort to escape Darcy's intense stare, only to be reminded of the too-low cut of her gown. Rising abruptly, she stood in silent agony, not knowing what to say. Why is he staring at me so? Does he disapprove? I wish I could tell him the wretched gown was not my choice! But to disclose that sort of information would only make matters worse. In spite of the viscount's successful efforts in elevating her status from paid companion to Rebecca's "friend" in the eyes of his neighbors, Mr. Darcy would no doubt see through the deception immediately.

Elizabeth recalled that he abhorred disguise of every sort, and knew she could sink no lower in his estimation. In fact, the crease now furrowing his brow told her that she had succeeded in losing the last of any regard he may have had for her.

Discomfited by Darcy's silence, Driscoll leaned in, speaking under his breath. "Acknowledge the lady, man! What is wrong with you? Have the goodness to say something!"

Fighting his way through the paralyzing mixture of shock at finding her here, relief of finding her at all, and the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and never let her go, Darcy bowed stiffly.

"Miss Bennet. I beg your pardon. I did not expect…that is…I, um," he clumsily stammered before finally managing to put together a coherent greeting. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"You know each other then?" Driscoll was pleasantly surprised. "How splendid!"

"Yes! We were introduced last year in Hertfordshire," Elizabeth offered. The recollection of their last time together at Hunsford colored her cheeks. "That is to say, we have met on a few occasions."

"This is even better than I thought! Darcy, I brought Miss Bennet over to entice you to dance and get better acquainted, but I see my work is already done – except for the dancing, of course. What do you say?"

Darcy's mind was still reeling with astonishment. Was there a miscalculation – an early birth, or worse? This does not make any sense!

Mistaking Darcy's look for an expression strikingly similar to the one he had displayed as he left Hunsford Cottage, Elizabeth gave Mr. Driscoll a slight, embarrassed smile. "I am afraid Mr. Darcy and I are not the best of friends."

"I am surprised to hear that, Miss Bennet!" He threw a quick glance at Darcy and his friend's grim silence seemed to confirm the fact. "I beg your pardon. I had no idea. Shall I return you to Mr. Whitely? He must be looking for his dance by now."

"No!" cried Darcy in sudden panic. Seeing the startled reaction to his extraordinary outburst, he quickly tempered his reply. "I mean, that is to say, please forgive my boorish manners. Indeed, I would be honored if Miss Bennet would dance with me."

"I know Mr. Darcy does not care for dancing, and I would not wish to impose," Elizabeth responded, giving Driscoll another apologetic smile. She dropped a polite curtsey and began to withdraw.

At that moment, Darcy did not care how or when or why Elizabeth came to be at this ball in the middle of Cumberland. He was just glad that he had finally found her and he was not about to let her go. Stepping forward with a meaningful smile about his lips, he held his hand out to her.

"And I know, Miss Bennet, that you sometimes profess opinions which, in fact, are not your own. I should very much like to dance with you. Will you do me the honor?"

Elizabeth stared at him, confused at his gently teasing manner. After all the her hateful words and discourteous manners, did he truly desire her company? It was impossible to imagine, yet the warm, inviting look in his eyes declared otherwise. He did indeed seem genuinely eager to dance with her.

She paused a moment longer, now disposed to accept his surprising change of heart, yet realizing her hopes of any lasting amiability would surely be in vain. Perhaps he had managed to overlook the inferiority of her connections and the eccentricities of her family, but the circumstances surrounding her current employment with Lord Grissholm was another matter. Lydia had allowed George Wickham to drag her family into disgrace, and Elizabeth knew from Mr. Darcy's letter last April that he would never, in any possible way, connect himself to his worst enemy.

"Miss Bennet? Shall we dance?"

She looked hesitantly at his outstretched hand and then into his suddenly anxious and uncertain eyes. She saw no judgment, no condemnation for her past offenses. What she did see in the depths of his eyes sent a jolt of surprise through her. He was obviously in want of her company.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. I should like that very much," she answered softly and placed her hand in his.

Darcy's heart jumped to a frenzied pace as his fingers closed tightly over hers and he led her to their place on the dance floor. His placid expression was all that it should be, but his eyes glittered with the rapture that burned within him. There were a thousand questions to be answered, but for the moment he would simply allow himself the very great pleasure of her company.

Gathering her courage to face Darcy's eager gaze, Elizabeth offered a gracious smile. He really was quite handsome in his formal attire; but more appealing than any aspect of his physical appearance, was a greater understanding of his noble traits she had heretofore failed to acknowledge. Traits that, sadly, she would never come to fully comprehend. When the music swelled with the opening of a country dance, bringing them together for the first figure, she had to forcefully remind herself that his attentive manner would only last as long as he was ignorant of her situation.

Darcy moved in to grasp Elizabeth's hand, drawing her close to him as they pivoted, the length of their bodies nearly touching, and then it was back to the line as the next couple followed suit.

For several minutes, they moved through the steps in silence, but there was no awkwardness felt by either party. For Darcy, it was sheer bliss. When he was not relishing the feel of her hand afforded by the dictates of the dance, his eyes were absorbing every delightful detail of her appearance, from the topmost curl of her head to the pale blue slippers on her feet.

Elizabeth simply watched him, wondering at the transformation of the man who now stood opposite her.

At last, Darcy recalled her previous criticism of his reluctance to speak while dancing and thus moved to put right that particular deficiency. When next they came together, he leaned in and murmured softly.

"Miss Bennet, may I say how stunning you look this evening?"

Elizabeth blushed self-consciously, not so much at his words, but at the passionate fervor with which he uttered them.

"I thank you, sir. That is high praise indeed."

"I only speak as I see," he smiled down at her heightened color.

Averting her gaze from his steadfast one, Elizabeth searched frantically for a safer, more neutral topic.

"Um, Mr. Darcy, I was very surprised to see you here tonight. How do you come to be in this part of the country? Are you acquainted with Sir Percy?"

"Only slightly. I actually came with Mr. Driscoll, a friend from my university days."

"I see," she remarked as casually as she could. "And do you intend to be in the neighborhood long?"

"Not very long, I hope. In truth, Miss Bennet, I have been looking for you these past several weeks and am very glad to have finally found you."

"Found me?" she asked as they parted to cross over the couple to their left. Coming back together, she continued. "What reason could you have to be looking for me in the first place?"

The dance separated them and Elizabeth held his eyes with a puzzled look until they were moving down the set, arm in arm. Darcy's heart beat in furious delight as she moved gracefully alongside him. He struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand. Astonishingly, he had not found her to be with child; but further consideration as to the meaning of that revelation would have to wait. The most pressing need now was for her to return to Hertfordshire to restore her reputation and that of her family.

"I have news from Longbourn. Your elder sister has been very anxious that you be found. I have been…that is, Mr. Bingley and I have – "

"News from Longbourn?" Elizabeth froze in place, nearly effecting a calamity with the other dancers. Darcy's arm wrapped solidly around her waist, pulling her back into position.

"Is it my father?!" she breathed. "I know he has been ill. Is he – "

"You know?" It was Darcy's turn to be startled. "How could you? Miss Bennet said there have been no letters passed between you."

Elizabeth shook her head to clear the troubled thoughts crowding in. "An acquaintance…wrote me of my father's attack. Is he…is the news bad?"

"It is not as bad as you are imagining, Miss Bennet. Your father was recovering suitably well when I left him some weeks ago."

Elizabeth's relief was evident, although her color had not recovered completely. With an understanding smile, Darcy guided her down the line thinking her misstep had gone undetected. He did not know there was one person who had seen it all. Obscured in the press of bystanders that ringed the room, Lord Grissholm sullenly continued to watch their every move.

The dance sent the couple down the length of the figure, and Darcy's heart constricted painfully when Elizabeth suddenly glanced up at him, worry and concern still shining in her eyes.

"If my father truly was out of danger before you left Hertfordshire, then why have you come all this way to find me?"

Darcy glanced to the couples on either side of them, then to the colonnade that ran along the east side of the ballroom.

"Could I persuade you to walk with me in the corridor? I believe what I have to say would be better accomplished in a more private setting."

Concerned even more by his evasive response, Elizabeth gave a slight nod and allowed herself to be guided away from the dance floor. As they wound their way through the crowded room, she was strangely comforted by the gentle touch of his hand held protectively at the small of her back.

They quickly reached the row of soaring columns and stepped in the shadowy corridor beyond. There were a few others occupying the space as well, but for the most part, their attention was fixed on the scores of guests in the adjacent ballroom.

When Darcy had retreated a few more steps, Elizabeth turned anxiously.

"What is it, Mr. Darcy? What news do you have?"

"I have been looking for you because your family is quite anxious for your return. There are certain rumors circulating regarding your sudden departure last June."

"Rumors? I do not understand. We were very careful to make it quite clear that I am travelling with Mrs. Whitestone – one of my father's relations."

"When your father fell ill, and the responsibility for Longbourn's affairs was thrust upon your sister, she was quite anxious for you to know. She had no directions for sending a letter, and in her desire to find some, she applied to Mr. Collins, who had happened to call at Longbourn. Regrettably, Mr. Collins came to the unfortunate conclusion that there is no such person as Mrs. Whitestone in his family, and thus began to speculate that something was amiss."

"Oh, no! This is dreadful. That man cannot keep anything to himself!"

Even in the shadows of the columns, Darcy could see Elizabeth pale considerably. He moved closer, wanting to hold her close and assure her all would be made right again. Instead, he contented himself with taking up her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, feeling a thrill of contentment in the warmth of her touch as they walked on.

"Please know that I have addressed Mr. Collins personally, and he will not speak of this to anyone."

"But, Lady Catherine – " she whispered faintly. "He will never keep anything from Lady Catherine."

"He will this time, I have made certain." Darcy's hand pressed hers reassuringly. "Please do not give Mr. Collins or Lady Catherine another thought."

"I cannot believe you would trouble yourself so much on our account. I thank you, Mr. Darcy, very much, for what you have done for my family. I do not know how we can repay you for this kindness."

"Your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I must confess I thought only of you. Miss Bennet, as much as I do not deserve it, would you allow me to – "

His words were interrupted when a liveried servant suddenly appeared in the corridor and hastened to Elizabeth's side. Murmuring something too low for Darcy to understand, the boy waited for an answer, which she gave with a nod of her head, and then he was gone.

She looked up at Darcy with an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy; urgent business calls me away at once, but I should very much like to hear what else you have to say. Could we continue this tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course. I must tell you, however, that time is of the utmost importance. Would you permit me to call on you in the morning?"

Suddenly hesitant, she averted her eyes. She could not bring herself to tell him the "urgent business" was Lord Grissholm demanding she come at once. Nor could she allow him to call at Everton and learn of her disgrace. Still avoiding his gaze, she offered him a small curtsey.

"I am engaged in Hensingham the greater part of the day tomorrow; but if you would care to walk in the park at, say four o'clock, we could meet there. I am most anxious to hear more of my family."

Darcy could sense her eagerness to be gone, still he could not bring himself to let her go so easily. It was too soon for him to let her walk away just yet.

"I would be happy to join you tomorrow, but is there not something I can do for you tonight?"

"No, I thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied firmly, turning away. "I shall meet you in the park at four o'clock."

Doggedly, Darcy followed after her, gently catching her arm and turning her about to face him. Her beautiful face was a mixture of emotions he could not decipher.

"The message has obviously distressed you, Miss Bennet. I cannot bear to see you leave in this manner. Would you…would you allow me to escort you home?"

"No!" she cried. "That is, I thank you for your concern, but there is no need to trouble yourself. Please, I must go now."

Darcy reluctantly released his hold and watched her walk back through the columns and into the ballroom. After all the weeks of agonized searching, their time together had been distressingly short-lived; but tomorrow he would see her again. Then he would perform the difficult task of relating the details of the rumors and what could be done about them, including how prudent it would be to accept his offer of marriage. If fortune was on his side, he could then claim the privilege of accompanying her home. Their time spent travelling together would give him every opportunity to show her he was not the man she had thought him to be last April!

Elizabeth quickly made her way across the room, and Darcy was compelled to follow at a slight distance, wanting to assure himself that she truly was not in need of his assistance. At that moment, the dance ended and an exchange of partners for the next dance sent a rush of people to fill what little distance there was between Darcy and Elizabeth, pushing them further apart. Suddenly Elizabeth paused, looking back over her shoulder and when her eyes met his across the room, she gave him a brief, unobtrusive smile. With a slight rise of her brow, she then turned and continued on.

Darcy kept moving forward, noting with frustration that the crowd only seemed to grow between them. He pressed on, keeping the retreating vision of pale blue and silver in sight until he was abruptly halted by a piercing cry of indignation.

"Watch where you are going, young man! You nearly trampled me!"

Darcy looked down briefly to see a richly-dressed matron fanning herself frantically, her face flushed with annoyance.

"I do beg your pardon, madam. I assure you I meant no offense. Please, excuse me!"

Darcy offered a quick bow and looked back to Elizabeth, only to find her gone. Ignoring the older woman's continued tirade on the abominable manners of the younger generation, he moved in the direction he had last seen her.

Gaining the top of the main staircase, Darcy caught sight of Elizabeth two flights down, descending with a man and another young lady. He reached the entrance to Hartley Park just as she entered a waiting carriage. The gentleman accompanying her followed her in and Darcy paused at the sight. He had not seen the man's face, but there was something oddly familiar about him.

Outside in the glowing lanterns that lined the steps, Lord Grissholm hid his anxiety as he shot one final look up to the ballroom windows before hastily handing Rebecca and Elizabeth into the waiting carriage. Following them in, he settled into the shadowy darkness across from the two ladies and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

It had been an unwelcome surprise to find Darcy at the ball and dancing with Elizabeth. He wanted them to meet, yes; but not here and not now. He had yet to secure Elizabeth's regard sufficient to deal the crushing blow he wanted Darcy to feel. From his observation of the two, there had been very little conversation, especially on Elizabeth's part. He felt sure the boy he had sent to retrieve her from the corridor had intervened before any real damage had been done, and for once, Elizabeth did not choose to argue the point when he announced his intention to leave immediately.

Now searching for a plausible explanation for their precipitous departure, he exclaimed cheerfully, "Well, ladies, I do apologize for ending the evening so early; but it seems I have received some news from London and we must be off first thing in the morning."

