Beginning , Section VI

Chapter 32

Posted on November 29, 2009

Content now to simply observe Elizabeth from a distance, Darcy had drifted into a quiet corner of the Bennet's drawing room to await the conclusion of the wedding festivities. He cast a look at the newlyweds on occasion, smiling at his friend's thinly-veiled eagerness to be gone. Poor Bingley! There were still a great many hands to shake and cheeks to kiss before they could even begin to think of taking their leave.

A slight break in the stream of well-wishers was filled instantly by Elizabeth embracing her sister and whispering in her ear. The sisters shared a radiant smile, and a quick, buoyant look in his direction was answered with a deferential bow of his head. Mrs. Bingley's respite did not last long, however, and soon Bingley was compelled to reclaim his bride for another round of greetings.

Almost immediately following the sisters' conversation, Darcy was not surprised to see Mrs. Gardiner engage Elizabeth in a brief exchange – one which ended in yet another glance in his direction, accompanied this time by an approving look from the aunt. Neither was he surprised when the object of his observations next found Mrs. Collins' willing ear. Darcy watched the two friends with continuing interest. He imagined that Mrs. Collins was at this very moment hearing the details of his recent conversation with Elizabeth – and from the shy smile on Elizabeth's face, he was encouraged that her feelings may indeed be all that he could wish for.

Contemplation of Elizabeth's regard led to pleasant thoughts of a wedding ceremony of their own, which soon led to thoughts of Bingley's marriage and the appearance of the Wickhams. Their arrival at the wedding this morning had been a shocking surprise. Gazing out the window to Longbourn's dormant gardens, Darcy reflected on his earlier exchange with an equally surprised Denham.

"He was here?! I do not understand," the mortified valet had uttered in response to the demand for an explanation. "Regular reports have been coming in from our contact in Newcastle. There was not the slightest indication the Wickhams were planning a journey."

"Well, obviously someone was remiss in their duties! The Wickhams showed up at the wedding this morning without the slightest warning. I am paying good money for exactly this kind of intelligence!" Darcy had snapped impatiently. There was no excuse for failure when it came to Wickham. "Find out how this happened. I do not want any more surprises – and get someone to find out where Wickham is now. He is far too conniving for me to trust anything he says!"

"Yes, sir, right away." Denham had stammered at the fierce reproach. Darcy knew it was not his man's fault, but the idea that Wickham had slipped away from Newcastle completely unnoticed, especially with a wife such as Lydia Wickham in tow, was intolerable. It had taken him too long to piece together what information he had of Elizabeth's forced separation from her family. He was determined to find the connection to Aunt Catherine in this affair, and he knew Wickham was the key. He couldn't afford to lose track of them now.

Lost in his thoughts of the past months' events, it took a moment before he realized the Bennets' manservant was addressing him.

John cleared his throat a little louder to be heard above the chatter in the room. "Mr. Darcy? I beg your pardon for the intrusion, sir, but your valet is asking to see you. What shall I tell him?"

"Denham is here? Where is he?"

"He is waiting in the back hallway, sir. Shall I take you there?"

"No, I think not. Please tell him to meet me at the stables. I shall be there directly."

Darcy slowly moved away from the window, offered a brief greeting to Sir William Lucas, then slipped quietly from the room, glad to be away from the curious stares that had been frequently cast in his direction since his exchange with Elizabeth. It was Bingley's day and he had done enough already to excite speculation.

Once away from the house, Darcy quickened his steps, wondering what news Denham had. Rounding the corner of the large stone outbuilding, Darcy was met immediately by his anxious valet.

"My apologies for interrupting you at the wedding, sir, but you said you wanted to be informed immediately of any news regarding Mr. Wickham. I've received a message from Newcastle. It is three days old as it was first sent to Pemberley. Mrs. Reynolds sent it forward by express rider, of course, but it only just arrived. I came as quickly as I could."

"If it is to tell me that Wickham is headed this way, it comes too late."

"It is that, of course, but there is more. Lieutenant Wickham's claim that he is on assignment is untrue. He has deserted his post."

"Hmm," Darcy considered the news for a moment. "If Wickham has deserted, why expose himself to the risk of being discovered by attending the wedding?"

"I cannot say, sir. However, the report also says that he had come into an inheritance of some sort recently and was making plans to retire to the continent or even the Americas."

"Inheritance? He has no family that could provide anything of consequence. I wonder what he is up to now. Is there any news of his whereabouts?"

"No, sir; not yet. The couple were traced as far as Hatfield and then disappeared. I have several men out looking."

"Very well. Let me know the moment you have any new information. In the meantime, I shall keep an eye on the Bennets. Wickham has proved himself capable of almost anything."

Still mulling over Denham's report, Darcy returned to the house. He would need to be on guard for any signs of what Wickham might be planning. Discreetly, he made his way back to the drawing room and took up his previous position near the windows. His first thought was to resume his observations of Elizabeth, but when he looked for her next to Mrs. Collins, he found instead her sister, Maria. A quick sweep of the crowded room revealed she was not there. Perhaps she had gone into one of the other rooms. With growing concern Darcy began moving in that direction, until a startled look from Mrs. Collins arrested his progress.

"Mr. Darcy! You are back so soon?"

"So soon, Mrs. Collins?"

"Why, yes." Charlotte's perplexed expression did not help Darcy's rising panic. "Lizzy said she was going to meet with you and I had not thought it enough time to do so."

Darcy stared in dismay. "With me?"

"Well, I…I mean," Charlotte stammered in embarrassment as she tried to explain. "Bess, one of the Netherfield maids, brought a message. I did not hear everything, but your name was mentioned. Lizzy supposed you changed your mind and wished to meet with her now instead of tomorrow. She left with Bess at least ten minutes ago. Is something wrong?"

"Forgive me, but I cannot say at present. I believe Mr. Collins is looking for you. Please do not give it another thought."

Charlotte hesitated, then followed Darcy's gaze with an understanding nod. After a brief curtsey, she turned to intercept her husband before he could impose himself. Darcy watched her go, grateful to find that, if nothing else, she was a sensible woman.

Skirting the obsequious greeting of Mr. Collins, Darcy hurried into the hallway, hoping to find John close by; but another several frustrating minutes passed before he located the manservant near the kitchen.

Hailing the man, Darcy beckoned him to the door of a side room. "Might I have a word with you – John, is it?"

"Yes, sir – it is," answered John haltingly. "Is something amiss, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am looking for Miss Bennet and was told she was with one of the maids from Netherfield. Have you seen them?"

"I saw them leave about quarter of an hour ago."

"Did you happen to see where they went?"

"No, sir. I was called to assist Mrs. Hill. Shall I see if they have returned?"

"I already know Miss Bennet has not, but if you can find out if the maid has, I should like to speak with her directly."

"Of course, sir, right away."

Several more minutes ticked by, driving Darcy to distraction. Something was wrong, very wrong. Every fiber of his being cried out for immediate action, but he needed information. He knew he had to have some kind of direction or he would never find Elizabeth in time. At last John returned.

"I'm sorry, sir, Bess has not returned. One of the scullery maids said that she saw her walking with Miss Bennet across the east lawns."

Darcy's mind raced with the possibilities of what happened. Coupled with the latest news from Newcastle, Wickham was sure to have a hand in it!

"Ahem – Mr. Darcy?" John interposed hesitantly. "Should I inform Mr. Bennet?"

Darcy paused, thinking what the excitement might do to the still fragile patriarch. It was risky, but he could not withhold his suspicions from Elizabeth's father. "Yes, John, please do so. And Mr. Bingley as well. Tell them I suspect Miss Bennet has gone missing and I am going east to search for her. If I do not find her, I shall circle around to the road south of Meryton. Be as discreet as possible, but inform them at once."

"I shall, sir, right away!" John's own concern was evident as he gave a curt nod and quickly turned in search of his master.

Darcy did not waste a single moment. Making a dash back to the stables, he reached the place where Denham had tethered his horse just in time to see the valet step into the stirrups. It was an animal of average quality; nothing like the high-spirited thoroughbred he had ridden on from Pemberley, but Hermes was stabled at Netherfield and this one would have to do.

"Denham, I need your horse, quickly! Miss Bennet is gone!"

Scrambling to comply, Denham swiftly dismounted, and in two strides, Darcy swung into the saddle, settling in for a hard, fast ride.

"Mr. Darcy, is it wise to go alone?"

"It cannot be helped. If I wait for the others, I may be too late. She is on foot and with any luck, I shall overtake her."

"But, sir – " Denham's next words died in his throat as he watched his master race away.

Darcy was already urging the horse out of Longbourn's stable yard and eastward, across the lawns, spurred on by a grave foreboding. Reaching open ground, he flicked the horse into a run, praying with all his might he would find Elizabeth before Wickham did.

Elizabeth kept a steady pace beside Bess as they hurried toward the small grove of trees that lay just to the east of Longbourn. The girl was the daughter of one of Sir Lucas' tenants, and had only recently been fortunate enough to gain a position at Netherfield. It had been a very good thing for the large, struggling family as Bess' wages would go a long way in helping make ends meet at home. Her delivering Mr. Darcy's request in the middle of Jane's wedding celebration had been somewhat of a surprise to Elizabeth given that they had already settled on an interview for the next morning; but then she recalled the ardent look upon his face that had stirred her senses each time she happened to look at him. Shaking herself from the titillating thought, she worked to hide her blush from Bess. Mr. Darcy's recently impulsive behavior was beginning to make her think she did not know him as well as she thought – a condition she would be only too happy to correct in the years to come.

They had reached the trees and were progressing further into the grove when Elizabeth finally spoke. "Where exactly did Mr. Darcy say he wished to meet?"

"In the glen, miss. Just down the way a bit."

"Oh, yes, of course." Elizabeth's heart quickened. She was pleased Mr. Darcy would consider her love of nature in deciding the setting for his declaration, for she was certain that was the purpose of this meeting. She also knew he was a private man and it served to keep his proposal from the many prying eyes that were sure to be lurking outside Longbourn's drawing room door in the morning. An impulsive proposal in the glen was very romantic, another aspect of Mr. Darcy's character she had not known.

Lost in thought and keeping her eyes on the uneven ground beneath her feet, Elizabeth did not see the growing glint of satisfaction in Bess' eye. It was only when they finally reached the glen that she realized the girl's treachery.

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth froze at the sight of George Wickham coming toward her. In the next instant, she whirled and started to run, but Wickham was too quick. She didn't get ten feet before his hand came down on her back, knocking her to the ground. She lay stunned by the impact until Wickham grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"Is that any way to greet your own brother?" Wickham sneered mockingly, then turned to Bess. "Here you go, my love. Ten pounds, as promised."

Deftly catching the pouch of coins, the girl smiled coyly. "Thank you, George. Is there anythin' else you'd be wanting?"

Elizabeth stared in shocked horror. "Bess! What have you done?"

"I would think you could see fer yourself! I got me a nice little sum to go to London where I aim to find even more."

"How could you!" Elizabeth's anger flared. "After all your parents have done for you – what Mr. Bingley has done for you!"

"Bess has much grander plans for herself than to be a housemaid all her life, don't you, my girl?" Wickham offered.

"That's right! No more sweepin' floors and dustin' furniture for me! I work my fingers to the bone only to have me pa take it from me. Well, no more! I can make much more out o' my life in London. George helped me to see that, didn't ya, Sweets."

"It is all a terrible lie, Bess! He only thinks of himself, no one else." Elizabeth curbed her anger as she tried to coax the girl. "It is not too late. You can do more for yourself by telling my father what has happened. You can stop this!"

"And stay in this backwater village the rest o' my life? I don't think so." Bess reached up to Wickham, tracing his cheek with her finger and then kissed him soundly on the mouth. It was obvious she had been one of his conquests.

Furious at such a shameless betrayal Elizabeth lashed out, striking the girl's cheek with a resounding slap. Wickham quickly wrapped his arms around her in a restraining embrace. "Now, now. Is that any way for a lady to act? You had better be on your way, Bess."

"Be sure to look me up when you get to town," Bess murmured as she gave Elizabeth once last disdainful look and then turned away.

"And now, my dear Elizabeth, we must be off. Your sister is waiting."

"Lydia? Where is she?"

"She is waiting in the carriage. I have something special in store for the two of you."

Without warning, Wickham picked Elizabeth up, swung her over his shoulder, and began carrying her deeper into the woods with long, swift strides. Panicked and horrified, she beat her fists against him. Hanging up-side down across his back, her head pounded with the rush of blood and she felt her breath forced from her with every step. In a very few moments, they were swallowed up in a thick tangle of evergreen vines, bare branches, and dead leaves.

The path they followed wound through the thickly-wooded grove until it emptied onto the western edge of Pettigrew's Meadow. A short trip across the meadow brought them to another stand of trees and then a road. When they reached the road, Wickham pulled Elizabeth down and set her on her feet. It took a moment to clear her head and then she could see her sister's familiar figure standing near a carriage, being watched over by none other than Mrs. Ann Younge. At Elizabeth's appearance, Lydia dashed forward, a steady flow of tears trickling down her face.

"Oh, Lizzy! I could not say anything at the church. I just couldn't!" she sobbed violently, reaching for her sister. "I am so afraid!"

Elizabeth gasped at the several red and purple blotches marking her sister's arms. Looking closer, she found more marks only partially visible along Lydia's neckline. Wickham reached out, roughly pulling Lydia to his side. She flinched away from his touch and began crying softly.

"I told you to stay at the carriage, did I not?"

"Yes -- yes, you did. I am sorry."

"And well you should be."

Guiding Elizabeth forward, Wickham calmly returned Lydia to Mrs. Younge's side where she sank to the ground in muted sobs.

"You must excuse my wife's intemperate outburst. She has found obedience in marriage to be a somewhat difficult lesson to learn."

"You are an outrageous brute!" Elizabeth hissed furiously. "How dare you treat my sister as if she were nothing more than a dog to be trained! Our father will not stand for it!"

"Your father will never know. And even if he did, it means nothing. I have the law. She is MY wife and I may do as I see fit."

Elizabeth's chin lifted defiantly. "What is it you want?"

"What do I want?" he snarled. "I want the fortune that you have cost me. Darcy has robbed me for the last time and I will now have what is my due!"

