The next day was Sunday and, as was the custom in my uncle's house, the entire household, including the servants, met for morning prayers. My uncle chose a passage from Proverbs for his reading. I sat next to Jane on the sofa, still sleepy from the night before, my eyes swollen from crying. I confess I had a difficult time concentrating on the text and my mind strayed until I heard the following words:

"There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: the way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid."*

Instantly I felt Mr. Darcy's arms around me. I remembered his mouth caressing mine and how easily he had taken command of my senses. Yes, the writer spoke the truth. It was too wonderful to comprehend. And then I felt abashed that my mind had wandered so far from the scripture and to a scene that should have caused me shame. I willed myself to return to the present and heed my uncle's reading.

"For three things the earth is disquieted, and for four it cannot bear: a servant when he reigneth; a fool when he is filled with meat; an unloved woman when she is married; and a handmaid that is heir to her mistress."**

Once again I was struck with the revelation of wisdom and how my uncle's choice in scripture applied to my life. I knew with certainty that neither the earth nor I could bear marriage to Mr. Darcy, knowing I was unloved. Tears began to well up within me and I kept my gaze lowered, thankful that we were now praying. I blinked several times and with the final amen, I was able to restrain the signs of emotion stirred up by my thoughts.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, along with Jane and the children, left for church services shortly thereafter. My father had already said he and I would not attend because in my present state, he felt I did not need the added burden of prying eyes as yet. As soon as they were out the door, he asked me to accompany him into my uncle's study. He sat down upon the tapestry-covered divan and patted the place next to him, indicating that I should join him.

"Now, Lizzy," he said, taking my hand, "I am not about to scold you or even admonish you for your decision, although heaven help us when your mother hears that I have permitted you to refuse another proposal. You and I may have to take up residence in the stable when we return to Longbourn."

"Oh, Father, I do not care. Let us return home this very day and I shall gladly move into the barn."

"Yes, well, let us hope it does not come to that. But I must ask: Why, Lizzy? Tell me the reason you have refused marriage to Mr. Darcy. I know he is a proud, disagreeable man and has never paid proper attentions to you, but you are a sensible girl, able to overlook such slights and make the practical decision when called upon. I am afraid you shall suffer for this, my dear, much more than you can imagine."

I lowered my head and chewed my lip. "Perhaps, but I cannot marry him, Father."

"So he is a man of low character after all. Wickham's wild tales have merit?"

"Oh no, Papa. Mr. Wickham's inventions were just that - pure invention. Mr. Darcy possesses sterling character traits. He is generous, courageous, compassionate, and honest. He is not guilty of Mr. Wickham's false accusations."

I had looked about the room as I talked, but when my eyes settled upon those of my father's, I saw the furrow in his brow deepen. "From this account I would believe you think highly of the man. What on earth would make you refuse him?"

"I pray you do not demand an answer, Papa." My eyes filled with tears in spite of my best efforts as I gazed upon his anxious countenance. I hated to cause him worry. "Trust me when I say I have made the right decision."

He studied my expression for some time, but at last he patted my hand again, leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Very well, Lizzy, have it your way. I could never refuse you anything and I do not want to cause you more distress."

"And shall we go home this very day?"

"Not today, dear. You forget it is Sunday and the coaches do not run until tomorrow, but first thing in the morning, I shall secure our tickets and you and Jane and I shall leave on the mid-day excursion."

"Thank you, Papa." I kissed his cheek and rising, selected a book from among my uncle's shelves before leaving the room.

"Lizzy," he said before I reached the door, "just so you know. Mr. Darcy said he would not make any announcement to the press and advised that we refrain from doing so, as well. The more time that elapses before it is made known that there will not be a wedding, the better it will be for you."

I nodded. That was kind of Mr. Darcy. He could have published it in the papers first thing - I knew that well - but once again he attempted to protect me. Ah, well, I would leave London tomorrow and put all of it behind me.

We spent the remainder of the day quietly. My aunt and uncle returned from church with Jane and the children, and we sat down to a pork roast with all the trimmings. Jane had evidently told my relatives enough that they did not question me as to my decision. I was grateful for their acceptance and understanding; indeed, I had a new appreciation for my family. I had always loved them dearly, but since returning I felt their worth even more. I could hardly wait to see Mama and my younger sisters even though I had oft times done whatever I could to escape their presence. How easily we took each other for granted.

Jane and I took turns reading to the children that afternoon so that my aunt might take a nap. No matter how we tried, we could not persuade the two older children to lie down and rest; both of them proclaimed they were too big for such babyish habits. The little ones, however, soon fell asleep and Jane took our older cousins outside for a walk in the park. I would have gone with them, but for the ever-present reporters still lurking outside the front door.

I meandered about the house, picked up several books and attempted to read, but could not find anything that held my interest. More than once I wandered to the window, pulling the lace curtains back to peer outside. What was I looking for? Did I expect to see Mr. Darcy come driving up, now ready to declare his undying love? Of course not. I knew without a doubt I should most likely never see him again and the very thought made my heart ache.

Returning to my bedchamber, I lay down, vowing that I would take a long afternoon nap, but sleep would not come. Each time I closed my eyes I saw him standing there, that haunting expression about his eyes just before he walked out the door last night. What had it meant? Why could he not express his feelings? Why had I fallen in love with such a mysterious man, one of whose emotions I could never be sure?

