Beginning , Section V

Chapter 26

Posted on November 15, 2009

"What the devil is going on?!" Charles Bingley exclaimed, staring at Richard's bloodied shirtsleeves. "You and Darcy were supposed to convey Miss Bennet to her uncle's house."

Grimly, Richard kept walking until he reached the library and the decanter of brandy he knew Darcy kept there. Pouring a glass, he downed it quickly, then moved to warm himself at the fire, placing a steadying hand against the mantelpiece. He stared into the rising flames, willing them to burn the haunting vision of Elizabeth Bennet from his brain. He could hardly reconcile his last memory of her lively company at Rosings Park with the battered woman he had found in Robert Grissholm's study.

Charles followed him into the library, carefully closing the door behind them before coming to his side.

"Richard, will you please say something?"

"Grissholm changed our plans," Richard growled softly, "It is a good thing that little maid of hers had enough sense to come and fetch us. I just pray to God we were not too late." He shut his eyes against the vision of Elizabeth's near lifeless body Darcy had carried in.

"Too late? What do you mean?"

"I mean too late to save her from Grissholm's villainy."

Bingley paled. "What in God's name happened?"

"We were waiting near the carriage for Miss Bennet to come at the appointed time, when a girl came running toward us, crying hysterically and pleading for help. Darcy had a deuce of a time calming her down enough to discover she was Miss Bennet's maid and there was trouble. That was all it took and we were off, following the girl back to Grissholm's house. When we entered the kitchens – "

"You entered his property? It is a miracle you were not shot!"

"We had no choice. Miss Bennet was not coming out, so we had to go in."

"But the servants?"

"Not a one – except for the maid. I do not think it would have mattered in any case. It was clear Darcy was not leaving without Miss Bennet."

"And Grissholm?"

Richard's fists clenched against the sickening details that were still all too vivid. Twice he began and had to pause to steady his voice before continuing. "The maid took us to the door of his study and would go no farther. It was quiet as a churchyard, which made me think she had gotten confused in her distress and taken us the wrong way; but I was mistaken. At that very moment, the most soul-wrenching cry came from the other side of the door."

Bingley could only stare in astonishment while Richard took another deep breath to calm his temper. "I have heard my share of suffering on the battlefield, Charles, but never anything like that."

"Miss Bennet?" he whispered, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. We entered the room, but it was so dark that it was difficult to see anything at first. Another cry gave us direction – and then we saw them." Richard swallowed hard. "She was on the floor and he was over her."

"Dear God in Heaven!"

"Darcy reached Grissholm in a flash, pulling him off. It was obvious the man had been drinking, but not enough to hinder his abilities. He said something about Miss Bennet which I shall not repeat, and that sent Darcy into a mad rage."

Bingley sank into a nearby chair, completely stunned. "This is unbelievable. And Miss Bennet – what of Miss Bennet?"

"I went to assist her, and when I saw what he had done, it was all I could do to keep from joining Darcy. She was in an appalling state, Charles – half undressed, bleeding, and senseless. I could barely touch her without causing great pain, but it was evident she needed immediate attention. I called to Darcy, but he was beyond reason."

"Knowing his affection for her, I can only imagine! What a nightmare it must have been!"

"Precisely. At that point, I could see Grissholm was losing ground. Darcy's fury was relentless – even after the man went down. I have no doubt Darcy would have killed him."

Richard could say no more and the abrupt end to his gruesome narration was underscored by a profound silence. Both men knew that no amount of wealth or influence could have saved Darcy, or Georgiana, from utter ruin if he had succeeded in killing Grissholm in his own home. They also knew that in the unlikely event Miss Bennet dared to make the incident public, she had no hope of holding a man of his rank and standing accountable for the atrocity.

"Grissholm must pay for this outrage. Will Darcy challenge?"

"He already has," Richard said quietly. "It was the last thing he said to Grissholm, and the man was glad for it. I am to make arrangements with Grissholm's second in the morning."

"Darcy will prevail in the duel, surely. I have never seen a better shot."

"You are assuming Grissholm will choose pistols, but he is no fool. I expect swords will be his choice. Darcy is good, but Grissholm is better – even with what Darcy did to him tonight. This is a bad business, my friend."

Bingley sat in contemplative silence before shaking his head in disbelief. "I am stunned. Grissholm has always seemed a gentleman. Somewhat aloof, I admit; but still I would never have thought him as bad as this. What do you suppose set him off?"

"This has been a long time coming," sighed Richard. "It started with that sordid business back at Cambridge. Wickham was doing the devil's bidding even then. He had Grissholm absolutely convinced that Darcy was responsible for the girl's disappearance."

"Disappearance? What girl?"

"Oh, yes, you were not at university yet, were you? Grissholm fell hopelessly in love with a girl he met at one of Lady Middleton's soirees. He had been seeing her for some time when she suddenly disappeared. Nobody knew what happened. Some said she died, but nothing was ever substantiated. Grissholm was beside himself with grief – he apparently spent an entire year looking for her and found nothing but an orphaned younger sister. He took the girl in as his ward, though he uses another name for her. An attempt to shield her from the scandal, I daresay. The missing woman's name was Catherine…Morley or Munson or – "

"Monroe?" Bingley asked in shocked surprise.

"Yes, I believe you are right. Catherine Monroe," Richard replied, completely missing Bingley's thoughtful expression. "At any rate, Grissholm has held a bitter grudge against Darcy ever since. It has been festering these ten years and now this whole affair with Miss Bennet has finally forced their resentment into the open. It was only a matter of time before they walked the fields together."

"But this Catherine Monroe, what if – "

Darcy's entrance ended the conversation as Richard's attention was immediately focused on his cousin's drawn and haggard face. Most of the blood had been wiped away, but his shirt and neckcloth still bore the signs of the brutal conflict and Miss Bennet's injuries. Richard's watched him anxiously. There was no mask of reserve to hide Darcy's true feelings. There was only deep sorrow and agony – and something else. Richard's gut wrenched as Darcy wordlessly fell into a chair and buried his face in his cut and swollen hands.

"Were we too late?"

"Too late?" Darcy's hands dropped dejectedly to his lap, his strained and brittle voice barely audible in the silent room. "I cannot say. I thought I could hear her breathing, ever so faintly; but she did not make the smallest sound when I laid her down. The doctor would not even venture an opinion until he made his examination." Darcy's eyes were filled with a desperate anguish that hardened into cold, unyielding hatred. "If she dies, I shall never forgive myself or him! I should have insisted she go to her uncle's house. I never should have let her go back!"

"How could you know Grissholm would assault her? He had proposed to her for heaven's sake!"

"I know, I know!" Darcy growled. "But I also knew what Grissholm was capable of. I should have done more!"

"You did your best," Bingley insisted. "No one could have done better."

"I could have! I should have! She asked for my help. The first time she truly depended upon me – trusted me – and I failed her."

Darcy turned away from the others and dropped his face into his hands once more to conceal his agony. His friend and cousin both meant well, he knew, but their words of comfort were meaningless when Elizabeth – his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth – was lying upstairs, hovering so precariously between life and death. His memories of their excursion into Grissholm's house were a constant anguish, playing endlessly over and over again in an exquisite, inescapable torture.

He could still feel the cold steel of the door latch under his hand – right before that terrible, heartrending sound had filled his ears. The sound of Elizabeth's cry! He rushed through the door into a room that was dark, nearly black, and stumbled blindly, searching for her. Then came another cry, fainter than the first, but still saturated with pain. Turning to the sound, his eyes had beheld a horrifying silhouette of bodies against the ebbing glow of a tiny fire.

Elizabeth lay prostrate, the white lines of her bare shoulders reflecting the faint light. The outline of Grissholm over her, his bare muscles flexing as one arm drew her close and the other stroked her.

Another cry had risen from her throat, but this time it was joined by one of his own. In a single heartbeat, he reached them, tearing Grissholm from her and driving his fist into the man's surprised face with unbridled fury. The blow had staggered Grissholm, but did not fell him.

Grissholm had lunged forward in retaliation, succeeding in making a connection of his own, followed by a second powerful blow to Darcy's jaw. The next hit had brought a warm, salty taste of blood to his mouth, igniting something deep within.

An emotional powder keg filled with years of resentment, jealousy, fear, and fury exploded within Darcy, driving him mercilessly into his hated enemy. He had become possessed with a single all-consuming need to kill the man. Over and over again, his fists collided with Grissholm's body. He did not stop when blood gushed from Grissholm's nose, nor when he heard a crack as his knuckles found Grissholm's mouth. Without any thought to the answering blows, he pursued Grissholm relentlessly until he had driven him to the ground. But that was not enough.

He had continued, driving the breath from Grissholm. Driving, driving.

And then Richard's voice had filtered through the blinding rage.

"Darcy, enough!"

But he had ignored it. He could not stop – would not stop, until he saw Grissholm dead. He had raised his fist again, ready to drive it into that hated face when Richard's voice returned with urgency.

"Darcy! Miss Bennet needs help – now!"

Those devastating words had finally broken through the passion of his enraged mind. The thought of Elizabeth had stayed his hand. Her well-being was paramount. In spite of his fervent desire to see Grissholm dead, he knew he had to help Elizabeth first. With great reluctance he had let go and turned to the object of his heart, leaving Grissholm dazed and bleeding behind him.

Coming next to Richard and seeing Elizabeth's motionless form lying on the floor, it was with even greater reluctance that he had resisted the urge to return to Grissholm and finish the job. Richard had covered her with his coat, but it could not hide all of Grissholm's villainy.

"She cannot move without considerable pain, so I suspect it is a rib at the very least," Richard had informed him. "There is a real danger of other internal injuries as well; but the wound on her head is of greatest concern. Judging from her confused state, it may be very serious."

Darcy had bent to gather Elizabeth carefully into his arms, fighting back a fresh wave of seething rage. Her only response had been a soft, fading whimper that wrenched his very soul. Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, urgently whispering in her ear.

"Dear God, no! Miss Bennet…Elizabeth…stay with me. Do you hear me? Stay with me!"

Richard had moved to help, but Darcy stubbornly refused to give her up, motioning instead for Richard to lead the way. Once they reached the hallway near the kitchens and the door they had entered, Molly appeared, holding Elizabeth's things. Their progress out of Grissholm's house and down the streets had been accomplished with all the haste Elizabeth's condition would allow. By the time they reached the carriage and were on their way, it was clear their original plan was out of the question.

Even if Elizabeth were conscious enough to give directions, it would have been impossible to make the treacherous journey to her uncle's house. As it was, the short journey back to Portman Square had been unbearable, every jolt of the carriage drawing an agonized cry from her lips, and all his efforts to shield her from the worst of London's cobbled streets had not been enough. By the time Harrison reined in at Burnham House, her cries had ceased. Darcy emerged from the carriage with great trepidation for Elizabeth had grown completely still and was very, very pale.

Despite his pleas earlier in the evening, the doctor had been unable to give him any assurances. "Head injuries are not well understood," he had told Darcy evasively. "We can only wait and see. In the meantime, there is nothing to be gained by holding a vigil! Go and get some sleep, young man."

Sleep? Impossible! Nothing mattered as long as Elizabeth remained in danger. All through that first night and into the next day, he had walked the hall outside her room, pestering his own servants that hurried in and out until even his housekeeper, Mrs. Adams, had looked at him askance.

A clean shirt for Darcy was all Denham had managed to accomplish before what little tolerance there was for such things was spent, and the valet's subtle suggestions for getting some rest or taking some food were soon silenced with a brusque dismissal.

His distress over Elizabeth's fragile hold on life had made everything else an insufferable imposition. After the doctor banished him from the hall, Darcy had withdrawn to his rooms, leaving the door open so that he would hear any news at once. He now paused in his pacing and leaned against the window, absently contemplating the brilliant, star-filled sky. His once fixed and orderly life had been wholly and unexpectedly turned upside down by a beautiful, spirited young woman from Hertfordshire. To imagine his life without her was impossible. He heaved an anguished sigh. Please, dear God, she cannot die, she cannot! I was proud and arrogant, and a fool to ever think myself above her. But I have changed, you know I have, and if I could but have the chance, I would show her. I would love her and protect her the rest of my life, no matter what. I failed her with Grissholm, but it shall never happen again. I swear on my life, never again! Please let her live and I shall find a way to make it up to her. I will find a way, even if-- Darcy's pleas were interrupted by a sudden cry down the hallway.

"Doctor! Come quickly, oh, please, come at once! It's Miss Bennet!"

The night maid's sudden, urgent cry at Dr. Lawrence's door rang down the hallway and struck Darcy like a thunderbolt. A cold terror swept through him, and even before the echoes faded he was already charging into the hall towards Elizabeth's room, aware of nothing except the desperate need to reach her.

Bursting through the door, he went straight to her side, staring anxiously at the bruised, motionless form before him, afraid of what he would find. Grissholm's handiwork stood out in stark contrast on her pale, creamy complexion and Darcy stifled a growl at the four large bruises marring the delicate line of her neck. Reluctantly, he let his gaze slide further down, his tortured mind not wanting to consider the unthinkable. He did not know how he would go on without her.

Forcing her heavy eyes open, she searched the room and found the source. A maid – one she did not recognize – was bent over the hearth, carefully stirring the fire before adding another chunk of coal. The flames jumped in flickering bursts of light that illuminated the room and Elizabeth started. This was not her room! What had Lord Grissholm done? She searched her memory for an explanation only to find fragmented bits that she could not pull together.

A new, louder sound of metal on metal as the poker was returned to its stand sent a painful ache flaring through Elizabeth's head. She shifted, trying to ease the queasiness and escape the general discomfort which was now growing with every waking moment. Immediately, a crushing pang shot through her side, arresting any further movement and bringing another stomach-churning throb to her head.

"Uhhh," she groaned softly.

The unfamiliar girl jerked back and took a hesitant step toward the bed. "Miss Bennet?"

"Where is Molly?" Elizabeth managed to get out before another spate of nausea silenced her.

Eyes wide, the maid turned and darted out of the room without a word, leaving a miserable, confused Elizabeth in her wake. Her hushed, frantic voice floated in from the hallway.

"The doctor, where is the doctor ?!"

"Down on the end, the blue room," a deep voice answered.

"Yes, of course." A few retreating steps were heard, and then "Oh, and I think you should tell the master! He will want to know."

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. The master? Lord Grissholm was coming! How much time did she have? The painful haze in her head was muddling her thoughts. Think, Elizabeth, think! She would have to hurry. If she missed meeting Mr. Darcy, all her carefully laid plans would be for nothing. Oh, where is Molly?

Pushing the covers aside, she tried to sit up, but as soon as she began to rise, her head exploded in a blinding pain. She took several bracing gulps of air and then tried again, only to have the same results with the added torture of an intense, prolonged pain in her side. After a third time, she had to stop and wait until her strength returned for another try.

She reached for her blankets, only to stop mid-way and stare at her arm in astonishment. The thin linen sleeve of her nightgown had slipped down, revealing an alarming array of scrapes and bruises along the length of her arm. Slowly raising the other one, she sucked in her breath at the sight of more black and blue marks. Reaching up to her head and then to her chest, she felt bandages wrapped around each one. What in heaven's name happened? Did I fall? Was there an accident?

She searched her mind again, looking for something – anything – that would explain her appalling condition; and just as before, there were only vague, disturbing impressions that she could not wrap her mind around. Her last clear memory was of Lord Grissholm's lingering good-night kiss on her hand just before she went upstairs. She remembered thinking about what she would take away from Peyton House, but she could not recall actually getting to her room.

Whatever had passed between her leaving Lord Grissholm and waking just now was lost in the hazy fog that clouded her mind. She felt inexplicably sad and mourned the loss of something she couldn't quite put a name to – something that was hidden in the dark shadows of her mind. Another wave of nausea pulled her eyes shut, and she concentrated on her breathing until it could subside.

Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps thundering in the hallway, almost at a run as they neared her door. Elizabeth's heart stuttered, then began a frantic pounding against her injured ribs. Had Lord Grissholm discovered her plans? Would he be angry? She quickly set her face in an impassive expression. With any luck, he would think her still asleep and go away. Then she would find a way to get to Mr. Darcy's waiting carriage by herself.

The door crashed open with a thunderous bang and it took all her willpower to remain absolutely still as the daunting footsteps came across the room, making an abrupt stop at her side. She could hear a man's labored breathing, and then it drew closer. Her efforts to keep her breathing slow and steady were suddenly made ineffectual when his hand came down on hers.

"Thank God!" His voice came in a low, strangled whisper as he lowered his lips to her hand and gently kissed it. "You are alive."

Elizabeth's eyes flew open in shocked surprise. "Mr. Darcy!"

"Elizabeth!" He kissed her hand more forcefully and held it to his chest. "I was so afraid I had lost you!"

For a moment, she only stared, open-mouthed at his passionate declaration; then in the next instant, she reached with her free hand to grab at the blankets she had earlier pushed aside. His eyes followed her movement, catching a fleeting glimpse of gossamer fabric and shapely curves before she covered herself to her chin, biting back an agonized cry.

The twin blossoms of scarlet that colored her deathly pale cheeks and tightened her mouth into a thin line of pain drew a self-reproving scowl from Darcy. What a bumbling idiot he was!

"Please, forgive me! I should not have intruded, only I heard the girl calling for the doctor and she sounded so frantic that I feared you were…that is, I thought you were gone, and I had to see for myself. But you are not, and you shall recover. You must recover!"