Realizing he was losing control, Wickham stopped abruptly, adjusting his waistcoat and visibly setting his composure with a cleansing breath before he continued evenly. "You really should have tried a little harder to become Lady Grissholm, you know. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. You and your sister are now about to meet with an unfortunate accident while admiring the views from Mount Oakham. I am told it can be very treacherous this time of year. Once you are out of the way for good, I shall be rich enough to do as I please for the rest of my life."

"You must be mad if you think you will get away with this. You will be found out!"

"I do not think so. A man can hide for a very long time if he has enough money. Now then. We can do this swiftly as possible, or we can make this difficult. It is up to you. In any case, I shall at last have my revenge."

Elizabeth stood her ground even though her heart thudded in her chest and her mind raced furiously. She could not allow herself and her sister to be murdered.

Feigning compliance, she slowly moved to Lydia and raised her from the ground. Facing away from Wickham, she pulled Lydia close in a comforting embrace, and whispered into her ear. "You must have courage now. He will not hurt you ever again. When I release you, take the path I came on and run home as fast as you can. He will not risk losing me to catch you. Run home to father and tell him what has happened. I am counting on you to be brave. Can you do that?"

Sniffling into Elizabeth's shoulder, Lydia nodded slowly once.

"Here we go, then," Elizabeth murmured softly. "Remember, as fast as you can!"

With that, Elizabeth stepped back and turned to face Wickham just as Lydia bolted up the road toward the grove.

"What the devil?!" Wickham shouted in surprise and instantly started in pursuit. He had not run a dozen steps, however, before stopping and whirling on Elizabeth; but it was too late. She had sprinted in the opposite direction the second he had started after Lydia, leaving a startled Ann Younge in her wake.

Elizabeth raced down the road as fast as she could, spurred on by the sound of Wickham's anger exploding behind her. Her foot painfully struck the sharp edge of a stone that jutted from the road, making her wish for a sturdy pair of walking shoes instead of the thin-soled slippers she now wore. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot up her leg with every step, she ran on, her only thought being to reach the berry thicket she had played in as a child.

She forced her legs to go faster, the beat of her heart pulsing in her ears and her breath coming in hard, ragged pants. One foot fell rhythmically in front of the other, every step bringing her closer to the thick, protective mounds of thorny branches that would conceal her from Wickham. The road ahead curved and then sloped down, giving her a few precious moments out of Wickham's view.

The ground was saturated from the recent downpour that she had worried would ruin Jane's wedding day. She rushed headlong, nearly losing her footing on the grassy slope more than once. Reaching the bottom, she could hear Wickham thrashing through the brush above her as she splashed across a little stream and lunged into the tangle of branches that bordered it. Heedless of the sharp thorns that tore at her, she moved deeper into the brambles and crouched behind a fallen tree as his voice rang out in a tone of strained patience.

"You have nowhere to go, my dear. Do not make this difficult."

She could hear his progress down the incline, punctuated by an infuriated oath as he hit a particularly slippery spot and went down. "You will regret this, I'll bloody well make certain of it!" he swore fiercely. Had he seen her? Elizabeth froze where she was, feeling the angry scratches that throbbed on her arms and neck. She could feel brambles pulling at her hair. Still, she dared not move as she gulped shallow gasps of air, trying to catch her breath and praying he would not hear her.

There were more oaths as he finally reached the bottom and began searching the thicket. Branches stirred and twigs snapped sending her heart racing at every sound. Once, the sight of Wickham's green jacket through the tangle of branches stopped her very breath and then he turned in another direction. After what seemed an eternity, the sounds of his searching slowly began to grow more distant.

When she gauged Wickham to be at a safe distance, she crept out from her hiding spot and made a run for it along the brook toward Longbourn and away from him. Stumbling on the slick, rocky bank, her coat caught on a branch and she hastily yanked it free, tearing the thin woolen fabric. She began to strip it off, but stopped as soon as she saw the brighter yellow muslin beneath that had not been darkened by mud and brambles. She wrapped the coat tightly around herself, hoping the now dingy golden yellow she had thought so lovely for the wedding celebration would not give her away amidst the stark brown and gray foliage.

A loud snap sounded behind her and Elizabeth darted into a thicket of Blackthorn, pushing her way into its sheltering branches and shredding the last bits of her thin leather gloves. Cold and now very wet from crossing the stream, she crouched low and stifled a gasp as she saw her feet. Her hasty retreat down the rock-strewn bank had re-opened the gash on her foot and now rivulets of muddy water dripping from her petticoat mixed with the oozing blood. In horror, Elizabeth's eyes followed an unmistakable trail of blood which led directly from the riverbank to her hiding place. She could now hear Wickham coming along the riverbank as well. He would not miss it! There was nothing to be done but make another run for it. She prayed her superior knowledge of the grove would give her the advantage she needed to elude him.

Quickly, she sprang from her hiding place and darted through the trees. She could hear Wickham's growl and the crashing sounds of his pursuit. Staying to the more dense parts of the overgrown wood, she ran in a wide turning arc that would bring her back to the stream and the quickest route to Longbourn. Fearful that every noise was Wickham about to pounce on her, she pressed on until she could go no further without a short rest. She paused beside the gnarled limbs of a towering hazel tree, casting furtive glances around as she struggled to catch her breath. Straining to hear any sign of her pursuer, all she could hear was her own labored breathing and pounding heart.

With another steadying breath, she stepped out, ready to continue her run when suddenly, she felt the weight of a hand on her back, grabbing her coat and pulling her backward. Before she could gain her balance, Wickham captured her arm in a brutal grip, forcing a startled cry of pain from her and angrily whirling her around hard enough to make her head spin.

The sleeve of his coat and leg of his trousers were coated with mud and debris, and a deep scratch crusted with dried blood scored his forehead, disappearing into his disheveled hair. He drew her close, speaking with a chilling sharpness. "Did you really think you could escape me, madam? Try that again and you will find, in the little time you have left, that I can be very disagreeable."

Without another word, he turned and pulled Elizabeth roughly behind him, ignoring her attempts to break free. He deftly navigated his way back to the brook and then followed its course back to the slope. Flinging Elizabeth to the ground ahead of him, he ordered her to ascend.

"Why should I? You plan to kill me in any case."

"You are still valuable as a bargaining tool should we find anyone waiting for us at the carriage. Now get going!"

"No! If I am to die, it might as well be here!"

When she refused to move, he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back and pulling at her skirts.

"I told you this can be as difficult as you choose to make it. If you do not start up this hill immediately, I shall be happy to add one more injury to the damages listed when your body is discovered! Not a very fitting memory to leave your family, is it?"

Knowing the threat was not idle, Elizabeth slapped his hand from her dress and turned to climb the hill, Wickham following close behind. When they reached the road, Wickham stopped to catch his breath while keeping Elizabeth's arm firmly in his grasp.

"You cannot possibly succeed in this," she huffed, trying to catch her own breath after the precipitous climb. "Lydia must be home by now. It is only a matter of minutes before they will come, you know – my father, Mr. Bingley." She took another deep breath. "And I am willing to wager Mr. Darcy will be in the party. Do you really want to face that possibility?"

"You forget I have the element of surprise in my favor – and a considerable head start. Your father's health being what it is, I imagine it will take time for the party to form – that is, if the strain doesn't bring on another attack. Do you really think he is in any condition to leap on a horse, come to save you, and live to tell the tale?"

A fresh surge of dread gripped Elizabeth. The excitement of Lydia's abused condition and news of her own abduction would certainly have an adverse effect on her father's health. He was right, but she would never give him the satisfaction of giving up.

"Nevertheless, Lydia will expose you and they will come. If you have any hopes of escaping, I advise you to give up this scheme and leave now."

"You are too hopeful by half, my dear. I am leaving, but not until my business is finished. I have every intention of collecting a very large fortune by you."

His hand still wrapped around Elizabeth's arm, Wickham started for the carriage at an alarming rate. The nearer they came to the carriage, the more she struggled against him. She was certain that once they reached the carriage, they would be too far ahead of any rescue party to be found in time. She tugged against his unyielding grasp again and again, resisting their advance as they walked.

After a particularly vigorous pull, she felt him slow his pace then stop altogether, turning to her with a low growl. "I have had enough of this!"

With blinding speed, Wickham struck her across the cheek, delivering a second blow with the backswing of his hand. Elizabeth choked back a stunned cry. Raising her free hand, she gingerly stroked the burning pain in her face and the recollection of the appalling marks she had seen earlier on Lydia loomed in her mind.

Wickham's menacing snarl underscored her mounting fear, "Now, we shall make our way to the carriage, and if you give me any further trouble I shall make good on my promise! Do you understand?" At her unwilling nod, he resumed his pace with a satisfied smirk. "I see you are a much better student than your sister."

Coming up short in the middle of the little glen, Darcy stood in the stirrups and surveyed the divergent paths ahead, irritated with himself. Could I have taken the wrong direction? Am I too late? He turned his mount, considering his options. If only there were something to give direction!

At that moment, a faint sound of distress resonated in the woods to his right. Responding immediately, Darcy launched into the grove at full gallop, dodging the branches and shrubs blocking his advance. Rounding a blind turn, he barely had time to grapple with the reins and rear his horse back, narrowly missing the terrified figure directly in front of him. Darcy brought the animal to bear and looked down, seeing Lydia Wickham's tear-stained face frozen in fear at very nearly being trampled.

Jumping from the saddle, Darcy grabbed Lydia's shoulders, shaking her from her terrified trance. "Mrs. Wickham! Have you seen your sister? Is Wickham here?"

Darcy's torrent of questions was lost in Lydia's hysterical sobs. "He was going to kill us…I am so sorry! I did not want to leave her there alone! Lizzy made me go!"

Shaking her again, Darcy peered into the anguished face. "Madam, calm yourself! Where…is…Elizabeth?"

Lydia sniffed loudly and shuddered, staring at Darcy as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, Mr. Darcy – you are here? But where is my father?! She needs Papá!" Fresh tears bubbled up with more frantic sobs. "He is going to kill her! He is going to throw her off the mount!"

Ignoring the gaping hole Lydia's report had ripped through his gut, Darcy forced himself to focus. "You must tell me – where are they?"

Lydia waved her hand distractedly in the direction she had come. "There…on the road…but they will not be there. He has a carriage. She is lost and it is all my fault!"

"Listen to me," Darcy commanded as evenly as he could. "You can help Elizabeth by getting to Longbourn with all possible speed. Tell your father and Mr. Bingley to come at once. Do you understand? With all possible speed!"

Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, Lydia nodded briskly, at last appearing to be coherent. "Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy, I will hurry! I promised Lizzy. I will bring them at once!"

In the next instant, Darcy was astride his horse, giving a quick look behind him to confirm the girl was indeed on her way.

He urged the horse forward, silently cursing the narrow, unfamiliar path that slowed his progress. Just as he was beginning to think Lydia had misdirected him in her agitated state, he came to the road. Free of the trees, the horse pranced impatiently as Darcy's eyes swept in both directions.

To his left, he saw a carriage standing at a distance and beyond it, Wickham and Elizabeth making their way along the edge of the road. In the next instant, all other thoughts were obliterated from Darcy's mind as he saw Wickham stop abruptly and lash out at Elizabeth, striking her viciously. A roar of fury ripped from Darcy's throat. The wild, angry roar carried down the road drawing Wickham's head up in alarm. Wickham scrutinized the horse and rider bearing down on him and then bolted for the carriage, dragging Elizabeth behind him.

Elizabeth could barely keep her feet under her as Wickham threw her into the carriage with a vicious jerk that nearly dislocated her arm and shouted a menacing command to be silent. Ann Younge scrambled in after her, and took hold of her arm. Wickham hurriedly climbed into the driver's seat, his foot nearly missing the step in his haste.

"Hang on! Darcy is coming."

"Darcy?!" Ann cried.

Without looking back, Wickham quickly gathered the reins and wound them through his fingers. "Yes, I should have known he would try to cheat me again. Hold on, we shall have to make a mad dash of it."

Elizabeth looked up to see a single horse and rider bearing down from behind. Was it really him? It was! An overwhelming flood of love and relief filled her heart and blurred her vision. He had come! Anxiously she searched the road behind him. Was he alone? Where were the others? It was far too dangerous for one man!

With a loud "Ha!" Wickham slapped the reins, startling the horses forward in a sudden lurch which sent the ladies toppling onto the rear cushions.

Ann Younge let go of Elizabeth with a shriek. "George, what are you doing?!"

"Hang on – and don't let her get away," he yelled in response as his hand fumbled in his coat pocket. Elizabeth watched in horror as he retrieved a flintlock pistol.

"No!" she screamed, her panicked cry lost in the clattering of the carriage.

Scrambling onto the back seat, she could see Darcy closing in. She opened her mouth to warn him of the gun when Ann Younge's hand came down over her face, pulling her back down in an attempt to regain her hold. Blocking Younge's hands with her arms, Elizabeth twisted away, then pushed her back to the other seat. Mrs. Younge leapt at Elizabeth again, this time succeeding in capturing one arm and clutching it tenaciously.

The pair of horses pulling the landau raced down the lane with increasing speed, causing the aging coach to veer dangerously. After several tries to extricate herself from Younge's unyielding grasp, Elizabeth finally fisted her free hand and swung with all her might, connecting fist to face with a force that brought a painful cry from both women. Mrs. Younge let go and fell back against the seat in a stunned daze. Elizabeth looked back to warn Darcy, but he was not there! She saw him then, at the front of the carriage, reaching for the horses. A movement from Wickham caught her attention and she stared in horror as he leveled the pistol at Darcy.

Chapter 33

Posted on November 29, 2009

Darcy could see Elizabeth trying to tell him something, but the pounding hooves and rattling carriage drowned out her words and then Mrs. Younge pulled her down. He had to stop the carriage! Urging his mount forward, he closed in on the team of horses pulling the carriage. When he was even with the mismatched pair, Darcy leaned out, reaching for the traces in an attempt to draw them down.

Taking a quick glance at Wickham, his hand instantly froze. He could not hear the sound, but he could see Wickham laughing wildly, a pistol in his hand and a gleeful expression playing on his face. Above the clatter, he heard a horrified shriek. A distant part of his mind told him it was Elizabeth, the woman he loved and would never have the chance to marry – and instead of saving her, he would die right before her eyes.