You must listen to his words. The thought went around and around my mind. He kissed you and termed it a mistake. There was no getting past that.

The remainder of the day crawled by. Jane and I packed our belongings that evening and I could hardly wait for the morning to dawn. The sooner I left London the sooner I could begin my life anew. Surely once I left town, I could forget all that had happened. How I longed to see Hertfordshire once again!

The next day, however, I learned that my desires were in vain. Shortly after breakfast, Firkin announced that there were visitors from the constable's office in the parlour awaiting the presence of my father and me. Papa had already left the house to secure our tickets for the post and so my uncle took his place. He did not want the callers to have to wait for my father's return; he declared it would not signify if he arrived late at his own office.

Two middle-aged men greeted us, one dressed in uniform, the other in civilian clothing, holding his hat in his hands. My uncle introduced me and asked their business, whereupon they informed us that they were on a fact-finding mission for the Magistrate's office and they desired to question me as to what had occurred during the entirety of the kidnapping and robbery. They also said my presence would be required in London until after the trial of Morgan and his gang.

"Certainly," my uncle answered after first glancing at me, "my niece will give you whatever information necessary, but I do not understand why after doing so, she must stay in town."

"The court," the man in civilian clothes explained, "must have the right to question you, Miss Bennet, during the actual trial proceedings. We are here today to gain whatever testimony you wish to give privately regarding the crimes."

My uncle immediately asked if I would have to testify publicly and we were assured that would be unlikely, that Mr. Darcy's presence would be sufficient, along with that of the menservants from Mr. Bingley's carriage and any other witnesses the gentleman wished to call. If at all possible, none of the ladies - Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, nor I - would be forced to submit to the indignities of a public trial. They would not, however, rule out the remote prospect.

I must have appeared stricken at the thought, for the man hastened to assure me that such occasion rarely ever came about. He then began to question me in detail about the entire situation, scribbling my answers upon an untidy wad of papers he had pulled from a faded brown satchel. I told him everything I knew; indeed, I was glad to have the opportunity to relate what background I knew about Morgan. I hoped it would make things go easier for him. I took special pains to make certain they learned that he had provided for Mr. Darcy's and my comfort and arranged for our release.

"Exactly how did this Morgan fellow make things comfortable for you, Miss Bennet?" the man asked. "According to Mr. Darcy, you were held in primitive conditions."

"Yes, we were, but when I asked for water and a blanket, Morgan saw that we received it."

"Water and bedding could hardly be termed luxuries."

"No, but the others - Sneyd, in particular - would have denied us even those necessities. And did Mr. Darcy tell you how Morgan protected me from Sneyd's advances?"

The man glanced at his uniformed companion and shook his head.

I briefly described the incident wherein Sneyd had attempted to force himself upon me and then told of Morgan's rescue. I omitted the fact that Sneyd had touched me and I did not feel it necessary to include the way Morgan had carried me back to the cabin. After all, I was not under oath and neither fact was pertinent. When he asked if that was all, I nodded. Much more had happened. Morgan had given me wine and a place at his table. He had danced with me and attempted to kiss me, but I would not reveal any of that. The man was in enough trouble; I did not wish to add to his woes.

At length, the official folded his papers and stuffed them inside the satchel; both men rose and thanked us for our time and for my cooperation. As they reached the door about to depart, the man in uniform turned back with one final question.

"Miss Bennet, might you know the date Mr. Darcy plans to return?"

"Return?" I could not make out what he meant.

"Yes, return to London."

"No...I cannot tell you. I did not know he had left town."

"Indeed? I would have thought he would have told you, of all people. Yes, he left yesterday without telling his sister when he would return. She was vague about it all. 'Tis strange that no one can give us an answer. If he does call upon you before we see him, make certain he knows he is bound under the law just as you are. He must remain in town until after the trial.

"And when might that proceeding occur?" my uncle asked.

"It's set for shortly after the beginning of the new year," the man replied.

After the new year! I could not believe it would take so long. That was weeks from now. I do not recall the men taking their leave or when they walked out the door; my mind was far too occupied with the dismal thought that I could not go home to Longbourn for a good three weeks or longer!

My father returned to the house shortly thereafter and found me with Jane and my aunt and uncle in the parlour discussing the change in events. He, naturally, was surprised and somewhat dismayed that I could not accompany him that very day.

"I shall have to return this ticket for a refund," he said slowly.

"Papa, will you not return two tickets?" Jane asked. "I pray you will allow me to stay with Lizzy; that is, if you do not mind, Aunt.

"Of course not," my aunt said. "Both of you girls are welcome to visit with us as long as needs be, for you are a joy to our house. I have just had another idea, however. Thomas, why not return to Longbourn, fetch Fanny and the younger girls and bring them all here for the holiday? Would it not make our hearts merrier to be all together?"

"Oh, Aunt," Jane said, "how kind of you!"

"But will you have room?" I asked, aware that the Gardiner's house was not all that large and she was inviting five more people.

"Of course, we will," my uncle answered and my aunt agreed, saying my parents could have the room my father had used, Jane and I could double up, and Mary, Kitty and Lydia could take Jane's bedchamber, as it was the largest. Within moments she had worked out the sleeping arrangements and immediately turned her thoughts to menus.

"Come with me, Jane," she said. "We shall meet with Cook right now and make our plans for Christmas dinner!"