"London!" Elizabeth cried anxiously. "So sudden? Is something wrong, my lord?"

"Not at all, Miss Bennet. There is no need for alarm. It is only that I finally have news of a certain party," he said, directing a meaningful glance towards Elizabeth, "and time is short. If it is inconvenient, I could travel alone."

"Oh, no, my lord! It is not inconvenient in the least. I am happy to leave any time you wish."

Rebecca squeezed Elizabeth's hand in the darkness. "London! I have never been to London. I think I shall not be able to sleep a wink thinking about it!"

From the pale glow of the carriage lantern, Lord Grissholm could see the same anticipation in Elizabeth, although he was certain hers was not for the same reasons. Regular doctor's reports that had given assurances of her father's well-being, although utterly fictitious, had allowed him to delay their departure to London much longer than he had thought possible. The extra time had done wonders in furthering his relationship with her.

The more time he spent with Elizabeth, the more he was sure of what he wanted. She was not Catherine, of course – no one would ever replace her – but Elizabeth was spirited and charming; and winning her affection would be a challenging accomplishment. Something that only enhanced the anticipated pleasure of Darcy's keen disappointment.

The ball tonight had been a critical test and she had passed with flying colors. He had watched her closely, admiring her natural grace and ease in company. Society did not intimidate her nor diminish her spirited nature. Yes, she would do very well.

Things were moving along nicely, but Darcy's unexpected arrival in Cumberland called for a definite change of plans. The unfortunate meeting tonight necessitated moving the timetable up a bit. It was not a huge setback; however, the last thing he wanted right now was for Fitzwilliam Darcy to be anywhere near Elizabeth. He needed to get her away from Everton as soon as it could be arranged. Even if it meant the servants would spend the entire night packing, they would be well on their way to London ere the sun topped Dent Fell.

At least Elizabeth and Rebecca will be on their way. He thought to himself in the darkness. I have some business to attend with Darcy before I join them in London.

Chapter 22

Posted on October 28, 2009

Standing apart from the other men who were actually enjoying their brandy and cigars, Darcy absently swirled the amber liquid in his glass, drinking very little. Driscoll's dinner party was proving to be informative, but not in the way he had anticipated. Already anxious at Elizabeth's failure to meet him in the park, Darcy had hoped to see her again tonight. When she did not appear, the evening had begun a long, downward spiral that was only to be endured through sheer willpower. Not only was Darcy keenly disappointed by Elizabeth's absence, but other worries began to surface as Grissholm's solitary appearance quickly became the favorite subject of endless speculation among the other guests.

With a head full of unanswered questions, there was little else Darcy could think of except the whispered comments he had overheard at dinner. Miss Bennet has certainly made an impression at Everton Manor…even if she is a friend of Miss Ballard's, no one knows anything about her…What is Lord Grissholm thinking?…quite surprised she is not here protecting her interest... The references to Elizabeth and the persistent connection to Grissholm's name had only served to increase his concern. Could there be an attachment?

He allowed himself to consider the possibility for a brief moment, and then the memory of Elizabeth's scathing assessment of his own unintentional arrogance and conceit stabbed at his heart. It seemed inconceivable that she would welcome the attentions of a man of Grissholm's disposition; a man who was never seen to give the least consideration to anyone beneath his social sphere unless it suited his interest. The only exception was Catherine Monroe, and her sudden disappearance from Cambridgeshire their last year at university had done nothing to improve the crestfallen viscount's temperament.

Grissholm's evident interest in Elizabeth made no sense; but then, after the events of the past several months, nothing made sense any more.

All through the evening, Darcy's quiet observations had assured him that time had not changed Grissholm in the least. His jaw tightened defiantly. No, he would not believe Elizabeth's affections could be engaged by such a man, not until he heard it from her own lips.

"Darcy, strange that we should meet so far from London; and in my own little corner of the kingdom," Grissholm's smooth voice intruded upon Darcy's thoughts. "To what do we owe this rare honor?"

Darcy turned to Grissholm with cool civility, still feeling the old resentment for the unfounded suspicions regarding Catherine Monroe. While the two men had never been more than passing, obligatory acquaintances before their years together at Cambridge, they were now even less; evidenced by the smoldering undercurrent of animosity that instantly filled the air between them.

"Grissholm. Last I checked, one is allowed to travel about the country without being required to explain oneself – or am I mistaken?"

"Not at all, not at all!" Grissholm smiled with little enthusiasm. "I just wondered that you would choose to be sightseeing so far north this time of year."

"And I wonder that you would concern yourself with my travels at all."

"Only when they result in you dancing with a particular lady."

"Ah, Miss Bennet, you mean. And when has my dancing partner ever been your concern?"

"It is my concern when the lady is under my protection."

"Your protection? Is there a connection? Are you a relative perhaps?" Darcy probed.

"No relation – yet. I am feeling generous this evening, Darcy, so I will tell you she came to us as a new acquaintance. My young ward was desirous of female companionship and Miss Bennet was kind enough to oblige."

"Hertfordshire is not an easy distance. I am surprised that you would know Miss Bennet at all."

"It seems that you are well-acquainted with the lady," Grissholm countered. "I did not know you enjoyed country society outside of Pemberley."

"We met when I was assisting Charles Bingley with some property. Have you been to Hertfordshire, sir?"

"Not at all. My ward and Miss Bennet were introduced through a mutual friend this past year and the girl was so insistent I thought I had better extend the invitation. Mind you, I was not entirely amenable to the idea at first, but now I confess I find Miss Bennet to be quite delightful. I have had the pleasure of her company for some time now and she is an intriguing piece of femininity. Would you not agree?"

Darcy forced a smooth, unruffled expression to his face. A tiny twitch of his eye was the only evidence that Grissholm's ill-mannered words had found their mark.

"I am not in the habit of discussing a lady in those terms and I will ask you not to speak of Miss Bennet in that manner."

Grissholm smirked. "If you like. But I will say that for all her independence, she does have a certain vulnerability and she has come to rely upon me in many ways. So you see, I take a personal interest in the company she keeps. One cannot be too careful, you know – especially at a ball. She may very well find herself forced into a most uncomfortable situation."

"If you are referring to my dance with Miss Bennet, I can assure you she was not forced into anything. I know the lady to be quite capable of choosing whether she wishes to dance or not."

"I did observe a measure of persuasion on your part, Darcy; and a man of your stature – how could she refuse?"

"You may be surprised. I think you underestimate her strength of mind."

"Actually, I am well-acquainted with her strength of mind, along with a number of other very charming qualities."

"The question is how well is she acquainted with your qualities."

"If one did not know better, one would think you had a particular interest in the lady," Grissholm peered at Darcy with obvious relish.

"Only as a previous acquaintance. Nothing more," Darcy replied tightly. He knew Grissholm was provoking him, and the continued discussion of Elizabeth was eating at his restraint. "If you will excuse me, I would have a word with Driscoll."

"Very well, I can see you are finished with our conversation. It has been most enlightening," Grissholm smirked. "I see now why she chose me over you."

Darcy froze in mid-stride and turned, his restraint finally slipping. "What?"

"The messenger at Sir Henry's ball? I offered Miss Bennet a means of escape by requesting her company. As you have implied, she possesses a somewhat independent nature. She could have waited until your conversation was finished, but she did not." His lips curled into a malicious grin. "A very prudent choice on her part, I must say."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I have not forgot Cambridge. Young ladies have a habit of disappearing around you, Darcy; and she was wise enough to leave when she did."

"That is utterly ridiculous!" Darcy sneered disdainfully. "I say now what I said then. I had nothing to do with Catherine Monroe leaving you. I barely knew the girl. You were the one –"

"You can say what you will when there is none to refute you, but I know better. As for Miss Bennet, I felt it my duty to do what I could to keep her safe, and – " Grissholm paused to give his final words their full weight, " – evidently she agreed with me!"

It took every ounce of self-control Darcy possessed to turn and walk away from Grissholm. He would not dishonor his friend, Driscoll, in front of the other guests nor would he give Grissholm the satisfaction of knowing he had provoked him beyond measure.

Catching sight of Driscoll and his brother standing near the windows, Darcy quickly moved toward them, missing Grissholm's perverse look of triumph that followed him.

The rest of the evening became an excruciatingly difficult exercise in forbearance. Grissholm's unusual display of high spirits, which Darcy knew to be for his benefit, only deepened his resentment. Driscoll's subtle attempts to smooth over the obvious discord between the two had no effect.

Therefore, at the exact moment it was acceptable to withdraw without offending his host, Darcy retreated to his rooms, not making any effort to hide his deep disappointment when he saw Denham waiting. A heavy silence reined as the valet assisted him out of his evening clothes.

After a time, Darcy finally spoke, his voice quiet and somber. The words seemed to be directed more to himself than the valet.

"Apparently Driscoll was right about the rumors. Everyone seemed to be expecting her tonight; expecting her to be with him! He was insufferable! But what does this all mean, actually?"

The heaviness closed in once again and contemplation creased Darcy's brow as Denham nimbly stripped the remaining the layers of clothing.

As Darcy's head came through the opening of his nightshirt, he came to life with a sudden idea, nearly causing the startled Denham to drop the silk damask dressing gown he held in his hands.

"Denham, how well are you received below stairs?"

Denham paused momentarily in his efforts to retrieve the dressing gown and considered the question. "Well, enough, I suppose – sir."

"Do you think you could make some fairly direct inquiries without inciting the servants to gossip?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, I believe so. I have found Mrs. Vickery, Mr. Driscoll's housekeeper, to be a steady, trustworthy sort of woman. I am confident she would be happy to assist me in any way possible." He showed no emotion as Darcy turned an inquisitive eye on him, and the valet quickly moved away before the color rising in his face could betray him. "What sort of information are you seeking, sir?"

Choosing to ignore the implications of his valet's reaction, Darcy pursued his newly-formed plan. "I should like to know exactly how Miss Bennet is regarded at Everton Manor. How she came to be here, how she is regarded by Lord Grissholm and his ward, things of that sort. Do you think you can manage it?"

"I believe so. I will ask Mrs. Vickery for her assistance at the first opportunity."

"I want to know the moment you have any information – anything at all."

"Yes, sir, the very moment."

"Thank you, Denham," Darcy said, feeling the tension of the evening finally take its toll. "That will do for tonight."

"Very good," the valet answered with a small bow. He withdrew quietly, but kept a concerned eye upon his master until the door to the dressing room closed between them.

Darcy stood unmoving in the empty room, the disappointment and frustration of the evening running through his head, especially his encounter with Grissholm; but in his exhausted state, he could not grasp any thought long enough to examine it with any success.

Acknowledging his need to lie down before he collapsed, he moved wearily to the great four-poster bed that dominated his room and stretched out on the crisp, white cotton sheets. After several unsuccessful attempts to find a comfortable position, Darcy finally gave up and lay flat on his back, staring at nothing. His mind throbbed with an excess of fragmented details as he waited for a merciful, mindless sleep to come – but it did not.

For Darcy, time crept forward at a snail's pace as he waited on Denham's expertise to gather the needed information from the housekeeper. Long morning rides and shooting parties in the afternoons could not keep his mind occupied. No matter how hard he tried, his tortured thoughts conjured up visions of Elizabeth and Grissholm together as Grissholm's taunting words came again and again. …why she chose me over you!

The third afternoon following the dinner party, Darcy entered Driscoll's library, searching for a distraction. Though a good volume on philosophy normally served the purpose, he could not find anything in the extensive collection to hold his interest for more than five minutes.

Eventually giving up on the idea entirely, he moved away from the bookshelves and wandered to the window overlooking Driscoll's prized gardens. The view offered only the dying remnants of what had once been lush and verdant summer blossoms full of life and beauty.

Did she really care for Grissholm? If she was not seduced by Wickham, how did she come to be here? The immensity of the implications was slowly pulling him down into a black despair that offered no hope of relief, no way to ease the desperate anxiety he felt. A sudden noise drew his attention to the far side of the room, and he drew a deep, fortifying breath as he straightened to his full height. He turned to see Denham entering the library, obviously in search of his master. Darcy waited with eager restraint as Denham swiftly navigated the several chairs and tables that stood between them.

"Mr. Darcy, I have some news. Will you hear it now?" he spoke softly.

"No! Not here," Darcy answered, looking warily back to the open door. "Go to my rooms and I shall be up directly."

Very good, sir," murmured Denham quietly, then left.

Waiting only a brief moment, Darcy left the library as well. Reining in his eagerness, he ascended the stairs calmly, nodding a greeting to Driscoll as they passed on the landing; but upon reaching his rooms, Darcy quickly stepped inside and shut the door solidly behind him.

He had wrestled with disappointment and frustration for weeks before finally finding Elizabeth, only to have their one brief encounter cut short by Grissholm's interference. The past three days waiting for news that would give him some means of seeing her again had been agonizing. His patience had been stretched to the limit, and now that the opportunity was finally within reach, his questions came more harshly than he intended.

"Tell me, what news? What has Mrs. Vickery discovered?"

Denham showed no offense at the tone. "I fear, sir, that it will not be welcome news. The only kindness I can offer is to tell it quickly. In short, Miss Bennet has quit Everton."

Darcy stared at Denham, refusing to accept the news. When he finally did acknowledged the truth of Denham's report, it was more than his already-frayed emotions could bear. He lashed out, discharging the full force of his disappointment upon the unfortunate messenger.

"Gone?! When? Are you certain, absolutely certain?!" Darcy's mind raced to put the pieces together. He recalled the smug look that had played on Grissholm's face the whole night of Driscoll's dinner party. Of course she did not attend, she was already gone!

A fresh wave of fury welled up at the realization of Grissholm's manipulations. He had been duped soundly.

"Good heavens, man! It took three days…three wasted days…to discover her gone? This is not to be endured!" He retreated to the mantel, gripping its edges in brute strength, his breath coming fast and hard in his struggle to contain the anger and frustration raging within him.

After a time, Darcy's breathing returned to normal, leaving the ticking of a clock on the polished mantel to mark the seconds in the silent room. Cautiously, a pale and shaken Denham softly cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, sir. I realize the information was of utmost importance to you, but I assure you the inquiries were made with all haste, giving due consideration to the delicacy of the matter."