There was no time to dodge and no chance of escape at such close range. Darcy watched helplessly as Wickham took aim at his chest, his eyes wild and gloating. Suddenly, he saw Wickham pitch forward as the gun fired, sending a puff of smoke into the air, and Elizabeth was there clutching at Wickham's arm! In the same instant, the bullet slammed into his shoulder, nearly knocking him from his horse.

His hand slid through the horse's mane and he clutched at the coarse strands, catching himself. Straining against the pounding gait that threatened to loosen his grip and gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his shoulder, he pulled himself back into the saddle. One quick downward glance revealed a dark, wet stain spreading across his shoulder from beneath the ragged hole in his coat. If not for Elizabeth's intervention, he had no doubt it would have been his heart.

Darcy looked back just in time to see Wickham deliver a powerful blow to Elizabeth with his fist sending her tumbling backwards into the carriage. Outraged and helpless, he watched her disappear from sight.

Even more desperate now to save Elizabeth, Darcy reached again for the traces and then had to pull back, ducking just as Wickham furiously hurled the discharged pistol at him across the panicked horses. When Darcy reached a third time, Wickham attacked with the carriage whip in a frenzied passion that verged on madness. Responding to the crack of the whip, the horses pushed harder, dashing forward at a furious pace. Wickham's lash fell again and again, cutting lines across Darcy's back and arm, and opening a small cut above his eye before he managed to catch the whip and halt Wickham's assault.

He jerked on the whip, trying to disarm Wickham, to no avail. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he moved ahead, yanking fiercely and pulling Wickham forward off his seat. Another wrenching tug pulled Wickham off balance against the footboard and he was forced to let go of the whip in order to catch himself.

Wickham started to regain his seat on the bench, giving Darcy a triumphant, sneering look, just as the forward wheel struck a rut in the lane, pitching the carriage violently and throwing him forward with such force he had no chance to stop his fall. Clawing viciously at the footboard as he slid down its front, Wickham's legs were caught by the flaying hooves, and he was pulled under. A wild, feral scream rose above the thundering hooves as he disappeared beneath the carriage. Three heavy thumps sounded under the coach before it sped on with increasing speed.

Shaking her head to ease the ringing in her ears and throbbing in her cheek, Elizabeth struggled to pick herself up from the floor of the careening carriage where she had landed. The last thing she had seen was a puff of smoke rising from the gun in Wickham's hand and Darcy reeling from the impact of the bullet. Panicked at the thought of what had happened, she was scrambling forward when several loud thumps sounded beneath her feet. Frantically, she looked to Darcy's horse and gasped in relief when she saw that he was still there.

Ann Younge screamed and Elizabeth turned back to see the woman gaping in stunned disbelief at the sight of a bloodied and broken heap on the road behind them. Wickham was gone! With no driver, the horses now had their head and were running wildly down the road. Determined to save herself, Elizabeth moved quickly. She had to try to stop them before they overturned the carriage!

She worked her way forward again, picking herself up each time she was thrown back down by violent lurches. Finally getting onto the forward seat of the carriage, she pulled herself up behind the driver's seat. Holding tight with one hand and ignoring Darcy's horrified expression, she leaned over, stretching precariously across the seat where Wickham had been sitting moments before, refusing to think of the gruesome consequences should she fail in her attempt. She reached her free hand toward the driverless traces, but they lay just out of her reach. Shifting her weight, she stretched further, grazing the leather traces with her fingertips. Another violent lurch of the carriage forced her to grab the seat iron surrounding the bench with both hands to keep from falling and before she could try again, another bounce freed the reins from the footboard, sending them sliding to the road below and leaving the frenzied horses to run with no way to check them.

Looking around for another means of bringing the equipage to a halt, Elizabeth quickly dismissed any possibility of help from Mrs. Younge who now sat in a bewildered stupor, seemingly oblivious to anything. Turning to Darcy, she found him next to the carriage, working to match his horse with its increasingly riotous pace. Motioning to the coachman's bench, she shouted to make herself heard above the deafening sounds of galloping horses and rattling carriage.

"The reins – I cannot reach them! Can you?"

"No, they are gone under!" Darcy's booming voice came in reply. "The horses have their head now – there is no stopping them." His eyes measured the unsteady carriage apprehensively. "You have to get off now! The carriage is going too fast to make the next turn!"

Elizabeth looked anxiously at the sharp turn that was rapidly approaching.

"I cannot jump. It is going too fast!" she called over the rumble of the wheels.

"Can you get yourself to the side?"

"Yes, I think so." Holding tightly to the driver's bench and fighting the sway of the carriage, Elizabeth inched her way to the edge of the seat, barely managing to stay upright.

Darcy guided his galloping horse next to the carriage and Elizabeth reached for his outstretched hand. A surge of elation flooded her heart as she felt his fingers close around hers. She leaned toward him, ready to be caught up in his arms, a trusting, fearless faith burning in her eyes.

In the next instant, she cried out in terror. Mrs. Younge had leapt from her seat, roughly grabbing Elizabeth's ankle. "Oh, no you don't! You're not leaving me to die alone!" she shrieked, her eyes wild with desperation and fury.

Elizabeth's hand was nearly torn from Darcy's grip and he tightened his hold. Panic enveloped her as she stretched precariously between Darcy and Mrs. Younge's tenacious hold.

"Release her, Mrs. Younge," Darcy bellowed vehemently.

He leaned into his saddle, gripping the horse with his legs alone and twisted around to grab Elizabeth's hand more firmly with both of his.

"Not a chance!" Ann screamed back, tightening her hold. "You killed George! An eye for an eye, Darcy!"

"Then I shall be happy to repay my debt!" Elizabeth exclaimed furiously as she lashed out with her other foot, delivering a powerful kick that landed squarely in Mrs. Younge's face. With a strangled cry Ann fell backwards against the cushions, Elizabeth's muddy slipper clutched in her hands. Instantly, Darcy pulled hard, bringing Elizabeth across the breach and safely into his lap.

His arms securely around her, Elizabeth could not stop trembling as Darcy brought the horse to a halt.

"Are you all right?" he whispered softly.

"Yes," she murmured, reveling in the feeling of his nearness as she clung tightly to his neck. "I am now."

She felt him draw a deep breath before loosening his hold on her. "I must help Mrs. Younge if she will let me. Will you be all right?"

Elizabeth looked at the driverless carriage careening toward the turn at full speed, Mrs. Younge clinging to the side with her bloodied face twisted in mute horror. Before Darcy could move to lift her down, Elizabeth gasped, "Oh, no! It is too late!"

He followed her gaze and they both watched as the carriage reached the turn at full speed. It veered dangerously, teetering on two wheels as it disappeared from sight. For a brief moment the air was filled with an eerie silence, followed immediately by Mrs. Younge's piercing scream and then a loud splintering crash. Darcy spurred the horse forward.

As they approached the devastating scene, they could hear low, muffled groans coming from somewhere near the wreckage. It did not take long to find Ann Younge sprawled in the shallow ditch that lined the road, her right leg bent at an unnatural angle. Covered in mud, she had a large scrape on her forehead and the cut on her lip she had received from Elizabeth's kick was bleeding freely. The sleeve of her coat was shredded, revealing a long, ragged scrape the length of her arm. Elizabeth was amazed the woman was still alive. Darcy swung down to assess her injuries.

"Don't touch me!" Ann spat viciously, holding a cut and swollen hand out against him. "I don't want your bloody help!"

Darcy stepped back. "Very well then. We shall send someone back for you."

"Perhaps I should stay with her," Elizabeth whispered when he returned to the horse. "She does not look well at all."

"Absolutely not! The woman tried to kill you not three minutes ago."

"Yes, I know; but look at her. She can barely move."

"Nevertheless, it is out of the question. I do not trust her for one minute. After this latest scheme with Wickham, she is destined for Newgate and will be desperate to save herself. It would not be safe for you to be alone with her in any condition."

"Very well, if you must be so stubborn, then let us hurry. She is in a great deal of pain."

Darcy mounted, settling Elizabeth on his lap once more. As he put his arms around her, she turned to look into his face.

"Should we check on Mr. Wickham as well before we go? Mr. Jones may need additional supplies."

Darcy thought of the mangled, motionless body slumped in the road around the bend and quietly replied, "There is no need. Wickham fell directly beneath the wheels and will not be needing a doctor – now or ever again."

Hearing Darcy's pronouncement, Ann Younge burst into tears. "You couldn't stand to see us happy, could you?! All he ever wanted was a chance to make something of himself and you hated him for that! Your bloody pride was more important."

"As soon as Miss Bennet is taken care of, I shall send someone back for you," Darcy announced as he turned away.

He ignored the bitter curses that followed him until he was well around the next bend in the road and thought of Wickham. He could not pretend to grieve for the man who had caused so much pain in his life, but he would be sad for a wasted life; one that could have been more worthwhile had his childhood companion chosen to do more than squander it in the pursuit of idle pleasures. If Mrs. Younge had indeed loved Wickham, it had not been enough to alter the man.

He took a deep cleansing breath and tightened his arms around Elizabeth, allowing himself a slight smile when she leaned back against him in response. She was safe.

For a while, they rode in silence, neither willing to break the enchanted spell that enveloped them. At length Darcy peered down at Elizabeth, wincing at the angry scratches and her torn and muddy clothing. With her slipper now gone, he could see her injured foot as well and he stifled an angry growl, wishing he could take away the cruelty she had once more suffered for his sake. He raised a hand, lightly tracing the large purple mark that was rising on her cheek where Wickham had struck her.

"It will heal," was her only response.

"I should have known," he lamented. "I should have done more to protect you from the start."

"You are too severe on yourself, sir. It was I who trusted the girl and followed her."

Darcy looked down. "Yes, but it was only because you thought I sent her."

She straightened in his arms and looked at him. "I will not allow you to take any blame in this."

"You are a stubborn woman," he chided, shaking his head at the fierce determination in her upturned face. His look dropped briefly to her lips, then raised to search the depths of her eyes. "Elizabeth – ?"

She returned his gaze with a wide, unwaveringly look of her own, giving him the answer to his unspoken question. Bending slowly, he brushed her lips with his own. Her quick intake of breath fed his desire and he kissed her again, tightening his arms around her and bringing a painful reminder of his injured shoulder. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold, pleased at the delightfully self-conscious glow the kiss had generated in Elizabeth.

They continued on without speaking until Darcy realized with growing alarm that Elizabeth's silence was laden with tears.

"Are you in pain? Shall I slow the pace?" He shifted in the saddle, loosening his hold a little. "Shall I walk and give you more room?"

"No, no – I am in no more pain than you, I imagine," she said, wiping at her tears and drawing his good arm back to her. "I was just thinking of Mr. Wickham. I have never seen anyone injured so horribly and this whole dreadful affair will ruin Jane's beautiful wedding day. It is all so awful. Why could I not have prevented it?!"

"You could not have done anything to prevent Wickham from doing what he did. He specifically chose this day on purpose. At least he can do no more harm – to anyone."

"Yes, that is true, but unfortunately for Jane, he has given our neighbors one last scandal to gossip about." She sighed thoughtfully. "There will be many details to attend to regarding this matter; and of course, it will prevent your calling tomorrow morning."

"I beg to differ, my dear Miss Bennet. I have every intention of keeping our appointment."

"As much as I would like it, you cannot! This latest disgrace will not be concealed and your family has suffered enough because of me."

"I shall come nevertheless. You cannot keep me away. Wickham kept us apart far too long when he was alive and I will not allow him to continue doing so in death! I beg you will not make me wait any longer." With a sudden thought, he whispered in her ear once again. "If need be, I shall apply to your mother. I am certain I will find vast encouragement from that quarter."

"Sir! I beg you do not!" Elizabeth cried in genuine alarm.

"Then look for me first thing in the morning. You have promised me an interview, and no power short of heaven itself will prevent me from posing the question I have long desired to ask you."

Elizabeth drew a shuddering breath and leaned back against him once more. "Very well. I see that you will not be persuaded otherwise."

"I am happy to see you are not so stubborn in all things," Darcy smiled, lifting her chin and kissing her gently. "And come to think of it, you really should be more concerned about what Caroline Bingley may say rather than any of your neighborhood scandal-mongers."

He enjoyed the little furrow his words put in her brow as she turned to him. "Why Caroline Bingley?"

"Because, my dear, you should have heard her complain about your petticoats last year, after you had walked to Netherfield! If she sees you like THIS…well, do you really want to give her the satisfaction?"

"I see your point, sir," Elizabeth brightened a little. "I suppose I shall have to sneak in the back way. If you insist on attaching yourself to me, then I shall do my best not to disgrace you – especially in front of Caroline Bingley!"

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" She looked up at him with such a mischievous look that he could not resist the sudden urge to kiss her once more. She willingly returned the kiss, then pulled back at the sound of approaching riders.

"Darcy! Miss Bennet!" Bingley reined in his horse when he recognized the pair. The six men with him stopped as well, and he turned to the man beside him. "Kensington, would you be so good as to find Mr. Bennet and his party and let them know we have found Miss Bennet?"

Turning his attention back to Darcy and Elizabeth, Bingley gave a great sigh. "Thank heavens we found you! Miss Lydia – er, Mrs. Wickham – came bursting into the house screaming for help. She was in a deplorable state, terrible bruises all over her and such. We had a devil of a time getting anything out of her. All we could make out was that Miss Bennet was in trouble and you were looking for her. What happened?"

"It is a very long story, Charles. Right now, we have work to do. Wickham and Ann Younge are up the road," Darcy announced grimly.

"Wickham?!" Bingley exclaimed. "I thought we were rid of that blackguard."

"We are now," Darcy answered tersely. "He is dead." He looked to the men behind Bingley, pointing to one of them. "You there, be so good as to fetch the authorities and arrange to have the body taken in."

The man nodded and turned about to return to the village. Bingley and the remainder of his companions looked to Darcy for their orders.

"You two in the back, there are a pair of frantic horses running about the countryside in broken traces. They will need to be caught and taken to Meryton. I imagine they are from somewhere else, but someone in the village should know where they belong."