My uncle kissed her cheek and announced that he had to leave for the office. That left me alone with my father once more. "Are you sure you can bear your mother's affliction, Lizzy, once she knows all the particulars of what has happened?"

"Of course, Father," I said, smiling. "And who knows, by this time, she may have already secured another man for me to charm."

"There has been a rather steady stream lately," he agreed.

And so that night Jane and I unpacked our trunks and settled in once again at Gracechurch Street. She remained in her room since our family was not to arrive until a day or two before the actual holiday and thus I had the entire bed to myself. I stretched out fully, but found that more room did not cause sleep to come any easier. Each time I closed my eyes I would see Mr. Darcy, his dark brooding stare, the way his curls persisted in falling across his forehead, and the dimples I had glimpsed when favoured with one of his smiles. I could see him striding across the countryside, his greatcoat flying about as his long legs made quick work of any distance. I knew his familiar walk by heart.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, attempting to erase the visions that tormented me. But like a persistent melody, I could not rid myself of thoughts of him. My arms ached to hold him just once more, to feel his own embrace tighten around me, and his warm hand gently place my head upon his chest. Then, once again I could taste his lips upon mine, feel that hungry, persistent kiss force me to open myself to him; I grew warm all over at the memory of my response. I shuddered, amazed at how little I had understood about a man and a woman prior to this journey I had taken with Mr. Darcy. How little I had known of love, both its joys and its heartbreak.

On Thursday Jane and I attended my aunt on a shopping excursion. By that time the reporters had given up for the most part on obtaining any news from us and had, at last, forsaken their vigil outside my uncle's house. Several acquaintances had made calls upon my aunt during the week. They all seemed unduly curious about my future plans, but they were dissuaded from pursuing such questions by my aunt's innocuous, gentle manner. Although I appreciated the diversion presented by such guests, I was in great need of escaping the house, of venturing somewhere other than into my aunt's garden out back.

It was thus with a measure of anticipation that I donned my bonnet and joined Mrs. Gardiner and Jane for an afternoon of meandering about the fashionable shops of London. Both Jane and I wished to select small gifts for our families for the coming holiday and my aunt was in search of just the right lace to redo a collar on her oldest daughter's dress. We milled about several stores and added our opinions to our aunt's choice of patterns. We stopped for tea in a lovely little place and I was much amused to sit at the window and watch the milieu of townspeople come and go with such haste.

"Well, girls, I am almost finished," my aunt announced. "One more stop at Mrs. Bellamy's and I shall have completed my list of tasks for today. How about you? Is there anywhere else you wish to attend?"

We both replied in the negative, content to accompany her. Mrs. Bellamy's turned out to be a dressmaker's establishment, one that my aunt frequented often enough that the proprietress knew her by name. As they busied themselves choosing silk for a new gown, Jane and I wandered about; we fingered the laces and marveled at the array of fabrics lined up for purchase. One could go blind from the choices.

"A very good selection," Mrs. Bellamy pronounced upon my aunt's final preference. "That shade of lavender is perfect for your complexion, madam." She wrote out the ticket, tallied up the amount to be charged, and watched as my aunt signed the tab. "The gown should be ready ten days from tomorrow."

"Thank you," my aunt replied.

"And," the lady added in a conspiratorial tone, "might I remind you how skilled my girls are at making wedding clothes."

Jane and I glanced over our shoulders to see her lean toward our aunt's ear and give a definite nod in my direction.

"We should be honoured to make the future Mrs. Darcy's gown."

My brows shot up in horror, but my aunt simply smiled and turned to bid us depart the shop together.

"Aunt," I said on the street, "why did you not refute the dressmaker's error?"

"Shush," she replied, "let us not speak of it until we reach home."

I did as I was told, but the moment we entered the foyer of the house on Gracechurch Street, I once again asked for an explanation.

"Lizzy," she said, handing her coat and bonnet to the maid, "I did not see the need to give my dressmaker the details of your private life. Just as I did not make the other shopkeepers privy to your future."

"Do you mean to say Mrs. Bellamy was not the only person who asked such impertinent questions today?" Jane asked.

"Indeed not," my aunt replied. "I cannot recall one establishment where I was not questioned about Lizzy."

My mouth hung agape. "Oh, Aunt, I did not realize. I would never have placed you in that position, had I known."

"Of course, my dear, but it is to be expected. Just because the newsmen have left our stoop does not mean that London has quit talking. You and Mr. Darcy are still an item."

I met Jane's gaze, aghast at how naïve both of us had been. Just the night before, we had discussed how people would probably soon forget all about me if they had not already done so. Blithely we had gone about town all day long oblivious to the talk following in my wake.

"I shall not leave this house again," I announced, "until my father comes to fetch me home."

"Oh, Lizzy, that is unheard of," my aunt said.

"Indeed," a male voice chimed in, as we entered the small drawing room. "I do hope I can persuade you otherwise, Miss Elizabeth."

We looked up to see Mr. Bingley standing beside our uncle at the fireplace, a welcoming smile upon his countenance and a light in his eyes when they lit upon Jane. After greeting him, my aunt bade us all sit down. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Bingley," she said. "I hope your sisters are well."

"They are," he replied. "Caroline would have joined me but for a previous engagement. I have come with a purpose, however." He looked at me and then at Jane, keeping his gaze upon her. "I hope Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, you and Miss Elizabeth will join Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Caroline and me at the opera a week from tonight."