Darcy head snapped up. The valet's defensive undertone made him realize how desperate he had become. Had the immense strain of the past several weeks been so great as to rob him of the most common of courtesies to his faithful servant? He was instantly apologetic. "I am sorry, Denham. It was wrong of me to lay any blame when you were only acting on my instructions. You have always given me the best of service, and I ask that you accept my apology."

Denham's astonished, then embarrassed expression told Darcy he was forgiven. "It is quite all right, sir. I understand completely and am happy to do whatever I can. Mrs. Vickery reports that the two young ladies left Everton Manor the morning after Sir Henry's ball. They are not expected to return any time soon."

"Well, that gives new meaning to a lot of things now," Darcy breathed bitterly. "It is clear that Grissholm was deliberately keeping Miss Bennet and her whereabouts a mystery. The question is why…and where did she go?"

"Shall I see if Mrs. Vickery can find out any more, sir?"

"No, I think not. We shall have to move carefully now that Grissholm has shown his hand. It was some years ago, but I have seen what he is capable of when hard-pressed and I cannot risk Miss Bennet's safety." Darcy pushed back from the mantel and paced the length of the room before continuing. "I shall make some inquiries of my own. There are not many places he could have sent her."

Darcy covered the distance to his writing desk in three strides and quickly settled into the chair. With little pause, he reached for paper and pen and began a letter to the one person he knew to have the most complete knowledge of the families in London, the only person who could be depended upon to maintain his privacy: his cousin, Richard. Although they had not parted on good terms, Darcy was confident the news that Elizabeth was not with child, nor secluded in a distant farmhouse, would lessen his cousin's objections substantially. He was also certain that the re-appearance of Robert Grissholm in their lives would be an added inducement for Richard to lend his assistance after all.

When the letter was finished, Darcy penned another short note to Bingley, asking that they meet in London as soon as possible. He then raked his hands slowly through his hair, reviewing the unexpected events that had transpired since his arrival in Cumberland. Grissholm is up to something. I can feel it and I intend to find out what it is. I only hope I can do so before Elizabeth does something she will regret.

Chapter 23

"Elizabeth, do sit down. If you stare out that window much longer, I shall feel obliged to join you in your vigil."

"Vigil? I am only trying to judge the weather. It looks to be a fine day and I thought we might take a turn in the park later on."

"It is a fine day," came Rebecca's soft reply, "but I had thought we might take the carriage to Bond Street this afternoon instead of going to the park. His Lordship said I could buy one of those beautiful Indian shawls we saw at Madam Devereaux's last week. He said that you should have one as well," she added hopefully.

"He did, did he?" Elizabeth murmured absently, giving the street below one last look before turning away. "I cannot imagine why. I only mentioned how lovely you looked in that shade of blue; and I certainly have no interest in another addition to my wardrobe."

"Well, he thinks you should have it. He thinks a lot about you, you know."

"Hmm," was Elizabeth's only response. Feeling Rebecca's eyes on her, Elizabeth pulled her thoughts away from the street. She would not bring Lord Grissholm back from his meeting with Wickham any sooner by fretting over it.

"Can you not see it?" Rebecca teased with a little smile.

"What?"

"How solicitous his lordship is. The way he speaks to you. The way he makes a point of spending time with you. You must see it!"

Embarrassed, Elizabeth turned back to the window. "How could I not?"

"And?"

"And I am at a loss as to what to think."

"Forgive me if I am being too forward; but are you pleased with his attentions?"

Elizabeth began to pace the room, her arms wrapping tightly around the strange excitement that always fluttered in her stomach when she considered Lord Grissholm's solicitude.

"Well – I must admit it is flattering. What girl would not be pleased?"

"You are not entirely pleased, though; are you?"

Elizabeth sat down on the satin covered divan next to Rebecca . "I cannot believe his lordship is serious. How can he be? I have nothing of any consequence to offer."

"Oh, Elizabeth, you do not see yourself as others do. You are charming and beautiful and intelligent and engaging and…and I have never seen Lord Grissholm so much as give a second look to any woman in all the years I have been with him." Rebecca leaned forward with the eagerness of her youth. "Of course I am not an expert in these matters; but I would not be surprised at all if he were to make an offer to you very soon!"

"Rebecca! You are being ridiculous and I will not hear it!"

"You know it is true!" Rebecca's voice lowered conspiratorially. "What will you do if he does?"

"It is too absurd to even consider!"

"But if he does? Will you accept?"

Elizabeth busied herself once again with her sewing, allowing some time to consider the girl's question.

"One thing I have learned, at a great cost, is not to rush to judgment in any situation, particularly when it comes to a gentleman's feelings. Lord Grissholm has been very kind and attentive, but I shall not consider it any more than that." Elizabeth's firm tone put an end to the subject. "Do not look so disappointed, my dear. I promise that if such a remarkable event should ever occur, you shall be the first to know!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much!" Rebecca grinned impishly. "Deny it all you want, but I have no doubt he is –" the rest of her words stuck in her throat as Lord Grissholm suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Entering the room with a flourish of good will, he did not notice the two women quickly bend over their sewing a little too diligently. Elizabeth was especially industrious as she struggled to check the wash of pink that had flooded her cheeks.

"Well – I see that you ladies are happily occupied. I trust you have had a good morning?"

"Yes, my lord, we have had a very pleasant morning, haven't we, Rebecca?" Elizabeth answered brightly, creating a sharp contrast to Rebecca's pale silence.

"Y-yes, w-we have. We were just – ," her voice faded under his direct gaze. Even though she was now able to maintain her composure during most of the increasing social obligations required of her, she continued to be helplessly intimidated whenever Lord Grissholm spoke to her.

Elizabeth spoke up, eager to fill the awkward silence left by the tongue-tied Rebecca even though Lord Grissholm did not seem to notice.

"Your lordship, may I enquire about your morning? It was pleasant, I hope?"

"Yes, it was. Thank you for asking," Grissholm replied lightly. "And now I shall leave you two to your handiwork. I must attend to some pressing business in my study, but I would be happy to accompany you ladies later this afternoon. If I understood Rebecca correctly last evening, I believe you will be making a trip to Madam Devereaux's today?"

Elizabeth was disappointed that his reply held nothing to satisfy her burning curiosity regarding the meeting with George Wickham. She gave him a deliberate, inquisitive look, but he only returned it with a steady, hooded expression. It seemed she would have to wait until he was ready to divulge any news regarding Lydia's letters.

Still, she could not ignore the anticipation that glimmered in Rebecca's pleading eyes and so, with a stifled sigh, she acquiesced to the excursion. One of us might as well enjoy the afternoon, she thought before answering the viscount. "Yes, my lord, we were discussing that very thing just before you arrived. We shall be happy for the company."

"Very good, then. I look forward to it." Grissholm gave her a broad smile and offered a small bow. As he left the room, he paused in the doorway but did not turn when he spoke once more. "And Miss Bennet, would you please come to my study in an hour. I have a small matter of business I wish to discuss."

Squeezing her hands together to steady herself, Elizabeth took a deep breath and then knocked lightly on the door to Lord Grissholm's study and waited, casting a quick sidelong glance to the footman standing nearby. At Lord Grissholm's clear, deep command, she stepped into the mahogany-paneled study not knowing what to expect.

While thoughts of Rebecca's recent matrimonial speculations knotted her stomach with apprehension, her real hopes were for an end to the now excruciating separation from her family. Lord Grissholm continued to assure her that her father's condition was stable, and even improving rapidly under the diligent care of his personal physician, but Elizabeth wanted desperately to see him for herself. To be so close yet obliged to wait for the necessary arrangements only added to her frustration.

"Miss Bennet. Very punctual, I see. Please come in."

"Lord Grissholm, what is it you wish to discuss?"

"And very direct, too. I like that."

"Please, sir, I beg you, do not trifle with me."

"Very well, I will tell you my meeting with Mr. Wickham was very productive."

"What did he say? Has he agreed to give you the letters?"

"He had quite a lot to say, actually, but I shall spare you the embarrassment of repeating any of it. Unfortunately, we have not come to an agreement on the letters as yet."

"Oh."

Elizabeth looked at the dark, imposing man sitting behind the massive desk. If she could have found another way to retrieve Lydia's letters without involving him, she would have done so; but Wickham had been thorough in his scheme and the only means of escaping her hopeless circumstance was to accept Lord Grissholm's generous offer of assistance. At least he was an honorable man who had shown great concern and sensitivity; a man she could trust. She sighed.

"What is to be done then?"

Before answering, Grissholm guided her to a large, overstuffed chair well away from his desk. "Please sit down, Miss Bennet. The first thing that must be done is to determine the authenticity of the letters he has in his possession. I have one of them with me. Will you look at it?"

Elizabeth gingerly took the folded piece of foolscap and opened it. She could not prevent the warm rush of color brought on by her sister's appalling words. "Yes, this is Lydia's hand."

"You are sure? And these words are hers?"

"You read it!?" Elizabeth gasped, realizing that once again Lydia had exposed her family to censure and ridicule.

"Of course I did. I had to be sure of what I was getting. Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. I have seen much worse. Young girls have a tendency to forget themselves when it comes to a handsome face."

"Not all of us, I assure you," she murmured.

"Nevertheless, I ask you once again to be certain it is her letter."

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, "this is my sister Lydia's letter. I am positive."

"Good," he announced, taking the letter back. "Now that we are certain, I can move forward in the negotiations."

"How long will it take? To retrieve all the letters?"

"That is difficult to say. Mr. Wickham is a very careful man who trusts no one. I fear dealing with him will require some delicacy – and a little more time."

Clearly disappointed, Elizabeth slumped against the back of her chair. "I could have told you this would be difficult. Mr. Wickham is very good at what he does."

"He is not the only one," Grissholm replied with grim conviction. "I promise you I shall have him by and by. It will just require a little more time than we planned. Can you be patient a little longer?"

"I suppose I shall have to be. Is there nothing I can do?"

"No, not at present. Now that you have verified this letter, I meet Wickham in two days' time to discuss the terms. Unfortunately, he must return to his regiment, which will delay the final settlement. He insists on doing our business in London and will have to arrange another leave to bring the rest of the letters. It is uncertain when that will be."

Elizabeth sat staring at the flames dancing in the hearth, her thoughts drifting across the miles to Longbourn and her family. What must they be going through while I am forced to sit here doing nothing! The mixture of disappointment and frustration showed plainly in her face.

"I know you are anxious to return to your family, Miss Bennet, and I am resolved to settle this as soon as possible. As for your father, if there is any change at all, you shall know immediately."

"Thank you, my lord. I know that you are doing all you can. You have certainly done more than I ever intended you should. It is just that I feel as though I shall never see my family again."

Grissholm sat down beside her, gently taking up her hand as he spoke. "You shall be in Hertfordshire before you know it. Trust me! And, until then, I shall do my best to keep your mind happily occupied. Starting with that visit to Madam Devereaux's. You shall have the best Indian shawl in her shop!"

He was pleased to see a tiny smile cross her lips. "For Rebecca's sake, I shall go; but you must not buy anything for me. I have enough already, really."

"Ah, but I insist. I have it on very good authority that a woman can never have enough of such things! Go ready yourself and tell Rebecca to do likewise. We shall leave in half an hour."

Without giving Elizabeth a chance to protest, he pulled her up from the chair and swept her out the door and into the hallway. He watched her take a tentative step forward, then turn back with a challenging lift of her chin; but he only smiled resolutely and gave a slight bow as he slowly closed the door.

Hearing the sound of Elizabeth's retreating footsteps after what he knew was a few minutes of deliberation on her part, Grissholm allowed a small smile to play at his lips. Their meeting had gone even better than he expected.

Returning to his desk with renewed enthusiasm, he sat down and promptly withdrew a thick packet from a side drawer. Unfolding the outer sheet of paper, he looked briefly at the stack of letters it contained before placing the letter Elizabeth had identified as Lydia's on top. Shaking his head at the ridiculously large number of letters the girl had written to Wickham, he re-wrapped them all together and tied the package with a length of string, then dropped them back into the drawer.

"Too bad Elizabeth is not as easily persuaded as Wickham," he mused quietly to himself, "but she will be swayed in time. When she has waited long enough, I daresay she will do almost anything to return to her dear sick papa."

Hours after her interview with the viscount, Elizabeth sat at her dressing table absently brushing her hair in long slow strokes. She was barely aware of Molly moving about the room, setting things in order for the evening. Her mind was on Rebecca's earlier teasing comments and the subsequent shopping trip with Lord Grissholm. The recollection sent a tiny shock of astonishment through her as she considered the viscount's ever-growing interest. His frequent attentions went far beyond any responsibilities associated with her position. If she had had any doubts of their meaning before, his keen interest and intimate advice on the shawl she had reluctantly picked out at Madame Devereaux's was more than enough to convince her. Rebecca was right; a declaration would not be far off. Elizabeth was at a complete loss as to how she managed to once again arouse a passion without the slightest intention of doing so.

She sighed at the memory of having once told Jane she would only marry for the deepest kind of love. Lord Grissholm was rich and handsome enough. It was certainly a match her mother would approve of. He was attentive and often generous to a fault. Did she love him? Not exactly, but she admired and esteemed him, and perhaps that would be enough. Love could easily come later. Marriage to the viscount would shield her family from ridicule and censure, and would protect them in case of any future decline in her father's health. The more sensible part of her reasoned that to be married to such a man would be advantageous indeed.

Such a man, she mused. I barely know him, really. Not even as well as I knew Mr. Darcy – or at least thought I did. Her mind returned to the tea shop they had visited after their shopping trip and the abandoned newspaper she had seen lying on the table next to theirs. Skimming the headings as she listened to Lord Grissholm order their tea and cake, her only intent had been to see what was happening in town, but for some reason her curiosity was stirred by a small article near the bottom of the page. Even now, she could see the words staring up at her, and again felt the strangely poignant sensations they had stirred within her:

Did his sister's brush with disaster prompt him to help others that were not so fortunate? Mr. Darcy's letter of last spring had shown him to be a very private man who valued principle and integrity, yet here was an act that was altogether foreign to what she knew of him. He obviously had many more virtues than she could have ever imagined at their first meeting. Virtues that included compassion, perhaps? Elizabeth stared into the mirror, wondering – what else was hidden behind that stern, dispassionate countenance?