"Oh! Well, I shall do my best to oblige, sir."

"You were so still and pale. How do you feel? Is there much pain?"

"Only when I move," she gave him a weak smile that quickly faded to a puzzled frown. "Mr. Darcy, what are doing here?"

It was Darcy's turn to be self-conscious. "I apologize for not waiting for the doctor. I could not – "

"No, I mean what are you doing in this house?"

Darcy's face mirrored her frown, trying to understand the question. "I live here. This is my home."

"Your home?!" she gasped, looking around the room. "Where are my things?"

"Molly brought your box. It is over there. My housekeeper, Mrs. Adams, is trying to salvage your gown, but I fear it is beyond repair." His bitter remorse consumed him. "I am so very sorry I failed you! I was a fool not to have guessed he would do something like this. Can you ever forgive me? You have my word he shall pay for it; on my honor, he shall pay!"

"Something like what? Who will pay?"

"Grissholm!"

"For what?"

"You do not remember?"

"The last thing I can recall with any certainty is going to my room at Peyton House; only I do not remember actually arriving. I am curious as to how I ended up here," she frowned through the throbbing in her head, "because I am certain we had agreed I would go to my uncle's house."

Another wave of nausea swept over her and her eyes drifted shut, causing Darcy to lean in, pressing her arm gently.

"Elizabeth, what is it?!" He ignored the sound of someone coming into the room until he was pulled back and Dr. Lawrence placed a practiced hand on Elizabeth's brow. "Lawrence?! What is it? Will she be all right? She did speak, but she seems confused!"

"I suspect it is the effects of the trauma to her head – a concussion most likely. It is not surprising, given that nasty cut on her forehead."

"Her memory is confused – particularly with what happened to her."

"That is common in these instances. A blessing, if you ask me."

"Is a feeble stomach common as well?" Elizabeth whispered weakly.

"Yes, Miss Bennet, I am afraid so. But, with any luck, it should improve in a few days."

The doctor busied himself with checking her bandages, then carefully removed the wrapping from her forehead. She winced as he examined the injury.

"How bad is it?" she asked softly.

"You have eight tiny stitches in your forehead just below the hairline. Once it has healed completely, I do not think anyone but you will even notice. Tell me, Miss Bennet, do you remember anything of your leaving Lord Grissholm or coming to Burnham House?"

The stitches pulled slightly as frustration knit her brow. "Not really. I remember darkness, and pain – a lot of pain. Did I fall?"

"Yes, but that is not where all your injuries came from. We can talk about that once you have had more rest."

"Hmm," she responded crossly. "And shall my memory improve in a few days as well?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Quite often the brain never completely recovers the events that transpired when the injury occurred."

"I see," she said, "Perhaps if someone told me what happened, it might restore my memory."

"That is not necessarily the best course."

"What would be the consequences if she did remember?" pressed Darcy.

"It's hard to say," Lawrence hedged. "She is young and of a strong constitution; but in cases such as this, there is a danger to a sudden recovery of the memory. It could induce a severe effect on the spirit that is very difficult to overcome."

"Dr. Lawrence, surely there is something you can tell me. And what do you mean by 'cases such as this'?"

Dr. Lawrence pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering. "I will do my best to give you some idea of what happened, but we must be careful. Too much information could be disastrous. It is a very fine line we are walking here."

Too intent on following Elizabeth's every movement, Darcy did not see the pointed look his family physician cast in his direction.

"Mr. Darcy," Lawrence hemmed softly. "This is a young lady's bedchamber and you have already breached the bounds of propriety beyond reason. I must ask you to leave the room and let me attend to Miss Bennet."

"Yes, of course!" replied Darcy hesitantly, though he did not move. His heart constricted in profound gratitude as he looked once more at Elizabeth's pale form dwarfed by the massive bedstead. She would live! The effects of Grissholm's despicable attack were not entirely known, but she would live!

"Take yourself off now and I shall come find you as soon as I am finished."

Unable to resist, Darcy's hand reached out, softly touching her arm once again. "Dr. Lawrence is a good man. He shall have you well in no time." With a final nod to the doctor, he quitted the room, pausing for one last look at her before reluctantly slipping into the hallway.

It did not take long for the doctor to complete his examination.

"You have considerable bruising, and aside from two broken ribs, there does not seem to be any internal injury. You are a very fortunate young lady. Now, take this compound I've prepared for you. It will not relieve your headache completely, but it will help some. When it has taken effect, we shall get you up for a proper wrapping. You were not in any condition to do it right when I first saw you."

Elizabeth obediently swallowed the bitter medicine, then lay back on the pillows to ease the surge of pain and queasiness the effort had generated. "My condition is what I should like to know about, doctor," she said softly and grimaced as he applied a dab of pungent ointment to her head. "Please – tell me what happened."

Dr. Lawrence finished dressing the wound on her head and returned the small white jar to his black leather box in silence. Just as she began to think he had changed his mind about telling her anything, he answered, speaking very slowly.

"Miss Bennet, as I said, your injuries were not all caused by a fall."

She flinched involuntarily as a memory of grasping hands flashed through her mind. In the next moment, it was gone and she looked anxiously at the doctor, hoping for an explanation.

"You were assaulted – most violently."

"Assaulted?" she whispered faintly.

"Yes. It is unclear what Lord Grissholm's motives were, but – "

A violent shudder went through Elizabeth. "Lord Grissholm?!"

"I'm afraid so. Are you remembering anything more?"

Elizabeth paused, but the images in her mind were vague and menacing. "No, not... not really."

"Sometimes the memories come back with time and sometimes not. In your case, it would probably be better if they did not."

Haunting, nightmarish images of Lord Grissholm teased at the edges of her memory, draining what little color she had from her face and widening her eyes with horror. "Are you trying to tell me he…do you mean I was…?" She couldn't bear to finish the question, too afraid of what the answer would be.

"Compromised? Thankfully, no, my dear; although judging by your injuries, I have no doubt that it was his intent. From what Mr. Darcy and the Colonel described, they arrived not a moment too soon. The important thing is, they did arrive in time, and your virtue is still intact."

"My virtue may be intact," whispered Elizabeth, tears filling her eyes, "and I am grateful to Mr. Darcy and the Colonel for that; but my reputation is not. You know as well as I that it is the female who receives the blame in cases such as these. Lord Grissholm will feel no consequence and I am ruined."

She remembered the angry edge Mr. Darcy had tried so hard to conceal when they spoke in the park, and her heart dropped. He had answered her plea for help and benevolently offered his assistance to her and her family only to end up embroiled in a violent scandal – something she was certain his private nature could not abide. He had said before that he made it a study to avoid that which exposes one to ridicule. Helping her had definitely exposed him.

There was the smallest hope that Lord Grissholm's similar penchant for privacy would keep the affair quiet; but she also knew there was the inevitable propensity for servants to gossip, even in his lordship's household. It was unforgivable to bring this down on Mr. Darcy. She had to leave! She must go to Uncle Gardiner's immediately, before any more damage could be done.

"Dr. Lawrence, my uncle resides in Gracechurch Street. I should like to go there until I am well enough to remove to Hertfordshire."

"Gracechurch Street? From what Mr. Darcy has told me, your uncle will not be in town until sometime tomorrow morning. But, even so, it is out of the question. You are in far too fragile a condition to make any journey. The slightest bump in a carriage, no matter how well-sprung, could be fatal. No, my dear; you will stay right here for the next five or six days at the very least. After that, we shall see what may be arranged."

"Five or six days! Sir, I cannot possibly stay here another day! Mr. Darcy is a single man. For me to stay unaccompanied in his household would expose us both to gossip. It can no longer matter for me, but his generosity does not deserve that kind of recompense!"

"I believe he is far more concerned with your health than what the gossipmongers might have to say – as am I, Miss Bennet. In any case, you need not worry. His sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, is here at Burnham House as well. Mr. Darcy's reputation is quite safe. "

"His sister?!" Elizabeth sat up in alarm only to be driven back to her pillow by a violent tilt in her head. The sudden wave of nausea was nothing, however, compared to the pain of Mr. Darcy's sister knowing her misfortunes. "Could this be any more wretched? I do not care what the risk may be. I cannot possibly impose on the family in this way. I must leave now."

"That you cannot do, and you are not imposing on the family. Miss Darcy considers you her honored guest. She has been especially anxious for your recovery and is eager to make your acquaintance. I assure you that she will not countenance your removal until I deem it prudent, which will be no sooner than next Friday."

Still trying to control the spinning in her head, she realized he was right. She could not go anywhere – yet. "Very well, I shall abide by your wishes for now, doctor; but as soon as I am able, we will re-visit the length of my stay."

"Indeed. Now, let's get you up and wrapped before that medicine wears off. I will leave more for you to take later so that you can sleep. I shall return tomorrow afternoon and see how you are doing. In the meantime, you are to remain in bed and rest as much as you can. That alone will do a great deal to speed your recovery."

In short order, he had replaced the bandage around her chest with a tighter, more stable wrapping. She watched as the silver-haired physician finished packing his instruments into the black medical bag and buckled it closed. He looked back to the bed to assure himself that she would stay put and gave her a slight bow as he turned toward the door. Elizabeth closed her eyes, allowing the full effects of the medicine to settle over her, but in the next moment they flew open again as the doctor's murmured words reached her ears. "Now that she is out of danger, perhaps I can finally convince young Darcy to get some rest as well."

For some time, she lay staring at the canopy overhead, thinking about Mr. Darcy's passionate words and the feel of her hand in his as he kissed it. He had been worried for her life. Was it possible he still cared for her? Did she want him to? Stop thinking about it, Lizzy! she told herself sternly. Wait until the realities of your situation have sunk in. Then we shall see what your feelings are -- and his.

"Much better, thank you." Elizabeth laid her book of poetry aside and eagerly greeted Darcy's sibling. "I can now sit up without feeling as though my head will fall off and I have learned how to move without causing much pain – at least for the most part."

"Do you like the book?" Georgiana asked eagerly. "Fitzwilliam picked it out. It is one of his favorites and he thought you would enjoy it as well."

"I like it very much. Please tell him I appreciate the kind gesture."

"I shall do that," Georgiana flashed a smile that did not reflect the girl's normally cheerful manner, and Elizabeth studied her new friend. The shyly persistent girl had presented herself at Elizabeth's bedside the day following Mr. Darcy's surprising visit and quickly became a regular visitor.

Mr. Darcy, though, had not come again and Elizabeth spent many of her convalescing hours trying to sort out his perplexing behavior. From what she could remember of the night he had come to her bedside, he had shown no reserve, no reluctance to make his feelings known; and yet he now remained strangely aloof. Had the gravity of her situation finally sunk in; and if so, why send volumes of poetry for her to read – his favorites, no less? His actions were such a puzzling contradiction that she could not begin to make him out.

She had no idea how she would come to comprehend the man – until she discovered a surprising source of information. Georgiana, much to Elizabeth's delight, was a free-flowing fount of knowledge on the subject of her beloved brother. And so it was in this manner that Elizabeth began to understand the full depth of Mr. Darcy's character. A character that had been forged by the loss of both his parents early in life, leaving him with the vast responsibilities of caring for a large estate and a sister nearly half his age. His unswerving loyalty to both was explanation enough for the solemn, reserved demeanor she had first encountered in Hertfordshire.

As the days progressed and her health improved, Elizabeth had continued to be entertained and educated by Georgiana's illuminating stories. Even the girl's actions had been a surprising source of insight. Georgiana's painfully shy manners, which very often mirrored those of her brother, had given Elizabeth an entirely different view of Mr. Darcy's own reticence. What mortification it must have cost him when he willingly admitted his inability to converse easily with strangers – and she had treated his candor with ridicule and contempt! Elizabeth's wretchedness at her behavior toward Mr. Darcy grew each day in direct proportion to her admiration for him.

She could barely think on the injustice she had done him in refusing to acknowledge any goodness, willfully ignoring the excellence of his person, character, and circumstances. Instead, she had privately and openly accused Mr. Darcy of immoral, irreligious, and shameful conduct without making the slightest effort to confirm Mr. Wickham's villainous accusations.

Mr. Darcy's subsequent kindness to her, in expending such great efforts to find her, and to save her virtue and possibly her life, made these revelations inexpressibly painful; and the discovery of her foolishness was not only mortifying, but increasingly the source of the greatest regret she had ever suffered in the course of her life. To think that such a man had actually offered her marriage – and that she had replied with anger and scorn!

During the endlessly long nights, she had shed many bitter tears of vexation, shame, and remorse at the realization that her prejudice had utterly ruined her greatest chance for happiness. Having now witnessed all her foolishness and misjudgments, Mr. Darcy could only be feeling a sense of the greatest relief at having escaped such a disadvantageous connection! Now, when there seemed so little hope, she was sure she could have loved him; that she could have had the happiness she had always hoped for.

"Your aunt has talked with Dr. Lawrence," Georgiana quietly broke into her thoughts. "She said that you may be ready to leave us in the next day or two."

"Yes. I have disrupted your household long enough. Your brother will be glad to have his house to himself once again, I think."

"Oh, I do not think so! He has often talked of you, you know, even before you came; and he does not say it, but I believe he is very happy to have you here – as am I. It was so wonderful to have finally made your acquaintance."

A tiny thrill of pleasure raced through Elizabeth. "I hope you were not too disappointed."

"Not at all! Fitzwilliam has always spoken so highly of you, and now I understand why. Can you not stay with us a little longer?"

Elizabeth smiled ruefully at her new friend. "I thank you, but my family is anxious to see me and I them. My aunt visited again today and is quite impatient for Dr. Lawrence to pronounce me able to travel to Gracechurch Street."

The murky recollections of her aunt and uncle's worried expressions during the first few days of her convalescence came to mind. Tears had fallen all around when she was finally well enough for a visit that included news of home and her father's progress. He had wanted to come, but his improvement was not so much as would allow the long journey into town. More news of home came every day with Aunt Gardiner's visits and Lydia's letters had not been mentioned once. Perhaps there was still time to find a way to retrieve them.

"I like your aunt very much," offered Georgiana, bringing her back to the conversation. "Your uncle seems a good man as well. I cannot blame him for being so cross at first. You were so ill and he had only Fitzwilliam's urgent note, which said very little."

"Yes, my uncle was beside himself with worry; but once Mr. Darcy had the opportunity to explain everything in full, he was very understanding." Elizabeth paused as a new thought sprang to her mind. "As a matter of fact, it seems my uncle is much more accepting of the situation than I expected. He has not said one word to me on the subject of Lord Grissholm's behavior. Very strange for my uncle, which makes me wonder exactly what was told him."

"Oh, I am certain Fitzwilliam explained it fully." Georgiana's assurance was marked with an odd half-smile. "I suppose men know best how to deal with these kinds of things."

"Georgiana, Is something wrong,?"

"Why, no – nothing at all!" Her reassuring expression was not convincing at all.

"Yes, there is. What is it?" Elizabeth waited while Georgiana fidgeted and then she noticed Molly's sudden attentiveness to the articles on the dressing table. "There is something the two of you are not telling me."

Molly scooped up the small pile of linens at her feet and hurried toward the dressing room.

"Just a minute, Molly!"

The girl stopped in her tracks, but did not turn. "I really must get these things downstairs. They'll be waitin' for them."

"They shall just have to wait. You may not leave until I find out what it going on here."

Molly turned to face Elizabeth, her expression torn by worry and fear. "I can't, Miss. I promised. "

The thrill rippled through her again, this time motivated by a rising panic. "Georgiana?"

"Please do not excite yourself, Elizabeth. The doctor said you must stay calm. It is nothing, really."

"Tell me what it is and I will decide if it is nothing or not."

"Oh, Elizabeth, please do not ask. Fitzwilliam made me promise not to say a word. Tomorrow, if…when he returns, I am certain he will tell you himself."

"IF he returns?! From where? Surely you can tell me that."

"No, I cannot. I am sorry, truly I am, but you must put it out of your mind. Let us finish our tea, shall we? You will want all your strength for the doctor's visit this evening."

"No, I think not," Elizabeth answered tenaciously, sitting back from her tray and folding her arms. "I shall not do another thing until you tell me what is going on here. Judging from the looks on your faces, it has something to do with me, and I intend to find out what it is."

Georgiana avoided Elizabeth's piercing gaze, looking to Molly for help.

"I am waiting."

"Miss Bennet, you wouldn't want Miss Darcy to disappoint her brother, would you? It's hard enough without you forcing her to break her promise."

"I am sorry to be the cause of so much distress, but this obviously concerns me as well. Do you not think I have a right to know?" Tears were beginning to pool in Georgiana's eyes, and Elizabeth reached out to gently touch the girl's hand. "I should like to share your burden. Please, Georgiana, will you tell me?"

She had finally breached the girl's defenses. Huge, glistening tears welled up and cascaded down Georgiana's cheeks. "Oh, Elizabeth! It is as I feared after I heard Fitzwilliam and your uncle talking. He is going to fight Lord Grissholm! Richard says he will be all right, but I am so afraid. The law forbids it, and even if they are not discovered, there is always a chance that something may go wrong."

"A duel!?" Elizabeth was stunned. In a matter of seconds, her astonishment turned to worry and then to anger. "I will not allow it! What is he thinking? And Uncle Gardiner! This is ridiculous! Molly, get my clothes!" Elizabeth drew back the covers and began climbing out of bed, biting back a gasp at her too-sudden movement.