"The opera," my aunt exclaimed. "How lovely! 'Tis too bad Mr. Gardiner and I already have plans for that evening."

"Ah," Mr. Bingley said, "that is too bad. It is a performance of Don Giovanni."

"Although we cannot attend, neither Jane nor Elizabeth is engaged for that evening as far as I know. Am I right, my dears?" my aunt asked.

"I understand the tenor is exceptional," Mr. Bingley added, beaming at my sister. "Say you will come." He continued to keep his eyes upon Jane until she smiled and glanced in my direction. "And you, also, of course, Miss Elizabeth."

"If Jane is willing, I shall accept gladly, sir," I said.

"I am willing," Jane murmured.

"Splendid! I shall call for you at eight o'clock. And, oh yes, Caroline and Louisa ask that you call upon them in the meantime, Mrs. Gardiner...and both of you, as well, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth." We smiled in agreement although I could not imagine his sisters having issued such an invitation. Mrs. Gardiner asked him to stay for dinner, which he agreed to and I was delighted at how the day ended. Our guest was, as usual, pleasant and charming and I could see how happy both he and Jane were to spend the evening together. I could not help but wonder if Mr. Darcy had spoken of Jane to Mr. Bingley. Had he rectified the injustice he had rendered my sister? If so, I should be greatly pleased.

At the end of the evening as we bade him good-night, my uncle asked him if Mr. Darcy had yet returned to town and he replied in the negative, stating that he did not know when to expect him. "Naturally, you know more about that than I, Miss Elizabeth," he said, smiling at me. "I do hope he returns in time for the opera, for I am certain he will wish to join us."

I simply smiled. He appeared to assume there was some connection between his friend and me. Had Mr. Darcy told him we were not to be married? I went to bed that night, my mind in a muddle. How long must we keep up this pretence?

As far as I knew, Mr. Darcy had not returned to town by the day of the opera. In the intervening days Jane and I had called upon Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, an uncomfortable visit I did not wish to recall, and Mr. Bingley had called upon us twice more. Each time he wondered aloud when his friend would return and, of course, we were also at a loss as to an answer. I was thrilled that Mr. Bingley now openly courted my sister. With every visit, he appeared more and more in love with her. Surely, he would declare his intentions any day. For that reason alone, I hoped Mr. Darcy remained away from London. I suspected that he might have spoken to Mr. Bingley about Jane in a positive manner, but I could not be sure so I wished for nothing that might spoil their progress toward happiness.

As time drew near for our special night, Jane and I tried on various gowns and practised several hairstyles. Neither of us had ever attended a gala at Covent Gardens and the thought filled us with excitement. My natural sanguine outlook had pushed my disappointment with Mr. Darcy far below the surface of my emotions into the deepest recesses of my heart (or so I thought), and I did my best to face each day with hope for Jane, filling my mind with the distraction of a possible spring wedding. Goodness, I was beginning to resemble my mother!

The sole drawback to my happier outlook occurred when I chanced to find my uncle's discarded newspaper. It appeared that most days he took particular pains to carry it off to his office, but twice during that week I discovered it left behind in its usual place beside his plate at the breakfast table. As soon as permissible, I stole upstairs to my room and pored over the issues searching for any news of the highwaymen. What I found alarmed me.

The fate of the accused had evidently taken a back seat to newer crimes, for other than the reminder of the trial date there was nothing written about them. However, in a gossipy column on the society page, I saw the following references that filled me with dismay:

London hostesses are abuzz with talk of feting upcoming brides, not the least of which is when to hold congratulatory teas for the future Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. As the groom has been mysteriously incommunicado and the bride a resident of Hertfordshire, it is anyone's guess as to when the nuptials will take place.

And a second notice three or four days later:

Has Mr. Darcy left his bride at the altar? The gentleman left town with Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, son of the Earl of Matlock, early last week and neither of them has been seen for more than ten days. Speculation rises as to when and if the marriage will take place?

Both items filled me with anxiety and when I complained to my aunt that I thought it dishonest to allow such gossip to continue, she had a difficult time persuading me otherwise.

"Lizzy, your father and Mr. Darcy agreed that nothing should be said publicly until after the trial is over. You must not stir up a hornet's nest by rushing to set things straight. Think of Jane. Mr. Bingley calls regularly. We would not want to do anything to set that amiss."

I was forced to agree with her and stifled my urge to march to the newspaper office and tell the unvarnished truth. It was after our talk that I noticed my uncle took more pains to carry the periodical out of the house before I came down for breakfast.

All continued on a somewhat even measure until two days before the opera. That morning Jane and I sat in the parlour with my aunt applying our attention to our needlework. I had little aptitude for sewing and had always wished my stitches as neat and tiny as Jane's. I had just stuck my finger for the fifth time and popped it in my mouth to ease the pain when we heard a loud commotion outside the door.

"If you will wait right here, my Lady, I shall announce you," the maid said.

"I do not wait," an imperious voice said.

The servant opened the door and in sailed an older woman dressed in silks and fur, a large bonnet on her head on which perched a dead bird amidst a variety of feathers, and a parasol in her hand, the point of which she used as a walking stick.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh, ma'am," the maid said quickly.

My aunt, Jane and I all stood immediately and curtseyed. Lady Catherine de Bourgh! It was Mr. Darcy's aunt of whom my cousin, Mr. Collins, was so enthralled. Her eyes swept the room, a disdainful expression about her countenance, before she narrowed her gaze upon Jane.