"And you," Darcy pointed to the two remaining men, "should notify someone to take care of what is left of the carriage and then fetch Mr. Jones and a stretcher for a woman who is badly injured. Tell him to be prepared for several injuries, including a broken leg, if I am not mistaken. She is about half a mile up the road from here. Let him know that the constable will be looking for her as well."

Elizabeth, who had been content to be silent as Darcy issued the flurry of orders, suddenly spoke up. "Mr. Roberts and Mr. Symms, I will amend those orders, if you please. You may fetch the stretcher and take Mrs. Younge to Meryton; but you will send Mr. Jones to Longbourn. Mr. Darcy has been shot and his wounds must be attended to first. Mr. Jones' assistant can see to Mrs. Younge for the time being."

"Eliz – um, Miss Bennet," Darcy frowned in objection. "Denham can see to me. I really do not think that I need – "

"You most certainly do, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied firmly. "I will not have you neglected for the sake of a vicious, scheming woman like that." She looked to the two men who were hesitating, unsure of what to do. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on! And tell Mr. Jones to hurry."

Exchanging a look between themselves, the two farmers backed their horses and hurried off to carry out the modified instructions.

"Now," Elizabeth continued, "Mr. Bingley, would you be so kind as to accompany us home? I am certain everyone is awaiting news of us, and I would very much like to get into some clean clothes."

Darcy answered Bingley's curious look with an indulgent shrug of his shoulders. "The lady seems to know her mind."

"So it seems," Bingley smiled knowingly. "But since you are not a member of the family – yet – shall I take Miss Bennet up with me for the journey back to Longbourn?"

"I thank you, but no. I shall take her – that is, unless you have any objections, Miss Bennet?"

"Why, no!" Elizabeth avoided Bingley's eyes as she stammered her reply. That is…well…I, uh…it is just that I am very dirty, Mr. Bingley; and Mr. Darcy has already suffered for it. I would not want to spoil your wedding clothes."

"There you have it," Darcy grinned with satisfaction. "Come along then, Bingley, we have a wedding breakfast to finish!"

With a shake of his head, Bingley willingly complied, falling in with Darcy as they turned toward Longbourn. Elizabeth was now uncharacteristically quiet within his arms, Bingley had the good sense not to fill the silence with senseless chatter, and Darcy spent the time contemplating the morning and the interview he intended to have with Elizabeth's father at the earliest possible opportunity.

"I tell you, Mr. Bennet, I do not know what to make of it at all!"

The shrill, piercing voice rising from Longbourn's dining room made Elizabeth pause on the staircase with an urge to return to her room until her mother finished breakfasting. From the sound of it, there was yet another lecture awaiting her on the lack of proper manners exhibited at Jane's wedding celebration.

"My dear Mrs. Bennet, I daresay it does little good to make yourself anxious over what is done. Our girls are back with us safe and sound and Wickham can do no more harm."

Her father's reassuring voice pulled Elizabeth forward again and she continued her painfully slow descent. Between Wickham's brutal treatment and Darcy's perilous rescue the day before, it seemed as if every muscle in her body had been stretched, twisted, or pulled in some fashion. Adding to her all over discomfort was a fierce pain in her foot whenever she happened to take a wrong step. At last reaching the bottom of the stairs, she took a fortifying breath and stepped gingerly toward the dinning room, but halted again when she heard Darcy's name spoken.

"Thanks to Mr. Darcy, we were spared the pain of losing them both. It is unthinkable what might have happened if not for his quick actions and level head. Would that there were more men like him."

"I suppose you are right," Mrs. Bennet agreed grudgingly. "As proud and disagreeable as that man is, we shall have to express our gratitude somehow; though he was a lot of trouble, you know – and on Jane's wedding day too! I should think he would have the good sense to bring Lizzy home and leave without causing all that commotion."

"The man was faint from loss of blood. You can hardly blame him for toppling from his horse. John and Bingley were right to bring him in. Perhaps our guests would have had less knowledge of the affair had they not been alerted by your vociferous display of emotions."

"What did you expect when Hill told me she could not keep the table filled because the man was bleeding all over the kitchen? I hope you noticed Mr. Jones' manner when he finally arrived. He had absolutely no thought for our dear girls who had suffered most terribly – especially poor Lydia! It is a very good thing she was already tucked safely into bed. His only concern was for Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy! The whole kitchen was turned topsy-turvy just to patch him up, and the mess he made! Well, I cannot begin to tell you! It was all I could do to get a basin of warm water sent up to Lizzy."

"Far be it from me to dispute the importance of an injured foot to that of a bullet wound; but I am certain that Mr. Darcy's injuries were far from trivial. Indeed, what is a little mess and confusion in our kitchen when the man risked life and limb to save our Lizzy?"

Still standing in the hallway, Elizabeth smiled warmly at her father's words. Although the physical effects of his devastating stroke were still marked by a severe limp and a slight paralysis of his right side, his speech was recovered enough to dispense his characteristic wit. For the most part, he was himself once again. Pushing open the door, she answered him with great affection in her voice.

"Indeed, Father, Mr. Darcy risked a great deal yesterday and we owe him much!"

Her mother's peevish glare was not unexpected. "Well, Elizabeth! Look at you all dressed up in your best blue dress and your hair done up. I cannot imagine why you would trouble yourself after yesterday. Jane's wedding day was completely ruined and the gossip is starting all over again – just when people were beginning to forget. It is not as if you or any of your sisters have the least prospect of getting a good husband now!"

Elizabeth blushed slightly as she took a seat next to her father. "I simply had a new dress and wanted to wear it. I see no harm in that."

Mr. Bennet gazed closely at Elizabeth and she smiled warmly, hoping her efforts to appear calm and collected were enough to hide her real discomfort from his probing eyes. He had suffered enough and she was determined not to excite him before anything was certain.

"You are looking very pretty this morning, Lizzy," he said at last. "I had thought you would be a little worse for the wear after all that has happened. But you are quite right about Mr. Darcy; we owe him a very great deal for your and your sister's safe return."

"Even so," Mrs. Bennet grumbled from the other end of the table, "he is a proud man. I venture to say he will expect a very great deal in the way of showing our appreciation; although I cannot think what we should do that will satisfy him."

"Well, I am confident we can find something that will satisfy even the likes of Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied dryly before turning back to Elizabeth. "How is your foot? Does it give you much trouble?"

"It is tolerable, sir, I thank you. Mr. Jones left a salve that has done wonders. If I am careful when I step, it is hardly noticeable."

"Still, you should be a little more sensible," replied Mrs. Bennet stiffly. "In my day, a young lady who had suffered such a distressing ordeal would have the good sense to stay in bed for two days at least…if not more! To show such resilience and fortitude is not flattering to your femininity, my dear. Young men are not looking for an equal. They are looking for a young lady of gentle breeding."

Elizabeth exchanged a patient look with her father before turning to her mother. "I thank you for the concern, Mama; heaven knows I have been sorely lacking in that quarter of late; however, I refuse to submit to hours of boredom in my room simply for the sake of appearing frail and helpless – which I am not. I am sorry to disappoint you, but it cannot be helped." Elizabeth gave her mother a solicitous grin. "The day promises to be beautiful and it would seem a shame to waste it in gloomy solitude. Do you not think so, Father?"

"I suppose so, Lizzy." Mr. Bennet looked again to his daughter, his interest suddenly deepening. "You seem uncommonly pleased with everything and everyone this morning. Would you care to illuminate us as to the reason for this unusually benevolent humor?"

Trying to moderate her excitement at the expected outcome of Darcy's visit, Elizabeth only smiled. "Well, sir, I cannot say at present, but I am expecting a visitor very soon and I believe I may be at liberty to explain myself in a little while."

"Is that so?" Mr. Bennet pursed his lips thoughtfully. "May I ask who is the visitor?"

Mrs. Hill entered at that moment, bearing a tray with a letter on it. Stopping at Elizabeth's side, she offered the note which was addressed in Jane's delicate hand. Elizabeth took up the letter and broke the seal. She scanned the words quickly at first, expecting a tender expression of sisterly concern for her ordeal. Jane had always been the worrier, trying to make everyone comfortable and happy. But as Elizabeth read on, her mind began to comprehend that the words written were not concern for her own welfare, but Darcy's! She stared at the letter in dismay. It cannot be true! It cannot!

"Lizzy?! What is it? What has happened?"

She heard her father's voice, calling to her from what seemed a great distance but could not answer. Frozen by the shock that ripped through her, she could not move. She felt the letter slide from her hand as her father took it and read the awful words for himself. She was grateful that he did not read them aloud. It would be too much to hear them spoken.

"What is it, Mr. Bennet? I must know what is going on!"

The sound of her mother's hasty rise finally spurred Elizabeth to action. To have her mother dissect every word and its meaning was unthinkable. Snatching the letter back from her father, Elizabeth folded it into her lap and out of Mrs. Bennet's reach. Jane's frightful words begging her to come to Netherfield at once brought her to her feet. There was not a moment to lose!

"Father, I must go at once."

"Go? Where?" Mrs. Bennet cried, staring in astonishment at Elizabeth's near panic.

His wife's pressing inquiries fell on deaf ears. Mr. Bennet was staring at his daughter. "Do you think it wise, Lizzy? You yourself are not completely well – as much as you would like me to think you are. Perhaps we can send Mary or Kitty if Jane is in need of help."

"No, Father! I must go!" Elizabeth gripped the back of her chair to support herself. "I do not need the carriage. It will take too long in any case. May I take Nell instead? John can have her saddled in a few minutes."

"I really think it best you wait another day – regain some of your strength before you expose yourself."

"I cannot wait another day or another hour! If need be, I shall walk. It is but three miles."

"Walk?!" Mrs. Bennet cried out. "Three miles? Mr. Bennet, I demand to know what is going on this minute!"

"As you see, Lizzy is quite determined to go to Netherfield. Our dear Jane has her hands quite full her very first day as mistress – Mr. Darcy has taken a turn for the worse."

Chapter 34

Posted on December10. 2009

Elizabeth urged Nell up the drive to Netherfield's front door, her mind racing frantically at the possibilities of what she would find there. This morning's venture was the antithesis of her previous day's ride back to Longbourn nestled in Darcy's arms.

The feel of his kiss still lingering on her lips, she would have been content to stay that way forever. Once they had reached home, however, everything quickly escalated into a flurry of frenzied activity. She had been handed down and whisked away by her mother and Hill. Her last view of Mr. Darcy had been of him sitting atop his horse, following her departure with a tender, concerned smile. It was not until much later that she learned Mr. Darcy had fallen unconscious from his horse and had to be carried into the house. The extent of his injuries had been a surprise, but Mr. Jones had given every expectation that Darcy would mend quickly. There was no thought that he had been mortally wounded.

Reaching Netherfield's steps, Elizabeth's mind was brought back to the present. She hurriedly dismounted and handed the reins to the waiting footman. Rushing to the door, she lifted the heavy knocker twice in succession and then waited impatiently for Wilson to open the door.

"Miss Bennet, Mrs. Bingley is expecting you," the butler greeted her kindly.

Before Elizabeth could reply, a familiar voice sounded from somewhere behind him.

"My dear Eliza! I can call you that now for we are sisters, are we not?" Caroline Bingley's honeyed words grated on Elizabeth. "And as your new sister, I must tell you that you are not looking well at all. You should be home resting after your terrible ordeal. I see that you have come on horseback. Wilson, do have the carriage brought round so that Miss Bennet can have a comfortable ride home."

"Please do not, Wilson. I am not leaving."

"But my dear, there is no need to exert yourself so. There will be sufficient opportunity for visits once you are fully recovered. I would be happy to let Charles and Jane know you called."

"This is not a social call, Miss Bingley. Jane has sent for me and I will see her. Wilson, please let the mistress of the house know that I am here."

Caroline's façade slipped a little as the butler turned away. "Really, I see no need for your help. She has me, after all. What can you do that I cannot?"

Without answering, Elizabeth removed her coat and handed it to the footman along with her bonnet and gloves. Her silence only fanned the flames of Caroline's resentment. When the footman had gone, she turned on Elizabeth.

"Just because he saved you from Wickham does not mean you can lay claim on him. Once he is well again, he will return to his own world. Something you know nothing of! If you truly want what is best for him, you would not –"

"Lizzy!" Jane's relieved cry cut off the rest of Caroline's words, but Elizabeth already knew what they were. She did not belong in Mr. Darcy's world of wealth and high society. Her lowly connections would only hold him back. She did not believe he felt the same; but even if he did, that was something she would face later. For now, Darcy was dangerously ill and the only thing she cared about was making him well.

Jane rushed to Elizabeth, embracing her tightly. "I am so glad you are here at last. Come, let me tell you everything before I go back." Pulling Elizabeth toward the sitting room, Jane looked back to Caroline who was following closely. "Caroline, would you be so good as to tell Mrs. Middleton that Mr. Jones needs another basin of cool water and some clean bandages?"

By the look of astonishment on Caroline's face, it was evident she had not yet made the change from mistress of Netherfield to dependent relation and guest. After an awkward moment of gaping, she snapped her mouth shut and silently marched off in the direction of the kitchens.

Once they reached the sitting room, Jane sat close and began relating the disturbing details of Darcy's condition, making Elizabeth's heart grow heavier with each passing minute. When Jane was finished, Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around herself trying to contain the panic and helplessness that was threatening to escape.

"Mr. Jones said that everything was going to be all right! He gave every assurance that there was nothing to worry about! This is unforgiveable!"

"He is only an apothecary, Lizzy, not a doctor or surgeon. You cannot expect him to know everything."

"But surely he could have done more!"

"He did his best. He has little experience with gunshot wounds. Mr. Denham has gone to London to fetch Mr. Darcy's physician. We are hoping they will be back by this evening. In the meantime, we can only try to keep the fever down and wait. I sent for you because I thought you would want to be here in case he…in case things got very bad."

"May I see him?"

"Not until he is well enough to be moved to a sitting room. You know that. It would be impossible to recover your reputation if it were discovered you were in his room; and I am afraid Caroline would be more than happy to have that happen."

"And what if he does not get well enough? What then? I must see him, Jane! Would you stay away if it were Charles?"