Her attention was drawn to the maid's reflection in the mirror as the girl finished turning down the sheets on the bed.

"Molly, did you not once tell me you come from Derbyshire?" Her sudden query sounded much louder than she intended, startling the girl.

"Yes, miss. I grew up in Lambton. My parents have an inn there. The Red Lion, it is; and a very fine establishment, if I do say so."

"Have you ever heard of a place called Pemberley?"

"Oh, yes! It is a very grand estate, not five miles from Lambton."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth smiled. The answer only fed her mounting interest. "And do you know anything of the family?"

"They have always been a good sort of people, as far as rich people go." Molly replied candidly; then realized the answer bordered on impertinence and hurried on. "None of them ever done an unkind thing to any of us in the village; except if you count the steward's son who the elder Mr. Darcy treated like his own. One summer the lad came home from university and started to brawlin' in the Red Lion. He tried to say t'was one of the village boys that started it, but young Mr. Darcy made it right. He took care of any damages and compensated my family handsomely."

"He did, did he?"

"That's the sort of man he is, miss. We were all grieved terrible for the new master when his father died so sudden-like. My brother Nathaniel is in service at Pemberley and told us all about it."

Elizabeth heard the genuine regret in the girl's voice. "He must have been a great man to deserve such esteem."

"He was that, I can tell you true."

"What a sad thing to lose him so suddenly." Elizabeth thought of her own father's precarious condition.

"T'was very sad indeed; especially for the young miss. First her mother, and then her father. My brother said t'was two months or more before the new master would even leave her alone for more than a few minutes at a time."

"He sounds like a very good brother," Elizabeth mused, preoccupied with the picture of Mr. Darcy Molly was painting.

"A very good brother and a very good master. I can remember a time when my best friend, Annie, fell sick. Her father has a tenancy on Pemberley. She was so sick I thought she might die, but Mr. Darcy sent the apothecary round to tend her – even when he knew her father couldn't pay. He paid for it himself. Said his tenants' families were an important part of the estate, he did."

"Mr. Darcy is indeed a very good master."

"Nathan always says you couldn't find a better or kinder master in all the kingdom."

Holding on to that thought, Elizabeth let Molly go and quickly finished braiding her hair before slipping between the sheets the girl had just warmed. She lay frowning at the canopy overhead for some time, trying to reconcile Molly's description of Mr. Darcy with his disagreeable behavior in Hertfordshire and Kent. The accounts could not be more different, yet it was obvious there was much more to the man than first impressions had allowed. Unable to come to any conclusions, she finally rolled over and purposely closed her eyes, willing her mind to think of other things.

Her brief encounter with Mr. Darcy of Pemberley had altered her completely. She vowed to herself she would never again judge a man so quickly nor so harshly, including Lord Grissholm. Even though he seemed to be so severe and austere most of the time, he did have moments of amiability; and she was sure that, just like Mr. Darcy, there was much more to the man than she was aware of. Perhaps it was time she allowed herself to be swayed by Lord Grissholm's gentle, but persistent persuasions.

"Charles, are you absolutely certain this is the right path?"

"Yes, Darcy, I am," Bingley answered with a look of long-suffering. "My man was very thorough in his report. She enters the park near Grosvenor between four and five o'clock; takes the north footpath; turns south, here, before reaching the main path; then cuts back above The Ring, and begins her return to the Grosvenor entrance. The only day she did not go out was the downpour we had last week. Thomas nearly caught his death making certain of it. There is a younger woman that accompanies her nearly every day and on Sundays and Tuesdays, Grissholm is with her."

"Yesterday, I was right here and waited until quarter past six with no success. Perhaps you are mistaken."

"I cannot tell you what happened yesterday. I can only tell you, her walks have been unvarying for the past two weeks."

"Then perhaps she is ill; or Grissholm has taken her from London or – "

"Or perhaps that is her now," Bingley finished with a triumphant smile.

Darcy spun around to see Elizabeth and Rebecca a little distance off, walking at a leisurely pace, but moving steadily in their direction.

"Wish me luck, Charles," he murmured, drawing a nervous breath.

"Luck? After all you have done to find her, do you really think you need any?"

"I am afraid I do. She is very likely to see me as the same ill-mannered brute who proposed last spring."

"Surely your meeting in Cumberland changed her opinion."

"Our meeting was short. I do not think our encounter did much to help my cause."

"Perhaps it was enough."

"There was more to overcome than just my previous offenses. I was so utterly astounded to find her at a ball and quite obviously not in the condition I had expected that it took several minutes before I could put two words together. She mistook my silence for criticism."

"That is unfortunate," Bingley noted sympathetically. "But you did speak with her in the end."

"Yes, I did speak with her; but it was not without difficulty. At first I thought she would refuse to stand up with me – she has done so in the past – but thankfully she did not. Just as we began to find some ease in one another's company, she was called away. I did not have the opportunity to say much of anything."

"Called away?"

"Yes," Darcy answered grimly. "I later found out that it was Grissholm's doing."

Charles gave a low whistle. "He is quite the fox, I daresay."

"He may be, but this is one quarry he will not have; not if I can help it."

Darcy watched as Elizabeth drew nearer, his pulse quickening in anticipation. He would take all her troubles away in a heartbeat if he thought she would allow it; but he knew better.

"I will do what I can to help," Bingley whispered encouragingly.

Elizabeth and her companion approached the men with slowed steps, and Darcy moved forward to be acknowledged.

"Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth greeted them cordially. "What a surprise to find you in London."

"Business of an urgent nature called me to town, and Bingley here was good enough to put himself at my disposal."

"You are fortunate to have someone who yields so readily to the persuasions of a friend," Elizabeth quipped good-naturedly and was pleased to see that Darcy did not miss the reference to their conversation in Netherfield's drawing room. In the next instant, her eyes took on a somber mien as she turned to the girl next to her. "And I am being a poor example, indeed, for I have not yet made the appropriate introductions. Miss Ballard, may I present Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley." A faint look of defiance shaded Elizabeth's expression as continued, "Miss Ballard is Lord Grissholm's ward. I have been employed as her companion these past three months."

Darcy noted the look and felt a twinge of regret knowing it was because she expected her revelation to invoke his censure. Wishing her to see a measure of his efforts to improve, he smiled with an extra warmth as he bowed to the younger woman.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ballard. How do you like London?"

"I cannot really say as yet," Rebecca answered shyly. "We arrived only a fortnight ago."

"Have you been to London before or is this your first visit?" Bingley's inquiring tone was inviting, and Rebecca responded surprisingly well to it.

"It is my first visit. I am quite looking forward to it. There are so many things to see and do."

"Shall we walk and I will tell you all the best places you must be sure to visit?" Bingley urged.

Rebecca looked uncertainly to Elizabeth who gave an encouraging smile.

"We welcome your company, but we have not far to go. We are just on our return."

Bingley swept his arm forward in a chivalrous manner, inviting Rebecca to proceed, and Darcy fell into step beside Elizabeth. It was not long before Bingley's pace created a convenient distance between the couples. Darcy opened his mouth to broach the difficult subject of Elizabeth's predicament, but it was she who spoke first.

"Mr. Darcy. This is a surprise, indeed. I thought you still in the north."

"I was, until I found that you had come to London. I then followed with the hope of meeting you again."

"I must confess I am happy you have succeeded. I was very sorry to have left you at odds in Hensingham. Please allow me to apologize for abandoning you without a word of explanation. Our departure was so sudden that I had no opportunity to send a note."

"Do not distress yourself on my account, Miss Bennet. I quite understand," Darcy replied warmly. "There is still much I have to tell you, but before I go any further, I would not wish any ill feelings to exist between us. May I beg your forgiveness for my behavior when Driscoll introduced us? Our meeting was quite unexpected and I regret I fell back into old habits. I did not intend –"

"It is quite all right, Mr. Darcy. I think we were both very much surprised."

He was encouraged by her lack of animosity and a tiny smile of gratitude played at his lips. "I fear I did very poorly in demonstrating my improved manners, but I assure you I have practiced much at performing to strangers since your admonition last spring."

"I had no idea my words would be taken so seriously."

"You only spoke the truth."

"I speak my mind too freely, perhaps," she murmured softly.

"I would rather know your mind than be left to the mercy of my imagination," he confessed. "It is far the better choice, believe me."

"And what news do you have, Mr. Darcy? Is it of my father? Are all my sisters still at Longbourn?"

"I have not been to Hertfordshire since our last meeting, but I have heard nothing that would indicate your father is any the worse. Your sisters are all at Longbourn, doing the best they can under the circumstances. I believe your youngest sister has been a particular distraction to Miss Bennet. It seems that her summer had been spoilt when she could not go to Brighton, but perhaps that was a blessing in disguise."

"Yes, I quite agree. And what of Mr. Bingley? Will he stay in London?"

"Only for a short while. He plans to return to Netherfield when our business here is finished."

She smiled at the news.

"I am very happy to see him again. He seemed quite pleased with Hertfordshire when I saw him last at Lucas Lodge."

"Yes, I believe he was."

"Do you suppose he shall stay then? Last spring you thought he might give up the place."

"I would like to say he will stay, but it depends upon many things. And what of your plans; shall you return home soon?"

Elizabeth studied the path without answering.

"Miss Bennet, I fear I must be direct. When we last met, I spoke of your family's desire for you to return as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know. I have had news of my father also, and I am told he is not in any immediate danger. As much as it pains me, I must postpone my return yet a little longer."

Darcy's mouth tightened knowing there was very little time left to salvage her reputation. The situation was becoming very serious.

"Miss Bennet, it is not only your father's health that is at issue," he took a deep breath. "There is the matter of the rumors."

"I thought you said you had taken care of Mr. Collins," she replied in alarm.

"I did, but this does not concern Mr. Collins. There are other rumors that have arisen from quite another source."

"Other rumors? Of what sort?"

"Other rumors of a more…delicate nature. If you are gone from Hertfordshire much longer, there will be no way to disprove the erroneous rumors of your – er, condition."

Elizabeth frowned in confusion. "My condition?"

"Miss Bennet!" came a voice not far behind them

Darcy turned to see Lord Grissholm striding toward them, and stifled the urge to step defensively in front of Elizabeth. He could only grit his teeth as the viscount caught up to them and smoothly positioned himself on Elizabeth's other side.

"I thought I might find you here," the viscount greeted her with more warmth than Darcy cared to see. "I received some news this afternoon and was certain you would want to hear it as soon as possible."

"The letters?" she exclaimed with sudden excitement.

Grissholm raised a brow and threw a sidelong glance at Darcy. "Under the circumstances, I think the details can wait until we return home."

Darcy watched with interest as Elizabeth became curiously subdued under Grissholm's gaze. Were they letters from her family; and if so, why would he be so guarded about such a common subject? Darcy had the uncomfortable sensation of being on the outside looking in and stabbed gently at the pebbled path with his walking stick as his heart constricted painfully at the possibility of there actually being an attachment between Elizabeth and Grissholm.

"Yes, you may be right, my lord," she agreed reluctantly, looking to Darcy as well. "I beg your pardon, sir; please allow me to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine."

"Darcy and I are already acquainted."

"We were classmates at Cambridge," Darcy offered stiffly. He saw Elizabeth's puzzled frown and knew the deep resentment between himself and Grissholm had not escaped her notice. "We have had little contact since then, but we do have a few mutual friends such as Robert Driscoll."

"Strange, given our vast differences, is it not?" added Grissholm mockingly. He leaned in to Elizabeth, his voice dropping surreptitiously. "For instance, you may have noticed that Darcy here takes little delight in a ball or an assembly. It was the same at university, you know – always the studious one, never making time for a bit of recreation. He makes himself a dull fellow while I very much enjoy a lively tune and an engaging partner; much like yourself, I think, Miss Bennet."

"My lord, I cannot say –" Elizabeth replied uncomfortably.

"Enjoyment in a ball – or anything else for that matter – can take many forms," Darcy retorted. "I find pleasure where I will, regardless of the circumstances." He watched with satisfaction as his challenging tone had the desired effect on Grissholm.

"Well – " Elizabeth said brightly, trying to diffuse the growing antagonism between the two men. "Shall we walk on? I fear it is growing rather late."

"Thank you, no," Darcy smiled at her with a steady look that held a deeper meaning. "I really should be on my way. It was a pleasure to see you, Miss Bennet. Perhaps we can continue our conversation another time. Would you allow me to call on you tomorrow afternoon?"

"Tomorrow? I believe that would be – "

"Impossible!" Grissholm quickly interjected. "I am afraid Miss Bennet's schedule is quite full at present."

Grissholm's possessive tone only served to heighten Darcy's irritation at the man's untimely appearance which had robbed him of the precious time he needed with Elizabeth. Darcy's eyes slid narrowly to Grissholm then purposefully back to Elizabeth, hoping to find the answer he wanted.

"I was addressing Miss Bennet, and would like a reply from her."

"I am sure you would, but in this case, I think she will agree that I am speaking for her when I say that her time is quite taken with previous commitments. Is that not so, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth's failure to answer right away turned Darcy's annoyance into an unsettling disappointment. He could see that she resented Grissholm's condescending manner and was obviously unhappy with his interference, yet she seemed unwilling to contradict him.

This further evidence of a possible understanding between them sent a devastating wave of loss through him. He could not bear to imagine that she was already promised to a man like Grissholm! While there was any hope at all that she was not yet engaged, he stubbornly refused to give way.

"Miss Bennet?"

"I am sorry, but Lord Grissholm is correct. My time is not my own at present. We shall have to postpone our conversation until more favorable circumstances present themselves."

"May I enquire when I might have that privilege?" Darcy probed cautiously. Her manner was too contrived, too restrained; something was not right.

"As much as I would like, I really cannot say. It is rather complicated."

Her slightly nervous smile, given under Grissholm's smug, watchful eye only served to deepen Darcy's suspicions.

"Very well, I shall wait for another time then." Darcy tipped his hat in parting, issuing an unspoken challenge as he met Grissholm's arrogant gaze. "But I should not be surprised, Miss Bennet, if we happen to meet again – very soon."

Chapter 24

Elizabeth gazed intently across the expanse of Lord Grissholm's desk, looking at him as if he had no sense at all.