"You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I presume," she declared.

"No," I said, stepping forward. "I am Elizabeth Bennet. This is my sister."

"You?" she said, turning to look me up and down. "She is much prettier. I would have thought my nephew had better taste. And this woman, I suppose, is your mother." She nodded her head in my aunt's direction.

"No," I said again, "this is my aunt, Mrs.Gardiner." My aunt bowed again, a courtesy to which our guest was oblivious. She walked around the room, looking it up and down.

"You have chosen a most unfashionable part of town in which to reside."

My aunt looked at me with a frantic expression and then answered as best she could that the house had belonged to her parents and held great sentiment. Before she could finish the sentence, however, Lady Catherine cut her off. "This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in summer. Why, the windows are far too near the street, allowing the noise and stench of London to invade your house."

Mrs. Gardiner did not attempt to answer that insult, but with great civility begged her ladyship to take some refreshment. Lady Catherine resolutely declined and then turned her attention to me.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of small park across the street. I should be glad to take a turn in it if you will favour me with your company."

My aunt urged me to go with her and I hastened to retrieve my coat and bonnet from the maid. I followed her out the door as she marched down the steps and into the oncoming traffic, looking neither to her right nor left. Miraculously, the carriages stopped short of running her down; I wondered if she had any idea how closely she courted disaster. She appeared oblivious to everything except the path ahead.

We walked a short distance before she entered an uninhabited copse, whereupon she turned and began her interrogation of me. "You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come."

I was astonished. "Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of meeting you."

"Miss Bennet, you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature reached me this week. I was informed that you would in all likelihood be soon united to my nephew - my own nephew - Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place so that I might make my sentiments known to you." Now I understood. The Gazette had reached Kent. "If you believed it impossible to be true, I wonder that you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?

"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted!"

"Your coming to Gracechurch Street to see me and my family will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence."

"If!" She coloured with anger. "Do you pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been circulated by yourself? Do you not know that such a report is spread throughout the newspapers for all to see? And can you likewise declare that there is no foundation for it? Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?"

"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible."

"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of reason. But your arts and allurements may have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have used this kidnapping scheme to draw him in!"

I began to find it hard to catch my breath. How dare this woman accuse me so! "If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it."

"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns."

"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this ever induce me to be explicit."

She began to stride back and forth, stopping to glare at me each time she made the turn. After a few moments' parade, she stopped abruptly. "Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?"

"Only this: that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me."

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment and then replied, "The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union."

"What is that to me?" I asked, shocked at her audacity. "If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. Why is not he to make his own choice of bride?"

"Because honour, decorum, prudence - nay, interest, forbid it. Your alliance will be a disgrace. Your name will never even be mentioned by any of his family."

"These are heavy misfortunes," I replied, "but the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine."

"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment."

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me."

She sank down upon a stone bench placed within the enclosure. "I will not be interrupted! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up!"

"In marrying your nephew I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter: so far we are equal."

"True," she said, rising and pointing the parasol at me. "But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? You cannot imagine me ignorant of their condition."

Aha! Now I saw the resemblance between nephew and aunt - that abominable pride. I was not to marry Mr. Darcy, but I could not resist baiting the hateful old woman. "Whatever my connections may be, if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you."

Her eyes widened as though she had been struck. "Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?"

How I hated to oblige Lady Catherine by admitting the truth. I hesitated a moment before answering, "I am not."

She closed her eyes, relief washing over her countenance. "And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?"

"I will make no promise of the kind. I shall not be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my making you a promise make their marriage more probable? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. You have no right to concern yourself in my affairs. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject. You can have nothing further to say. You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house."

I turned my back on her and walked hurriedly up the path while she continued behind me, spewing forth further diatribes. I recall the words unfeeling, selfish girl and how I would disgrace him in the eye of everybody and then before I knew it, we stood outside her carriage. That time it was I who stomped across the street without a thought to passing carriages.

"I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet," she announced once inside the conveyance. "I send no compliments to your aunt. You deserve no such attention. I am seriously displeased."

I heard the wheels of the barouche turn as I opened the door and entered my aunt's house. Now why with such vigour had I defended my right to marry Mr. Darcy when I had not the slightest intention of doing so?

* Proverbs 30:19
** Proverbs 30:21-23

The day of the opera arrived at last filled with a flurry of activities from morning to night. My aunt insisted that Jane and I rest at least two hours that afternoon, for we knew it would prove to be a late night. Whether Jane slept, I know not, but my eyes refused to close. I was filled with excitement at the glamorous evening awaiting us and not a little apprehensive at the thought that Mr. Darcy would possibly attend. Mr. Bingley still had not seen him so my fears could be groundless. He might yet be away from London on whatever mysterious excursion he had taken.

I spent considerable amounts of time wondering about that trip. Had he returned to his home in Derbyshire? If he had, why did he not take his young sister with him? Of course, I knew nothing of his estate business, so perchance it was something of that nature that claimed his attention...or perhaps it was a lady in a distant county upon whom he called. I thought of how he had kissed me, seemingly unaware of whom he kissed. If he loved someone else, he would have been thinking of her and if that thought were true, I could not bear to dwell upon it. I recalled the strength of his passion. I imagined the woman for whom that kiss was intended and wondered if she knew how fortunate she was.