"No, I would not, knowing how much he loves me." Jane's eyes filled with a deep concern. "But are you certain of Mr. Darcy's affection? There would be no turning back – and if the worst should happen, you would be left with nothing. You would have no future."

"It does not matter! A future without him would hold nothing for me in any case. I cannot just sit here and do nothing. Please, Jane, let me be near him."

Jane sighed with an understanding smile, unwrapping Elizabeth's arms and taking her hand. "Very well then, come along. It is time I returned. I told Charles I would not be long. Perhaps you will be more successful than I in getting the patient to take his medicine. He is in such a fever that I cannot get the spoon to his mouth without him thrashing about and spilling half of it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, bracing herself for what lay ahead. Regardless of the outcome, she would not, could not turn back now. "I shall do my best."

Benjamin Lawrence listened to his patient's even breathing and felt the cool brow with a sigh of relief. After two long days, the rampant fever had finally broken. It was a very good thing he had brought a surgeon with him. Had the surgeon not found the bit of cloth carried into the wound by the bullet, young Darcy's chances of recovering would have been slight, if any.

With an acknowledging nod to Denham who was quietly straightening the bedside table, Dr. Lawrence turned to the figure sleeping in the nearby chair and gently shook her awake.

"Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth started from her fitful sleep. "What is it, doctor? Is he – "

Lawrence caught her as she jumped forward toward Darcy's bed. "Rest easy, young lady. The fever is gone and he is sleeping."

A quivering sigh escaped as she relaxed in his hold. "Thank heavens!"

"As you see, he is resting comfortably now, so I suggest you do the same or you will be in no condition to see him when he awakes."

"You are quite certain he is out of danger?"

"Quite. He will sleep the rest of the day. I have given him enough medicine to make certain of it. That is all he needs now for a complete recovery. If you do not take care, you will be my next patient!"

"I am quite well, Dr. Lawrence, truly."

"One might question that statement from the looks of you. Two days with only what sleep you could manage in that chair is not very healthy for even one as young as you. You have been a tremendous help, especially in administering the medicines; but now I am prescribing something for you – at least eight solid hours of sleep."

"Eight hours?! I really do not think that is necessary."

"Nevertheless, you will not be allowed back in this room until I am certain you have had enough rest." He cast a meaningful glance to the valet. "Denham is very good at following my orders."

Seeing Denham's obliging bow at the implicit orders, Elizabeth conceded defeat and allowed the doctor to usher her toward the door.

"Remember, not a moment before I say. Shall I give you something to help you sleep?"

"I thank you, no," Elizabeth replied, stifling a yawn. "I am quite sure I will have no trouble."

Reaching the door, Dr. Lawrence opened it and was startled to see Caroline Bingley bent over as if she had been listening at the door.

"Dr. Lawrence, you surprised me! I hope I did not disturb you. I was looking for my ruby pin. It seems to have fallen from my dress and I thought it might have happened when I was here earlier to check on Mr. Darcy. Have you seen it?"

Lawrence listened to Miss Bingley's feeble explanation with little sympathy. As far as he knew, there was no connection between young Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sister; but from the moment he arrived, the woman had been nothing but a nuisance, devising every conceivable reason to be hovering at Darcy's door, trying to gain admittance. It was bad enough that one young woman's reputation was compromised, but then he was fairly certain that Darcy would remedy Miss Bennet's dilemma as soon as he was able.

"No, Miss Bingley, I have not noticed. If you will excuse us, I am escorting Miss Bennet to her room before she falls down from exhaustion."

"I am so sorry to hear you are ill, Miss Eliza! Pray, doctor, allow me to take her place at Mr. Darcy's side. I would be happy to watch over him while she rests."

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary. Mr. Darcy is now out of danger and sleeping quite soundly."

"Why, that is wonderful news; but should he be left alone? I can sit with him while you attend Miss Bennet."

"Again, that will not be necessary. Denham is with him. That is enough."

Elizabeth wavered a bit on his arm and he considered his course of action. If he took Miss Bennet to her room as planned, Miss Bingley would undoubtedly take advantage of his absence and attempt to enter the room and perhaps even disturb Darcy, which was something he could not allow.

"However, there is something you can do for me that would be most helpful."

"Why of course, Dr. Lawrence! Anything! Anything at all!"

"I have just remembered that I have additional instructions for Denham and Miss Bennet really must get some rest before she collapses. Would you be so kind as to escort Miss Bennet to her room?"

"Oh! Well…yes…I suppose I could," Caroline stammered weakly. "Are you certain I cannot be of more help? Perhaps when I return I could do more?"

"No, no, that is quite enough, I assure you," Lawrence beamed gratefully as he handed Elizabeth over to Caroline. "Once Miss Bennet is safely to her room, I am sure you will want to continue the search for your pin. Perhaps you will have better luck on the staircase. Jewelry is sometimes shaken loose as one descends."

Caroline's stilted smile did not hide her obvious disappointment.

"The staircase? I had not thought of that. That is a very good idea. Thank you, Doctor."

Lawrence watched with satisfaction as the two women made their way down the hallway. Because of Elizabeth's injured foot, it took much longer than he was sure Caroline wanted, but at last they turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Once the ladies were gone, Lawrence stepped back into Darcy's bedchamber. He had not deceived Miss Bingley after all, for he did indeed have additional instructions for Denham: to keep Miss Bingley out of Darcy's room at all costs!

Sitting across the desk from her husband of three days, Jane let her needlework fall to her lap as sounds of a heated exchange near the front door reverberated down the hallway. She met Charles' puzzled frown with one of her own.

"Were you expecting anyone, dear?" she asked.

"No, no one. Since our wedding plans were for us to be gone a fortnight, I cannot imagine who would even think to come calling."

"Perhaps one of the neighbors inquiring after Mr. Darcy?"

"If that were the case, my dear, there would be no cause for the uproar their arrival seems to be causing." More argument was heard and Bingley rose to his feet. "Extraordinary! I shall go see what is the matter."

Bingley had barely emerged from his study before he came face to face with a very wroth Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"Where is he? Where is my nephew? I demand that you take me to him immediately!"

A flustered Wilson was doing his best to curtail the zealous arrival of the unexpected guests; however, at Bingley's appearance, the one visitor who was paying any attention to the butler, broke off his inquiries and came forward. He was a distinguished looking gentleman of considerable years, though not as old as Lady Catherine. Bingley answered Wilson's anxious look with an understanding nod of his head. He doubted the man had ever witnessed the full force of rank and privilege being brought to bear. Once the butler had made his retreat, Bingley turned his full attention to the man now standing beside Lady Catherine. Although he was prepared for a temperament very much like Lady Catherine's, it was a pleasant surprise when the man spoke.

"Please forgive our coming unannounced. I am afraid it could not be helped. As you see, my sister is most distressed by the news of our nephew's grave condition; and I must confess that I am concerned as well."

"We are wasting time!" Lady Catherine snapped, peering at Charles. "I suppose you are the one in charge here. Are you going to show us the way or not?"

With a quick sidelong glance to his sister, Lord Matlock offered a short bow. "I take it you are Darcy's friend, Charles Bingley?"

"Yes, sir, I am," answered Bingley, cautiously eyeing Lady Catherine. He had heard enough of Darcy's family to know that they were used to having their wishes carried out. However, this was his house, and he would not have any more harm done to Darcy no matter how well-intended. "I am sorry, but Darcy is not in any condition to receive visitors."

"We are not visitors, we are family!" hissed Lady Catherine.

Lord Matlock placed a restraining hand on his sister's arm. "We have not been formally introduced, but I am Darcy's uncle, Robert Fitzwilliam, and this is my sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Dr. Lawrence sent word before he left London that Darcy had been injured. It is important that we see him."

"I regret I cannot take you to him at present, Lord Matlock. Dr. Lawrence has ordered that he not be disturbed for the next several hours at least. Once he is awake, I will be happy to do so. Shall you take some refreshment while you wait?"

Angrily, Lady Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but was prevented by Lord Matlock's swifter response. "We shall be happy to accept, Mr. Bingley. I thank you for your hospitality."

Imparting another warning glance to his sister, the earl offered his arm and turned to follow Charles to the drawing room. They were settled comfortably and a tray was ordered before Charles excused himself and went in search of his wife. She was still in his study, sitting exactly where he had left her.

"Jane, my dear, we have company. Darcy's uncle, Lord Matlock, and aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh have come."

"Oh, my! And that was the commotion at the door?"

"Yes, they are rather anxious over Darcy's condition and wish to see him as soon as it is possible. I have offered refreshments in the drawing room until the doctor deems it safe for Darcy to receive them. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Of course they are welcome! They must be beside themselves with worry. I shall ask Caroline if she will join us. Perhaps some music will help calm their minds while they wait."

Charles smiled softly and pulled his dear, sweet Jane into an embrace. "I thought the very same thing myself, and have already sent for her. This certainly is not the honeymoon I had intended for us, my love; but as soon as we are able, you shall have all I promised and more!"

Returning his smile, Jane gently stroked his cheek before bestowing a tender kiss to his lips. "I am content, Charles. All that matters is that we are together, wherever we are. What is important now is that Mr. Darcy get well – for everyone's sake!"

By the time they rejoined Darcy's relations, Caroline had already arrived and was taking the opportunity to astound their esteemed guests with an impressive display at the pianoforte. Lord Matlock seemed to appreciate her efforts, but Lady Catherine did not, making it abundantly clear that she was displeased with everyone and everything about her. Her peevish expression brought to Charles' mind a picture of one of his cousin's small daughters who pouted mightily when she could not have her own way.

More than once, Charles and Jane exchanged perplexed glances as the afternoon passed in a succession of failed efforts to entertain their guests. After Caroline had tired of playing, an attempt was made to carry a conversation, but the weather was unremarkable and Charles' endeavor to find any subject of common interest was eventually abandoned. In desperation, it was decided to bring out the table for cards, which proved to be no more successful than any of the other diverting activities that had been tried. It seemed there was nothing that would pacify her ladyship's ill humor.

Late in the day, the doctor finally appeared with a report on Darcy, announcing that he was awake, but very weak. The news was welcomed with audible sighs of relief all around. It was only when the doctor added that visitors to the sick room would not be allowed until after the patient had had something to eat and Denham had an opportunity to attend him that there was a resurgence of petulance from Lady Catherine. She was in the midst of voicing her displeasure when Elizabeth quietly entered the room.

Stopping just inside the door, Elizabeth saw Mr. Bingley struggling valiantly to converse with Lady Catherine de Bourgh and another gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was not difficult for Elizabeth to deduce that the older man was Mr. Darcy's uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Although it was a moment before the others in the room noticed her presence, Lady Catherine's response was immediate.

"How dare you show your face here!" she cried at the sight of Elizabeth. "You stupid, insolent girl! You have nearly killed Darcy!"

Elizabeth's shoulders squared as she came under the Earl's somber examination. "Is this the one, then?" he asked without taking his eyes off of her.

"Of course it is!" Lady Catherine retorted. "Can you not see her scheming, deceitful nature? It is quite evident."

"I do not believe you have met my wife's sister, my lord," Bingley quickly interjected before Lady Catherine could say any more. "May I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Miss Bennet, this is the Earl of Matlock, Darcy's uncle, and I believe you are already acquainted with his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Not wishing to aggravate the situation, Elizabeth made a concerted effort to display a pleasant expression as she made her curtsey. "Lord Matlock, Lady Catherine. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Your nephew speaks very highly of you. Have you come to see him?"

Lady Catherine did not wait for her brother to respond. "You know perfectly well why we have come, Miss Bennet; though I do not see that it is any business of yours!"

"Oh, but it is, your ladyship!" All eyes turned to Caroline, whose insincere smile glittered with malice. "I have nothing but praises for Miss Bennet. Did you not know she has taken it upon herself to assist Dr. Lawrence in Mr. Darcy's care? Yes, she has been quite devoted – in his room night and day for two whole days without a single thought of her reputation, or his."

Lady Catherine fairly sprang from her chair. "You impudent chit! You presume to wait upon my nephew in his sick bed? This is not to be borne! It is evident you have no feelings for the scandal you brought upon our family and continue to do so, but it shall not be tolerated. I forbid it! You have done enough damage. If not for you, Darcy would be in Kent, even now, fulfilling his duty to his family!"

Frowning at Caroline's disclosure, Lord Matlock rose from his seat as well. "Miss Bennet has not breached the bounds of propriety, has she?"

Looking nervously to Elizabeth, Bingley quickly answered. "Well, you see – there are extenuating circumstances that I am not at liberty to disclose at the moment; but Miss Bennet has been – "

"Thank you for rising to my defense, Mr. Bingley, but I believe his lordship deserves the truth. As soon as I discovered Mr. Darcy's health was in grave danger, I came to Netherfield. I do not deny I have been assisting Dr. Lawrence these past two days. I do not regret it for one moment, and I intend to continue. Say what you will, my lord, but I shall not be dissuaded. I shall not leave Mr. Darcy's side until he himself tells me to do so."

Lord Matlock eyed her frankness with interest. "Is that so? Am I to believe you have some special interest in my nephew?"

"Of course she does! Do not be deceived by her arts and allurements, brother. She is a scheming fortune hunter, inferior in every way. Darcy has been bewitched by her, but no more! We shall take him away from here, away from her, this instant! Doctor, you will make my nephew ready immediately."

"No!" Elizabeth cried in sudden alarm. A vision of Darcy's pale countenance flashed in her mind. "You cannot! Mr. Lawrence? Surely it is too soon!"

"Miss Bennet is right.," the doctor nodded. "He cannot be moved yet. It is too dangerous."

Lady Catherine was unmoved. "Nevertheless, he is leaving. Do what you must to prepare him for the journey back to London, doctor, we are taking him home. I will not have this woman near him another minute. She has done quite enough already!" Lady Catherine, glared in Elizabeth's direction. "You are a bane to his existence! A disease to be purged! You shall never see him again if it takes every resource I have!"

"Whatever resources you bring to bear will not be enough to separate us if he does not wish it. Perhaps you have been long accustomed to directing the lives of those around you, but you will not succeed with me, nor do I believe you will succeed with Mr. Darcy."

Lady Catherine's cane thumped loudly, emphasizing her already heightened hostility. "Selfish, impudent girl! I will not be contradicted!"