A look of surprised horror hit Georgiana and Molly at the same time. "No!" Georgiana cried. "You cannot! Please lie down. Elizabeth, you are not well enough!"

"I am well enough to stop this madness. Your brother will not endanger his life and ruin yours because of me. Molly, my clothes – now!"

"Oh, please, Elizabeth! Get back into bed. Fitzwilliam will never forgive me if you are hurt!"

"And I will never forgive myself if he is!"

"Have you had occasion to face him before?" The worry on Richard's face was not helping matters.

"Not since our Cambridge days."

"And were you able to best him?"

Darcy hesitated, taking another sip from his glass. "Sometimes," he said at last. Seeing Richard's wince, he quickly added, "but that is not to say I cannot do better now. I doubt he has maintained his former level of mastery."

"He chose swords instead of pistols. He must still be confident that he can defeat you. How can you be sure he has not kept in practice?"

"I cannot, but we can hope. I am glad of the choice in any case. A bullet is too quick for him. I intend to see that he suffers for what he has done."

"You will not be satisfied if you take first blood, then?"

"No. No matter which of us takes the advantage, I will not be satisfied until he draws his last breath."

"Have you considered the consequences if you are discovered or if it should not go well?"

"I do not plan on that happening, but if it does then you shall have full responsibility for Georgiana. I have made arrangements that will allow you a comfortable living outside the service for as long as she needs you."

"That will be little comfort to Georgie, and you know it."

"It is the best I can do."

Darcy's love for both Elizabeth and Georgiana tore at his heart. He could not satisfy his duty to one without sacrificing the other; but the agony of his choice was tempered by the knowledge that Georgiana would one day find a man to love as much as he did Elizabeth. He had faith that she would someday understand.

The heavy silence that rose between the two cousins was suddenly broken by a light knock on the door.

"Come!" Darcy commanded as he took up his glass and finished off the contents, swallowing hard when Elizabeth slowly entered the room. She was alarmingly pale and had a firm grip on Georgiana's arm, looking in every way a contradiction to the doctor's reports of her steady improvement.

In spite of her appearance, however, the determined lift of her chin warned of coming trouble. Whatever it was, she was in no condition to be downstairs, and he took a determined stance of his own.

"Miss Bennet! You should be in your bed! Georgiana, what are you doing?"

"Do not blame your sister, sir. I would have come with or without her help. I have just heard the most alarming report and would not rest until I had the truth. "

"Hello, Georgie," Richard bowed to the ladies. He sensed the coming battle as well and tried his best to lighten the mood. "You must forgive my cousin's appalling manners, Miss Bennet. I do hope you are feeling better."

"Thank you, Colonel. I am feeling well enough. Mr. Darcy, I have come to hear you contradict the report of you arranging an illegal duel with Lord Grissholm."

Georgiana looked crestfallen, unable to meet her brother's eyes. "Georgie, dear," Richard continued as if Elizabeth had done nothing more than comment on the weather. "Did you not promise to play that new composition for me before I left? I think now would be the perfect time. I shall say my good-byes, Miss Bennet. I am very happy to see you much improved."

Darcy stared at his cousin's blatant desertion and groaned inwardly when his sister joined in the mutiny by gently depositing Elizabeth in a chair near the fire.

"Will you be all right, Elizabeth? I can stay if you would like."

"Thank you, no, Georgiana. I would not keep you from the Colonel. I will manage until you return."

Briefly meeting her brother's narrow look, Georgiana took Richard's outstretched arm and hurried out of the room. Darcy followed every step of their traitorous departure with the feel of Elizabeth's expectant gaze on his back. When the door shut solidly behind them, he drew a deep breath in anticipation of the coming battle. He knew she was determined, but he was even more so and would not be deterred from vindicating her honor. Straightening to his full height, he turned to face her.

"Miss Bennet, it is unfortunate that you have learned of this affair. It was my express wish that you not know."

"You cannot blame Georgiana. She did her best to conceal it, but when I realized there was something wrong, I insisted on knowing. I was quite determined."

"I can well imagine. Poor Georgiana. Still, she should not have broken her promise."

"You should not have imposed it upon her. You placed a very great burden on her young shoulders. She is terribly worried for you, as well she should be. That is why I cannot allow you to risk your future and hers for my sake."

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Bennet, but it is now a matter of honor between Grissholm and myself."

"Mr. Darcy," she drew a shaky breath. "I wish now that I had never involved you in my troubles. Whatever Lord Grissholm did…whatever happened to me…was a result of my own folly. Do not be so reckless as to add your own to it."

"This is unbelievable! How can you consider any of this to be your fault! If anything, it is mine! I knew what kind of a man Grissholm was and I failed to act accordingly. If I had done something sooner, you would not have suffered as you did. Society will not hold him accountable for his atrocities against you, but I shall – I must!"

Elizabeth struggled unsuccessfully to keep the blush from her cheeks. "I have been told of his dishonorable conduct, and mercifully my memories are not entirely clear. My physical wounds will heal soon enough and I shall return to Hertfordshire and my family. What will happen to your sister if you do not return tomorrow? She is sixteen and has already suffered the loss of a mother and father. I cannot be responsible for the loss of her brother as well. That is a wound that would never heal."

"Do not mourn me just yet, Miss Bennet. There is a very good chance I may defeat Grissholm, you know."

"Do not jest with me, sir!" she cried, angrily. "You are risking everything for something I cannot even remember!"

"But I do!" he answered fiercely. "I shall never forget what he did as long as I live!"

"Which may not be long if you persist in this madness!"

"Nevertheless, I will persist!"

"You cannot! He was wrong to do what he did; but it was I who provoked him. He was angry and intoxicated, and I should not have been there. I would never have gone back to get Lydia's letters if I had any idea he would be there at that hour of the night. Fortunately you and the colonel arrived in time, and that must be the end of it."

"You cannot be serious! He was not so drunk that he did not know what he was doing. Do you honestly blame yourself for his apalling behavior? "

"If that is what it takes. I am resolved to stop this duel. You cannot place yourself in danger for my sake. I will not allow it! I should never forgive myself if you were injured or worse. To be in this world without you is unthinkable, and if I were to be the cause of it –"

"What did you say?" Darcy started in surprise.

"I said I will not allow you to place yourself in danger for my sake."

"After that!"

"I said if I were to be the cause of it."

"No, you said 'To be in this world without you is unthinkable'."

"Well, yes, I, ah…what I meant was that Georgiana would be inconsolable should you be injured or killed," Elizabeth stammered. "You are all she has! I cannot allow you to jeopardize your sister's happiness."

"And what of your happiness? Last April, I was the last man in the world with whom you wished to be acquainted. May I hope that your feelings have changed in some small degree?"

"If I told you they had, would you call off this absurd duel?"

"No," snapped Darcy. "There is much more to this than you are aware."

"Then enlighten me, please!"

"Some things are better left alone."

"Perhaps, but this is not one of them! If you choose not to explain yourself, I insist you abandon this quest for my honor."

"I cannot do that."

"This is ridiculous!" Elizabeth rose angrily, swaying slightly as she stood, and Darcy was instantly at her side. Gently holding her by the arm, he gazed steadily into her eyes, which did nothing to help the weakness in her knees.

"You have not answered me. Have your feelings changed?"

"Does it matter?" Elizabeth retorted.

His frustration flared. "Your answer will not alter the certainty of a duel in the morning, but I should like to know all the same."

"You had best accustom yourself to disappointment, sir, for it will make no difference to tell you anything when you are so eager to get yourself pointlessly killed!" she cried, jerking her arm away from him and turning her back.

Elizabeth was trembling visibly, although whether from fatigue or fury Darcy could not say. He stepped closer, and was just in time to see tears on her face before her eyes suddenly rolled back. He barely had time to catch her as she crumpled, then swept her up and hurried towards the stairs, calling for a footman to fetch the doctor. In another moment he was joined by an anxious Georgiana and Richard.

"Fitzwilliam, what happened? Oh, I was afraid of this. I knew she was not strong enough. Careful! Do not go too fast, you will jar her."

Glancing down at Elizabeth's expressionless face, Darcy thought of her passionate words regarding his appointment with Grissholm. She had argued fiercely for Georgiana's sake, but there had been something more in her fervent pleas. Would she mourn him if things turned out badly? Had her feelings changed? She had stubbornly refused to admit it, but she had not denied it either; and his experience with her told him she would not have hesitated if that had been the case.

Elizabeth stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. Then a sudden bloom of crimson on her face warmed his heart. Unlike the last time he had carried her up these stairs, he knew she would be alright.

"Mr. Darcy! Put me down at once! I am sure I can manage on my own."

"I beg to differ, madam," Darcy replied evenly, ignoring her struggles. After a moment, she gave up and submitted with as much grace as she could muster. Darcy's mouth pressed into a tiny smile at her acute embarrassment as he continued up the stairs, obediently heeding Georgiana's constant stream of directions to slow down and be very careful.

A surge of utter contentment overshadowed any concerns he might have for the coming confrontation with Grissholm. Elizabeth cared what happened to him – whether she was willing to admit it or not – and she was alive and safe within his arms. For the moment, that was enough.

Chapter 27

Posted on November 17. 2009

Richard stood silently in the early morning mist as Darcy sliced the cold air with short, rapid strokes, measuring the weight of his sword and warming his muscles to the exercise. Across the clearing Grissholm flicked his own sword impatiently and spoke quietly to the man Richard recognized as the viscount's second. In the next moment, both Darcy and Grissholm looked up, locking eyes across the distance. Grissholm gave a single curt nod to signal his readiness and Darcy's chin lifted in answer. The anticipation on both men's faces plainly showed the coming conflict would not be swift, and it would not be over until one of them was dead.

"Gentlemen." Dr. Lawrence's voice echoed loud in the little glade and Darcy's grip tightened on the elegant short sword; a gesture that did not escape Richard's notice as he moved away from his cousin.

Coming to a halt in front of Dr. Lawrence, he bowed curtly to Grissholm's second. Jamison Bonham was as proud and disagreeable as he had been at their first meeting.

"Rule 21 of The Code requires me to attempt reconciliation." Bonham's mouth twitched in mocking contempt. "Does the challenger wish to compose the quarrel without bloodshed?"

Richard met the disingenuous civility with cool disdain. "My principal cites Rule 23." Richard's blunt words made clear what everyone already knew; that the offense was of such a nature that no apology or explanation could be received.

"Very well, we shall begin."

Turning on his heel, Richard returned to Darcy as Grissholm came to position and waited. Grissholm and Bonham's obvious confidence confirmed what he had feared. Darcy would need every skill he possessed – and more – if he was to come out of this alive.

"Remember to keep your promise," Darcy murmured quietly. "If I should fail, you must keep your promise."

"I will Darcy. Georgiana will be safe with me."

"And Elizabeth."

Richard hesitated.

"And Elizabeth. Give me your word you will look after her, Richard. It is the least I can do for her if things go badly. She would have had a safe and peaceful existence in Hertfordshire if I had never entered her life."

"I will look after Georgiana and Miss Bennet if it goes badly, but you must think of succeeding! Have faith!" Richard's encouraging smile faded to sober concern as soon as Darcy turned and moved onto the field opposite Grissholm. With a brief, formal salute, they both dropped into the en garde from which only one would emerge alive.

"I have waited a long time for this," Grissholm purred. "You will finally pay for your actions at Cambridge."

"Lies and innuendo, that is all you had. I was barely acquainted with the lady, and you know it!"

"So you say. But you cannot deny I have had the pleasure of Miss Bennet's intimate acquaintance."

The leering smile ignited Darcy's fury and he sprang to the attack, instantly forcing Grissholm back a few steps. Darcy's thrust was quickly blocked and parried. They separated, and circled, each looking for the advantage.

Then Grissholm lunged, delivering a succession of maneuvers that grew with lightening rapidity into a hard-pressed assault. Darcy battled fiercely to meet him stroke for stroke. The almost musical ring of the dueling swords rang through the grove as they clashed rhythmically again and again. Each man was now fully engaged in the brutal pursuit of their own personal justice. Richard watched with grim silence, his lips pressed together in an earnest, silent prayer for his cousin.

There was another brief separation before Darcy again advanced on Grissholm. His attack was met by a fluid retreat and riposte which sent Darcy back. Grissholm then pressed relentlessly with a rapid series of lunges, forcing Darcy further back, step by step. With expert form, Darcy parried and thrust only to be reversed again, as Grissholm lunged forward, his tip catching the fabric at Darcy's elbow and slashing the sleeve open to his wrist.

A spasm of panic shot through Richard at the near hit. They had counted upon Grissholm having given up his training, having lost some of the speed and skill that he had displayed at Cambridge. Clearly that hope had been a vain one, for Grissholm still moved with all the sinuous, lethal grace of a master swordsman. His blade flickered in a blur almost too fast to be seen, and it was requiring all Darcy's efforts merely to keep the lightening-quick blade from piercing his body. Tiny beads of sweat were already starting to gather on Darcy's brow as Richard watched him stumble backwards, desperately parrying yet another confident advance.

Dread seeped into Richard's veins as he watched the fatigue grow in his cousin's every movement. He was outmatched. Darcy was going to die today.

And there was absolutely nothing Richard could do about it.

After a brief, fierce exchange of right-of-way, Grissholm lunged with a final, forceful thrust toward Darcy's heart. Darcy countered quickly, but it was not enough. Grissholm's sword plunged deeply into Darcy's side.

With a dissatisfied growl Grissholm pulled back, his retreating blade drawing a line of dark red blood that blossomed on Darcy's stark white shirt. A low grunt of astonished pain came from Darcy as he clutched his side and staggered, then sank to the ground.

Richard rushed forward, pulling anxiously at the bloodied shirttail. "Darcy! How bad is it?"

"Lay him back so I can see," Dr. Lawrence commanded brusquely. With quick, efficient hands, Lawrence worked to stem the bleeding and assess the injury. He looked over to an impatient Grissholm and reported, "He needs dressing."

Giving Richard a concerned frown, he set to work. The wound was a clean cut, but deep – and they both knew deadly infection thrived in such injuries. Grim-faced, Lawrence poured a pungent solution over the laceration causing Darcy to stiffen and hiss viciously through clenched teeth.

"Wrap it well, Lawrence. Grissholm is waiting."

"Oh, no – not today! Anything I do now will not hold for another round."

"He is right, Darcy," Richard added. "Let me talk to Bonham – "

"No! Do the best you can and stand aside, for I will have this business done here and now."

"This is madness, Darcy. You must have time to recover." Dr. Lawrence struggled to win what he knew to be a battle already lost. "Your honored father gave you good principles, sir; but I do not believe he meant for you to end your life in this manner. If he were here, he would – "

"My father is not here, Doctor; and you are here as my physician, not my conscience. Kindly confine your advice to the subject of medicine."

Lawrence could say no more and Richard looked away from Darcy's fierce expression, caught up in his own private skirmish with reason and honor. The defense of Elizabeth Bennet's reputation was a noble cause, indeed; but the thought of Darcy's death and the far-reaching effects it would bring was unbearable.

How could he continue to honor Darcy's express wish that the duel proceed unopposed, no matter who prevailed? Darcy would certainly be no match for Grissholm now that he was injured. All the determination in the world would not be enough.

His mind made up, Richard rose from Darcy's side, ignoring the angry objections that followed him, and signaled a meeting with Bonham.

Swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat as Grissholm's second swaggered arrogantly toward him, he kept his voice even. "Will your principal acknowledge first blood and consider the challenge satisfied?"

"But, Colonel, yours is the challenger, not mine!" Bonham scoffed contemptuously. "He has invoked the rule which refused any reconciliation. Has Lord Grissholm's display of superior skill inspired a sudden change of heart?"

Richard's jaw tightened at the implication of cowardice. "As we are playing by the rules, I would remind you of numbers five and twenty-one. Blood has been shed and a reconciliation must be attempted."

"Yes, it has," Bonham's lips quirked smugly. "Very well, I shall consult with my principal."

With a heavy sigh, Richard returned to report the meeting. Lawrence's ministrations were all that kept a livid Darcy from flying at him.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"I am trying to save your life."

"Do not interfere, Richard."

"You cannot win and you know it. The odds were not in your favor before it began, and with this injury, you shall not last another five minutes. Be reasonable, Darcy. What good will you be to Georgiana – and Miss Bennet – if you are dead?"

"The Colonel has a point," Lawrence added. "You have a deep wound and a damaged rib, at the very least. If the pain doesn't stop you, the loss of blood will."

"I cannot concede. You saw what he did to her, both of you! Would you have me absolve him of it? No, it is too great an offense to let stand."

Richard shook his head sadly. "Convention allows you to be a chivalrous fool, but do not let it make you a dead one. Which do you think your dear Elizabeth would prefer you to be?" The impropriety of mentioning Miss Bennet's Christian name and in such an intimate way grated against his nature, but he was trying to save Darcy's life. The look he saw in response told him he had succeeded in breaching his cousin's intractable determination.

"Even if I agree, what makes you think Grissholm will relent? And if he does, do not imagine it will come cheaply."

Within a few minutes, Bonham returned to the center of the field and Richard went to join him.

Bonham's voice was intentionally loud enough for all to hear. "Lord Grissholm is feeling generous today and can be persuaded to consider the quarrel resolved."

Richard could not help the sigh of relief that escaped him.