Such worrisome thoughts prevented my attaining any true ease that afternoon and I was relieved when the requisite two hours had elapsed and I could rise and occupy my mind with suitable distractions. A long perfumed bath followed by washing and drying my hair took up another good two hours. Jane wished to style my coiffure and I agreed, for she was far more talented than my aunt's maid. She took great pains to weave tiny pearl-coloured flowers through my curls; they matched the shade of my gown perfectly.

"You shall wear my rose-coloured cloak," she announced, as she finished with my hair.

"But Jane, it complements your complexion more than mine."

"Not tonight when I shall be in soft blue. Aunt has offered her navy velvet wrap."

My eyes lit up at the thought of how lovely she would appear. Surely Mr. Bingley would not be able to resist her.

We had just pulled on our long opera gloves when my aunt tapped at the door to tell us he had arrived. I insisted upon going down first and cautioned Jane to wait a few moments so that she might descend the stairs alone. "I do not want anything to distract Mr. Bingley from the heavenly vision he will have the pleasure to escort."

"Oh, Lizzy," Jane said, smiling shyly, but she agreed to do as I wished.

And my plan was not in vain, for Mr. Bingley could not tear his eyes from her nor could he force the smile from his face as she glided down the stairway. I did not miss how his hands lingered upon her shoulders as he assisted her with her wrap, or how long he held onto her hand when she stepped into his carriage. Oh yes, this would be a perfect evening, I was sure of it! And the best news of all was that Caroline had decided to ride with Mr. Hurst so that her gown would not be crushed, or at least that is the excuse she gave her brother. We had only to put up with Mrs. Hurst during the ride to our destination and without Caroline, she was outnumbered and said very little, if anything at all.

Arrays of candles and throngs of beautifully dressed people welcomed us to Covent Gardens. I had never seen that many feathers in one place at one time! Mr. Bingley led us up the great staircase to his private box and I thrilled at the grandeur of the theatre and multitudes of gaily-dressed people seated below and in various boxes around the perimeter of the theatre. Below the stage, the orchestra tuned their instruments as we found our way to our seats.

I expected Caroline and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst to sit with us, but when we reached the apartment, Mrs. Hurst declared that adequate room did not exist for three women in evening dress although I thought the seating arrangements more than adequate. She seemed unduly concerned about crushed gowns that evening.

"I have it on good authority that Mr. Darcy shall be all alone tonight in his large, roomy box," she said. "I see Caroline has already been asked to join him. I shall send Mr. Hurst to join you and I shall sit with my sister. Shall that not work out perfectly?" She bestowed upon us one of her famous smiles that reminded me of a Cheshire cat.

Mr. Bingley looked about the milling crowd and waved slightly in the direction of Mr. Darcy's box. Jane and I followed his gaze and saw Caroline firmly ensconced therein directly across from us. My heart beat a bit faster as I searched for Mr. Darcy's tall, familiar figure, but he did not appear.

"Darcy must have returned to town and met with Caroline as soon as she and my brother Hurst arrived," Mr. Bingley said. "Perhaps he will drop by and call upon us; it is of little consequence, of course, for we shall see them at intermission and at dinner afterwards. I know both my sisters are eager to spend time with you again, Miss Bennet...and you, too, Miss Elizabeth."

Oh yes, indeed, I thought, just as eager as I am with them.

Mr. Hurst entered the box shortly thereafter and grunted his usual greeting. Jane and I removed our cloaks and I tugged my gloves back into position before I sat down. I stepped in front of the plush gold velvet chairs and peered over the rail at the crowd below. I had never seen so much of London's high society in one place at one time. Fans and feathers and sparkling jewels intermingled with starched stiff collars and carefully groomed beards, all to the accompaniment of lilting laughter and rich, varied conversations.

Suddenly, somewhat of a hush seemed to settle over the theatre and I turned toward the stage, expecting the program to begin. The musicians, however, continued to tune their instruments; no actors appeared on the stage. Then I saw people turn their eyes upward in my direction and begin to whisper behind their fans. I glanced over my shoulder to see if someone else had entered our box, but no, there was only Mr. Hurst, Jane and Mr. Bingley handing our coats to an attendant behind him. Could they be gossiping about my sister, speculating as to whether there was to be an announcement of their upcoming nuptials? But no, surely there would be smiles upon their faces at thought of a wedding. All I saw were disapproving frowns and harsh, disdainful expressions as they gazed at our box.

Then I stood amazed when some began to point with their fingers or fans and I heard snatches of phrases: "...scandal...pretend marriage...she and Mr. Darcy...who is she?...four days...in the same room?...will not marry...shocking!"

I backed away from the railing and sank down upon the chair beside Jane. Surely my imagination ran amok. Surely people were not actually talking about me in such an insulting manner!

The servants began to turn the lights down low and the conductor tapped his baton, signalling the audience that the opera was about to begin. It was not until after the conductor repeatedly tapped his baton on the music stand, however, that the talk died down. I had glanced at Mr. Bingley when it began and saw the nervous, uncomfortable expression about his countenance. Jane reached over and held my hand, squeezing it until I almost cried aloud. Oh, what had I done? Please, Lord, I prayed, do not let this gossip dissuade Mr. Bingley from his attentions toward Jane!