"It is the twentieth of September! It is long past the time when I should have received a letter from Mr. Wickham. I do not trust him, and if he is scheming again, I do not think I could bear to have any more delays."

"Do not make yourself uneasy," the viscount answered with a placating smile. "It is most likely my negotiations with him have only altered his schedule a bit – and I believe he is wise enough to know it would be a grave mistake to cross me."

She thought about that for a moment, studying his confident expression.

"You may be right," she agreed grudgingly, "but if that is the case, he should have informed me of such instead of leaving me to worry like this."

"In another week or so it will not matter."

"I suppose not. It is just that with the end to this nightmare so near, it is difficult to have any degree of patience."

"Nightmare? An interesting choice of words. I was rather hoping you have not found the entire experience unpleasant. That perhaps you have found some things to appreciate?" His brow raised expressively. "I know I have."

Elizabeth sat unmoving, caught in the intensity of his look, then dropped her eyes to study the intricate weave of the lace on her gown.

"Sir, I very much appreciate all you have done for me. Indeed, it has not been entirely unpleasant, however you must see that the manner in which Mr. Wickham has separated me from my family is a misery of the acutest kind. Except for your kindness and Rebecca's sweet temper, which eases the pain of separation from my own sisters, these past months have been nearly impossible to bear."

She felt the viscount's powerful gaze linger for a few moments more before he rose abruptly from his chair. Without turning to look, she followed his progress around the room as he straightened an alabaster bust, slowly rotated the enameled globe in its mounting, then picked up a book and leafed through its pages before returning it to the stack. When he moved to the hearth where he paused to straighten a candlestick, she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Nervously, she watched him nod in a manner that seemed to mark the end of a silent deliberation. Then he spoke. Although his voice was low, it was filled with a quiet passion.

"And yet, some say our greatest trials give way to our greatest joys."

Elizabeth caught his meaning immediately and her heart beat wildly. The calm, steady expression on her face said nothing of the sudden apprehension of what she knew was coming. The moment Rebecca had predicted, the moment she herself had dared to consider, was now upon her.

Unable to respond to his words, Elizabeth continued in the examination of her lace and waited. Her heart accelerated in tandem with his renewed wandering that soon came to a stop at the side of her chair. Only the sound of her one quick breath broke the silence as he reached down and took her hands in his, slowly raising her up to stand before him.

"Do you not think so?"

Elizabeth forced herself to breathe, her senses constricted by his nearness and the feel of his eyes upon her. She knew he waited for a response, but she could not bring herself to comply.

Grissholm touched her face, lightly tracing the line of her cheek down to her chin and gently forced her face up so that she would meet his eyes.

"Miss Bennet – Elizabeth – this business with Wickham will soon be over and you will be at liberty to return to your family, but I hope the separation will not be for long. It is my wish that we should part with an understanding between us. Is that possible? Will you promise to return and be my wife?"

"My lord – " Elizabeth swallowed nervously, vainly trying to relieve the dryness in her mouth, and she turned away from his gaze to better think of the words she wanted to say. "I have felt for some time that your attentions were more than that of a concerned employer, so your declaration does not come as a complete surprise." She allowed him a small, nervous smile. "I am very grateful for the honor of your proposal and I think you must know that I am favorably inclined towards you; but I should very much like to see my father and speak with him. I would like to have his advice and consent before formally accepting your offer."

"There has been no word of any improvement in your father. I doubt he is in any condition that would allow you to converse with him. Perhaps an application to your uncle here in London would suffice?"

"No, that will not do. An engagement is too great a matter to circumvent my father. There has always been a special bond between us and I cannot take so solemn a step without his knowledge. Even if he is not entirely well, I must see him…tell him myself. I am certain if I were at Longbourn he would find a way to give me his blessing."

"You know that is not possible until your sister's letters have been recovered. We cannot give Wickham that advantage. If your father cares for you as you say, he would understand."

"It is not a matter of understanding. I will not risk further injury to his fragile state of health by engaging myself without his knowledge or consent. I must see him before anything can be acknowledged."

"I suppose if that is your wish, I shall have to abide by it for now." His impatient frown quickly smoothed into a strained smile. "But I shall hope that you will consider the matter more carefully and allow the engagement to be announced. In the meantime, I shall see what I can do to encourage Wickham to a speedy settlement."

"Thank you, sir," Elizabeth smiled softly, "I know it is a great deal to ask, but I cannot think you would wish me to begin married life without the assurance of my father's blessing."

"Well – I shall not detain you any longer. I have business to attend to, not the least of which is a letter to Mr. Wickham, and I am sure you have some suitable endeavor to occupy your time this afternoon."

Elizabeth smiled again, this time with a sense of gratitude and relief. She had been spared the necessity of having to accept immediately. Blushing as he softly kissed her hand, she left the study more than a little unsettled and made her way to the small garden attached to the rear of the house. The weather was still quite cold, but the icy air felt good against her heated cheeks. It was some time before the cold began to settle in and she was ready to face Rebecca. Entering the house again, she turned her steps toward the south drawing room where she knew she would find the girl.

It did not take long for her to relate the main points of what had transpired with Lord Grissholm.

"Oh, Elizabeth, did I not tell you?! And now it has happened!" Rebecca stared at Elizabeth in sudden awe. "I am so happy for you, but I cannot imagine being married to a man like Lord Grissholm. He frightens me so just to talk to him, and to think of being on equal terms is beyond my comprehension!"

"Equal terms – as you put it – can mean many things, my dear," Elizabeth replied softly.

"Yes, but what I meant was, well, his lordship is so – exacting in his manner, and you have such a natural liveliness; I know there is much you cannot express in your current position. When you are married, you shall be at liberty to express yourself more freely."

"In most cases, marriage does not bring as much liberty as you imagine. Lord Grissholm is a man with great responsibilities and is restricted in many ways by the dictates of his position. I suppose it will be much the same for me."

"Are you apprehensive at becoming Lady Grissholm? It seems like such an overwhelming thing to do."

"Not at all," Elizabeth calmly assured her. "What could be more agreeable than to be happily settled with a man of wealth and position – and a title as well? Think of the advantages I will enjoy!"

"It is just…I thought…Well, from all that you have ever said on the subject I think you would desire a greater understanding with the man you marry."

"And you do not think I will find this with his lordship?"

"In many respects, yes, but so often there is something in his manner that hints of an implacable pride, especially when you are in disagreement with him."

"In my experience, it is a common fault among all men."

"Perhaps it is," Rebecca grinned at her frankness, "but I should like to find a man less so. The fault is much greater in some than others, is it not?"

"Yes, I daresay it is; but we must own that there has to be more than one man in the world suited to make us content in matrimony. It is bewitching to think that there is one alone upon whom our happiness depends. Surely, where there is desire on both sides, any good woman and any good man can enjoy a successful union."

"And you shall be happy then?" Rebecca asked anxiously.

Elizabeth took Rebecca's hands into her own and smiled warmly. "Yes, I believe so. I suppose we shall be as happy as any married couple. Why should we not?"

She could see from the girl's expression that her answer was not entirely satisfactory.

"Rebecca, your concern is understandable. For many years, you have only seen a harsh, distant demeanor in Lord Grissholm; but have not these past few months shown him capable of a more benevolent temper? It is my belief that with time he will prove to be a much better man than either of us ever thought possible."

"It could not be otherwise when he is married to someone as good as you, Elizabeth!"

"On that kind note I think I shall leave you to your book. There is much to be done before any wedding date can be set!"

Chapter 24, pt 2

Posted on November 11, 2009

She smiled at him. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I was rather surprised when my maid delivered your message; however, it was not unwelcome. Our last conversation has been on my mind a great deal, and as Lord Grissholm's objections were evident, I did not think we would finish it anytime soon. His opinion is quite set against you and my situation in the household makes it difficult to oppose his wishes."

"Yes, the viscount has made his position very clear. I am not welcomed at Peyton House, so it is fortunate for me that you have a fondness for walking."

Elizabeth raised her brows knowingly, giving him a wry smile. "His lordship does not think it coincidence that we should meet in Cumberland and again here in London so soon after – nor do I. In any case, he would be immensely displeased if he knew the purpose of my walk today."

"And yet, you came."

He paused, and she glimpsed a spark of pleasure in his eyes. The moment was fleeting, but it was enough for her to wonder at the nebulous feeling it had stirred in her. Darcy gestured an invitation to proceed with a sweep of his arm, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. She fell into step beside him as he turned and began walking deeper into the park.

"Knowing the viscount's resentment toward me, I thought it best to be as discreet as possible. I do not wish to make things difficult for you."

"You need not worry, Mr. Darcy. His lordship has gone out for the afternoon – this is his day for White's; and Rebecca is keeping to her rooms with a bad cold. I doubt I will even be missed."

After only a brief pause, Elizabeth turned the conversation to the question that was foremost on her mind.

"I do not pretend to understand the difficulties between Lord Grissholm and yourself, but the dislike is evident, on both sides. I am afraid his lordship's observations after our last meeting were not very flattering."

"I can imagine they were not. Whatever was said, I beg you do not accept it as a matter of fact."

"Oh, I do not, I assure you!" she answered quickly, displaying a small rueful smile. "The last time I failed to consider both sides of a disagreement between two gentlemen, I deeply regretted it. I am resolved not to make that mistake again."

"I am very glad to hear that," he murmured with a smile of his own.

"Yes, I thought it wise to gather all the facts possible before forming an opinion. I should like to know your side of this disagreement – if you are willing to tell me."

Darcy let out a small sigh. It was obviously not something he wished to speak of. For a moment, Elizabeth thought he would refuse, and then he began.

"The animosity between Lord Grissholm and myself began during our years at university. We were never great friends, but society brought us together often enough. In his fourth year, he became involved with a young lady. They were seen frequently in each other's company, and it had even been rumored he would offer for her. Then, one day she disappeared quite suddenly. Publicly, he claimed ignorance of the whole affair, but in private he insisted I had something to do with the lady's disappearance."

"Oh!" Elizabeth took a moment to digest the troubling revelation. "And was she ever found?"

"No, not a trace."

The frown resulting from her attempt to reconcile what she thought she knew of both gentlemen only deepened. "Do you have any idea why he would form such an opinion against you?"

"I do not. I assured him I had nothing to do with the lady or her disappearance. Still, these past ten years, he has made it his mission to privately plague me with accusation and innuendo whenever out paths cross He dares not make any formal accusation. He knows there is no basis for his ridiculous assertions." Mr. Darcy paused suddenly, and when he continued, Elizabeth detected a definite change in his tenor. "Not long after the unfortunate incident, the death of my father recalled me to Pemberley. My days were instantly filled with the care of my sister and the affairs of the estate. I had not the time nor the inclination to give credence to any capricious gossip that managed to make its way to Pemberley. To this day, Grissholm's resentment continues. My own resentment stems from his attempt to attach my name to the affair and his repeated attempts to defame my reputation and vilify my character. That, Miss Bennet, is the reason for our mutual dislike."

Elizabeth tried to take in all that she had heard. It was a disturbing tale, indeed. She was pleased, though, that Mr. Darcy had been willing to explain himself so fully. Lord Grissholm, in all their time together, all the hours they had spent in conversation, had never mentioned Catherine Monroe – for Elizabeth was certain that was the young lady who had disappeared – beyond his cursory explanation of the paintings and Rebecca's presence at Everton. If she were to ask him to explain his prejudice against Mr. Darcy, would he be willing to relate his side of the story? That was something she needed to find out at the earliest possible opportunity.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for telling me. You have given me much to consider." Having satisfied her curiosity on that count for the time being, she turned her attention to the second question that had been niggling at her since their last meeting. Glancing at Darcy, she was happy to see his demeanor still open and affable. "May I ask you something else?"

"Whatever you wish, Miss Bennet. I shall answer if it is in my power to do so."

"When our last conversation was cut short, you were saying something about 'my condition'…what exactly did you mean?"

Darcy cleared his throat, and Elizabeth was surprised to find him somewhat embarrassed.

"Actually, the answer to that question is the very reason for my asking you here. Please know this is not something I would speak of under ordinary circumstances; however, time is of the essence."

"Time is of the essence? I am afraid you are not making any sense at all!"

"I shall explain as best I can," he replied at her mystified look. "Not long after your departure from Longbourn, a woman visited Meryton. She stayed at the inn only one night, and when she left, there was found in her room a pamphlet from London's Magdalene House."

Elizabeth had never heard of the place. She wondered at the gravity with which he mentioned it, and her curiosity showed plainly on her face.

"Magdalene House is a charitable institution for the care of young ladies who find themselves shunned by polite society for behavior unbecoming a lady, if you catch my meaning. This unknown woman made several pointed remarks that gave the impression you were a resident of that establishment."

Elizabeth's puzzled expression instantly melted into one of abject horror. Stunned beyond belief that anyone she knew would even consider her capable of such behavior, she was totally unprepared for his next words.

"Rumors of your compromised reputation were apparently not enough for some. The reports have grown into the belief that obvious consequences require your extended absence for the requisite number of months. You have been gone nearly four months now. Add that to the three or four months where your supposed condition could have gone unnoticed, and you will understand why time is so short."

"Do you mean to say that people think I …that I am...that is the condition to which you were referring?!"

"Yes, I am afraid so."

"How could they possibly think that I…oh, this is dreadful! What has been done?"

"When the rumors first started, every possible attempt was made to quash them, but it could not be done. We then searched for the mysterious woman, hoping to wring an explanation from her, but she left no trace beyond Meryton. No one has any idea of who she is or where she came from."

"I know exactly who she was," Elizabeth flared indignantly. "It was Mrs. Younge! She was furious with me when we parted at Everton, and promised to repay me. I have no doubt this rumor was her revenge."

The revelation startled Darcy. "Mrs. Younge? Mrs. Ann Younge!?"

"The very same woman you dismissed at Ramsgate. Regrettably, I have experienced her duplicity firsthand. It seems she and Mr. Wickham still enjoy one another's company."

"I knew it! This whole affair smacked of Wickham, but I could not prove it!"

"He had everything neatly arranged long before he came to me. It must have been so, because once he had my cooperation, my departure was almost immediate. The only one who knew anything to be other than it appeared was my father, but he did not know the whole of it nor that it was Mr. Wickham pulling the strings – and I had no idea my travelling companion was to be the infamous Mrs. Younge of your letter."