"However," Grissholm's second continued with a gleam in his eye, "as specified under Rule Five, his lordship expects Mr. Darcy to beg his pardon and acknowledge that the viscount's behavior was entirely honorable and proper as concerns the young lady in question."

Richard started in dismay and Darcy's murderous growl instantly filled the air in answer.

"Of course, if these terms are not acceptable, Lord Grissholm stands ready to continue the duel just as soon as Mr. Darcy is able." Bonham gleefully raised his brows to Richard, and then returned to Grissholm's side to await the decision.

Despondently, Richard turned back and rejoined Darcy. Grissholm had left him no choice.

"The devil take him!" Darcy snarled at Richard as the doctor continued to work. "I will not sacrifice Elizabeth! If I accept his terms, she will be branded an outrageous flirt who willingly dallied with her employer, and got what she deserved. It would ruin her and her family forever. I cannot do that. If I die defending her, then at least her honor will be preserved."

Lawrence finished the last of the bandaging at a snail's pace and then slowly tied off the wrapping, attempting to postpone the coming tragedy for as long as possible. Finally unable to do any more, he looked to Richard and they both helped Darcy up.

Richard's hold lingered to support Darcy's unsteady stance. It only lasted a moment, and then he was curtly shrugged off. The cool, defiant look in Darcy's face twisted his stomach into anguished knots. The humiliating demands had re-kindled his cousin's sense of honor and justice, which, once ignited, could not be extinguished until Darcy was satisfied. It had been this way since their childhood.

"You are certain, then?"

"I would rather die with courage and give Elizabeth her life back than live knowing I doomed the woman I love, and her entire family, to a life of degradation and ruin. Can you understand that at all?"

"Yes, Darcy, I can." Richard's heart grew heavy with acceptance of Darcy's coming demise and the waste of a good life, but Grissholm had truly left him with no honorable alternative. "And I would not have you do anything different, Cousin. It is Grissholm who is the coward."

Feeling a sorrow almost too great to bear, Richard stepped back, giving Darcy a parting bow. Darcy pressed his lips into a grim expression of affection and slowly, painfully retrieved his sword from the ground. Without another look back, he walked away and joined Grissholm in the center of the field.

"I reject the terms!" Darcy spat contemptuously. "Your outrage against Miss Elizabeth Bennet is unforgivable and I shall defend her honor to the death, if need be."

"I was rather hoping you would feel that way about it," replied Grissholm softly, his face widening into a broad, confident smile. Giving only the briefest of salutes, he raised his blood-stained sword and lunged at Darcy's heart.

Chapter 28

Posted on November22, 2009

Lord Grissholm lunged forward, driving his blade towards Darcy's chest with lethal speed. Darcy parried desperately, narrowly escaping the viscount's thrust, but Grissholm's blade darted around instantly for another attempt. Wrenching away from the gleaming steel, Darcy nearly doubled over in pain as a hot rush of blood began to saturate the bandages at his side.

Panting in tortuous breaths, Darcy rushed in, striking with a flurry of rapid strokes that were too-easily repelled. He was forced to fall back out of Grissholm's reach, and searched desperately for any opening he could use to his advantage. It was a race against time. If he could not force an error before his strength bled out of him, it would be over. But even as hopeless as it seemed, he could not give up. He would not fail Elizabeth again. If it took his last breath, he would not fail her.

"You disappoint me, Darcy. I have been imagining this day for a very long time and I expected more from you."

"I am not done yet!" he growled fiercely.

"Very well, then, let us see what you have left!"

The thirst for revenge shining in his eyes, Grissholm attacked, driving Darcy backward as he slashed again and again, the impact ringing against Darcy's defending blade.

The two men were focused wholly upon their struggle, their entire existence consisting only of two deadly blades glittering in the sunlight, the ringing tones of parry and riposte, and the explosive movements of lunge and retreat. All else faded away, leaving them in their own private world of violent conflict. They did not see the observers scrutinizing every blow as it fell. Nor did they hear the rattling wheels and pounding hooves of an approaching carriage as it flew across the meadow, drawn by two lathered post-horses.

"Stop the duel!" Richard cried when he caught sight of the oncoming coach. "We have company."

Bonham eyed the equipage suspiciously. "How convenient. Darcy could not stand to lose, eh, Fitzwilliam?"

"In spite of what you think, I am as surprised as you are; but in any case, we had better stop the duel. The last thing we need is an uninvited witness to this affair."

"A bit of luck for Darcy, I would say," Bonham muttered sourly, walking away. He approached the two combatants just as Darcy blocked, parried, and with a shrewd feint, brought his sword about on Grissholm's right.

"Gentlemen, you must disengage."

Bonham's announcement distracted the duelists for only an instant, but it was enough to slow Grissholm's reaction as Darcy's thrust carried through, piercing Grissholm's arm just above the elbow. The injured arm spasmed in response and a trail of blood stained the white sleeve.

"Bonham!" Grissholm roared furiously. "What the devil are you doing?"

Bonham looked at the bleeding arm in surprise. "My apologies, Grissholm, but the contest must be suspended. We have an unexpected guest."

Grissholm's physician came running to examine the injury and was brusquely shrugged off as the carriage came to a frantic halt directly in front of the men.

Suddenly released from his battle for survival, Darcy's knees trembled, then gave way. Richard was next to him in an instant, helping him to stand as they both faced the unfamiliar coach. Their curiosity turned to astonishment when the carriage door flew open and Charles Bingley tumbled out.

After giving a quick glance to Darcy and Grissholm, Bingley anxiously turned back to the open door, extending his hand into the carriage and drawing forth a hesitant young woman, bundled in a heavy winter coat and bonnet.

Darcy's mouth dropped open in shocked amazement.

"It cannot be!" Grissholm's own look of surprise instantly hardened into bitter disdain. "What is the meaning of this, Bingley? Is this some sort of joke?"

"It is no joke, my lord," the lady whispered tentatively. Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to look at him and then reached out as she saw his bloodied arm. "Robert, you are hurt!"

Grissholm's countenance remained cold and indifferent. "Do not presume to address me in that manner, madam!"

The woman's expectant face fell dismally at his rebuff and she turned tearfully to Bingley. "I told you it was too late, sir. I am sorry. I will wait in the carriage."

Bingley stayed her efforts to escape from Grissholm's contemptuous glare.

"No, please! Wait a moment!' he cried desperately. "Perhaps I have done this rather badly, but Lord Grissholm, I think the lady deserves more courtesy than this after travelling night and day to get here. Do you not know her?"

"I know who you would like me to think she is, but you are woefully mistaken. Catherine Monroe died ten years ago – thanks to Darcy's courtesies!"

Darcy's low growl was ignored as the woman stepped hesitantly in Grissholm's direction, hopeful once more.

"Not so, my lord. I am Catherine, and quite alive. Am I so altered you do not know me?"

In spite of himself, Grissholm's eyes were drawn to her face. A flicker of hope crossed his face for an instant, then was abruptly extinguished.

"It is not possible. I do not know who you are, madam, but this gentleman has wasted your time in bringing you here. Doctor, I am ready now." Turning on his heels, Grissholm stalked away.

Darcy gazed with wonder at the woman, his fatigue held at bay by the shock of Bingley's astonishing arrival. It was indeed Catherine Monroe! She was older now, but the years had not diminished the striking combination of lustrous golden hair and deep blue eyes that he remembered. He looked to Bingley for an explanation, but found his friend's attentions wholly engaged in comforting the distraught woman.

Catherine's tear-filled eyes followed Grissholm's retreat, an array of painful emotions playing on her face. She watched despondently as the doctor bandaged Grissholm's arm with quick efficiency, then packed his medical bag and returned it to the carriage. The viscount remained where he was, alone in the clearing.

Much to Darcy's surprise, an expression of indignation began to grow on the lady's face and she wiped briskly at the tears on her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and resolutely made her way to Grissholm's side. Her somber words carried in the still morning air.

"It is clear my presence offends you, sir, and so I will take my leave; but before I go, I must tell you that you are mistaken. This journey was by no means a waste of time; for I am glad to know at last what has become of the man I have loved all these years. You have not the slightest resemblance to the one I remember. I fear he was an imaginary being that only existed in my mind. He was kind and loving and gentle. The cold, unyielding man I see now releases me from the acute regret I have suffered these many years, and I shall not waste another minute mourning what I thought my choices cost me that day I left Cambridge."

For a long moment, they stood facing each other, caught up in a private memory known only to them. As Catherine turned to go, Grissholm caught her with his words.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but what did you expect me to be! Did you think I would forget so easily? All my dreams – our dreams – were shattered when you vanished without a trace, without any explanation!"

"I had no choice! If I had stayed, it would have meant ruin for us both!"

"No choice? There is always a choice. You should have come to me. Whatever it was, I would have helped."

She heard a shadow of melancholy in his words and her anger dissolved. She gazed at him in thoughtful contemplation. "Would you have? I have often wondered. But I was so young, and easily persuaded to believe you would not want the penniless daughter of a man who had recklessly gambled away his fortune."

"It would not have mattered to me. Did you really think me so inconstant?"

"No. Truthfully, I did not. And that is what made it all the more difficult. I knew your affection for me was genuine; and that is why I had to leave. Mr. Wickham made it quite clear that – "

"Wickham?! What has he to do with it?"

"Mr. Wickham had discovered my father's grave financial situation. Using a false promise of aid for my father, he tricked me into exchanging some letters and then meeting him in private – compromising situations from which he hoped to profit. He made certain that the circumstances of the rendezvous had seriously compromised my character. I had no money, of course, but Mr. Wickham insisted that I ask you for it. He made it very clear that he would destroy my reputation if I did not cooperate. If I had married you, it would have been a never-ending nightmare. The threat of scandal would have hung over us forever. My father's recklessness had already ruined my life and I could not bear to think my folly would ruin yours as well; and so I fled as far as I could from Cambridge, and Mr. Wickham…and you."

"Without a single word," he accused softly.

"I could not. I dared not because I knew if you tried to dissuade me in the least, I would not have had the strength to refuse you." Catherine paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Father had been outraged at my decision to take employment and so we did not part on good terms. I settled into my position quickly, but I refrained from writing any letters fearing father would reject me completely – and I could not risk discovery by Mr. Wickham, or you."

"I searched for you. I searched day and night for a twelve-month."

Catherine looked away from the painful memory that played on Grissholm's face. "For several months, I immersed myself in building a new life. My employer was a kind man, and had guessed the ill effect of my employment upon my family connections. He encouraged me to reconcile with my father, and even arranged for my passage back to London. But when I arrived, I discovered that a terrible fire had taken my home and family. I had nothing left in London, so I returned to Yorkshire and accepted my fate."

Grissholm's bitter laugh was laced with deep sadness. "Nothing? Not a very flattering measure of my affection, is it?"

"I did return to Cambridge looking for you – but I encountered Mr. Wickham instead, and he assured me that your affections were most decidedly engaged elsewhere. He said that you had retired to the country with a young lady. He told me that your last words of me were that you were glad to have escaped an objectionable alliance and you never wanted to see me again!"

"Wickham has much to answer for," Grissholm remarked grimly before turning a narrow gaze on Catherine. "Yes, I went to Everton with a 'young lady.' An eight-year-old orphan by the name of Rebecca Monroe; although she now goes by the name of Ballard to protect her from scandal."

His look did not waver as Catherine stared in mute astonishment.

"Your sister, I believe."

"Rebecca?" she gasped softly. "Rebecca is alive?"

"Quite. I discovered her in a charitable house when I was searching for you. My intention was to restore her to you when you were found. But then I received Wickham's report telling me you had died. I imagine that is the reason Wickham dissuaded you from seeking me out again. He knew it would expose his lie!"

"Mr. Wickham told you I had died?!"

"Yes," Grissholm frowned into the distance. "In childbirth."

He looked back to see Catherine's face flush scarlet. "Childbirth?! Who did he think –"

"The report gave every indication that it was Darcy."

Her mortified look was all that he needed to know Wickham had played him for a fool.

"I may have acted recklessly when I met with Mr. Wickham, but I have never …would never do anything so…so…and you believed it?"

It was now Grissholm's face that colored. "You had vanished without any explanation! I did not want to believe it, but after months of searching, all I had was Wickham's wretched report! You were dead – gone forever – and I was left with a child who was a constant, daily reminder of what I had lost. By then, my conscience would not allow me to return her to a less than desirable life in the workhouse, so I made her my ward."

"And now? Where is my sister now?"

"We are at Peyton House. She is preparing for her first season this spring."

"This is astonishing – my little sister alive and well! And all because of your kindness, my lord!"

"For your sake, I could do no less."

A fragile silence settled between them as each tried to comprehend the implications of what had just been revealed. Grissholm's gaze remained fixed on the ground in front of him as he endeavored to give up the lie he had embraced for so many years.

"Wickham lied about your death."

"Obviously, my lord!"

"And there was no affair with Darcy – no child." It was not a question, but a statement; and its utterance gave way to a stark realization. "It seems I have been seeking revenge on the wrong man."

"I believe so," she agreed softly. "Sir, might I see Rebecca?"

Grissholm sprang to life immediately. "Of course! We shall go now, if you wish it. Bonham! Make ready! We are returning to Peyton House at once!"

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Catherine as he offered his uninjured arm and began escorting her to his carriage.

Darcy observed the possessive hold of Grissholm's hand upon Catherine's arm, and his lips twitched slightly. Drawing himself up and stepping away from Richard, he called out in a deceptively even voice. "Lord Grissholm, surely you have not forgotten that we still have business to conclude here?"

Grissholm froze for a brief moment, then turned to Darcy with a warning frown. "Given the circumstances – and the injuries sustained – I suggest we postpone our business for a few days."

Darcy glanced beyond Grissholm to Catherine Monroe, his face bearing an inscrutable expression. "But my lord, the reputation of a lady is at stake."

With growing alarm, Grissholm saw Catherine's confusion at the declaration and quickly stepped closer to Darcy. "I see no reason to discuss this matter further in such gentle company."

"I mean no disrespect to Miss Monroe, of course; nevertheless, this is the place and time agreed upon for our meeting. Perhaps it is fortunate that she should be here so that she can be educated on how eagerly you defend innocent young ladies from disgrace."

"Robert?" queried Catherine, her confusion deepening.

Grissholm's face darkened with anger. "You go too far, Darcy!"

"I would say the same about you," replied Darcy firmly. "In fact, I would point out that you have been mistaken about me for years. Miss Monroe stands before you, and if you ask her, will attest that I am wholly innocent of the crime for which you have blamed me these last ten years. As for our current dispute, let us consider the matter. I still contend that a gentleman of real honor could never have attempted to – "

"Stop! There is no need to discuss the details in front of Miss Monroe!" Casting a nervous look in Catherine's direction, he stepped closer, speaking with quiet desperation. "What resolution do you propose, Darcy?"

Darcy eyed Grissholm narrowly as he pushed away the haunting visions of Elizabeth and all that she had suffered. Grissholm deserved to die, but that was not going to happen today. He pressed for the only other thing that would satisfy him now.

"I propose that you declare the lady in question to be wholly without blame in the matter of your conduct. That you personally give surety to every party with any knowledge of the affair that her honor is intact in every respect and her reputation is unblemished." Darcy peered intently into Grissholm's face. "And that you fully acknowledge only a blackguard would attempt a brutal outrage against such an innocent lady."

"You can go to the devil!" Grissholm began heatedly, but a glance back at Catherine showed her listening to the exchange with wide-eyed concern. Grissholm fell silent. Darcy was unsure whether the viscount's heightened color denoted anger or shame, but then he saw the barely visible slump in the man's shoulders as he spoke.

"Very well," Grissholm acquiesced grudgingly. "I agree."

A weary triumph spread across Darcy's face. "Good. I shall consider the offense satisfied. I take my leave now and entrust to you the task of explaining it to Miss Monroe as best you can!"

Elizabeth gazed yet again at the letter in her hand and breathed a halting sigh. Bitter tears had already been spilt and banished hours ago, but the agonizing truth still cut deep with every examination of the dreadful news.

She looked over to Georgiana who was sitting quietly on the sedan chair with an open book that had not had a page turned in the past twenty minutes. Worry creased the girl's face and Elizabeth could not bear to burden her further with the content of her letter. At least not until the outcome of the dreadful duel was known.

"Does it always take this long?" Georgiana whispered anxiously. "Do you think he is all right?"

"I do not know about such things; but I know your brother is a good man and God will watch over him – He must for your sake!" And mine! she finished silently. I know he cannot be mine after this dreadful news, but I would have him be safe.

"I hope so. I have prayed so. I want so much for you and -- "

The sudden sound of hushed voices and heavy footsteps in the hallway pulled the two women out of the sitting room in an instant. They hurried toward the noise, unwilling to wait any longer in spite of their fear of what they might find, and looked at one another in relief as they heard the familiar sound of Darcy's voice.

"Give me some room, Richard! I can do this on my own."

"You look like death itself, Cousin, and if I were in a betting mood, I would not lay odds on you making it past the first set of stairs. Lawrence, you steady him on that side."

Elizabeth and Georgiana reached the bottom of the staircase just as the men gained the first landing, Darcy supported precariously between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Dr. Lawrence.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana exclaimed in horror. "You are hurt!"

All three men stopped at her cry and Darcy turned, wincing slightly at the movement as he looked down.

"I am fine, Georgie. Just a scratch."