"And I shall not be dictated to by anyone so wholly unconnected to me as you!"

"You have no say in the matter!"

"That is quite enough. Darcy will make his own decisions." Lord Matlock's resolute words to his sister drove her further into her rage.

"It is not enough! Darcy must be made to see where his duty lies! The daughter of Sir Lewis de Bourgh shall not be cast off for a person of inferior birth, a nobody! Elizabeth Bennet must be cut out of his life completely before it is too late!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened with a growing understanding. "It was you! Why did I not see it before? You made it possible for Mr. Wickham to separate me from my family before Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy returned to Hertfordshire."

"How dare you accuse me of such nonsense! I care nothing for George Wickham or you!"

"Mr. Wickham laid a very careful plan to take me away against my will. He had no means by which to accomplish it without help – money – from someone of greater standing. Indeed, the very carriage that he used was well beyond his means. I had supposed it was Lord Grissholm who had paid the expense for the whole scheme; but when he died, and Wickham came for me again, I knew it could not be the viscount. It was you – all along."

Lady Catherine stiffened, her eyes casting a murderous glare at Elizabeth. "How dare you accuse me! You have no proof!"

"That is where you are wrong, Lady Catherine. Mr. Wickham clearly had enough money to execute his vile plans a second time, and he boasted that he would retire with a much greater reward that was to be granted upon my death. Someone was willing to pay him most handsomely for my murder!"

"That proves nothing! Anyone could have provided Wickham with a carriage and money!"

"Yes, any number of persons could have," Elizabeth replied, smiling at Lady Catherine's blunder. "But I wonder how many of them possess a carriage whose cushions are embroidered with the initials "LdB"? You see, Mr. Wickham sent just such a carriage to my house last June to take me away, and then used that very same carriage in his attempt to murder me."

Lord Matlock looked at his sister with growing alarm. "Catherine?"

"Stop it! Stop it, I say! I will not listen to another word of this preposterous lie!"

Elizabeth ignored the woman's hysterical cries as she followed her thoughts to the now obvious conclusion. "You, Lady Catherine, have the resources and the carriages. The cushions of the carriage Mr. Wickham used bore the initials "LdB". I would wager they stand for Lewis de Bourgh. If there is any doubt, perhaps his lordship would care to examine the wreckage? I am certain there is still enough of it left to identify its ownership."

"Lies! All lies, and you shall pay for it!"

Before anyone knew what she was about, Lady Catherine flew at Elizabeth with her cane. Elizabeth only had time to raise her arm in defense before the cane came crashing down on her. In the next instant, Lord Matlock was at her side, blocking the next blow with his own arm. "Catherine! Enough! Do you hear me? Enough of this foolishness!"

"No!" the woman screamed uncontrollably. "You do not know how cunning and deceitful the girl is, but I do! We must be rid of her for Darcy's sake. Elizabeth Bennet must die! She must die!"

Elizabeth stepped back out of reach of the cane as it swung in her direction once more. The others looked on in horror as Lord Matlock struggled to constrain his sister. She slashed wildly again and again, no longer caring who became the recipient of her wrath. After bearing the brunt of several more strikes, the earl finally managed to subdue her.

Horrified at the revelation of his sister's treachery and her violent outburst, Lord Matlock struggled to find the right words. "I regret the trouble we have caused you, Miss Bennet. I see that my son Richard may have been right in his estimation of you after all. I do hope we shall meet again under more favorable circumstances. Mr. Bingley, please accept my apologies for our intrusion. I do not believe we shall stay any longer. Doctor, if you will assist me, I shall take my sister to the carriage."

Any hope that the spectacle was at an end proved to be in vain. Lady Catherine did not go with her brother willingly or quietly. The ranting cries echoed down the hallway as Lord Matlock fairly dragged her out of the room and toward their waiting carriage.

"Let go of me, you fool! We cannot let her escape. She has ruined all my dreams and she must pay! She must pay!"

When the cries finally faded, Bingley coughed nervously. "I am sorry for that. Are you well, Miss Bennet?"

Sweeping a stray curl back into her hair, Elizabeth sank into a nearby chair, grateful for the support her legs could no longer give her, and let out a relieved sigh. "Yes, I am well enough. I have long known Lady Catherine did not approve of me, but I had no idea the depth of her resentment. I am sorry to bring this upon you, Jane."

"It is not your fault at all, Lizzy; they came unannounced. But how awful for you to be attacked like that! It was dreadful. I wonder what will happen to her now. Charles, did you know her well?"

"Not at all! I only met her today. From what Darcy says, she has always been somewhat unbending and a little eccentric. I know he had already informed her of his decision not to marry Miss de Bourgh months ago, and I suppose the reminder of his interest in Miss Bennet was a little too much for her." Bingley turned an accusing eye to Caroline who had been standing silently in the corner of the room since Lady Catherine's violent response to the news of Elizabeth's attending Darcy.

"Do not look at me!" cried Caroline. "I only mentioned it. How was I to know she would turn into a mad woman?"

"No one knew, Caroline; but you did know it would make things uncomfortable for Miss Bennet."

"If you will recall, brother, I was commending Miss Bennet for her devotion! My efforts to be sisterly are obviously not wanted. All this excitement has given me a headache. If you need me, which I find highly doubtful, I shall be in my rooms!"

With a dramatic flourish, Caroline swept from the room leaving Charles, Jane, and a recovering Elizabeth to stare after her.

"I do apologize," said Charles. "She can behave better if she chooses, and I have hopes that she will. Otherwise, she shall be sent back to Scarborough. I will not have her upsetting your household, Jane."

"Perhaps it was an innocent mistake, Charles. It has been a very long day and everyone is on edge." Her smile to Charles faded a bit as she looked to her sister. "Lizzy, you look so pale. Shall I send for Dr. Lawrence?"

"No, please do not. I am fine. I only have been thinking of Lady Catherine. Such an unforgiving temper that has been the cause of so much misery. Because of her I was cruelly separated from my family for months, our father's state of health suffered horribly, two men are dead, and a woman is gravely injured. I can only hope that it will not continue. Even if she deserves everything her actions have brought upon her, Mr. Darcy's family does not deserve another scandal."

"I am confident Lord Matlock will be very discreet with his sister. He will make certain there is no danger of scandal in his circles. Jane and I shall have a talk with the servants. Wilson is the only one with any direct knowledge of this affair and he can be trusted to remain silent. The others will be warned against spreading gossip of any kind."

Elizabeth was also confident in Lord Matlock's ability to contain any gossip. What she did not voice was her worry of how far Lady Catherine had spread her poison among the members of Darcy's family. Lord Matlock had shown the barest of civilities at their meeting. Was the rest of the family against her as well? Hopefully, the discovery of Lady Catherine's treachery would erase whatever prejudice there was and allow them to form an independent opinion of her.

Elizabeth's troubled thoughts were interrupted when Jane placed a gentle arm around her shoulder.

"Lizzy, would you like to rest a little more? Shall I help you to your room?"

"No, Jane, that will not be necessary. I am fine, truly." With a deep, cleansing breath she rose from her chair and murmured to Jane, "At least we can say that ours is not the only family that can make a spectacle of themselves!"

Leaving her sister and brother to speculate on what fate lay in store for Lady Catherine, Elizabeth felt a surge of relief as she hurried back to the man who had completely captured her heart.

Elizabeth tapped lightly on Darcy's door, a maid at her side bearing a tray from the kitchen. Muffled words and hurried footsteps were heard from within, and then the door was opened and Denham waved the two women into the room. Elizabeth's quick glance toward the bed revealed Darcy was awake and keenly observing her movements.

Trying to busy herself with directions to the maid and the placement of the tray, Elizabeth hoped the sudden blush on her cheeks would fade before it was time to face him directly. The past three days in which she had been caring for him, he had been either unconscious or delirious; but never awake or fully aware of her presence.
The first day had been the hardest for her. Darcy's ashen face that had been ravaged by fever, and the doctors' grim manner had quickly erased any hopes that Jane's account of his condition had been exaggerated. And when she saw how near death he truly was, she could not bring herself to leave him. Against all persuasion, she insisted on staying at his side as he hovered between life and death. She sat for endless hours, sponging his forehead with cool cloths to soothe the blazing fever and laying on more blankets when he shivered violently with fits of sudden chills. She cared for him night and day, praying passionately in her heart that he would be preserved. What little sleep she had allowed herself was taken in the chair by his bed and more often than not the trays Jane had ordered sent up from the kitchen were returned untouched. Her heart was unalterably intertwined with Darcy's survival and she refused to leave for even a moment lest he should slip away and take it with him.

It had not mattered that she breached all convention by remaining in his room. The only thing she had cared about was his recovery; however, now that he was out of danger, Jane's earlier words began to haunt her. She was finding it difficult to push the thoughts of her wild behavior out of her mind. Would he resent her actions? Would it offend his sense of propriety and cause him to withdraw his attentions? He would have every right to condemn her and then she would be ruined. In her heart, she did not believe that to be the case, but even if he did, at least he had survived and she would not regret a single moment she had spent with him.

Looking sideways now, she saw that he was still following her every move. After dismissing the maid and taking as long as she dared to arrange the items on the tray, she took a quick breath, sat down near the bedside and finally looked up at him. The blush she had managed to subdue earlier reappeared the instant he spoke.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to look at me," he teased. "It seemed for all the world as if you were deliberately ignoring me."

"You, sir, are imagining things," she replied curtly, though her heart was suddenly brimming with relief that his feelings were obviously unchanged. "I was only making sure everything was as Dr. Lawrence ordered. You have been very ill and will need every bit of this to regain your strength."

"Yes, so Denham tells me. The last thing I remember clearly was handing you down to Bingley at Longbourn." He struggled to raise himself with his good arm as Elizabeth took a bowl of broth in hand and motioned for Denham's assistance. Once Darcy was in a more upright position with pillows braced behind him, he began reaching for the bowl.

Elizabeth instantly pulled back in her chair. "Oh no! You cannot possibly feed yourself with one hand. I shall do the honors."

"That is ridiculous! I am quite capable of spooning my own broth. You will give me the dish, madam."

"And have you spill it all over yourself and the bed? I think not."

Darcy glanced at Denham who had retreated to the far end of the room and was conveniently busy arranging a stack of books.

"Give me that dish! I refuse to be fed like an infant!"

Elizabeth leaned in, keeping the bowl well outside of his reach as she whispered. "I did not have half so much trouble getting your medicine down you! Shall you be changed like an infant when it drops in your lap?" She straightened up and brought the bowl forward, challenge lighting her eyes. "What is it to be, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy glared stubbornly at Elizabeth, deliberating her equally obstinate response, then dropped his hand and opened his mouth with an impatient huff. For several minutes the two were silent as Elizabeth carefully lifted spoonfuls of broth to his lips without meeting his eyes. At length, she paused to dab his mouth with the napkin and he tenderly claimed her hand with his own.

"I am grateful – ," he said in a husky voice that sent a welcome tingle racing through her. " – for everything. And, I have a confession to make. When you came to Netherfield to care for your sister, I envied her."

Elizabeth's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Jane? You envied Jane?"

"I tried not to, believe me; but you were so thoughtful and caring that I could not help imagining what it would be like to be the recipient of such devoted attention." His eyes twinkled with a mischievous smile. "And now here I am. I must say my imagination was not half so enjoyable as the real thing!"

Another blush blooming in her cheeks, Elizabeth gently withdrew her hand. "It is Dr. Lawrence you should be thanking, and the surgeon he brought with him. If they had not come as quickly as they did, well…I cannot bear to think what would have happened. Even after all their effort, it was not absolutely certain until this morning that you would recover. These past three days are ones I would never want to live again!"

"Elizabeth, I am very sorry to have caused you so much trouble. And I am sorry I did not keep my promise to visit Longbourn. You must have thought the worst of me when I did not come."

"On that count, you may rest easy. I received Jane's note summoning me to Netherfield long before there was any time to wonder where you were. It is I who should apologize for bringing this on you in the first place. This is the second time in less than six months that your life has been jeopardized because of me! I cannot forgive myself for endangering you so. What would have happened to Miss Darcy had you not recovered? What must she think of me?"

"I can tell you without any reservation that she adores you," Darcy assured her as he took her hand again and gently kissed it. "As do I. And when I awoke this afternoon, I decided that I would not wait another day to prove it. Life is too short and there is not a single moment to waste."

Flustered by the frank and open turn their conversation had taken, Elizabeth's gaze dropped and her heart began to race furiously. Composing herself, she looked back at Darcy who was gesturing to Denham.

"I am ready now. Bring my coat and the box, and help me up."

"What?!" Elizabeth cried out. "Stop – this minute! You have no business getting out of bed. You must wait until you are stronger."

"I have waited far too long already." Darcy waved impatiently at Denham who was hesitating to carry out the order. "Hurry up, man, give me your arm!"

"It is too soon! Please, do not do this!" she begged.

"I must. I have a very particular question to pose and honor prohibits me from asking it while lying in bed."

Darcy grunted in pain as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed and took the small velvet box from Denham then slipped his good arm into the morning coat the valet held out for him.

Knowing Darcy was determined to do as he pleased in spite of her objections, Elizabeth quickly moved away, turning around to give him privacy as he got up. Nervously she waited, trying to calm her restless hands that embodied the great conflict waging within her. Part of her wanted to push him back into bed where he belonged while the rest of her trembled in anticipation of the question she knew was coming. A question that would change her life forever.

She could hear a good amount of murmurs and posturing going on before she heard Denham move away and then Darcy's voice sounded close behind her.

"Elizabeth?"

She turned to see Darcy kneeling before her, his face pale with the effort it cost him. She thought to beg him once more to return to bed. He had nothing to prove. She knew he did indeed love her and she could wait a day or two; but as he reached for her hand, the thrill of his touch raced through her, stopping the words before they could form.

The velvet box lay in Darcy's other hand that was fettered by his bandages, its lid now open to reveal the contents. In the flickering light from the fire, a delicate gold band glowed softly against the brilliance of five evenly-matched garnets. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

The intensity of Darcy's gaze drew her eyes to his and her heart melted at the hopeful, yet cautious expression playing on his face. He was so open, so vulnerable. His deep, penetrating look revealed traces of the boy who had been thrust into the role of master and guardian much too early in life. Elizabeth sighed softly. Here was the one man in all the world that was her perfect match and he was about to offer her a second chance at happiness! Was this really happening? She reached out, touching his cheek to assure herself she was not dreaming, just as a startled cry sounded from the doorway.