"I should have guessed. She and Wickham go back a very long way. Did you not suspect anything in her manner to alert you?"

"No, nothing at all. She presented herself at Longbourn as a Mrs. Tipton, and was all ease and friendliness. It was only when Mr. Wickham joined us, very soon into our journey, that I discovered her real name."

"I am guessing she was the 'distant relation' with whom you were supposed to be traveling?"

"Yes. To discover her real identity was quite a shock. Your sketch of her character was all I could think of. I could not imagine what was going to happen."

"Was there nothing you could do?"

"Nothing," she replied a little too sharply, her eyes hardening at the memory. "They took what little money I had even before we left Hertfordshire, leaving me completely at their mercy. Mr. Wickham is every bit the scoundrel you had described, and more."

Darcy nodded in grim understanding and they walked a few paces in silence. Elizabeth worked to push the unpleasant memories back into the corner of her mind, and Mr. Darcy, she discovered when he next spoke, had been struggling to dispel unpleasant thoughts of his own.

"Wickham's deed is unconscionable and I assure you he will answer for it; however, you must know that it is crucial you return to Longbourn as soon as may be. Once you have been away beyond everyone's expectations, it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to disprove the rumors."

Utterly frustrated with the perverseness of her situation, Elizabeth struggled to keep her tempter in check. "I understand, Mr. Darcy! Believe me, I do! I shall return the very instant I am able to, but there are certain aspects of Mr. Wickham's scheme that must be resolved before that is possible."

"If I may ask, Miss Bennet, why did you agree to Wickham's design in the first place? Did you not believe my account of him?"

"Oh, yes, I quite believed you. Once I began to observe Mr. Wickham without prejudice, I could see that he was not the man I thought him to be. Would that I had done the same for you," she murmured softly. "I agreed to his scheme, Mr. Darcy, because he threatened to destroy my family's reputation. Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield had given me every hope that he would renew his addresses to my sister, and I could not allow Mr. Wickham to ruin it."

"Your family is one of long standing in Hertfordshire. I cannot imagine any of Wickham's lies would stand against the word of your father."

"Indeed not, if his threats were based on lies; but they are not. He holds letters that were written to him by my youngest sister, Lydia. Their content, if known, would be enough to destroy our family, and he has promised to publish them if I return before he wishes. So you see, the letters must be recovered first or my going home would be just as ruinous as staying away. Lord Grissholm has been working diligently to recover them, and I am hopeful he will succeed very soon."

"Miss Bennet, I do not wish to offend, however, I know Robert Grissholm too well to believe he would expend his time and resources in assisting a companion to his ward without expecting something in return. I would caution you with all urgency to have a care."

Elizabeth studied Darcy's face. She was tempted to ease his mind as to Lord Grissholm's intentions by disclosing the depth of their relationship, but was it wise? Would it help heal the breach between the two men or only make it worse? It took only a moment for her to decide. She had asked for and received honesty from Mr. Darcy, and she could do no less in return.

"His lordship is not so menacing as you seem to think, sir," Elizabeth gently rebuked him. "He has done nothing objectionable. Quite the opposite, in fact. When he discovered Mr. Wickham's power over me, he was exceedingly sympathetic and offered to render whatever assistance was needed. As to his expectations, he has made me an offer of marriage."

Darcy stopped in midstride, his face drained of all color. It was a full minute before he regained sufficient composure to respond to the devastating revelation.

"Have you accepted?" he asked quietly.

"I have asked for time to speak with my father, or at least try to, before I give him my final answer. I only tell you this so that you can see his intentions are honorable."

"Forgive me if I do not share your sentiments, Miss Bennet. In spite of what you have told me, I still question his motives. Would it not be prudent for you to question them as well?. Marriage is an irrevocable undertaking."

"I have no cause to think ill of his lordship," Elizabeth replied.

Darcy's eyes seemed to look straight into her soul. "Can you claim a deep affection for him, then?"

Elizabeth glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. A deep affection? No, but until I know what has happened between Jane and Mr. Bingley, this may be the only chance I have to keep my family from penury. I was once naïve enough to think I would marry only for love – before Mr. Wickham turned my life inside out, before father fell so ill! If he should die, we will all be dependent upon Mr. Collins for our every need; and after refusing his hand, I have no great hope for his charity. I would marry Napoleon himself, if it would keep dear Jane and the rest of the family safe!

She had been silent too long. "That is not an appropriate question, sir," she told him.

"Perhaps not," he replied with a slight smile before turning serious again. "I had not thought to mention this until I had more information, but under the circumstances, I feel you must know it is very possible that you are being deceived."

"In what way, Mr. Darcy?"

"I have received a report that Wickham has come into a sum of money."

"It is quite possible that Lord Grissholm has finally completed his dealings. That is very good news!"

Darcy remained grave, unwilling to share in her enthusiasm.

"As I said before, I believe you are being deceived. While I received the information just yesterday, the report suggests that he received the funds no less than three weeks ago."

Elizabeth's smile faded at once. Three weeks? That was not possible. Lord Grissholm had assured her he would inform her as soon as he succeeded in his negotiations, and as of this morning there had been no news. There must be some mistake, some misunderstanding that Mr. Darcy was not aware of.

"Mr. Darcy, did your report indicate where the funds came from?"

"No, it did not," he admitted grudgingly. "There are other reports I have yet to receive which could verify the source, as well as other suspicious dealings regarding the viscount."

Elizabeth was thoughtful for a moment. Although she had discovered Mr. Darcy to be an honorable man, Lord Grissholm had given her no reason to think him any less.

"Mr. Wickham is a very resourceful man. It is possible his new-found capital has come from someone other than Lord Grissholm. His lordship's efforts on my behalf deserve far more courtesy than to suspect him of deceit, especially based on so little evidence. I have learned the difficult lesson of not judging a person too quickly, especially as regards the respect due a man who has proposed marriage," said Elizabeth, looking down with a sudden blush on her cheeks, "and I do not wish to be found wanting a second time."

"I understand," Darcy said softly. "When I have more substantial information, I shall send word."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth gave him an understanding smile and offered a farewell curtsy. Looking up to his face as she rose, she was momentarily held captive by the intensity of his gaze. Another enigmatic sensation fluttered through her before she pulled her eyes away.

"I should be going. Miss Ballard will be wanting my company."

She turned and walked away, only looking back after she had put a safe distance between herself and the source of the unexpected sensations. She had left him standing near a large elm, and he was there still, the sun casting a long shadow behind him. She could feel more than see his eyes following her departure. A few more steps and she was hidden from him by a high stone wall.

Walking briskly now, she shivered at the penetrating wind cutting through her pelisse. The quickened pace brought her back to Peyton House just as the clock in the hallway chimed three o'clock.

Raising gloved hands to warm her icy cheeks, Elizabeth hurried to check on Rebecca and then went to her own rooms. Within minutes Molly appeared and replaced the fashionable but woefully thin coat with a thick woolen robe, clucking her tongue and wondering at the wisdom of going out on such a cold day. Without complaint, Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided to the large, overstuffed chair that had been moved closer to the fire. She settled into the comfortable cushions, accepting a cup of hot tea as soon as it was brought up and savoring the warmth that spread through her body with each sip. Meditating upon her surprising conversation with Mr. Darcy, she did not stir until Molly returned an hour later to help her dress for dinner.

Rebecca was still too ill to come down, which left Elizabeth and Lord Grissholm to dine alone. All through dinner and the hours after, Elizabeth watched the viscount with new interest and weighed each word he spoke, trying to detect any of the deception Darcy had pronounced against him.

Other than an occasional curious look from him, she failed to see anything objectionable in his attentions, but Mr. Darcy's words remained uppermost in her mind the balance of the evening and into the next day as she prepared to tell Lord Grissholm of the rumors circulating in Hertfordshire. It was only a matter of time before they reached London and it would be better that he heard them directly from her.

Elizabeth only picked at the little bit of breakfast on her plate, too preoccupied with what she would say to Lord Grissholm to eat any of it. When breakfast was finally cleared away and they were alone, she sipped her tea, waiting for the viscount to come out from behind his morning paper.

After several minutes wherein he seemed totally oblivious to her presence, she took another sip and resolutely addressed the front page of his fortress.

"My lord, I have something to tell you that will have direct bearing on your offer. I think you will want to reconsider."

Her quiet declaration found its mark. The paper wall crumpled instantly, revealing a curious, unhappy countenance.

"I doubt there is anything you could say that would make me reconsider."

Elizabeth slowly returned her cup to its saucer, taking the time to gather her courage.

"Perhaps you will think differently when you have heard me out. I have just learned that there are rumors circulating in Hertfordshire regarding my character. They are of a disgustingly dissolute nature."

"Is that so?" he replied, showing a little interest. "I have heard nothing."

"Fortunately, the gossip has not yet reached London, but shall very soon if I do not act quickly. I believe I must release you from any obligation."

"Nonsense! Do you think me so changeable as to retreat at the slightest difficulty? Exactly what are these rumors?"

Elizabeth balked at revealing the humiliating details.

"Come now, you must know that I only want to help you and I cannot do that unless you tell me."

"Well, it is thought that I am…that is, I…that I left Hertfordshire to conceal the effects of an illicit affair."

Grissholm suppressed an amused smile. "And you think that will alter my wishes?"

Elizabeth bristled at his patronizing attitude. He was taking the news much too lightly. "Yes, sir, I believe it must."

"Not in the least!"

"Sir?"

"You are overreacting. It is ridiculous to think that anyone would take seriously the idle gossip of some bitter, disappointed woman. In any case, it makes little difference to me."

"But it does to me! It is my character, my reputation at stake. Would you have a marriage tainted by suspicion and doubt?"

"I have no doubts whatsoever, my dear, and I see no reason to change anything as far as our engagement is concerned."

"It is not an engagement yet – and I do! My family has suffered enough these past months and I cannot add to their misery by allowing the rumors to stand. I must return home as soon as possible and set things right. Have you no more news from Mr. Wickham?"

"No, I have not received anything from him for some time. I will see what can be done," he replied smoothly, giving her a sympathetic smile. Obviously wishing to change the subject, his eyes traced the lines of her figure and lingered mischievously at her lips. "You look lovely this morning, Elizabeth. I particularly like that shade of green on you."

Elizabeth quickly took another sip of tea from her cup, hiding a frown behind the rim. His look and words were nothing he had not said or done before, but this morning, instead of provoking quiet feelings of delight, they only added to her irritation.

Why was he not concerned with her reputation? Everyone else certainly would be if an engagement was announced. He may not believe the lies, but there were plenty of others more than willing to do so, thanks to Ann Younge.

Elizabeth remembered the woman's parting words at Everton Manor and the motivation that lay behind this vicious retaliation. Lord Grissholm could not have made a more accurate assessment of the woman's temperament. It was almost as if he knew her.

In the next breath, Elizabeth stifled a gasp, nearly dropping the pale porcelain cup and spilling the few remaining drops of liquid onto her lap.

"Elizabeth, is something wrong?" Grissholm frowned in concern.

"No, I am…quite well," she stammered in reply, nearly undone by the sudden, startling thought. Avoiding the intent gaze coming from across the table, she concentrated on wiping the errant drops from her lap as the alarming suspicion that had flashed through her mind now blossomed into a glaring certainty. She had not mentioned how the rumor started. She was sure of it. Yet he had already known that the source of the rumors was a "bitter, disappointed woman", almost as if he had personal knowledge of Ann Younge. Mr. Darcy's warning made the connection all the more credible. Of course Lord Grissholm was not concerned with the rumors – he already knew about them; perhaps more than she knew herself! Indignation swept through her, burning away any remaining doubts.

Feeling Grissholm's eyes on her, Elizabeth forced a reassuring smile to her lips before she looked up to see that he was, indeed, still watching her. She revealed nothing of the turmoil that was raging inside of her. If he already had knowledge of the rumor, what else did he already have? She would have liked to demand immediate answers, but she was certain a direct confrontation would not produce any sufficient to relieve her growing dread. Mr. Darcy's words of warning sounded in her head, and she hit upon another way of finding the answers she needed.

"I wonder, sir, If I might trouble you for the use of your carriage this morning. I thought I would see if the music I ordered for Rebecca has come in. She will want to try it out as soon as she is feeling better."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have some business with my attorney and will have need of it this morning."

"I understand. Perhaps this afternoon then?"

"Again, I am afraid I must refuse you. I am meeting with some friends at Boodles. If it can wait until tomorrow, I shall make time to personally escort you wherever you wish to go. Will that do?"

"Yes, my lord, that will do nicely." Quite nicely, she thought with grim satisfaction. It was true that she wanted to procure the sheets of music, but they were not at the heart of her request. She had actually wanted to discover his lordship's plans for the day. Now that he had obligingly provided them, she had plans of her own, ones that did not include him.

Chapter 25

Elizabeth looked down the empty corridor in both directions, assuring herself she was alone, before quietly lifting the latch to Lord Grissholm's study and slipping inside. She closed the door to its frame, leaving it unlatched so that she might hear any approaching footsteps.

The afternoon sun angled in through the long, narrow windows, casting a surreal light on everything it touched. Pausing only a moment, she made her way across the room to the imposing desk that had been the scene of Lord Grissholm's proposal only two days before.

Pushing the distracting thoughts of that encounter out of her mind, she moved to the viscount's chair and began her search. If Mr. Darcy was right and Lord Grissholm did indeed possess all Lydia's letters, then it was reasonable to assume they would be here among his papers.

Starting with the neatly arranged stacks lying on the desktop, Elizabeth sifted through a variety of contracts, bills, and social invitations, careful to leave everything exactly as she had found it. As expected, they were not there. It was not likely he would leave them out in plain sight, but she was not leaving anything to chance. Moving to the drawers next, she began a methodical search, exploring each one thoroughly. It was not until the third drawer that she found what she was looking for. Lifting a tightly-wrapped bundle which bore the single inscription of "Lord Robert Grissholm" in the familiar scrawl of Wickham's hand, she knew it had to be the letters.