And then, thankfully, the great swell of music began and all attention turned upon the stage and the artistes providing the evening's entertainment. I tried with everything that was in me to concentrate on the story portrayed before us, but to this day I cannot tell you what Don Giovanni is about. Mr. Bingley handed his opera glasses to Jane and she shared them with me. I raised them to my eyes, but I do not remember any costume worn, aria sung, or scenery that decorated the stage below. All I could think of was the hateful way in which I had been treated. What had caused this sudden outrage? Why did society now deem me an object of gossip and spite when earlier this week, shopkeepers had courted me in hopes of obtaining my business for the forthcoming wedding they assumed was to happen? These thoughts whirled round and round during the first scene until at last an idea struck me.

Mr. Darcy must have returned and informed the newspapers that we would not marry!

Immediately I turned my gaze from the stage to his box and my breath caught in my throat to see him sitting beside Caroline Bingley, his face turned in my direction. I had not seen him enter and my companions had not mentioned it. He must have slipped in under cover of darkness after the show commenced. I glared at him but knew our seats were too far away in distance for my expression to have any effect. Nor could I see the tenor of his countenance, only that his head inclined toward me. Quickly I returned my attention to the stage and applauded at the end of the second scene.

During the third scene I believe some kind of wedding celebration occurred in the story, for I do remember a bride and dancing, but as far as the gist of the story I was lost. I was only aware of Mr. Darcy's gaze planted firmly upon my person. Each time I glanced his way out of the corner of my eye, I could see his posture turned toward Mr. Bingley's box. I wondered if he was angry that Jane and I had accompanied his friend or if he had heard the gossip before the show began. Most of all, I wondered why his eyes never deviated, why he persisted in staring at me throughout the performance. Had the man not come to see and hear an opera?

At the end of the first act I clapped almost too vigorously, so relieved I was to rise from view and exit for the intermission. Why I ever thought the situation would be more favourable without is beyond my comprehension. Mr. Hurst left our presence immediately, rushing from the box in search of liquid refreshment. I followed Mr. Bingley and Jane down the staircase to the gallery below where London society now mingled, gaily greeting each other with bows and curtseys. I soon found myself clearly and plainly snubbed. As the three of us made our way across the large lobby, the crowd cut a wide swath. People did bow to Mr. Bingley, but then looked down their noses at Jane and me and immediately turned away. Not one person spoke to my sister or me and many a rude gesture was openly directed my way.

"I, uh...wonder where Caroline and Louisa are," Mr. Bingley said, his voice emerging somewhat higher than normal. "I know they wished to join us." He looked about the throng, but they did not appear or seek us out. One glance at Jane's countenance and I could see how humiliated she was. This would not do! I felt impelled to free her from my constraint.

"Mr. Bingley, I pray you will excuse me," I murmured, slipping my hand from his arm. "Please do not be concerned - a sudden wave of fatigue. I shall return to my seat."

Before he or Jane could deter me, I ran back up the stairs, brushing past the couples who still descended. I walked down the red carpet as fast as decorum permitted. I kept my face averted as I searched for Mr. Bingley's box. At last I found it and pushed open the door, rushed inside, while my breath came forth in great gasps. I was dismayed to see patrons still remained below and in their boxes and not wishing to be seen, I pulled a chair well back behind the long drapes hanging on the side. There, somewhat hidden from prying eyes, I sank down upon the seat and fanned myself. I sighed deeply, aghast at how the evening had turned out.

If only I could find a way out of the theatre and make my way back to Gracechurch Street! But how? I was trapped and my presence assured Jane of sharing in my censure. Had not Mr. Darcy warned me of this? Had not my aunt and uncle and my father done the same? But no, I had foolishly ignored their words, confident that I could handle any rebuke London society had to offer. What I had not realized was the vicious depth to which the ton would punish not only me but my innocent sister as well.

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes, hoping to restrain the tears about to betray my emotions, when I saw the door to the box open and Mr. Darcy enter. I immediately sat up straighter and lifted my chin. Whatever was he doing there? He looked about, an anxious frown upon his face, before he spied me.

"Miss Bennet! Are you ill? I saw you leave your party and hurry above stairs."

I glared at him.

"Elizabeth?" he said again, kneeling before me. "Tell me what is wrong."

"Those are fine words coming from you," I spat at him. "After what you have done, how can you pretend solicitude?"

"I have no idea to what you refer."

"Do not insult me further, Mr. Darcy, by asking me to believe you know nothing of what has taken place."

"I fear I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

He reached for my hand, but I snatched it away and turned my face to the wall. "Do you mean to say you did not witness the public shunning Jane and I endured before the opera began and in the lobby below?"

"No, I...I did not," he said, rising. "I just returned to town this evening and was detained by several acquaintances without. I did not enter my box until after the performance began. Tell me what happened."

"Precisely what you predicted," I replied. "I was greeted with whispers, hisses and pointed fingers before the performance and your friends made certain that Jane and I knew we were not worthy of their acknowledgement during the intermission. That is why I ran up here to hide. I thought perhaps Jane might be spared if I absented myself."

His only response was to press his lips together, but I could see the vein stand out on his forehead, the one that indicated he was in high dudgeon.

"If only I could leave this place, could return to my uncle's house."

"Yes! That is what we must do, get you away from here immediately."

"We?" I was incredulous. "I have no intention of going anywhere with you, sir! That would only increase gossip."