Denham had moved hastily to the door and quietly opened it, trying to give his master the privacy that was required; but as he did so, he had inadvertently surprised Caroline Bingley who was now standing in the doorway with an embarrassed smile. She opened her mouth to speak, and then her eyes grew wide with horror as she took in the scene of Darcy kneeling before Elizabeth, ring in hand. For one brief moment Caroline stared slack-jawed, and then her eyes rolled back in her head as she began to fall. Denham jumped to catch her, but was too late. Darcy, Elizabeth, and Denham all flinched at the loud thud that reverberated down the corridor as she hit the floor.

"It seems the young lady is overcome with joy, sir," Denham announced calmly as he stepped into the hallway and reached back to close the door. "I shall summon her maid right away."

The door closed with a quiet click.

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing outright as she turned back to Darcy, instantly alarmed when she saw his hand covering his face and his shoulders shaking.

"What is it?!" she cried in a panic, then sighed in relief as Darcy dropped his hand and she saw that he was only struggling to contain his own laughter

"Of all the people to discover us," he grinned at her, "what horrid luck!"

"Yes, poor Miss Bingley. She is a great admirer of yours – and a very determined woman. I do hope she is all right."

"Denham will make sure she is taken care of. At the moment, there is only one woman whose admiration I desire." Darcy's grin faded to a soft smile as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that took her breath away. "One who is beautiful, and headstrong, and stubborn, and lively, and engaging, and warm, and passionate. One with the courage to refuse me because I am less than the man I should be, and then inspire me to become that man. I had thought never to find such a woman to whom I could give my heart completely – until now. You are that woman, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. You mean more to me than life itself and I cannot bear the thought of being in this world without you by my side. Will you marry me?"

Elizabeth could not help a tiny gasp of delight. Joyous tears flowed freely as she witnessed the passionate expression of love shining in his eyes – wondrous, inviting windows into his very soul. Eagerly, willingly, she was held captivate by his gaze, feeling more blissfully complete than she ever imagined possible.

An ember snapped loudly in the hearth, breaking the enchanted spell and reminding her that she had made no reply. Looking down, she quickly gathered her scattered thoughts and then glanced shyly back to Darcy. Returning his encouraging smile, she drew a shaky breath and began.

"At our first encounter and for some time afterward, I was foolishly blinded by prejudice and a very imprudent rush to judgment. It is unforgiveable that I misjudged you so; for in truth, you are a discerning, honorable man who cannot be seen for what he truly is because of the impossibly high expectations society has placed upon him." Elizabeth reached out and lovingly caressed his cheek. "But I have seen who you are, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I love you for it. I have seen your patient dealings with the Mr. Collinses and Miss Bingleys of this world; I have seen your genuine concern for your friends; I have seen the great liberality you show to the people who rely upon you for employment and their very lives; and best of all, I have seen your tender care for Georgiana. By that example alone, I am certain any woman who accepted your hand in marriage could want for nothing more."

"Shall I take that as a yes?" Darcy murmured playfully.

"Yes!" cried Elizabeth, wiping at her tears. "Yes, I will marry you if you are certain you want such a foolish, headstrong girl for a wife!" .

Rising slowly from his knee, Darcy took the ring and tried it on her finger, slipping it easily into place – it was a perfect fit. He kissed her hand, then pulled her to him, gently kissing her forehead. Filled with inexpressible happiness, he held her close, breathing deeply the scent of lavender in her hair. Her instant response brought a tender smile to his face and he wrapped his one arm around her tightly, kissing her again, this time finding her deliciously soft and inviting lips. He had meant only to kiss her lightly, but Elizabeth's arms wound around his neck in a passionate embrace that promised much more and he was lost. It was some minutes before reason caught hold enough for him to remember that he was a gentleman. A fire had ignited within them both, but this was not the time nor the place. He lifted his face and caressed her hair with his cheek, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Darcy stood very still, holding her close. Exhaustion began to pull at him and his jaw clenched in stubborn determination. They had at last crossed that great gulf which had separated them for so long and he did not want it to end. But the toll of the last few days and the burning in his shoulder finally forced him to concede. Reluctantly, he released her and took up her hand instead, unwilling to completely sever his connection to her.

"If I am certain? Elizabeth, you must know that I am more certain than I have ever been about anything in my entire life. You are my heart and soul! Words cannot describe the joy you have given me. When you left Burnham House those many weeks ago, I was afraid I would never hear those happy words. Without you, there was nothing here but a great emptiness," he said, bringing her hand up to lay on his heart, "and now it is filled to overflowing! I shall spend the rest of my days endeavoring to make you as happy and contented as you have made me."

"I do not think it is possible to make me any happier than I am right now," Elizabeth looked up at him, her contented smile turning at once to a worrisome frown. His smile was broad, but it did not conceal the dangerous pallor in his face. "With the exception of you returning to your bed, sir," she amended quickly. "You look very ill and I will not lose you now that we have come this far!"

"Very well, I shall oblige you -- on one condition."

Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously. "And what is that?"

"That you promise to marry me within the week."

"A week?! You cannot be serious!"

She busied herself guiding Darcy back to the bedside. "Please be so good as to get back into bed. Dr. Lawrence will be very upset with me for having ever allowed you up in the first place. It was too much. We can talk about our plans tomorrow when you have rested."

"I am quite serious, Elizabeth. I shall speak to your father, and short of his refusal – you do not anticipate his refusal, do you? – everything can be arranged in a few days. Special license, wedding clothes, travel arrangements. I took the liberty of making some tentative arrangements before I left London and – "

Elizabeth had taken Darcy's jacket from him and turned discreetly as he climbed onto the bed, but now she spun around in surprise. "Before you left London?"

Darcy fumbled with the blankets, avoiding her gently accusing gaze. "Yes, well…I thought…that is, they were only tentative. It is just that I wanted to…I mean, if I were able to convince you to accept me…" He finally dropped the covers around him and looked straight at her. "Elizabeth, I have loved you almost from the first moment I saw you and have thought of nothing else but making you my wife. If I was fortunate enough to secure your good opinion and have you accept my proposal this time, I wanted to have it done as soon as possible – providing you were agreeable to it, of course."

"My mother would never agree to such a thing. She takes great store in appearances, as you know, and she will not be denied her opportunity to show us off to all the neighborhood. A few days will not satisfy her."

Darcy captured her hand and drew her down to sit beside him. "Before I concern myself with your mother's opinion, I should like to know yours, for it is your opinion that will guide my planning. Would you be happy marrying at once, or would you prefer a longer engagement?"

Elizabeth laughed lightly. "A long engagement? Being paraded around the neighborhood by my mother like a prize mare while pretending not to hear ill-concealed remarks about my scandalous behavior? No, sir, a long engagement is not what I would wish for by any means! Besides…" She stopped abruptly and began to rise, but Darcy held her back.

"Besides?"

Elizabeth looked down, playing with a corner of the bedsheet as a bright pink colored her cheeks. "Besides," she whispered, "I can think of no greater pleasure than that of becoming your wife."

If Elizabeth could have met his eyes at that moment, she would have seen how well an expression of heartfelt delight became him. Although she could not bear to look at him, she could feel the comforting squeeze of his hand and hear the joy and pleasure in his voice as he replied. "Then I shall speak to your mother, and we shall marry as soon as may be!"

"You – speak to my mother?! I do not think that a very good idea. You do not know how truly difficult she can be!"

"I know well enough how to approach her, believe me. I have had years of practice with the most determined mothers of marriageable daughters that society has to offer, and now I can finally put that experience to good use."

"Very well, you may try – and if you are successful, you are a better man than I thought! When shall you speak to my father?"

"I will send a note this evening asking him to call on me here tomorrow morning. If you will ask Mrs. Bingley to extend an invitation to Mrs. Bennet for lunch, then I shall be able to speak with her shortly after I have secured your father's permission. I will send Denham to London with instructions for completing the arrangements I started, and all should be ready in four or five days."

"That seems a very good plan, indeed; however, I would ask one condition."

Darcy's brow raised cautiously. "And what is that?"

"Nothing as remarkable as yours, I assure you! I only ask that I speak with my father before he comes tomorrow. This is all quite astonishing – even for me, and I have had some prior knowledge of your feelings for me. I fear your request for my hand, without the slightest hint of its coming, would be too great a shock for him." She lightly traced the stitching on the cuff of his shirt before raising her eyes to examine the effects of her words. "Would you mind terribly? Of all his daughters, he will feel my absence the most. It would make me very happy if I could ease the separation just a little."

"I live for no other purpose than to make you happy," Darcy replied with a smoldering look, "Is there anything else you wish?"

"No, sir, that is all."

"Then it is settled and I should like to seal the bargain."

He quickly pulled her in, stopping any further conversation with his lips. Elizabeth eagerly returned the kiss, completely lost in the utter delight of knowing he was everything she had ever wanted and that he would be hers for the rest of her life.

Epilogue

Posted on December 13, 2009

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam's face hardened as Pemberley's impressive façade came into view. In a matter of minutes, he would be greeting its master. Had it really only been a little more than a year since their last meeting? It seemed a lifetime ago that he stood in the tiny Meryton church, signing his name as witness for Darcy's marriage to Elizabeth Bennet. He had scarcely discharged his duties as best man when news of General Wellesley's advances in Spain arrived, calling him back to his regiment. Within a few short weeks, he had found himself in Spain, facing the French forces at Vitoria.

Slowly dropping his gaze, Richard noticed a perfect miniature of his grim countenance staring up at him from the polished knob of his walking stick, and he forced his features into a more agreeable expression. It was imperative he not allow any weakness to show.

The Darcys were well aware of his crippling injury and difficult recovery, thus he anticipated a full measure of doting sympathy from them. It would be unavoidable. Nevertheless, he would not tolerate any pity nor would he be treated as an invalid. Richard threw a stern glance to the valet seated across from him as the carriage rolled to a stop.

"I shall manage this on my own, Steven. You may see to the luggage."

"I am sorry, sir," the man braced for yet another battle with his employer's son, "Lord Matlock's instructions were to attend at all times. Any further injury to your leg would –"

"Nevertheless, you will keep your distance. I agreed to bring you simply to appease his Lordship, nothing more. If and when I need your assistance, I shall ask for it."

"Colonel, your father was quite explicit. If I should fail in my duties, I shall be dismissed."

"Get in my way and I shall send you packing. Do I make myself clear?"

Steven stubbornly returned Richard's stare for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Very well, sir."

In the next moment, a footman approached the carriage, opening the door and letting down the steps. Giving one final look to Steven, Richard turned his attention to exiting the carriage with as much grace as his leg would allow. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of what was to come.

In spite of his cane bearing most of the weight, bolts of white-hot pain shot through his leg as he stood, escalating to agonizing spasms when he stepped down to the graveled drive. Standing next to the carriage, he was forced to pause, allowing for the searing pain to settle back into a more tolerable ache before he attempted the broad flight of steps before him.

A minor disagreement between the head footman and Steven, which skillfully diverted the remaining servants' attention away from Richard's situation, signaled an opportune time for him to begin the arduous climb. Locking his jaw in staid determination, he managed to complete the task without any outward signs of distress, and paused only when he finally entered Pemberley's main hall.

His leg was throbbing in tandem with his pounding heart and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. A footman cautiously came forward to take his coat, making Richard realize he must look as terrible as he felt. If he had this effect on a servant, what would Darcy and Elizabeth think? Quickly he wiped his brow and took several fortifying breaths. He was grateful he had recovered tolerably well by the time Darcy and Elizabeth appeared.

Darcy's warm greeting was accompanied by a gentle clap on the back. "Richard, we did not expect you until tomorrow! It is good to see you at last! I am glad you finally decided to accept our invitation."

"Welcome, Colonel," Elizabeth added with a concerned smile. "I hope the journey was not too difficult. You look a little tired."

"Thank you, Darcy, I am glad to be here. And I thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Darcy, but the journey was no more than expected. A small price to pay for the pleasure of visiting Pemberley." Richard saw the apprehension that their smiles could not hide and returned the greetings with a resolute enthusiasm. "I thought it time I come and see how you two are faring. Obviously marriage suits you both very well!"

"Yes, indeed! Marriage, and living at Pemberley." Elizabeth beamed. "The country air will do you good as well, Colonel. Much more than the dirty, smoke-filled air of London. You shall see."

"I am feeling better already! Pemberley has always been my favorite place, you know."

"Then I hope your stay with us will be a long one; but let us not stand in the doorway!" Elizabeth took Richard's arm and gently guided him down the hall. "Come have some tea and tell us all the news. How are your parents – are they well?"

They entered a sitting room Richard recognized as one that had not been used since the death of Darcy's mother. Except for a few minor changes that were distinctly Elizabeth, the room was as he remembered it. He smiled at the thought of it now being used by the new Mrs. Darcy.

Following her direction, Richard took a seat in a wing chair covered in deep blue silk as Elizabeth settled herself on a matching couch opposite him. Darcy glided smoothly down next to his wife. Without appearing to even think about it, they moved in a perfect, seamless complement to one another. A spark of envy flared in Richard's chest at the idyllic life Darcy had found – something the future was not likely to hold for him, not now.

"My parents are both in excellent health, thank you. Mother sends her love to you, Mrs. Darcy; but I am to say, for you, Darcy, she sends no regards." Richard leaned back his chair, stretching his leg and walking stick out before him. "She is cross with you for having lured me into the country instead of coming to town yourself. But I dare say she will get over it soon enough. She never could stay angry with you for long."

"Fortunate for me," Darcy grinned shamelessly. "I have already explained that Georgiana has elected to wait another year before being presented at court, and quite honestly, we are glad for it. We have other, more pressing business here at Pemberley this year."

Richard saw the brief, enigmatic smile that lit Elizabeth's face as she spoke. "Besides, the thought of missing Pemberley in the spring was too much to contemplate."