She quickly set the package on the desktop, anxiously working at the knot in the string until it loosened and fell away. Swallowing hard, she hesitated only a moment before slowly peeling back the outer cover. A stunned gasp of amazement flew from her lips as she stared at the dozen or more missives – all addressed to George Wickham in Lydia's familiar, hand – lying in front of her.

So, it was true! Lord Grissholm had recovered them all! Elizabeth could only stare in awe at the sheer number of her sister's ruinous letters. Mr. Darcy's words sprang to her mind. '…he has never been inclined to further anything but his own interests.' Lord Grissholm's interests were clearly not the same as hers; not when he allowed scandalous rumors to go unanswered and deliberately delayed her return home.

All at once, her eyes widened in a flash of revelation, the shock of it striking her mind with a sudden, horrifying comprehension. If the viscount had lied about the rumors and the letters – what else was he lying about? Was anything true?

She glared at the letters, anger and mortification welling up within her. "This is impossible! Lord Grissholm is expecting a favorable outcome to his proposal, and he is now proving to be worse than Mr. Wickham ever was! The only one who has shown himself to be an honorable gentleman is Mr. Darcy. So honorable that he would go to such trouble and expense for the sake of salvaging my family's reputation, righting the wrong he has done in separating his friend from dear Jane! Oh, this is wretched! Can I ever trust my own judgment again?"

Elizabeth shook herself from her unhappy reverie and straightened with renewed determination. She didn't know how she had allowed herself to become so blinded, but it was all very clear now and she would not suffer another day in this house! She had the letters now. All she needed to do was burn them so that they would never be a threat to anyone again. Then she would return to Hertfordshire and contradict Mrs. Younge's spiteful rumor. She had no means to travel, but she had a friend in Mr. Darcy and he would see her safely home.

Quickly gathering the letters together, she re-wrapped the package, holding it tightly to her chest as she double-checked the desktop for any tell-tale signs of her search. Satisfied all was in order, she turned to put her plan into action. Her footsteps and her heart stopped suddenly at the sight of Lord Grissholm leaning comfortably against the door-case.

"My lord, I did not see you there!"

"I think that is rather obvious, my dear. It seems you have been busy in my absence." He came forward, slowly shutting the door behind him. Without speaking, he measured her with a shrewd, calculating gaze.

Elizabeth stiffened defiantly at his intimidating manner. "It seems you have been busy yourself, my lord. I see that all of my sister's letters have been recovered. How long have you had them?"

"A while, I must admit," he remarked with a maddening complacency.

"And just how long were you going to wait before you told me of them?"

"As long as it took."

"Took for what?"

"For you to accept my proposal – formally, that is. Am I to gather you are ready to do that?"

Elizabeth stared in disbelief. "You cannot be serious!"

"Quite serious, my dear."

"Then you are a madman!"

"Oh, but I shall be a very happy madman, I am certain."

He came nearer, his menacing smile forcing Elizabeth to draw from a deeper reserve of courage.

"I will never enter a marriage based on lies, deceit, and blackmail! These letters change everything – these and the fact that you knew all about Ann Younge's malicious rumors!" She held the letters out accusingly and edged away as he stepped closer. "There is no engagement and there certainly shall be no marriage!"

"Very clever of you to have figured out the source of the rumors, I must say; but it makes no difference. It comes down to this, sweet Elizabeth – " His hand shot out, claiming her arm in a bruising grip. The anguished gasp that filled the room had no effect on him as he roughly drew her close. "Sh-h-h, do not struggle so, my dear," he whispered into her hair. "I can be reasonable. You may have half the letters as soon as our engagement is announced and – "

"Half?!" she cried in angry surprise.

"Yes, of course," he murmured softly, sending a loose tendril of hair dancing around her ear. "Do you think I would let you go back to Hertfordshire without sufficient inducement for your swift return? The remaining letters will be my wedding gift to you."

"Never!" she breathed furiously, struggling to break free of his powerful grasp. "Let go of me!"

"As you wish, my dear," he replied lightly. Calmly pulling the packet of letters from her fingers, he released her. "You have only to ask."

She glared at him, backing away and rubbing gingerly at her arm. There was a throbbing rush of blood where his fingers had gripped her.

"However, you may want to reconsider your reluctance to wed," he continued casually. "If a mere rumor has produced so much trouble for your family, imagine what damage an actual letter could do in the hands of a few neighbors."

"No! You cannot!"

"I can and I will if you choose to fight me on this. It is your choice, Elizabeth."

Calmly and deliberately, Grissholm trailed the packet of letters lightly down her arm and smiled at the fiercely defiant lift of her chin. Returning the letters to the drawer, he sat back into his chair with smug satisfaction. "Perhaps you would like a few days to think on it."

"Why?" Elizabeth demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I wish it. I think you have lived in my house long enough to know that I am a man accustomed to having his wishes obeyed without the need of any explanation."

"Surely you cannot want a wife who does not love you, who has not the slightest affection?"

"Oh, but I will – in time. I have no doubt. You are too sensible a woman to live your life in misery. Sooner or later, you will learn your duty and fulfill it admirably."

Staring into the gathering gloom outside her window, Elizabeth saw nothing, felt nothing but the shroud of desolate anger that had settled over her since leaving Lord Grissholm's study more than an hour before. The small, painful throbbing in her arm, evidence of the viscount's brute force, pushed its way into her mind, bringing back an unwelcome reminder of the encounter.

Elizabeth had left with her head held high, but her bravado only lasted as long as it took to get to her room where her furious tears had flowed unchecked. The tears were now spent, but the discovery of Lord Grissholm's treachery and the horrifying incident that followed continued to play in her mind. He had set every nerve in her body on edge and she could not calm them. Gently rubbing at the soreness in her arm, Elizabeth paced from the window to the bed and back again, trying to shake his menacing memory.

She must leave! She had to get away as soon as possible, but how? She was still penniless, she didn't know how to find Mr. Darcy, and more importantly, she had to escape without Lord Grissholm's knowledge. Troubling visions of the young woman in Lord Grissholm's past haunted her. Had Catherine Monroe refused him as well? Elizabeth anxiously considered her own circumstance. If she provoked him, would she too disappear without a trace, never to be heard of again?

Her tortured mind conjured every imaginable misery that would befall her and her family if she refused Lord Grissholm, yet what misery would be suffered should she marry such a heartless, overbearing man? Pushing back the agony that threatened to take her sanity, she forced herself to take deep, even breaths. She just needed a little time to settle down and then she could think clearly enough to consider her options.

It was some time later, after she had finally stopped pacing and took refuge in the chair near the fire, that Molly came into the room. Elizabeth watched the girl working for a few minutes before sitting up and stretching the stiffness out of her muscles .

"What time is it?"

"Lord, bless me! I didn't see you there, Miss Bennet! Are you ill?"

"No, Molly, I was just resting and lost track of the time. Is it very late?"

"Yes, miss. It's nearly time to dress for dinner."

"I will not be going down for dinner tonight. I am not the least bit hungry," she answered flatly. "Will you please give Lord Grissholm my regrets."

Molly cleared her throat nervously, carefully avoiding Elizabeth's eyes. "His lordship gave me particular instructions that you were to join him for dinner, miss. He said if you were wanting to stay in your room, I was to tell you he won't allow it. If you don't go down, he will come for you himself."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth's jaw tightened. "Very well then, I suppose I shall have to go down."

Rising from the bed, she stepped reluctantly to the dressing table and turned for Molly to help her out of her wrinkled frock. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to give Lord Grissholm another reason to forcibly impose his will.

It was a moment before she realized Molly was staring at her, eyes wide with alarm.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, following the girl's gaze to her arm. There were five oblong, purple-red bruises rising on her arm where the viscount had held her. Looking back at Molly's distressed face, she gave a determined smile. "I am fine – really. We had best hurry now. You know how particular his lordship is about punctuality."

The girl hurried over and began removing the dress. Elizabeth submitted absentmindedly, her mind turned to the challenge of escaping Peyton House.

"Molly, how did you receive the message you gave me from Mr. Darcy?"

"His valet, Mr. Denham, told it to me. I visit my sister in Newberry Street every Sunday and I was on my way there when he approached me."

"Did he?" Elizabeth murmured, thinking once more of what trouble Mr. Darcy had gone to on her behalf.

"He did. At first, I thought he was bold as brass; but he put my mind at ease straight away when he said it was Mr. Darcy that sent him."

Suddenly Elizabeth frowned, her mind diverted from the subject when Molly held out a striking, emerald green evening gown for her to put on.

"Molly, did I not ask you to lay out my blue silk round for tonight?"

"Yes…well, Lord Grissholm…he…"

"You do not have to say any more. He gave particular instructions?"

"Yes, he did. I'm sorry."

"That is quite all right, Molly. You are only fulfilling your duty." Just as he thinks I will, no doubt; but he is in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can command me as he does his servants! she silently retorted.

"It's a very good thing your gown has long sleeves, miss."

"Yes, it is. His lordship thinks of everything," Elizabeth agreed curtly, then curbed her annoyance so that she could return to the more pressing subject on her mind. "Molly, do you have a way of finding him again? Mr. Denham, I mean."

"Well, he did say that if you were ever in need of Mr. Darcy, I should leave word at Mr. Thomason's shop and he would get it."

"Excellent! Do you think you could do that without drawing attention?"

Molly hesitated, and then dropped her eyes apologetically. "The master wouldn't like it. If he found out, it would cost me my place here for sure. I would be turned out on the street in the blink of an eye. With no recommendation, I would never get another position."

"I understand," Elizabeth replied kindly, touching her arm, "and I would not wish to cause trouble for you. Is there anyone in the house whom I could trust to carry such a message?"

Molly had been surprised at Lizzy's gentle reply, and her cheeks flushed with shame. She glanced at Elizabeth's arm where the sleeve of dark green satin covered the vivid bruises. "None that you can trust to go against the master's wishes," she whispered and then drew a ragged breath. "I'll carry the message for you."

"No, I cannot ask you to risk your livelihood for me, Molly. I will find another way."

"There is no other way," the girl argued. "The staff has been put on notice and his lordship will know at once if you try to leave the house. You won't find another servant willing to go against the master's wishes after what he said. But I'll do it. Give me the message tonight, and I'll carry it first thing in the morning."

The sound of the dinner bell in the main hall checked any further discussion and Molly hurried Elizabeth towards the door. Elizabeth paused a moment to ensure she was in command of the anxiety churning in her stomach, then made her way down the stairs to face Lord Grissholm. She hoped she would be able to get through the evening without giving herself away. As with his instructions to the staff, the viscount had made clear to her his feelings about Mr. Darcy, and if he were to discover any hint of what she was asking Molly to do, she was certain his displeasure would be extreme. After her experience earlier this afternoon, she was afraid to even guess how extreme it would be.

As she entered the dining room, Elizabeth was more than a little annoyed to find Lord Grissholm's greeting extremely pleasant and attentive. She was further infuriated to find him acting as if the encounter in his study had never happened. Thus, the ordeal of his company the remainder of the evening had been an arduous exercise in restraint and affected pleasantries, made worse when he refused to let her retire after dinner, insisting she play for him until late into the evening.

The following day, she fared no better. As promised, he had accompanied her to check on Rebecca's music, and then insisted they visit several other shops before returning to Peyton House. All through the day, he had found reasons to stay near her side, and she had the uneasy feeling his attentions were more to keep an eye on her rather than any real desire to keep her company.

Now anxiously pacing her room, Elizabeth waited for the sounds of the retiring household to die away. Soon she would be gone from this place, never to return. It cannot be soon enough for me! she thought irritably. The difficulties of the day passed through her mind and she shuddered.

Being careful to avoid any suspicion of her anticipated flight, Elizabeth had spent the day acting the part of an obliging companion, stoically enduring the nauseating curls her stomach did each time Lord Grissholm looked at her. It had taken a special effort to keep the smile on her face and not snatch her hand away when he bid her goodnight. She had grimaced when he bent over her hand, the soft, warm touch of his lips lingering on her skin much longer than she wanted. When he straightened, his look had been arrogantly confident. How could such a pleasing countenance hide such a cruel character?

Pushing the abhorrent thoughts aside, she re-checked the small portmanteau at her feet. It contained only what was absolutely necessary. She wore the same pale yellow day dress that she had worn on her arrival at Everton Manor. The rest of what had been given her by Lord Grissholm was left behind. She wanted no reminders of her time with him.

Nearly an hour after the house had finally fallen silent, the door to Elizabeth's dressing room swung noiselessly open. As soon as Molly appeared, Elizabeth donned her warmest pelisse and picked up the small leather bag.

"Are you ready, miss?" Molly's whisper seemed loud in the stillness.

"Yes. I have left a letter for Miss Ballard on my dressing table. Will you see that she gets it after I am gone?"

"I promise I'll give it to her as soon as I am able. We'd best hurry now. I've come later than I thought to. That new footman took forever to finish his rounds."

"Very well then, shall we go?" With a nervous breath, Elizabeth looked around the room one last time. Her only regret was leaving Rebecca, but there was nothing she could do for the girl now. She could only hope that there would be someone kinder than Lord Grissholm when it came time for her to marry.

Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she quietly followed Molly though the dressing room and down the maze of servants' stairs used to access the rooms of the house. Their descent ended at the head of a wide hallway near the kitchens.

"Wait here. I shall be right back," Elizabeth instructed, her voice barely audible.

Molly only nodded, her wide eyes looking around with apprehension as Elizabeth disappeared down the long hall that led to the front of the house.

It did not take long for Elizabeth to find her way to Lord Grissholm's study. She entered noiselessly, closing the door quickly behind her and paused to get her bearings. It was darker than she had thought it would be. A moonless night gaped blackly at the windows, the darkness broken only by a smoldering glow coming from a pile of dying embers in the hearth.

Moving as swiftly as she could in the darkness, she crossed the room to the massive desk and felt her way down to the third drawer. She tugged gently once, then again with a little more force, but the drawer did not move. Locked! She scowled in the darkness. Of course Lord Grissholm would not be foolish enough to leave the letters so accessible a second time. Now what? I cannot leave without them!

She tried the other drawers, even though she already knew they would all be locked – and they were. Desperate to have the letters, she quietly searched the desktop and the surrounding furniture, hoping for a miracle that would give her a key to the drawer, but she was disappointed. After another quick search, she reluctantly gave up. She had no more time. Molly would be starting to worry. She would just have to find another way of getting the letters once she was out of Lord Grissholm's reach.