"Sir," said Elizabeth, "I am so relieved to see you back again! Please allow me to say how grateful –"

"It is not necessary, Miss Bennet," he replied. Looking to Elizabeth, he met and held her eyes. "Everything shall be fine."

Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips as the men continued up the stairs. Everything might be "fine" for the Darcys, but her own family was another matter entirely. She rubbed at the dull ache in her head that told her she had overtaxed her strength.

"Georgiana, I think I should like to rest awhile. Will you help me back to my room?"

"Of course, Elizabeth! You do look pale. What a morning! I do not believe I can take any more excitement."

Nor can I, Elizabeth thought to herself. It was clear she would have to handle matters carefully. She looked down at the letter still clutched in her hand. It would be just like him to somehow feel responsible and think it his duty to act upon this terrible news; but she could not allow Mr. Darcy to ever again do anything so foolish and dangerous as fighting a duel for her sake. No, she would make sure that could never happen again.

Darcy angrily tossed the note onto the bed. Leaving? Just like that before he could secure an understanding? No, he would not allow it! Not now.

"Denham, find Miss Bennet at once and tell her I wish to speak with her. She is not to leave this house before I have seen her!"

"Very good, sir," the valet replied with a dignified bow. "I shall do so right away."

Darcy sniffed discontentedly. His taste for philosophy suddenly gone, he set his book on the side table and settled in to wait for Elizabeth's arrival. She would not dare refuse him. He knew she cared for him even if she was too stubborn to admit it. He had seen it in her eyes the night they quarreled over the duel. Even though she had displayed a puzzling reluctance to be in his company since his return from the meeting with Grissholm, she could not hide her feelings from him. He had seen it, and the precious few times he had managed to hold her gaze, he saw it there still.

A soft knock at the door announced Elizabeth's arrival. In spite of his annoyance, he caught his breath, his chest expanding and pulling painfully at Lawrence's stitches as she entered behind Denham. She was beautiful! He was glad to see the bruises had finally faded and her color was returned – even heightened as she approached his bedside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Her impassive expression brought his irritation to the fore. "Of course I wanted to see you! What is the meaning of this?" he replied hotly, holding the note up for her to see.

"I believe it is all explained in the note. Dr. Lawrence has pronounced me well enough to travel and my Uncle Gardiner is to come for me – at any moment now."

"You would leave without a word?"

"I am not leaving without a word. You have it in your hand."

That same unsettling reluctance crept into her countenance and Darcy sensed her duplicity. "That is not what I meant, and you know it."

"I felt it best," she replied evenly as she glanced at Denham who remained discreetly busy in a corner of the room. "I did not wish to disturb your rest; but I could not leave without expressing my gratitude for all you have done for me."

"Gratitude? Is that what it is?"

"Why, yes." Her carefully constructed facade of indifference slipped a little more. "It cannot be anything else."

"It can and it is! I have seen it. Look into my eyes and tell me that you do not feel something more than gratitude."

Elizabeth took a step back from him, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

"Look at me."

"First I must have a promise."

"A promise?! You may have anything you want!"

"I would have your solemn promise that you will never again place yourself in danger for my sake."

Darcy laughed indulgently. "Is that all? There is no more threat from Grissholm, I can promise you that. And I give you my solemn promise that I shall not place myself in danger defending your honor without your express permission. Will that do?"

His amused smile faded as she lifted her eyes to his and he saw the glittering sadness they held.

"What is it?"

"I cannot deny that I have felt more than gratitude, indeed, much more; but I fear it cannot be so. I had hoped our last meeting would be as friends, however, I see that I am to be denied even that."

"You are not making sense. If you care for me, nothing else matters."

"I wish it were so," Elizabeth whispered softly. "When you read this letter I have received from Jane, you will think differently."

Taking the letter she offered, Darcy read the lines quickly, his anger growing with every word.

"Wickham!" he snarled viciously.

"Yes, Mr. Wickham…and my youngest sister, Lydia. So you see, it is hopeless."

"Yes, I do see. I must beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I have business that cannot wait," Darcy announced brusquely. "May I ask that you wait for me downstairs?" Intent on the plan which was forming in his head, he did not see the fleeting look of devastation cross Elizabeth's face.

"Yes, of course," she murmured. "I understand."

Consumed with the need to act quickly, Darcy barely responded to her parting courtesy as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Denham, prepare my morning clothes at once. I am going out."

The valet approached Darcy hesitantly, his usually placid face lined with worry. "But sir, if I may say, Dr. Lawrence has instructed you to remain abed for another three days!" Darcy's fierce expression halted any further argument. "Yes, sir, right away."

Chapter 29

A soft, delicate melody flowed from the piano forte, filling the drawing room at Peyton House. With a shy nod to her sister, Rebecca navigated through a difficult passage as Catherine turned the page and remained protectively by her sister's side. Their surprising reunion had been a joyous, tear-filled event. From across the room, however, Robert Grissholm stifled a frown.

His brief explanation of the disagreement with Darcy had been vague and elusive. He had rightly guessed Catherine's anticipation of being reunited with her little sister would distract her from seeking more concrete answers; but he knew it was only a matter of time and she would soon want more – more than he could give without risking her censure. The truth of why he had fought Darcy would surely drive her from him.

The muscles in his chest tightened with a dreadful sense of foreboding as he considered the fragile happiness he had enjoyed since Catherine's precipitous arrival two short days ago. She was the living embodiment of his memories in every way. Her grace, her charm, the brilliant sapphire eyes that danced with tender affection whenever she looked at him. He sighed deeply. After thinking her dead for ten years, he could not bear to lose her again.

His thoughts churned with every justification, every defense he could imagine, desperately looking for a way to moderate the account of his behavior toward Elizabeth Bennet, but he knew there was none. He had allowed himself to believe any means justified the end in his quest for revenge against Darcy. And now that he knew the offense was utterly baseless, it could very well cost him Catherine's affection. He would give anything to turn back time and throw Wickham's letter into the fire where it belonged. If he had only heeded his instincts that fateful day, then he would not be entangled in this nightmare.

Wickham! Grissholm's jaw tightened with an inflexible loathing for the man. Whether he miraculously managed to retain Catherine's affections or not, there would be an accounting. When he found the man, Wickham would be caught in a snare of his own making.

The arrival of a footman bearing a silver tray interrupted the viscount's troubled thoughts. Taking up an elegantly engraved calling card, Grissholm's brow raised in surprise, then furrowed suspiciously. What did he want?

With instructions to the footman and a brief apology to the ladies, he made his way to his study. Pausing for only a moment, he opened the door and entered.

"Darcy."

Rising slowly from his chair, Darcy leaned heavily on a silver-tipped walking stick and coolly offered the briefest of bows.

"Grissholm."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked the viscount with an equally chilly politeness.

"I imagine your pleasure is no more than mine. It is only the keenest of demands that forces me to call upon you. I must find George Wickham as soon as possible and you are the swiftest way I know of getting to him."

Grissholm could not hide his surprise. "Wickham, you say? And what makes you think I would know where he is?"

"You are in league with him."

"Quite the contrary. I severed my dubious connection with him weeks ago when our business was at an end."

"Then I should like any information you have that might lead me to him."

"My, my, you are anxious to find him. What has he done now?"

"He has run off with Lydia Bennet."

"Ha!" barked Grissholm derisively. "What could he possibly hope to gain with that bit of baggage?"

"Her family believes them to be on their way to Gretna Green; however, they have only been traced to London and not beyond. I think we both know it is not marriage he is after; but I intend to see he does exactly that. They must marry as soon as possible."

"What Wickham does with the girl is none of my concern."

"Perhaps not, but it is of very great concern to the Bennet family, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet in particular. You set that dog loose on her family with your complicity, and now you shall do everything in your power to muzzle him! If you refuse, I am certain Miss Monroe would find the details of your association with Wickham fascinating."

Grissholm weighed Darcy's words. "Very well, I shall help you, but only because I have a debt of my own to settle with him."

"It does not matter to me what your reasons are. Finding Wickham as soon as possible is my only concern!"

"I will tell you what I know and what my own search has yielded, under one condition."

Darcy's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he waited for Grissholm to finish.

"When we find him, he is mine."

"No!" Darcy cried, barely keeping his temper in check. "When we find him, he will marry Lydia Bennet. And once her reputation is intact, I shall be the one to take care of him. As you have already said, it is none of your concern."

"Wrong. I said what he does with the girl is not my concern. Wickham, however, became my concern the moment I found out he drove Catherine from London, and me. You want revenge upon Wickham for separating you from Miss Bennet for a few months? Try ten years and then tell me how you feel! When Wickham forced her to flee, he stole all our plans of a life together – the best years of our youth, our best hope for a family of our own! The harm done me and Catherine is greater than any he has done to you. You must allow me this, Darcy. It is just, and will give me the chance to redeem myself and vindicate my behavior to both ladies whose lives he has nearly destroyed."

"I cannot!" Darcy repeated forcefully. "You have no idea the harm he has done. He may have done you a great injustice, but this present scheme is only the latest in a long line of offenses he has inflicted upon my family. For years he has haunted my steps, and when he is found, it is I who shall put an end to it once and for all!"

"And how do you think you will do that? You are in no condition to fight him!" Grissholm shot back. "There must be only one outcome. If you truly want to achieve your purpose, it must be me!"

"After what Miss Bennet has suffered, do you really think I would step aside? You of all people know how determined I am to defend her! Honor demands that Wickham must pay, and any risk to be taken, will be done by me! I am the one –" Darcy's impassioned argument came to a precipitous halt with all the suddenness of a hunter's horse that had just failed a jump. He gasped with realization, his eyes narrowing sharply as a look of surprise and chagrin spread across his face. "That little vixen!" he growled. "She knew exactly what she was doing."

Grissholm was visibly perplexed. "What do you mean, Darcy?"

"Do not trouble yourself," came Darcy's brusque reply. "Merely a matter I intend to discuss with Miss Bennet at the earliest possible opportunity. At any rate, it seems I must bow to your prior claim, and acknowledge that Wickham is yours – after the marriage takes place. However, I insist that you return to Miss Bennet her sister's imprudent letters."

"I would do so gladly, except that I no longer have them. Please tell Miss Bennet that the letters have been burned. It was done the day I returned from our duel. I did not expect to see her or you again and there was no point in keeping them."

"Especially with Miss Monroe about," Darcy added wryly. "Miss Bennet will be relieved to know they will cause no more harm to her family."

"I am curious, Darcy, why the sudden change of mind about taking care of Wickham? Having second thoughts?"

Darcy bridled at the inference. "It has nothing to do with second thoughts! It seems I have been tricked into giving my word on the subject. Had that not been the case, we would still be arguing the point."

Grissholm's mouth twitched. "Miss Bennet, I am guessing. She does have a way of getting what she wants. I shudder to think how she will run your household once you are married! You may as well sign Pemberley over to her right now, and save yourself the trouble."

"What she does or does not do is no business of yours!"

"Easy, man! I meant nothing by it," Grissholm smirked. "In any case, bringing Wickham to account for his misdeeds is the material point here, and with your hands obviously bound by apron strings, I must be the one to get it done."

"Shall we get back to the purpose of my visit?" Darcy replied tightly, working to keep his expression from giving Grissholm any satisfaction. "Where is George Wickham to be found?"

Grissholm's expression turned serious as he considered the limited success he had encountered in his own search for the elusive lieutenant.

"I sent him an express the day I brought Miss Monroe to Peyton House asking him to meet me on a matter of business. I had hoped to catch him off guard, and thought I had succeeded when he replied he would come to London directly; but then he disappeared. Your coming today is the first clue I have had of him."

"Evidently your summons was enough to make him suspicious."

"Don't be ridiculous! I only asked the man to meet with me."

"You do not know George Wickham as I do. I have had years to acquaint myself with his maneuverings and his way of thinking. The fact that you sent an express told him something was afoot and that was all he needed."

"If he is on the run, then why take the girl?"

"Why indeed," Darcy muttered. "First Miss Bennet, and now her sister. It is as if he is determined to bring the family to ruin for his own amusement."

Not his alone, Grissholm thought with sudden understanding. Lady Catherine De Bourgh's letter of recommendation for Elizabeth Bennet was no coincidence. Wickham had secured the assistance of Darcy's own relation in his scheme. How could that be? Perhaps the lady had her own reasons for disparaging the Bennet family, but he was not going to be the one to enlighten Darcy and risk her displeasure. Darcy was on his own against his formidable aunt.

"Whatever Wickham's reasons, it will not matter when I am finished with him."

"He has to be found first," Darcy reminded him. "I have already applied what persuasions I could to Ann Younge. If she had any information, she would have given him up for the sum I offered. Still, I am almost certain he is here in London. Have you any idea where he might be hiding?"

"I know one or two inns where he has lodged in the past. We can start there." Grissholm quickly wrote on a sheet of paper and handed it to Darcy. "Give me half an hour to make some arrangements and I will meet you here."

Darcy took the directions with a nod. "Half an hour and no more. I cannot afford to waste any more time."

With Darcy's departure, Grissholm returned to the drawing room, catching his breath yet again at the sight of Catherine. She had glanced up, smiling from her place next to Rebecca when he entered, and now she moved toward him with curious concern showing plainly in her eyes.

"Something troubles you," she murmured softly.

He smiled tightly. She knew him well. She always had, even from the very beginning of their acquaintance. "No, my dear. Just a little business I have to attend. You need not worry. However, I am afraid it does require my absence the next few days. Will you forgive me? When I am finished, you shall have my undivided attention. In the meantime, you should give last night's conversation some thought and start considering a date for the wedding."

"This would not have anything to do with Mr. Darcy, would it?" she peered at him, catching him by surprise for he had been careful that she not see Darcy come or go.

"Why would you say that?"

"Only because I get the feeling that your business with him is not finished. You have said very little on that subject since my arrival. There is obviously much more than you have told me thus far."

"Yes, well," he hedged lightly, "that is something for which I would beg your indulgence." The affectionate expectation in her eyes wrenched his heart. How could he lose her now? "Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly!" she smiled brightly. "But why are you being so mysterious?"

"Please trust me for now, and I promise that when we are married and settled, I shall tell you anything you wish to know."

For a brief moment, he thought the wrinkle in her brow foreshadowed her refusal, and then it smoothed into an expression of absolute trust and acceptance. "Very well. I shall wait, if you wish; but be warned, when the time comes, I shall task you heavily with every last detail!"

Grissholm returned her smile as he possessively gathered her hands into his and kissed them. "By then, I think it will not matter so much and you may ask to your heart's content."

Darcy followed closely behind Grissholm as they made their way up the dilapidated staircase of the Three Sails Inn, being careful to avoid the rotting planks. Wickham had not been found at the inns Grissholm had indicated, but a careful canvassing of the adjacent neighborhoods had finally yielded success.

"I hope your sources are reliable. Much can change in two days," Grissholm said quietly without turning around.

"At least mine were successful," Darcy retorted softly before answering aloud. "It will be the third doorway on the left. If he is true to form, he will still be in. He does not go out until after eleven o'clock. My concern is for the girl. She has not been seen with him since their arrival."

"Well, we shall soon find out."

Stopping in front of the low-hung door, Grissholm rapped loudly, the sound of the heavy walking stick reverberating down the deserted hallway. A muffled scuffling sounded from inside, and then there was quiet. Another rap was met with more silence.

"Wickham!" Grissholm called out loudly. "I know you are in there. Open up or answer to the landlord when I break down the door."

There was a high-pitched squeak and then a rapid shuffle of footsteps toward the door. "All right! All right! No need for violence."

The door swung open and Grissholm and Darcy entered the room.

Darcy sniffed distastefully at the small, cramped quarters that smelled of old food and dirty linens. Lydia Bennet pulled at her rumpled gown and lifted her chin defiantly as she moved next to Wickham who was nervously eyeing the blocked path to the open doorway.

"Lord Grissholm – and Darcy!" Wickham began with a forced joviality. "What a pleasant surprise! It has taken a little longer to settle my affairs than I had anticipated, and I was about to call at Peyton House this very afternoon; but now, I see you have saved me the trip."

"Yes, how fortunate for you," Grissholm murmured dangerously. "You will come with us."

"There is a matter of business to discuss that would be better addressed in private," Darcy added, throwing a meaningful glance in Lydia's direction.

"You cannot intimidate George, Mr. Darcy," declared Lydia.

"Lydia," Wickham warned quietly.

"Well, he cannot. You are far too brave."

"Enough, Lydia! I will take care of this matter in my own way."

"Yes, you will," Grissholm agreed, "but it would be better without the girl present."

"Oh, no! I want to hear as well."

"Later!" Wickham snapped. "Stay here until I return."

"But George, I do not want to stay here alone," she whimpered softly and Darcy suddenly felt sorry for the foolish girl.

"Shall I take you to my carriage?" he offered. "Harrison can sit with you while we talk with Wickham."

"No! I am not going anywhere unless George goes with me."

Wickham smiled reassuringly to her as he guided her to the only chair in the room. "Just sit here until I get back. It will not be long – right, gentlemen?"

"That depends upon you," Grissholm observed darkly as the three men left the room.

Solemnly descending the stairway, they made their way to a small table that had been set for them in the corner of the tavern, and Wickham was ushered to the corner chair where Grissholm and Darcy flanked him on either side.

Darcy did not waste any time.

"We are here to see that you fulfill your promises to Miss Lydia."