"The family will be disappointed, you know. Mother tells me you have been very little in town since your marriage and they are all quite anxious to spend more time getting acquainted with Darcy's bride. Having said that, I suspect you are much better off staying here at Pemberley. I believe the real motive behind Mother's invitation was to have an accomplice in her quest to push me into society. She has the mistaken impression that I am still a desirable prospect for the ladies." Richard fought to keep the bitterness from his voice. "But I am a realist. No one is in the market for damaged goods – and a second son to boot! Your invitation to Pemberley was vastly more appealing than a season in London."

Coming had indeed seemed more appealing than remaining at his father's house and facing the ton, but now that he was here, Richard was beginning to think this choice would prove to be the more painful of the two. The tenderness in Elizabeth's voice as she spoke again only made his own circumstances all the more dismal.

"This is the perfect place for you right now, Colonel. Pemberley's fresh air and a little exercise will go a long way in improving your leg – and your spirits. You must not give up on the ladies just yet."

"As I said, I am a realist. It only took one dinner party to dispel any doubts I may have had. While the ladies may be amiable for the sake of a wounded soldier, I can tell you that facing the charge of a French cavalry is nothing compared to the charge of marriage-minded mothers who see an unwelcome suitor engaging their daughters in conversation." Richard snorted softly. "No, unlike my mother, I have no false hopes."

The spark flared in his chest once again as he watched Darcy's arm unconsciously encircle Elizabeth in a gentle embrace. He was at least grateful there was encouragement and not pity in his cousin's next words.

"I am told the doctors have every hope your condition will improve substantially. It is only a matter of time. Perhaps next season will be a better time for you – after you have had more time to recover. Injuries such as yours require patience to mend properly."

"Yes, I suppose you are right. But patience is one commodity I seem to have in short supply these days." Richard stifled a sigh. This season or next, he would never be fortunate enough to find so perfect a match as he saw in Darcy and Elizabeth. In spite of his morose thoughts, he could not begrudge their blissful union. He truly wished them every happiness. With renewed determination to enjoy his visit, Richard summoned a cheerful smile. "So, tell me what has happened since I went away. Did the inquiry into Wickham's death go well?"

Darcy's face darkened. "Yes, well enough. Mrs. Younge was sent to Newgate almost immediately. You can well imagine the conditions there. She tried to blackmail her way out, threatening to disclose the details of that summer in Ramsgate if I did not help her."

Richard bolted forward, the action pulling painfully at his leg. "Not Ramsgate…not Georgiana?!"

"Yes, I am afraid so. Of course, I could not allow it, and so I agreed to see what I could do. I began inquires to have her shipped to the penal colonies instead of going to the gallows. It turned out to be an unnecessary effort as two days later I received word that she had fallen into a fever. She never recovered, and took her information to the grave."

"Thank heavens for that," Richard growled. "Even as far away as Australia she would have been a threat. She would have found some way to bleed you dry, Darcy. Forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Darcy, but Younge and Wickham got what they deserved. Good riddance, I say."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I wonder what it is that drives one to be so unfeeling, so bent on seeking revenge at any cost. Mrs. Younge, Lord Grissholm, and especially Mr. Wickham... they all had opportunity to make something of their lives; yet they wasted it by blaming others for their failures. The thirst for vengeance prevented them from realizing a happy, productive life was within their power at any time. And in the end, they all paid a terrible price. Lady Catherine still lives, but I cannot say it is a pleasant existence."

Darcy's arm tightened around Elizabeth. "Nor does she deserve one after her despicable behavior. To think of the outrageous, contemptible things she – " Elizabeth laid her hand on Darcy's arm, sending a gentle, unspoken message. Biting his lip in frustration, Darcy took a deep, cleansing breath. "Elizabeth is of the opinion that Aunt Catherine deserves our pity. I cannot bring myself to be so generous! The earl has her under lock and key; but the truth is, she still lives, no matter how wretchedly. That is more than she would have given Elizabeth, and I can never forgive her for that!"

Richard's countenance turned somber at the mention of Lady Catherine's name. "Yes, Father has told me all about it. Fortunately, a report of her travelling abroad and a sudden illness was all it took to convince the ton that she had died. She is far enough away and Father has precautions in place that would prevent any hint of madness being connected to the family. It is a sad state of affairs, though. I am told any mention of the family – not just you or Mrs. Darcy – sends her into high dudgeon for days."

"She was a very proud woman," observed Elizabeth quietly. "She could not bear to be contradicted. I suppose with her rank and privilege, she had not had much experience with disappointment. She thought she was protecting her family. But to go to such extremes, to provoke Wickham to act as desperately as he did, and then do so herself – it is unimaginable even now!"

Richard shook his head slowly. "It was nothing short of criminal for all of them. I will say, though, that if anything good can be found in the whole affair, Aunt Catherine's interference did have the unintended consequence of forcing you and Darcy to recognize what your hearts were telling you. It is a bit of a two-edged sword for everyone, is it not, Darcy?"

"No, Richard, it is not. I had already decided to talk with Elizabeth and make a fresh start when I went to Hertfordshire with Bingley. Aunt Catherine's meddling only complicated the matter and put us both through months of misery that could have been avoided completely."

"Are you certain, Cousin? If I remember our conversation at Burnham House correctly, you had not yet reached an understanding with the lady. It was not until much later that she truly had a change of heart; which was, of course, a result of Aunt Catherine's interference. Is that not so, Mrs. Darcy?"

"In truth, my feelings were only just beginning to change after our encounter at Rosings. It was not until my stay at Burnham House that I truly knew my heart. I suppose you could say she did us a favor – as unintentional as it was; and as difficult as it is, I am willing to put it all behind us. You must as well, Fitzwilliam. If you do not let go your resentment, it will darken our own happiness, casting a shadow over everything we do."

"You cannot remember the worst of it, but I do!" Darcy's jaw tightened as he and Richard exchanged a knowing look. "I shall never forget the night I carried you out of Grissholm's house!"

Richard studied the carpet at his feet as Darcy's passionate words hung hauntingly in the air.

Even though she blushed at Darcy's words, Elizabeth would not be dissuaded. Her determined tone swept the air clean in one stroke. "Nevertheless, you must try; and you must try to forgive your aunt. Would you choose as Wickham or Grissholm did? Would you allow what cannot be changed to take away even the smallest portion of our happiness together? Lady Catherine is beyond ever acknowledging her part, and it does not matter. What matters is that we let it go and look to the future."

"I am not certain I can do that," he said quietly. In spite of Darcy's adamant expression, Richard could see the effects of Elizabeth's quiet determination. She was exactly what Darcy needed.

"We can choose to be happy in spite of her actions, can we not?" Elizabeth persisted gently.

"Perhaps. I shall give it some consideration."

"That is all I ask, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth winked at Richard, very pleased with the concession she had managed to secure.

"The subject of our aunt has reminded me that I wish to discuss the matter of Rosings while you are here, Richard. Perhaps in a few days, once you have settled in? As you already know, I was named heir to the estate in anticipation of my marriage to Anne, which of course did not happen. The arrangement was never changed and I find myself responsible for Rosings' management. I thought you might have some ideas on the subject."

"I would be happy to give what advice I can," Richard responded, his brows rising in mild surprise as he gave an answering nod; and then he turned the conversation to a more neutral topic. "Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, how is your family? Are all your sisters still in Hertfordshire?"

"No, they are not. Jane and Mr. Bingley have recently settled in Lincolnshire. I fear my mother's daily visits to Netherfield grew to be too much, even for their kind and generous natures. Much to our delight, they are now but 30 miles from Pemberley, and we see them regularly."

"I am happy to hear it. And now that there are two daughters in the neighborhood, do your parents find occasion to visit often?"

"As luck would have it, my mother is kept quite busy with three daughters still at home. My sister Lydia's experiences, as a married woman and now a widow at sixteen, have proved to temper her enthusiasm. She has grown very circumspect in her behavior, though not so much as to diminish her liveliness completely. My father writes frequently of suffering all the usual commotion of his household without the benefit of rational conversation. He declares that when Jane and I went away, we robbed him of any "sensible" dialogue. Thus, on occasion he appears impulsively at our door for a few days' stay. His visits are not so frequent as to make it inconvenient; and not so long as to make them disagreeable."

"In short," said Darcy good-naturedly, "we see just enough of the family to make everyone happy!"

"Speaking of family, where is my ward? I half expected Georgiana to come flying at me the moment I arrived."

Elizabeth's smile expanded with delight at the mention of her new sister. "She is not a child any more, Colonel. You may be surprised at how much she has grown since you last saw her."

Before Richard could reply, the musical sound of girlish laughter sounded in the hallway.

"Is that Georgiana?" he asked in surprise. "I have not heard her laugh like that since Ramsgate."

"Actually, that is Georgiana – and a friend," Darcy amended, trying to gauge his cousin's reaction. "Miss Rebecca Ballard is visiting us for a few weeks."

Richard's frown was instant. "Darcy, do you think it wise to allow Georgiana's association with someone so intimately connected to…um, past difficulties? I know you agreed to look after Grissholm's widow and her sister, but that doesn't mean you must invite the girl into Georgiana's sphere." His meaning was clear, and Elizabeth quickly responded.

"Colonel, please do not do Miss Ballard the injustice of forming an opinion based on the actions of her guardian. She is nothing like Lord Grissholm, as you will soon see. She and Georgiana have many interests in common, and they have both benefited enormously from the acquaintance."

In the next moment, the door flew open and Georgiana rushed into the room. Another girl of about the same age followed her in, hanging back as Georgiana hurried to Richard's side.

"Richard, I am so glad to see you!" She hugged him enthusiastically, then leaned back with an assessing eye. "You look ill. Was the journey from London so very bad?"

"No, Georgie, not really." Leaning heavily on his cane, Richard struggled momentarily to gain his footing, then rose slowly to greet her. "See? A little slow, but I manage quite well."

"Well, we shall do everything in our power to get you firmly back on BOTH feet. I have given this a lot of thought, and I have the perfect plan! Rebecca and I shall – Oh, what a goose I am!" Georgiana gasped in embarrassment and turned to the girl standing shyly in the background. Pulling Rebecca forward, Georgiana smiled apologetically. "May I introduce my cousin – Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard, this is my very good friend, Miss Rebecca Ballard."

Richard offered a small bow to the girl without really looking at her. Notwithstanding Elizabeth's assurances, her background and family history still made it very doubtful the connection would be good for Georgiana.

"Miss Ballard."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana has told me so much about you. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

The sound of Rebecca's sweet, temperate voice struck a delightful chord deep in Richard's chest, pulling his eyes to her with sudden interest. He was surprised to see that the young lady before him was nothing like he had imagined. She seemed to be somewhat reserved, yet a quiet sense of confidence radiated from her, drawing him in with a sudden need to know what she was thinking. He found himself staring into the depths of a pair of very lovely, very blue eyes that stared back at him with expectant curiosity. The mass of golden curls that crowned her head was swept up in a simple style, perfectly complimenting her delicate features. The gentle curves of her cheeks were highlighted by a wash of pink, which was rapidly deepening under his gaze.

"…is that not right, Richard?" Georgiana's voice filtered in from a distance. "Richard?!"

Hastily clearing his throat, Richard tore his eyes from Rebecca. Darcy and Elizabeth's amused expressions did not help his embarrassment, which was only made more acute by the clichéd words that tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Ballard, but have we met before? You seem very familiar."

"No, sir, I do not believe so." Rebecca answered softly, refusing to meet his gaze again.

"It seems unlikely," said Georgiana, looking puzzled. "Rebecca and I only met last year, after the wedding, and I believe you were already in Spain by then. Perhaps you have been to Cumberland? That is where she is from."

Elizabeth rose from her chair and gathered the two girls' arms, guiding them toward the piano with a reassuring smile. "Single men often have the feeling they have met an attractive young lady, Georgiana. Not at all uncommon, as you will discover soon enough. I think you and Rebecca should play that new duet you have been practicing. I am sure the Colonel would like to hear it."

"Oh, yes, that is a wonderful idea!" Georgiana exclaimed, motioning to Richard with her free hand. "Do come sit over here by us. I do not want you to miss a note."

"I shall do better than that; I shall turn for you, if you like!"

With Elizabeth's help, Rebecca and Georgiana found the required sheets of music as Richard stood ready to turn the pages. Satisfied that all was in order for the impromptu concert, Elizabeth returned to Darcy's side, merely answering his inquisitive look with a knowing smile. Settling into his arms, she waited for the music to begin. Darcy's hand eagerly found hers, entwining their fingers as the first strains sounded.

The trio's performance proved to be very entertaining, particularly Richard's obvious interest in Miss Ballard which brought a gentle rebuke from Georgiana when he failed to turn the page at the right moment.

"It would seem the Colonel has had a change of heart about Miss Ballard," Elizabeth murmured softly, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes. The sound of Darcy's melancholy sigh in response caused her to turn in puzzlement. "Why, Mr. Darcy, I thought you liked Rebecca!"

"I do, very much. She was not the object of my thoughts, though." Darcy gathered Elizabeth's hand into both of his and kissed it. "I was remembering when you first played for me – in London."

"That was not the first, if you remember. The first time was in Hertfordshire, at Lucas Lodge; when my friend Charlotte put me on display."

"That was for the benefit of your neighbors. When you played at Burnham House, it was for me. You and Georgiana played a duet. I saw how much you enjoyed one another's company; and it was then I first began to hope your feelings for me had changed." He drew a long, deep breath and kissed her hair. "All the struggles, all those tortuous months – it seems but a bad dream now."

"Yes, our time together has all but erased those unhappy memories for me. This past year has been the happiest of my life – and it is all because of you, Fitzwilliam. I can no longer imagine my life without you."

"There is but one thing remaining to make our life together complete, and it is only a matter of months now before that happens."

Elizabeth stole a quick glance in the direction of the piano forte. "Do you think we should tell them our news?"

"No, they will know soon enough. I should like it to be our secret a little while longer."

Elizabeth nestled into Darcy, wanting to close the smallest gap between them and enjoy the feeling of his body next to hers. "I do wish everyone could be as incandescently happy as we are!"

"That is very generous of you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth; but as there is only one of you in this world, and you are mine, no one else can possibly be as happy as we are."

FINIS