Hurrying toward the door, a slight movement near the hearth caught her attention, rooting her feet to the floor. She held her breath, afraid to move. It could only be one person. Perhaps he had not seen her in the dark. How much noise had she made at the desk? She could not remember.

Anxiously she waited, every muscle in her body straining to keep herself still; but her hopes of anonymity were dashed in the next breath. The viscount's deep, resonant voice came from the large wingback chair near the fireplace, its owner hidden in the shadows. His soft, silky words were oddly protracted.

"Looking for me, my dear?"

Elizabeth looked through the darkness to the door, trying to gauge if she would have enough time to make it out of the room. Her heart dropped. The shadowy doorway was too far.

"No answer?" His voice hardened slightly. "I thought not. Perhaps you would care to join me in a nightcap?"

With the glow of the fireplace silhouetting him, Grissholm rose from the chair and stumbled over the small table next to it, sending a large brandy decanter to the carpet with a thud. For a moment he stared narrowly at the bottle, then snatched it up and closely examined its contents. Twisting his lips into a crooked smile, he gave her a small, unsteady bow.

"I beg your pardon. It seems that I haven't any left to offer you."

"My lord – "

"Ah, the lady speaks!"

"My lord, you have been drinking. It would be better to talk in the morning."

"Talk? In the morning? About what?" he sneered viciously, moving slowly toward her in the dark. "How you have crept into my study like a thief in the night to steal my property?"

His accusation sparked Elizabeth's own indignation. "Your property? Do you mean my sister's letters that you said you did not have? The ones you had already promised me before you held them back to force my will?"

"They are yours, as soon as you fulfill my requirements."

"I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth!"

"Is that so? What, has the dashing Mr. Darcy made you a better offer?"

"No!" she declared, not wanting to remember that awful night at Hunsford Cottage. "It is you alone who has destroyed any hopes you may have had! It is your abominable behavior that makes me reject you. You deceived me! And kept me from my family in a most cruel and heartless way. Do you think I could ever marry you after that? Mr. Darcy has nothing to do with it!"

"I am no fool. I know all about your rendezvous in the park with him." Lord Grissholm's figure now loomed darkly beside her, close enough for her to catch the overwhelming smell of brandy on his breath. "I am very careful with things I consider mine, my dear. After your first chance encounter in the park, I had you watched – discreetly, of course."

"You are mistaken! He merely wished to warn me of the rumors. There was nothing of what you imagine."

"Deny it all you want, Elizabeth, but I witnessed it myself the day I found you two in the park. He was so besotted, he could barely take his eyes off of you! At first, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, when you were seen meeting him again – after I had expressly forbid it – you made it quite clear why you wished to break our engagement."

Hearing the bitter resentment in his voice, Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm. She knew it would be useless to offer any explanation at this point. The half-drunken figure that now towered over her was beyond reason. "My lord, I refuse to stand here and discuss this with you. It is late and this room is freezing. We can sort this all out in the morning when you have had a chance to sleep off your brandy."

Not waiting for a response, Elizabeth calmly turned toward the door, hoping to lessen his menacing mood with a show of courage she was far from feeling. All she needed was to reach the hallway and she could run to safety. Hardly daring to breathe, she was halfway to the door when he caught her from behind and spun her around to face him. The smoldering embers in the hearth flared suddenly, throwing his passion-filled face into sharp relief and giving it a wild, diabolical expression. Elizabeth shrank back and Grissholm's hands flew out, capturing her arms in an iron hold.

"I do not need to sleep off anything! What I need is your assurance, and – " He stopped then, peering down at her more closely, and his hands gripped her tighter. Elizabeth winced as his fingers pressed painfully into her already injured arm. "What is this? A coat? Are you going somewhere, my dear?"

"My assurance?" She reminded him, trying to keep her voice steady. "I would be happy to talk about that – in the morning."

He barked a low, menacing laugh. "You would like that, I have no doubt! But it is not going to happen. I will have it now – tonight."

"Have what, my lord?" she asked innocently, stalling for time as her mind raced to find a means of escape.

"Your assurance, madam!"

"Very well, I give you my assurance. Now let me go."

"Oh, no," he growled, slowly pulling her into an intimate embrace. "I will have more than your word. I will have an assurance that cannot be revoked. One that will make you forget Darcy once and for all."

"There is nothing to forget, you must believe me!" She was suddenly very afraid. This was more than the intimidating manner he had displayed before – much more. "Please, my lord, think what you are doing!"

He studied her face intently in the darkness, deaf to her pleading. "You would have gone away before I could convince you of duty. My methods may be a little harsh, but it is for your own good." He suddenly bent his head to kiss her and she twisted away, leaving him to kiss her cheek. He was not deterred. His breath blew hot on her neck. "Do not make yourself uneasy. When we are married, it will come easier."

He leaned in to kiss her again, slowly lowering his hands to caress her waist. Elizabeth responded with a cry, instantly recoiling from his touch in horror. Finding herself suddenly free, she stumbled backward, retreating from the threat of his arms which were now stretched wide as if to subdue a frightened animal. For one fleeting moment, she thought she may yet escape and then he lunged forward, pressing her back against the flame-figured door fronts of a massive mahogany tallboy.

In the next instant, he captured her face with his hands, his body holding her fast against the unyielding wood. His mouth came down hard on hers, heedless of her hands beating furiously against his chest. Her frantic struggles were in vain. At length, he pulled back with a satisfied grin and she wiped at her mouth in disgust.

"You are drunk, sir! You are not in control of yourself. Let me go now before you regret your actions."

"On the contrary, my sweet Elizabeth, I am very much in control – and I am quite certain I shall not regret my actions." He gently stroked her now-crimson cheek with his fingertips, sending an involuntary shudder through her. "In fact, I have been sitting here these past hours considering what to do with you. I realize it is not your fault Darcy has filled your head with his lies. I expected he would try something when he turned up in Cumberland and then followed you here to London. He cannot be allowed to spoil my plans; and so I will secure you for myself in the best possible way. He will have no choice but to give you up."

"This is not about me at all, is it?" she whispered, stunned with a sudden understanding. "It is about him! You think him in love with me. And you would force me into marriage just to spite him?!"

"You are a clever woman!"

"And what will happen when you are done with me? Shall I disappear too?"

Grissholm stiffened at her implication but did not loosen his hold. "So, you know about Catherine, as well. Then you know that I am repaying a long-overdue debt. But do not sell yourself short, dearest. You are a delightful creature, which makes the retribution all the sweeter. You see, there is no question of your cooperation. Once our union is consummated, you will not be fit for any other man and you will accept your place with me. More importantly, this particular disappointment, I am quite certain, will stay with Darcy the rest of his life." A silent reflection brought a crooked smile to his face. "I had not counted on your fortuitous appearance this evening, my dear; but I think now is as good a time as any to secure my victory. We shall still marry, of course; we shall have to for Darcy's sake – appearances, you know – but the wedding ceremony will merely be a formality; one in which you will gladly participate once we are finished here. I shall deliver the invitation to Darcy personally."

His hands moved to the top button on her pelisse, fumbling at first and then opening it with a twist of his fingers. Realizing his intentions, Elizabeth gasped, knocking his hand away. "No!" she cried, "you cannot mean it! Let me go!"

Smiling patiently at her ineffectual efforts, he flicked open another button. "Come now, do not be difficult. You will only regret it."

Sheer terror filled Elizabeth's mind, sparking a renewed resistance. She fought frantically, clawing at his hands, desperate in her struggle against him.

"Very well, we shall do it the hard way," he growled, grasping her coat and ripping it open, sending the buttons flying in every direction. In one violent tug, he shoved the pelisse back over her arms until the narrow sleeves caught in a tangle at her elbows, effectively pinning her arms to her sides and shrouding her hands in the folds of the coat. She struggled helplessly as he gathered her into his arms.

"Do you know how many times these past months I have wanted to capture these impudent lips? You have not disappointed me. It was everything I imagined. You are a bewitching woman, Elizabeth!" The satisfied grin returned as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Fighting to escape his mouth, she let out a cry of despair as his lips found hers, crushing them with a fevered passion that demanded more. She tightened her jaw in response, pressing her lips into a tight line against his, refusing to surrender.

Feeling her defiance, he pulled back, giving her a narrow look. Without taking his eyes from her, he slid one hand up to caress her neck, giving a low, devilish laugh as his fingers slowly tightened, choking off her breath.

"You shall not deny me, Elizabeth. I will have you…and he will know."

She thrashed frantically, trying to free her arms to better defend herself, but the tight, narrow sleeves remained solidly tangled. The burning need for air prevailed and she finally yielded, opening her mouth in a desperate attempt to breathe. He immediately relaxed his hold and she gasped, taking deep, rasping breaths of cold air. Grissholm laughed outright as he lightly caressed her throat.

"You see, my dear? I will have my way and it will do you no good to think otherwise. We need not make this unpleasant, you know. Now, shall we begin again?"

Elizabeth wanted to scream, but she knew it would not help her. It would only add to her humiliation if anyone knew. She had once said the very rich could give offence wherever they pleased and the truth of it was here before her. This man could do whatever he pleased and there would be no retribution, no justice for her. No servant would ever stand up against him, and the privileges of his elevated status in society would shield him from the law. When he was done, she would be left in utter disgrace and ruin with no choice but to marry him.

Willing her mind to escape what her body could not, Elizabeth closed her eyes and remained stiff and impassive to his now soft and insistent kisses. From a distant corner of her mind, she felt him draw back between each kiss, felt his ragged breath on her face, then heard a quiet growl of irritation. With a shocking jolt, she registered the feel of his hand at her neck, drawing out the ribbon that gathered the bodice of her gown. In spite of herself, a scream of abject terror rose in her throat, but the cry was silenced before it ever reached her lips as he smothered it with a deep, passionate kiss.

The terrifying sensation of fabric slipping from her shoulders and the heat of his hand on her bare skin united Elizabeth's mind and body once more, spurring her to action. With a violent, frenzied twist, she managed to break free.

Instantly Elizabeth turned and darted away, desperately trying to free herself from the wretched pelisse. Her heart racing, she searched the darkness for the door and finally found the large recessed shadow that marked her escape. Lord Grissholm's muttered oath from somewhere behind quickened her already frantic steps. She was nearly there!

Seemingly out of nowhere, Grissholm's drunken hand clumsily caught her shoulder, tearing at the thin linen of her chemise. A low growl sounded in her ear as his hand slid down, firmly grasping the folds of the woolen coat bunched at her back. In the next instant, she was jerked backward and away in a stomach-turning twist – away from the shadowy door that had been her salvation – and then she was flung into the darkness.

The room turned in a giddy whirl as she hurtled toward the fading light in the fireplace. Every instinct screamed at her to shield herself from the fall with her arms – but, still wound numbly within the unyielding sleeves, they were now only useless appendages to her defenseless body. Elizabeth felt frozen for an instant in time, falling helplessly, trying her best to twist aside, to free her hands, to escape somehow the inevitable impact.

Landing hard on her side, a loud, sickening snap reverberated through her body as something within gave way, and her head struck something hard as she slid sidelong across the polished wooden floor. Elizabeth watched the smoldering embers closing in with frightening speed and she tried frantically to slow her progress; but her efforts were too little, too late. With a terrible thud, she slammed unchecked into the heavy brass fender surrounding the hearth.

Elizabeth lay stunned, feeling nothing but surprise as she tried to absorb what had happened. Then the sound of Lord Grissholm moving in the darkness jolted her dazed senses and she jerked to escape him. The effort brought a paralyzing, white-hot pain that radiated from her side and cloaked her body in agony. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into her. She wanted to scream for someone to get it out, but every breath she took seemed to drive it deeper.

The raw, ragged pain tore at her chest again and she felt a warm flow of blood oozing from her forehead as a hideous, pulsing ache assaulted her brain. Waves of nausea united with the rippling spasms in her side to form an agonizing, unbearable swell of pain.

"Now see what you have done. You really should not provoke me, my dear." Grissholm's soft, silky voice sounded above her. "This wrap is obviously in the way. Let me help you."

Gentle once again, he carefully untangled the pelisse, bringing Elizabeth additional misery. She thrashed feebly against the pain, panting in rapid, shallow gasps. Grissholm patiently waited for her to still, and then lightly kissed her cheek.

"Come, Elizabeth, it is time."

Crippled by overwhelming pain and a bewildering haze that seemed to deepen with each passing moment, Elizabeth was powerless to prevent the coming terror. A tiny shadow of light fell on Grissholm's figure, illuminating his movements. She could only watch in detached horror as he methodically removed his coat and neckcloth, carefully folding each one before laying it on a nearby chair. She squeezed her eyes shut as he bent to join her, trying to shut out the pain she felt now and the pain she knew that was coming.

"Do not worry, my love" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "It will be over soon, and then you will be mine."

Her vision was unnaturally dark, but Elizabeth could feel him close now – too close! His breath was quick and heavy as he hovered above her. She tried to move away from the suffocating stink of stale brandy, but only succeeded in bringing another devastating spasm of pain to her side.

Cringing from the horror of his rough, searching hands, she wanted to cry out, but her mind would not form any words. She wanted to fight him, to escape, but every time she opened her eyes she felt nauseous, and she couldn't draw enough breath to scream or even plead for mercy; all that emerged from her throat was a low sob. She was suffocating with his nearness, his touch returning again and again in a relentless nightmare of dizzying pain twisted with unspeakable kisses and bare flesh.

The hands came once more, stroking her pain to new heights – and then they were gone.

She waited for them to return, but mercifully, they did not. Instead, there was a voice. It was talking, but the words took too long to reach her brain before they made any sense.

"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet, can you hear me?"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but faint and unimportant now. She was tired, so very tired. And the pain would not go away. It was no longer just the throbbing ache in her head and the exquisite pain in her side. Every part of her body was hurting. She knew someone was moving about nearby, and she felt a weight upon her. It was not so heavy as before, but it was painful all the same. Oh, please, let it end, she thought, no longer caring whether she lived or died if only the pain would stop. Another agonizing ache racked her body, and then the darkness obligingly swept her away before a low, anguished cry could reach her ears.

"Miss Bennet! Dear God, no!"