"Promises? What are you talking about?"

"To marry her."

Wickham scoffed. "I made no such promise. She came with me on a lark and stays with me of her own free will. You saw that yourself."

"I saw a young girl who thinks herself in love and is fully expecting marriage."

"Not with me! I have no intention of making her an offer. If she thinks otherwise, that is unfortunate for her. I have other plans for my future."

"They have just changed. You will marry Lydia Bennet!" Darcy breathed menacingly.

"Impossible! She is penniless! I am one step ahead of my creditors now. What do you think we would live on?"

Darcy looked to Grissholm who only grunted softly before giving a cursory nod.

"Your debts will be paid, and the wedding costs as well. Send a list of your creditors to Peyton House."

Wickham peered at the two men, a gleam of anticipation lighting his eyes. "Even so, I would not have the means to keep a wife. As you might have guessed, my commission in the militia has been forfeited."

"I will bear the cost for a new commission, but it shall be of my own choosing," Darcy answered in a manner that asserted there would be no compromise.

"It is all very tempting, Darcy; but I am afraid I shall have to decline your offer."

Darcy would have liked to get his hands on Wickham, but the dull pain in his side reminded him that he would have to wait a little longer to satisfy that particular desire. He settled back into his chair with perfect comprehension. "Very well, what else?"

"As I see it, you are desperate to have me marry the girl and save the family's reputation. By doing so, I would forfeit any hope of making an advantageous marriage."

"As if you would," Grissholm sneered. "You had better take what has been offered and be grateful."

"Nevertheless," replied Wickham casually, "I cannot possibly take a wife without a settlement."

"How much?" Darcy asked, not taking his eyes from Wickham.

"Ten thousand."

"One thousand."

"Eight."

"Two."

"Six."

"Two," Darcy repeated firmly.

"Do you honestly expect us to live on two thousand pounds?"

"Economize. People do it all the time."

"Make it four and you have my word."

"It is two thousand or nothing, and I would not trust your word for anything."

Darcy watched as Wickham considered the offer and knew he would accept. Wickham had to accept or risk being found by any number of disgruntled creditors and others who would be far less agreeable than he and Grissholm.

"Very well, two thousand. I suppose all in all, I could have done a lot worse. When will I get it?"

"After the marriage contract has been signed. Until then, the girl must go to her uncle's house."

"That may prove to be a little difficult. You saw how devoted she is to me."

"Say what you must, but get her readied and down to the carriage in quarter of an hour." Darcy raised his cane menacingly as Wickham rose to leave. "Do not think to outfox us, Wickham, for you will be watched night and day. This wedding is one appointment you shall not miss."

Darcy leaned wearily against the cushions as Harrison urged the horses away from the church. It was done. George Wickham and Lydia Bennet were married. He looked across to his cousin and allowed himself a little smile.

"Thank you, Richard. I could not have done it all in so little time without you."

"I am always happy to help, cousin. I certainly hope Miss Bennet appreciates the sacrifices you have made on her behalf."

Darcy stiffened. "She does not know anything of my involvement and I would not have her enlightened. I ask that you respect my wishes in this."

A concerned frown crossed Richard's brow. "Very well, I shall not say a word; but why would you go to all this trouble only to have her ignorant of your involvement?"

"She has gone back to Hertfordshire; and if she has any feelings for me, they must be genuine – not out of gratitude for what I have done."

"What fools are made from love," Richard murmured to himself. "I fear you are making a mistake with the lady."

"A lot has happened these past six months to unsettle her mind, not the least of which is her father's illness. Once she has had time to sort everything out, I will determine how much she should know. If she feels only appreciation for my part in restoring her to her family, then she need not know any more."

"As I said, I think you do her a great injustice, but it is for you to decide. What will you do in the meantime?"

Darcy sighed. "There are a couple of details to attend and then this whole affair can be put behind me for awhile. The first one is a meeting with Grissholm, as soon as I have dropped you off."

"You are a better man than I. I cannot bear to share the same room with him. That he behaved as he did and suffers no consequence is more than I can stand."

"I do it for Elizabeth. She still claims that she cannot remember very much, which is a great blessing in itself if it is true, and she wants it forgotten by everyone else as soon as possible. There is one last matter to settle concerning Wickham and then I will be done with him as well."

The carriage halted at the steps of Tipton Manor, and Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped out of the door now held open by one of his father's footmen. "Will you come in and say hello to Mother? She has been asking about you, you know."

"Yes, I know. Lady Matlock is a very attentive aunt," Darcy grinned good-naturedly. "Tell her I will bring Georgiana on Sunday."

With a final nod to the footman, the door was closed and Darcy sat back to watch the passing view as Harrison expertly navigated the busy London streets directly to Peyton House. Upon reaching Robert Grissholm's address, Darcy shrugged off the lingering irritation of having to deal with the man and presented himself at the door.

Within minutes, he was once again sitting across from the viscount, engaged in a heated exchange.

"We had agreed you would do nothing until we discussed it!" Darcy cried angrily.

Ignoring the outcry with strained patience, Grissholm's reply was dismissive, "Now or three months from now, what does it matter?"

"It matters a great deal! They were married only this morning and if nothing else, his new wife deserves some consideration. You could not wait?"

"No, I could not. You are lucky I waited until after the wedding. George Wickham is going to pay dearly for depriving me of ten years of happiness, and the sooner the better."

"Given your ignoble behavior, I suppose I should not be surprised that you did not keep your word."

"Under the present circumstances, I will ignore that insult, Darcy; but be aware that in the future you will answer for any loose words."

"Once we are finished with Wickham, there will be no occasion for words between us, you may be sure."

"At least we agree on that," replied Grissholm, returning to the reason for Darcy's outrage. "He has chosen pistols for the duel. My reputation with a sword was a little too much for him, I believe."

"Perhaps he fancies himself a crack shot. He has been in training these past months, you know."

"Ha! Do you really think those outdated muskets the regiment uses are any comparison to a pair of fine dueling pistols? The new Mrs. Wickham should order her bombazine frock right away. He has no chance."

Chapter 30

Posted on November 25, 2009

Darcy followed the liveried footman up the grand staircase of Jamison Bonham's country manor, his expression as cold as his thoughts. He still was annoyed with Grissholm for arranging Wickham's demise on the very heels of the wedding, and even more so that he had been required to make the half-day journey to settle the final details of the "hunting accident" that had claimed Wickham's life. Grissholm's note had held a hint of urgency – anxious to be rid of the whole affair, no doubt – and Darcy was glad at least that after this day he need never think of Wickham or Grissholm again.

Pausing in the hallway long enough for the footman to announce his arrival, Darcy was surprised when he stepped not into a sitting room, but a bedchamber; and his astonishment was even greater when he saw Miss Monroe and Bonham lingering at the bedside of a pale and obviously very ill Grissholm.

Catherine turned in her chair without releasing her hold on Grissholm's hand. "Mr. Darcy! What brings you to Hartsfield Manor? If you have come to join in the hunting, you are too late!" Her voice broke with her last words and she turned back to hide the fresh tears that sprang to her eyes.

"No, I did not come to…that is to say, I, um –" The fact was, Darcy was not entirely certain why he had come, now that he saw Grissholm's grave state.

"I asked him to come, my dear," came Grissholm's raspy reply. "If you would allow, I must speak to Darcy in private; you too, Bonham."

Both of them frowned in response. "Do you think it wise?" Bonham murmured quietly, but not enough that Darcy did not hear. "Given your condition, perhaps I should stay."

"I am not so far gone that I cannot direct my own affairs. Be so good as to escort Miss Monroe downstairs. She could use some fresh air after being cooped up in here all day."

Reluctantly, Catherine allowed herself to be led from the room, hesitating long enough in the doorway for Grissholm to give her a parting smile of encouragement. When the door was shut behind them, the smile faded from his face and Grissholm turned his gaze on Darcy.

"Wickham's gone to Newcastle."

"What?!" Darcy exploded. "There was no question as to the outcome. What the devil happened?"

"Evidently you were destined to win the duel after all, even if a bit vicariously. It seems that last strike you managed to deliver had lingering effects. When I fired at Wickham, there was a weakness in my arm that caused the shot to go wide. Wickham was a better shot than I had anticipated, and his bullet went clean through the middle of me."

"Was there no chance, no way to finish him off? You know as well as I that the man deserves to die."

"I was in no shape for another exchange of fire, Darcy. There was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving."

Darcy's head tipped back in frustration at Wickham's unending luck. Would the blackguard never feel the consequences of his contemptible behavior? "I knew I should have been the one to do it."

"If I remember right, you are bound by a certain promise, but that is neither here nor there now. The point is, he walked away unscathed and I am gut shot and dying." Grissholm took a moment to catch his breath and then carefully measured Darcy, seeming to reaffirm some thought to himself before continuing. "I have asked you here for two reasons. Firstly, I want you to witness my marriage to Catherine. My family can be difficult at times and having someone of your position as witness would go a long way in deterring any objections they might have. Secondly, I ask you to manage the affairs of her and her sister after I am gone. They will need someone who will not take advantage of their situation."

"And you think I am the one to do it?" Darcy asked skeptically, then slowly shook his head. "It is unfortunate Wickham prevailed, but I have no interest in doing your bidding. Had you waited three months to challenge Wickham, as you promised me, then you could have married Miss Monroe at your leisure, and not on your deathbed. And as far as managing anyone's affairs, your own family should more properly take care of your widow. My participation in such an intimate family matter would be viewed as offensive and interfering, I am quite certain."

"You have never met my brother, have you? I cannot trust him to help them, Darcy. They would be exposed to every self-serving fortune hunter within a hundred miles. With no protector, I am afraid they would be ruined within the year."

"You will have to find another way. I only came because I had my end of the agreement concerning Wickham to complete. Too much has passed between us for anything else. Now that he is gone, there is nothing for me to do. I shall be returning to London immediately." Darcy stepped back from the bed and silently turned toward the door.

"What if it were Elizabeth?" Grissholm called after him.

The words gripped Darcy's heart, stopping him in his tracks, but he did not turn around.

"What if it were you leaving her alone and unprotected in the world? Would you not want someone like yourself to look out for her?" Grissholm's voice was low and fraught with desperate humility. "Look, Darcy, I know we do not get on. I hated you unjustly for years and caused Miss Bennet a great deal of misery because of it. I know that I do not deserve the slightest consideration, but I am not asking for myself. I am asking for Catherine and Rebecca. They are innocent in all this. They are my responsibility and I have failed them. For their sakes, Darcy, I beg you would reconsider."

Grim-faced, Darcy turned to look at Grissholm. "Surely there is someone else more suited to take on the responsibility. This is not my problem to solve and I resent you trying to make it so."

"Do you remember when you said that I had set that dog Wickham loose on the Bennet family, and it was my responsibility to muzzle him?"

"Yes," Darcy answered, wondering what it had to do with anything now.

"Well, I realized it was true, and I have made every effort to right whatever wrong has been done, even unto my own death."

"And?"

"And I wonder if you have ever considered – who set the dog loose upon polite society in the first place? How did the son of a steward come to be in company with young ladies such as Catherine? Where was the muzzle then? Because of your family's benevolence, she has suffered nearly ten years from his bite. Surely she does not deserve to suffer any more."

Darcy was shaken to the core by Grissholm's words. Personal satisfaction and justice warred within him. I owe him nothing! he thought viciously, but a deep sense of justice pulled at him. He had never understood the enigmatic decision to raise George Wickham as a gentleman; but the damage had been done, and now, as master of Pemberley, it was his responsibility to right the wrongs caused by his father's ill-fated benevolence. As much as he hated Grissholm, the man was right – Catherine Monroe and her sister did not deserve to suffer any more because of Wickham.

Seeing the guilty look on Darcy's face, Grissholm finally relaxed into his pillows, gasping in pain from the exertion of their argument. "I do not believe you would deny a dying man his last request. In spite of what I have said in the past, I know you are an honorable man and I trust you. Will you do it?"

Turning away without answering, Darcy slowly paced the room, coming to a stop at the windows to watch Catherine and Bonham walking along the graveled path in the garden below. He had no choice. He could not honorably refuse what was being asked of him. Reluctantly, he turned back to face the man who had been his enemy. "Very well. I shall see that they are looked after."

"Thank you. I shall be at peace now knowing she will be cared for." Grissholm spasmed, then coughed violently, adding to an already bloodied cloth in his hand. His breathing became more labored and his voice grew thinner. "There is one more thing I must tell you."

Darcy looked down for a moment. Although he could find no compassion for the man who had so brutally attacked Elizabeth, it was necessary that Grissholm live long enough to marry Catherine Monroe, and by the looks of it, Darcy was beginning to doubt that he would. "Perhaps you should rest and try to regain some of your strength."

"No, I must tell it while I still can. Do you remember when you came to me looking for Wickham and you said it seemed as if he were vexing the Bennet family for his own amusement?"

"Yes, I do. Did he tell you his reasons?"

"No, the subject never came up. However, I think you should know that my decision to accept Miss Bennet as a companion for Rebecca was because of a letter written by Lady Catherine De Bourgh."

"Lady Catherine wrote a letter recommending Miss Bennet?!" Darcy stared in amazement. "I think not. My aunt often voiced her displeasure with Miss Bennet's impertinence and unsuitability. She would not have given any such recommendation nor would she have had anything to do with Wickham. She has never acknowledged him. It must be another of his lies."

"Perhaps it is, I cannot say. All the same, I had the document retrieved and it is yours if you want it. It is on the side table behind you."

With a frown, Darcy moved to the table Grissholm had indicated and saw the letter lying on top of several papers, his aunt's distinctively elaborate hand gracing its face. Taking it up, he opened it and quickly read Lady Catherine's absurdly ingratiating words praising Elizabeth's many talents and qualifications for the position.

Grissholm watched Darcy intently for a moment before he lay back with another violent cough and struggled to catch his breath. "As you can see, her ladyship was exceedingly complimentary and all but insisted that I accept Miss Bennet. What it all means, I cannot say. I only wanted you to know. Tying up loose ends, you might say."

Struggling himself to understand what it meant, Darcy folded the paper carefully and put it into his pocket. He still did not trust Grissholm nor was he willing to do any more than was necessary for the dying man.

"I shall investigate the matter as soon as possible." Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he glanced at Grissholm's rapidly deteriorating condition. "And now, I shall go fetch Miss Monroe and the vicar. I believe we have a wedding to perform."

Lady Catherine de Bourgh looked up in surprise as her nephew entered her study unannounced.

"Would you care to explain this?" Darcy demanded, dropping a letter onto the desk in front of her.

She knew what it was at once. That idiot Wickham had failed to make sure the only proof of her involvement had been destroyed. She surveyed Darcy's angry countenance. It would take some finesse, but she would bring him around. Slowly retrieving the letter, she opened it and gave it a quick glance.

"It looks to be a letter of reference for Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"I know what it is. I want to know why you wrote it."

"Certainly you can be at no loss in understanding my reasons for writing it. When last we spoke, I made my opinion of Miss Bennet quite clear," she answered calmly. "I make no excuses for my actions, particularly in the cause of family and reputation. Lord Grissholm needed to engage a companion for his ward, a natural daughter, I suspect, and I was happy to see Miss Bennet go."

"How is it that you were privy to Lord Grissholm's needs? I was not aware you were on such intimate terms with the viscount."

"I am not. He sought the aid of his clergyman, who happens to know of Mr. Collins and his relation to Miss Bennet. As Mr. Collins assured me she was quite eager to go, and the viscount quite willing to take her upon my recommendation, I considered it a satisfactory arrangement. The letter was nothing remarkable. You know that I often make recommendations of that sort. As you might recall my telling you at Easter, I recommended Miss Pope to Lady Metcalfe as well. Lady Metcalfe said I had given her a treasure!"

Darcy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Eager? Do you expect me to believe a gentleman's daughter would be eager to go into service?"

"Not every gentleman's daughter, but you must remember we are speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Nephew. She does display a shockingly independent nature."

"Not enough to wish for employment. Wickham forced her to accept the position with Grissholm, and you have aided his villainy, I am certain of it!"

Unabashed, she returned her nephew's piercing stare. The slightest waver in her demeanor and he would know. Something she could not allow to happen as long as his misguided emotions were obviously still very much engaged.

"Do not be absurd! You know full well I have never acknowledged that boy your father insisted on raising as his own, and I certainly would not start now. It seems to me Miss Bennet willingly entered employment. Now you see what kind of a girl she really is. A lady's companion, indeed! It is exceedingly fortunate for you that it was discovered before you did anything foolish!"

"I know what kind of a girl she really is, madam. I also know what you are capable of," he breathed angrily. "Since you are unwilling to admit your part in Miss Bennet's misfortunes, I shall suspend any accusation for now; but be assured, I will get to the bottom of this!"

In an unusual show of incivility, Darcy turned on his heels without another word and quit the room as suddenly as he had entered it. Lady Catherine sat back in her chair and sighed. This really was quite bothersome. She should have known better than to trust that man to do anything right.

"I see I will have to take matters into my own hands," she grumbled to the empty room. "This time, there will be no mistakes!"

"Lizzy, you must come! It will do you good to be in company. Mama is quite content with Mary and Kitty to keep her company, and Father is much better now. You cannot use him as an excuse." Jane watched her sister's silent reflection in the dressing table's mirror, the bright morning light from the window accenting the paleness of her cheeks. "It has been weeks since you came back and you scarcely go out at all. This is not like you!"

"I am content with my own company," Elizabeth assured her. "Besides, what good would it do? People still wish to believe there is some great scandal to be had even though I have repeatedly offered a rational explanation. My presence only renews their curiosity, and I refuse to place myself in such a position."

"We are only going to Netherfield. Charles is not like that at all, as you well know," Jane chided gently.

"Yes, your Mr. Bingley is very kind indeed; but his sister is another matter and to be in her company for an entire afternoon and evening is not a pleasant thought. Caroline Bingley has been back in the neighborhood but two days and has been more than willing to add to the speculation of my absence. Just yesterday, when I entered the bookshop, I interrupted a tête-à-tête between Miss Bingley and our dear Mrs. Crenshaw." The pit of Elizabeth's stomach twisted at the memory of the two women standing together. The devastating feelings she had been fighting since her return flared to life once again. "As soon as they saw me, the conversation stopped and they simply looked at each other. I do not believe they were discussing the weather. No, with Caroline Bingley in residence, Netherfield will be no different than any other house in the county. It would be impolite of me to impose myself where I know I am not welcome."

"Now you are speaking nonsense! It would be more impolite to disregard Charles' wishes, which are for you to come to Netherfield with me." Jane met Elizabeth's determination with equal force, adding to the argument. "I know my initial trust in Caroline was misplaced. Her visit to Gracechurch Street last year proved that well enough; but I have great hopes that she will improve now that Charles and I are to be married."

"Yes, I think she has enough sense to alter her opinion now. I am glad to see she could not persuade Mr. Bingley against you again. What I am not happy about is that you actually refused him, and at what cost! I know the constancy of your heart. It is a very good thing I came back in time to bring you to your senses!"

"It was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life," she conceded. "During the whole of your absence, he remained steadfast and constant; more than I deserved or could have ever hoped for. With time, Caroline's manner may prove more admirable as well."

"Jane, you are too good! I shall never be as good as you, for I shall never have your disposition to think the best of everyone – even someone like Miss Bingley!"

"But, Lizzy, tell me – you have never cared what she thought before. Why now? Surely you know she has no power over you."

Elizabeth paused mid-stroke in brushing Jane's hair and met her sister's eyes in the looking glass. "I must confess, it is not Mr. Bingley's sister that troubles me; rather it is the prospect of facing his friend."

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes. I have known, of course, that he would be included in the wedding party, but I shall be very glad if I can be in his company as little as possible while he is here."

"I do not understand. I thought your opinion of Mr. Darcy was improved. He and his sister were kind to you in London, were they not?"

"They were very kind to me. No one could have been more so," Elizabeth murmured softly before resuming her brushing with brisk strokes. "It is just that I am home now and things are different."

"Not so very different," Jane teased. "At least not yet. We have one more week together before I am married, and we must make the most of every moment! In any case, you are safe from Mr. Darcy today for Charles told me he is not arriving until tomorrow. So, I refuse to accept no for an answer. You must come, if only to make me happy! You have been far too somber and melancholy of late."

Elizabeth pressed her lips tightly and blew out a great sigh. "Very well, I shall go if you insist."

Happily, Jane spun around in triumph, then caught sight of Elizabeth's pained expression before it was quickly concealed.

"Lizzy? What is it?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth hedged, knowing full well that Jane had witnessed the brief break in her show of indifference.

"I mean something is troubling you. You may hide it from the others, but I have seen that look too many times these past weeks when you think no one is looking. Please, tell me."

"There is nothing to tell. This is a time to celebrate your well-deserved happiness. I would not do anything to take away the smallest part of it!"

"Lizzy –" Jane took the brush from Elizabeth's hand and pulled her down next to her. "You are unhappy and that makes me unhappy. You know that. My mind will not be at ease until I know what is wrong."

"This is not the time, Jane. I am well enough. Truly."

Jane looked askance at Elizabeth's stoic expression. "Do you really think I will be satisfied with that? Please do not shut me out these last few days we have together."

It took another moment before Elizabeth's shoulders slumped in defeat. "This is one time I wish that you did not know me so well. I had hoped to see you wed and incandescently happy as Mrs. Charles Bingley before I would have to say anything."

Taking up the brush again, Elizabeth rose and swept it through Jane's hair in long, slow strokes as she ordered her turbulent thoughts.

"When I was in London…no, that will not do. I believe I must go back to my visit with Charlotte last spring."

"Last spring?" Jane looked confused. "Do you mean to tell me you have carried this with you all this time and you said nothing. Tell me what happened!"

"When we met in London at the end of my visit to Kent, you were so unhappy with the outcome of your own stay in London that I could not bear to burden you with my own troubles."

"Troubles? Oh, Lizzy! I am sorry. I should have been more attentive. I should have – "

" – been exactly as you were. Your heart was broken! How could you be anything else? Besides, at the time, I had no idea it would turn out like this."

"Turned out like what?"

Knowing she could no longer avoid relating what had passed between herself and Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth resigned herself to her fate. At this point, it would be better to just come straight to the point and get it over with.

"When I was visiting Charlotte, Mr. Darcy was there also, visiting his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We spent some time together and ultimately, he made me an offer, which I refused."

"An offer…of marriage?! Mr. Darcy? That is astonishing!" Jane gasped in surprise. "Not that it is surprising he should want to marry you; but he always seemed so severe." She sat in utter dismay, trying to comprehend the news. "And you refused him?"

"Yes, well – I will say in my defense that his mode of declaration was far from flattering, but I fear the manner of my answer was equal to that of his offer. It was not an agreeable exchange."

"Oh, my! No wonder you do not want to see him. If I had known, I would have tried to dissuade Charles from having Mr. Darcy come at all."

"No, Jane. They are the best of friends and I would not wish to deprive Mr. Bingley at such a happy time."

"Charles would understand, I am sure of it. Perhaps it is discomforting for Mr. Darcy as well."

"I cannot speak for Mr. Darcy." A wave of loss washed over Elizabeth, flooding her mind with thoughts of their last interview. "As for me, so much has happened to alter my opinion since that unfortunate affair. As you once suggested, he has improved upon closer acquaintance, very much so." The wave swelled again, filling her eyes with unwelcome tears as she whispered, "Oh, Jane! Such a union would have answered my every dream!"

"Then you do not dislike him? You are in love with him?!" Utterly astonished, Jane's eyes sought Elizabeth's in the mirror. Seeing the abject misery reflected in them, she turned and gently wrapped her arms around her sister. "I am sorry, Lizzy! Perhaps it is possible to regain his good opinion. You did say your stay with the Darcys was pleasant."

"It may have been possible at one time," Elizabeth replied, drawing a ragged breath. "Indeed, he was most attentive while I was at Burnham House, and I was hopeful – that is, until I received your letter telling me of Lydia's elopement with Mr. Wickham."

"It was a terrible thing at first, but it all came to a satisfactory ending. They are married now. Surely he will not hold that against you."

"No, he would not; but that particular connection has dashed any chance of another offer from Mr. Darcy, especially now that they are married."

"I do not understand. How can that be a bad thing?"

"Mr. Wickham has done a great injustice to the Darcys, one that can never be forgiven. As he has now married our sister, it would be impossible for Mr. Darcy to renew his addresses to me."

"This is dreadful! Can nothing be done?"

"No, there is nothing, and I have only myself to blame. Had I not been so blinded by my prejudice, things might have been very different." Dashing the glistening drops from her cheeks, Elizabeth sat Jane down in front of the mirror once more and attempted to lighten the mood. "As it is, I shall become the maiden aunt who shall teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play the piano forte very ill!"

"Lizzy, do not say such a thing!"

"Nevertheless, it is true. I shall not marry." Elizabeth's smile faded as quickly as it had come. "I cannot have what I desire and I do not desire anything else."

The sisters fell silent, neither knowing what else to say as Elizabeth began weaving Jane's hair into silken braids.

"As for today," Elizabeth finally exclaimed, "we shall go to Netherfield and have a lovely time – in spite of Caroline Bingley – and then I shall keep to myself as much as possible until the wedding is over. Just have a care after you are married not to invite me for a visit when Mr. Darcy is about!"

Charles Bingley turned from the window as Caroline swept into Netherfield's drawing room, wearing an expectant look which quickly faded when she saw her brother was the sole occupant.

"Caroline, Jane and her sister will be here any moment and I expect you to be the model of hospitality." Charles eyed his sister meaningfully. "The sooner you accept that Jane is going to be my wife and the mistress of this house, the better it will be for you."

Caroline faced her brother wide-eyed. "Charles, really! I think Jane Bennet is a delightful creature and I am astonished that you would speak to me so."

"Do not play the innocent with me. I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Crenshaw yesterday. Wedding or no, you will be back in Scarborough before the week is out if I hear so much as a whisper of scandal coming from your lips again."

"Oh, Charles, do be reasonable! The entire Bennet family is simply dreadful – except for your dear, sweet Jane, of course. The father is a useless invalid, the mother has not the least idea what it means to have good manners, and the youngest daughter is a ridiculous flirt who eloped with the son of a steward."

"That is enough, Caroline."

"Louisa is quite right, you know. Grandfather and Father are sure to be turning over in their graves. They spent their whole lives working to raise our family's position in society, only to have you pull us down with such poor connections. Mrs. Crenshaw told me all about Miss Eliza Bennet's mysterious travels. I find the whole explanation entirely too neat. Heaven only knows what she really did all those months she was gone. How do you expect me to make a suitable match if our friends hear –"

"Enough!" snapped Charles. "You know nothing about it, and I forbid you to utter another word against the Bennet family!"

Caroline's petulant expression crumpled under her brother's glare. Any further attempt to dissuade him from what she obviously thought a disastrous course was prevented by the entrance of a footman. Charles' full attention was immediately diverted as he spied Jane and Elizabeth following behind.

"Ladies, welcome to Netherfield!" he exclaimed heartily.

Turning to the two sisters with a broad smile, Caroline's greeting was almost as enthusiastic as her brother's.

"Jane, dear, we are so happy you could come – and Miss Eliza, too!" As the new arrivals rose from their curtsey, Caroline quickly latched onto Jane's arm, pulling her a few steps away from Elizabeth, but it was not enough to prevent being overheard. "I am so glad your poor sister decided to come. I do not imagine she has had much opportunity to be in good company since she – well, since she returned to Hertfordshire. Charles and I are resolved to do everything we can to help her back into society. You must not let this little setback worry you in the least."

Looking back to Elizabeth, whose expression gave no indication Caroline's impertinent remarks had had any effect, Jane offered a hesitant smile that brightened considerably as Charles came forward to claim her from his sister. "Come, my dear, sit near the fire and warm yourself. Miss Elizabeth, please sit here. I hope you found the ride from Longbourn comfortable and you are not too chilled by the weather."

"Not at all," Jane assured him, her cheeks already glowing under his gaze. "Thank you for sending your carriage."

Elizabeth smiled inwardly at her sister's radiance. Nothing would induce her to spoil this time for her, not even Mr. Bingley's superior sister. "Yes, we were quite comfortable. You are very kind."

"I cannot tell you how glad I am that you came, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley pronounced warmly. "I have not seen you for some time. You seem to be always out walking when I have come to call at Longbourn."

"You do not find the weather too formidable?" Caroline asked with feigned concern.

"Actually, I find it quite invigorating this time of year."

"Ah, yes, you are a great walker, as I recall."

"Yes, I enjoy the exercise; and it has the advantage of greater solitude as those less enthusiastic are wont to stay indoors. It is not for the faint of heart. Would you not agree, Miss Bingley?"

Bingley cleared his throat as Caroline opened her mouth to respond, sending a warning to keep to herself the retort he saw coming. It also had the unintended result of turning everyone's attention to himself. After an obvious effort to think of something to say, his face brightened.

"I almost forgot!" he cried cheerfully. "I have not yet told you of our surprise."

Elizabeth smiled. "A surprise? I must confess, Mr. Bingley, you are such an unpredictable creature that it is almost impossible not to be surprised at anything you do!"

"I am happy to say that I am not the only one who can be unpredictable; and I believe this particular surprise may be of special interest to you, Miss Elizabeth. I had no idea of – " Bingley's speech and Elizabeth's growing curiosity were interrupted by Caroline's sudden exclamation.

"Mr. Darcy! We were beginning to think you had forgotten us!"

Elizabeth froze at Caroline's greeting, unwilling to believe what she had heard. Please, not him – not now! But the deep, resonant voice that came in reply was indeed that of the very person she had hoped to avoid. Her heart pounded violently, feeling as if it would burst at any moment. Frantically she looked everywhere but at him, struggling to keep at bay the warmth she felt flooding her cheeks. What would he think of her after all that had passed in the nearly two months since she had left Burnham House? Would he show his disapproval – or worse still, would he be patronizing and condescending?

Obviously uncomfortable with the outburst directed toward him, Darcy bowed with measured movement, first to Caroline and then to Elizabeth and Jane. "My apologies for keeping you all waiting. There was an unavoidable delay which prevented me from being as punctual as I would have liked."

"Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy," Caroline chirped brightly. "You have not kept us waiting at all. In fact, Miss Bennet and her sister have only just arrived. Is that not so, Charles?" She turned to her brother with a brilliant smile and then back to Darcy. "So you see, you have not missed a thing. Do come sit down. I was just about to ring for tea."

With each step that brought him closer, Elizabeth found it more and more difficult to breathe. Why did I not stay home safe and sound in my own room!

She knew he had settled near Mr. Bingley, but she could not bring herself to look at him. A glance at Jane was enough to know that her sister was just as surprised and plainly distressed. She also saw that Jane was blaming herself for the misery of the situation and she could not allow that. Finally summoning the courage to face him, Elizabeth had the misfortune of looking in his direction at the very same moment Caroline chose to pursue the worst of all possible subjects.

"Miss Eliza, I hear that your youngest sister has married Mr. Wickham. And only 16! Are we to have the pleasure of their company at the wedding?" The hint of satisfaction in her voice was unmistakable as she turned to Darcy. "He was the son of your father's steward, was he not?"

Darcy's mouth tightened into a thin line as he glanced in Elizabeth's direction. "Yes, he was, but I have had little contact with him since my father died."

Elizabeth had no doubt as to the real target of the spiteful comment. Without hesitation, she rose to the challenge. "My sister and her husband are unable to attend, Miss Bingley. They removed to Newcastle shortly after their marriage. The distance and duties of his new position make the journey impossible."

"What a pity," Caroline lamented. "I so wanted to wish them happy. Perhaps there will be another time?"

"Perhaps."

"Darcy!" Bingley exclaimed, instantly pulling the conversation in his direction again. "I cannot believe you made the ride from Pemberley to Netherfield in just two days! I did not expect you until tomorrow at the very earliest."

"Good roads and good weather make it an easy distance. When my business was concluded sooner than I had anticipated, I saw no reason to delay my departure." Darcy glanced towards Elizabeth as he spoke, but she had already averted her eyes.

Tea and refreshments arrived soon thereafter, giving a welcome diversion to the party. Still, the visit to Netherfield passed slowly. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether she wished to leave as soon as good manners would allow, or to stay forever just so she could hear the occasional rumble of his voice. The visit seemed to stretch into an eternity of sheer willpower. She was determined to give Jane the time with Mr. Bingley that had been hoped for.

As the afternoon wore on, Elizabeth slowly began to recover from the shock of Mr. Darcy's unexpected appearance. This first meeting had proved to be much more difficult than she had ever imagined; but she had survived in spite of his every word and action that reminded her of what was forever lost. For Jane's sake, she endeavored to act the part of indifferent acquaintance to the man who had wholly captured her heart.

By the time she and Jane were finally on their way back to Longbourn, the strain of the visit had given Elizabeth a throbbing headache. She laid her head back against the cushions, pressing her fingertips to her temples as Jane's anxiety spilled out in a torrent of words.

"Oh, Lizzy! I am so sorry! I had no idea Mr. Darcy would be there or I would never have persuaded you to come. I can only imagine how dreadful it was for you."

"There was nothing you could do," Elizabeth sighed wearily. "You did not know – evidently nobody knew until the very last minute." She let her hands drop to her lap. "It had to happen sooner or later. At least there were very few people to witness it. I only wish Caroline Bingley had not been one of them. That woman is insufferable!"

"Charles has promised to speak to her. She should not have pressed you so."

"It matters little, really. There will always be a Caroline Bingley somewhere. I shall have to learn to live with it."

After some moments, Jane broke the silence that had settled between them.

"Lizzy – are you absolutely certain? About Mr. Darcy, I mean. I did not detect any signs of ill favor toward you. Perhaps you are mistaken."

"No, you would not see any impropriety on Mr. Darcy's part. He was all politeness, but I saw the disgust on his face when Lydia and Wickham were mentioned, however brief it was. He is too much of a gentleman to be anything other than civil in company; but that is all he can be, I am convinced. Lydia's marriage prevents anything more."

"Darcy, what is it you want? You have had several opportunities on our visits to Longbourn this past week and you have done nothing to advance your cause with Miss Elizabeth."

"I want her love, Bingley."

"Which I am certain you have. Jane will not betray her sister's trust, but every indication would suggest you have it."

Darcy stared into the fire, nudging a stray ember back into the flame with the toe of his boot.

"Do I?" he wondered aloud. "Or is it merely a sense of gratitude? Do not forget I misread her meaning once before."

"I cannot believe you are being so thick headed about this! Of course it is affection!"

"I wish I could be as confident as you are. Had she not discovered my part in the marriage of her sister and Wickham, I might have agreed with you; but now that she is aware of it, I am doubtful."

"Doubtful?! I should never have said anything! Jane warned me, but I…listen, Darcy; her knowing does not really change anything."

"Yes, it does! Can you not see it? She does not enjoy my company. She is reticent and withdrawn when I come anywhere near her. In fact, she tries to avoid my company, and when I do manage to engage her, she speaks very little. I do not understand."

"I do not think it is you, Darcy. Her mother has everyone on edge with the wedding. It will be a relief to have tomorrow done with." Charles came to stand beside his friend. "You said yourself that things were going well between you two in London. It cannot have changed that much in these few weeks."

"For me, it has not. You know my feelings well enough; but I fear I was too eager in London and have frightened her off. She was not ready. I knew I should have waited. It is just that I nearly went mad when I thought I was going to lose her, and I wanted so desperately to make her safe. I would have, too; had Wickham not spoiled my plans by running off with her sister."

"Yes, but you managed to catch him in his own snare with that one. That should have had a positive effect."

"I cannot tell what effect it has had."

"Miss Elizabeth is a sensible woman, Darcy. You have salvaged her sister's reputation and saved the entire family from ruin; you have forced a scoundrel to be accountable and given him as much respectability as can be done; and you have sacrificed much to bring Jane and me together. She cannot help but admire you."

Darcy peered into Bingley's face, a quiet desperation etching his features. "That is precisely what I am talking about, Charles! I do not want admiration – or gratitude for what has been done. I want her love, pure and simple."

"Must she have only love without the other? It seems to me that they are all connected. Love is a sum of its parts."

"If only I could be sure."

"I will give you your own words, my friend. Is it not better to know for certain what her feelings are than to live the rest of your life wondering what could have been? Ask her! Go to her and ask her. It is the only way you will know."

Darcy's lips twitched at the reference to his own advice. It had worked for Bingley and Jane. Would it do the same for him?

"I suppose you are right."

"I know I am right!" Bingley smirked encouragingly. "Now it is late and we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. When I return from my honeymoon trip, I expect to hear great things."

Chapter 31

"Oh, Lizzy," whispered Kitty excitedly, "You will never guess who is here! "

"Hush, Kitty! Jane and Papá are coming." Elizabeth's quiet admonition was accompanied by Mary's silent, disapproving look as they turned to watch Jane and their father coming down the aisle.

Elizabeth watched her beloved sister's progress, forcing a deep quelling breath against the sudden tears that filled her eyes. Jane was absolutely radiant in a dress of fine white muslin, a soft silk shawl, white shot with lavender and embossed with white-satin flowers draped across her shoulders. Matching lavender ribbons decorated her bonnet and the small nosegay of creamy white roses and violets from Netherfield's hothouses completed the picture of Jane's utter perfection. If anyone had the slightest doubt as to Mr. Bingley's opinion, they had only to look at his mesmerized expression. In spite of the tears, Elizabeth could not help the smile that played at her lips.

No less amazing was her father's dashing figure beside Jane. His new suit of clothes, cut to accommodate his frame which had been drastically altered by the months of recuperation, was an excellent fit; and even though he leaned heavily on his cane, his halted step was not nearly so evident as he had feared it would be. His concern regarding a public exhibition of his infirmity had been for naught in this particular instance, for every eye in the church was firmly fixed upon his most beautiful daughter.

Every eye except Elizabeth's – and Kitty's, which was still fixed upon the assembly. "But Lizzy," she persisted, "Lydia is here, and Mr. Wickham with her!"

Elizabeth's joyful smile froze. "What?!"

"There, near the back," Kitty nodded her head.

With growing dread, Elizabeth's eyes swiftly scanned the large group of well-wishers in the crowded chapel. Could it be true? It only took a moment to see that it was. They are here! How could they do this?! There had been no warning of the Wickhams' intention to attend. Elizabeth bit her lip. Not only was it a mortifying reminder of Lydia's recent hasty marriage, but the idea of Mr. Darcy having to publicly acknowledge Wickham as part of Jane's family was something Elizabeth would have wished to avoid at all costs.

Jane glided past the row where the Wickhams sat and Elizabeth was surprised to see Lydia barely glance at the beaming bride. She followed Lydia's nervous look to her husband and was shocked to find Mr. Wickham staring directly at herself. Unwilling to acknowledge the slight nod he offered, Elizabeth quickly looked away.

Unfortunately, the change in the direction of her gaze did not relieve her discomfort. Instead, it only increased tenfold as her eyes came to rest on Mr. Darcy. She had purposely avoided looking directly at him the whole morning, and particularly when he took his place next to Mr. Bingley. Looking at him now, she drew a quick, involuntary breath. His chiseled profile and striking appearance struck her with full force. He was impeccably dressed in a deep blue morning coat and light drab breeches, his jet black hair contrasting against the snowy white of his shirt and neckcloth. The painful ache in her heart that had grown more acute with every unavoidable meeting this past week stirred once more, sending her eyes to the floor. I can do this! I can! she reminded herself. Taking another deep breath, she forced her gaze back to Jane.

"Do you see them – there in the back?" Kitty exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Oh, I knew she could not Miss Jane's wedding! But I wonder that Mr. Wickham did not wear his uniform. He looks so handsome in his red coat."

"Not now, Kitty!" whispered Elizabeth brusquely as father and daughter reached the front of the church and Jane's hand was relinquished to Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth dared a quick glance in Mr. Darcy's direction and fought back a moan. Her hopes of his not seeing the Wickhams were dashed in an instant. His stony countenance was all she needed to know that he had discovered them as well. Thankfully, Jane and Charles were oblivious to anything or anyone except for each other, and the ceremony began.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony…"

As hard as she tried to follow the sacred words, they were soon overshadowed by the awfulness of the situation. Wickham is here! What could he have possibly hoped to gain? Surely he must have known Mr. Darcy would be here as well. And now what will Mr. Darcy do – what can he do? It was the worst of all possible circumstances for Mr. Darcy. For herself, his grim expression was irrefutable proof that Wickham's connection to the family would forever separate her from the one man she desired.

An overwhelming sense of loss engulfed her as the vicar's words sounded distantly in her ears. If Mr. Darcy's visits to Longbourn this past week had given her even the slightest hope for a renewal of his addresses – and reluctantly she admitted to herself that they had – she had been foolishly deceiving herself. This instance of Mr. Wickham's lack of sensibility as regarded Mr. Darcy was only the beginning, and clearly affirmed there would be no renewals of any kind.

There was nothing to be done about it now. She could only hope that the Wickhams' unexpected appearance would not spoil the day for Jane. Lydia seemed a little out of sorts, but Elizabeth was sure it was not enough to prevent her from wanting to be the center of attention on any occasion and thus she resolved to speak to Lydia privately as soon as the wedding was over. Pushing the disturbing thoughts from her mind, she looked to Jane and Charles. Nothing would spoil this day for them if she could help it.

With a start, she found that her reflections had taken her farther away than she realized. Turning her attention back to the ceremony, she watched Charles nervously place a simple gold band on Jane's finger and repeat sacred words she would never hear for herself.

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The vicar smiled at Charles and continued in a solemn voice. "For as much as Charles Robert Bingley and Jane Marie Bennet have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together…"

Elizabeth's mind wandered again, this time with thoughts of Jane and the new life she was about to embrace. There would be no more Jane Bennet. Only Jane Bingley. For Elizabeth, there would be no more late night talks whispered beneath the covers. Only a cold, empty darkness. She would visit Jane quite often, of that she was certain. But it would never be the same between them again.

Before long, the curate finished the last prayer and invited the guests to wait for the newlyweds in the churchyard. He then asked the married couple and witnesses to sign the parish register, leading them into the vestry where the ancient, leather-bound book was kept. When it was Elizabeth's turn, she bent to add her own name as witness, squeezing back tears of joy and sadness that clouded her vision. Pen still in hand, she paused at the sight of Jane's elegantly-penned name beside that of her new husband. No, things would never be the same again.

"May I?" Mr. Darcy's voice sounded low and soft beside her.

Elizabeth jumped at his sudden nearness. "I beg your pardon?"

His amused smile brought a flush of color to her cheek. "The pen – may I have it to add my signature?"

"Of course," she murmured quietly and held the pen out for him. As he took it, she could feel the warmth of his hand against her gloved fingers. Totally unprepared for the spark that shot through her at his touch, she jerked her hand back, rubbing it as she held it behind her back.

"If you will excuse me, I believe my family is waiting for me." Offering a quick curtsey, Elizabeth turned and walked away without looking back. One more day! She told herself resolutely. I have only to endure this one more day and then he shall be gone. She refused to consider what lay in the days ahead when she would be left with nothing but his memory.

Elizabeth heard her mother even before she stepped from the dimness of the church into the bright morning sun. Steeling herself to face Lydia and Wickham, she made her way to the carriages that would take them to the wedding breakfast at Longbourn. She arrived just as Jane and Bingley pulled away amid cheerful shouts of "Hurrah!"

"Oh, Lizzy, there you are!" her mother cried with excitement. "Look! Our dear Lydia and Wickham have come to the wedding! What a good joke to surprise us so; but now Mr. Wickham says they cannot stay for the breakfast! They have come all this way from Newcastle and cannot stay. Did you ever hear of such a thing?"

"Alas," Wickham offered apologetically, "we are actually travelling to the south – a pressing assignment I have been given – and have only stopped long enough for my dear wife to attend her sister's wedding. Perhaps we will be able to stay longer on our return."

"It seems very unfortunate, indeed," Elizabeth replied coolly.

Not really listening to her mother's chatter of gowns and guests and all it took to prepare for the wedding, Elizabeth could now see that Lydia was more than a little out of sorts. Her natural enthusiasm was diminished considerably despite the occasional smiles that seemed a little too bright, and there was something not quite right about the way Wickham kept a possessive hand on Lydia's arm.

"Surely you can take a little time for refreshment, Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth urged, wanting time to speak with Lydia.

"No, I am afraid we have delayed too long already."

"Perhaps an hour? That would not delay your journey much. I am sure Lydia would appreciate the time to see her family."

"And yet, I must insist on our departure. Lydia understands the necessity and is quite willing to wait for our return trip. Is that not so, my love?"

"Oh, yes! George has very important business that cannot wait. He was so good to take the time to come to the wedding so that I might see you all for a moment, was he not?" Lydia's bright smile did not completely hide the hint of desperation in her eyes. "Please tell Jane I wish her every happiness and we shall see her very soon."

Handing Lydia into the carriage, Wickham turned back with his own brilliant smile. "Well, ladies, I must bid you adieu. Mrs. Bennet, please convey my regards to Mr. Bennet and tell him I am sorry to have missed him. I understand his health is much improved."

"I shall, indeed, Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth's mother prattled. "You are so kind to bring my dear Lydia, even for a short time. It does a mother's heart good to see her. We will look forward to a longer visit very soon!"

Elizabeth felt a curious mixture of concern and relief as she watched the Wickhams' carriage pull away. Wickham's manner had made her all the more determined to speak with Lydia and find the reason for her strange behavior. At the same time, she was grateful the visit would be delayed until after Mr. Darcy left Netherfield, for now he would be spared the discomfort of having to publicly acknowledge Mr. Wickham.

Following her mother into their own carriage, Elizabeth sat down with a silent prayer of gratitude that at least her fears of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham meeting had been for naught.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet stood in the foyer of Longbourn with their daughter and her new husband, greeting the seemingly endless stream of well-wishers. The house was filled to capacity and extra servants, no doubt hired to expedite the day's festivities, scurried to and fro amidst the guests. Darcy could not imagine that there was anyone in the neighborhood that had not been invited to the celebration. Mrs. Bennet beamed with all the pride and pleasure of a mother whose daughter had made an excellent match. Indeed, Jane Bennet had married well, but to Darcy's mind it was the mutual understanding and genuine affection between Bingley and his bride that made it so excellent. Something he hoped to have for himself.

His eyes strayed across the room once more to Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner, who were in earnest conversation. Just then something amusing was said between them, sending the sound of Elizabeth's enchanting laughter above the noise of the room. A pang of longing swelled in Darcy's chest and Bingley's words plucked at him. Ask her!

Perhaps Bingley was right. Now that the wedding was nearly done, she seemed less anxious, less reticent. In spite of the cool reception she had given him at every meeting since his arrival, he refused to believe she was beyond his reach, and their encounter at the parish register this morning had given him renewed hope. He knew she had felt what he did when they touched.

Watching her converse with her aunt, he followed her every gesture, considered every aspect that graced her charmingly expressive face, wanting to know the depths of her heart. As if hearing his thoughts, she suddenly looked up and met his gaze, an inscrutable expression on her face.

Unalterably drawn to the mysteries hidden behind those dark brown eyes, Darcy resolutely closed the distance that separated him from his future, every step drowning out that ever-present voice of reason and propriety that had always kept him safe from the prying eyes of the world. At that moment, he no longer cared what anyone else thought of him. All he cared about was what Elizabeth thought – and he intended to find out.

"Miss Bennet, Mrs. Gardiner," he greeted the ladies, pleased with the blush that tinged Elizabeth's cheeks as she sent a quick, nervous glance to her aunt.

"Mr. Darcy, I was just remarking to Elizabeth what a splendid morning it has been. Do you not agree?"

"Yes, it has," he responded amiably, a look of admiration fixed firmly upon Elizabeth. "I can hardly imagine a better match, or one with greater promise of happiness for both."

"Yes, I believe you are right, sir." A perceptive gleam lit the older woman's eye. "And speaking of excellent matches, I see my husband is looking for me."

Mrs. Gardiner's parting look of reassurance to Elizabeth did not go unnoticed by Darcy, and he watched as she joined Mr. Gardiner, giving her husband an affectionate look that spoke of many happy years together. Darcy observed the exchange with a renewed admiration for the couple's amiable nature.

Turning back to Elizabeth, he looked into her upturned face and was caught once again in the power of her gaze which ignited his soul with a desperate need for answers. What was she thinking? Could he draw out the feelings she had tried to hide in London? Could it be that he affected her heart as she did his?

Indifferent to the growing interest of others in the room, he was determined to find out.

"The Gardiners are fine people. I am very glad to know them; although I must admit the acquaintance was formed with some reluctance."

"Reluctance?" Elizabeth's tone tightened in obvious challenge. "Do you object to my uncle, sir? Admittedly, the circumstances were not the best…"

"Pray, do not be uneasy, Miss Bennet. Let me assure you I hold Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner in the highest regard." Darcy moved closer with an enticing smile, breathing deeply the delicate scent of lavender in her hair. "It is only that, while I was very pleased to meet your favorite relations, they were also the very means by which you were taken from me in London."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Oh! I imagined you happy to see me go. When I informed you of my sister and Mr. Wickham, I thought…"

"What – that I was no longer interested?" Darcy's brow raised skeptically. "After all I had confessed to you?"

"You were so abrupt," she gasped in astonishment at his frankness, her color rising. "How could I think anything else?"

"You could have given me the benefit of the doubt. Did you suppose a worm like Wickham could affect my regard for you?"

"Perhaps not. I like to think he could not – had things been different. Mr. Wickham's marriage to my sister has saved us all from certain ruin, and you have my deepest gratitude for that, Mr. Darcy. Regrettably, the very thing that saved our family now prevents you from acting on any…regard you may have. I am sensible enough to understand that you are a man of position, of station and responsibility, and you are constrained by those responsibilities."

His voice softened to an intimate murmur as he bent briefly to whisper in her ear. "That, my dearest Miss Bennet, is where you are very much mistaken."

A small grin lit his face when she opened her mouth to reply, then abruptly closed it as she considered his words. He waited patiently for her to fully comprehend his meaning, watching with growing amusement as her expression transformed swiftly from puzzlement to dismay to wonder.

"Mistaken, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice quivered breathlessly with her reply.

"Utterly and completely. I did observe once that you sometimes express opinions which in fact are not your own." Her chagrin at his teasing was so charming that he could barely contain the urge to sweep her into his arms.

Becoming aware of the open-mouthed stares around them, Darcy allowed his voice of reason to intrude once again. At the moment, he cared little for the opinion of country society, or any society for that matter, but he had to think of Elizabeth. This was her home and her friends. For her sake, he would make a better impression than he had upon his first visit to Hertfordshire. Stepping back a pace, he smiled broadly.

"I am afraid I have selfishly taken up too much of your time. Please forgive me. However, I would very much like to continue our conversation, Miss Bennet. There is a very particular question I have long wanted to ask you. Would you grant me the honor of a private interview tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning?" Elizabeth repeated faintly, now blushing furiously under his gaze. Struggling to regain a modicum of control, she finally managed to whisper, "I believe I shall be at home tomorrow morning, sir."

"Tomorrow, then," he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and feeling her tremble as he kissed it.

Reluctantly releasing Elizabeth's hand, he offered a quick bow before turning away in search of Bingley, barely containing his utter joy in the knowledge that he did, indeed, possess the ability to affect her heart as well.

He gave no thought to Mrs. Bennet's gasps of amazement, nor did he care that all of Meryton society had witnessed his efforts. He had at last discovered the reasons for Elizabeth's reticence and they were happily put to rest. More importantly, her delightful response to his overtures was vastly encouraging, giving rise to great anticipation of their meeting on the morrow.