He appeared to ignore my declaration and pulled out his watch. "There is still at least ten minutes left before the second act begins. Wait here. That will allow me time to have my carriage brought round. When your sister and Bingley and Hurst return, make your excuses and as soon as the lights are dimmed, go downstairs and out the front door. My driver will be waiting and will take you back to Mr. Gardiners' house."

I was amazed that he had come up with a solution so quickly. He did not propose to inflict himself upon me, but simply offered his carriage to spirit me away, which was exactly what I wished. "Thank...thank you," I murmured, dumbfounded.

"Do not worry, Elizabeth," he said, "I shall make certain you get away safely." My heart turned over at the kindness in his voice and the sympathy in his eyes. Surely, he must be the most handsome man ever created I thought, especially in evening dress! With the slightest of bows, he turned and exited the box. I remained behind the drapes out of sight of any returning audience members until the intermission ended and Jane and Mr. Bingley returned, along with Mr. Hurst.

"Lizzy, are you unwell?" Jane cried. "Why did you desert us?"

"A sudden headache," I said.

"Shall I take you home?" Mr. Bingley asked.

"No, there is no need for you and Jane to miss the rest of the performance. Mr. Darcy has offered his carriage."

"Darcy? Is he here?" Mr. Bingley asked, looking toward his box.

I nodded and rose just as the lights dimmed

"Lizzy, shall I not come with you?" Jane asked, concern evident in her eyes.

"No, Jane, all is well. Stay and enjoy the evening." I bade them goodnight and slipped out the door. I passed not more than three or four couples hurrying to their seats as I ran down the great staircase; I did not even bother to notice if they directed disapproving frowns toward me. Crossing the wide lobby, my slippers lightly tapping on the polished floor, I willed myself to appear perfectly at ease as the doorman opened the doors for me. How relieved I was to see a carriage waiting, a footman with his hand upon the door handle.

"Miss Bennet?" he inquired.

I nodded and he pulled down the steps and opened the door. Once inside, he said, "Mr. Darcy suggests that you lower the shade, Miss."

"Yes, of course." The opposite window was already covered and I immediately applied myself to release the other. I heard the driver speak to the horses and felt the coach move. Only then did I breathe out a sigh of relief. At last, I was safe from public scrutiny. I could not wait to return to the security of my uncle's house. We went only a short distance, however, when the carriage suddenly stopped and before I could pull back the shade, the footman opened the door once again. I knew we could not have reached Gracechurch Street so soon. Did they propose to thrust me out in the middle of town?

Then I heard Mr. Darcy's voice. "Thank you, Hudson." He pushed the shade aside and climbed into the coach, seating himself across from me. "That worked out rather well, did it not?" he asked. "If anyone happened to see you leave, they thought you were alone. I arranged to be picked up two blocks away."

I was surprised at his plan, but I said nothing.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked. "Shall I fetch a rug?"

I shook my head. It was so dark inside the cab that I could hardly make out his features.

"Now tell me, is tonight the first time you have been treated in this shabby manner?"

"Yes," I said brusquely.

I heard him utter an oath under his breath, but before he could address me further, I declared, "I find it quite odd that my public disfavour coincides with your return to town. I have not read the newspapers for the last two days, sir, but evidently you decided the time is right to publicize the fact that we are not to marry. I only wish my uncle had informed me. If I had known, I would not have ruined my sister's evening."

"You think I alerted the papers?" His tone of voice was shocked. "I just returned to town this evening. How could I have perpetrated the deed?"

"Well...if you did not do it, then who?"

"I do not know, but I shall find out." Immediately, he tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane and the driver pulled over and stopped. Mr. Darcy stepped out and I pulled the shade aside to observe, having not the slightest idea what he was about. He asked if any of the servants had a newspaper. A newspaper! Did he think they read in the dark? I rolled my eyes, but unfortunately, he did not witness my scorn. And then I was astounded to hear that the driver actually sat on a paper, saving it to amuse himself while waiting for the opera to conclude. Mr. Darcy beckoned to the runners carrying the road torches and one of them held his light close so that he might search the periodical. I heard him utter another oath and within moments he joined me inside the cab and instructed the driver to walk on.

"Well, there's the answer," he said with disgust.

"What do you mean? Is it in the Gazette as I feared? And does it reveal the source who told the reporters?"

"Elizabeth, did you happen to have a recent visit from my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

A feeling of doom descended over me. "I did, sir, two days ago."

"And did she demand an answer as to whether we would marry?"

"Yes, she did; I fear we did not part on the best of terms."

"No doubt," he said, sighing. "She has taken her revenge on you. The reporter quoted her."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing worth repeating. Just suffice it to say the cat is out of the bag. All London knows there will not be a wedding as well as Lady Catherine's ill opinion of you. How I wish you had refused to speak with her!"

"She is hardly a personage one can easily refuse anything, sir."

"True. I hate to even think of how she insulted you."

I said nothing. How could I repeat the dreadful things Mr. Darcy's aunt had threatened me with?

"Do not bother to reply. I know her well enough. I can only apologize for any and everything she said."

"She was adamant that you are to marry her daughter," I said quietly.

"Ah yes, she persists in that delusion although neither my cousin nor I have any desire to bring that occasion about. I am afraid my aunt lives in a world of her own wherein she thinks she can command obedience not only from servants but also from family members and everyone else within earshot. Believe me when I tell you that is one command that will not be heeded."

Why did I feel such relief when he said that? I had doubted that his cousin was the object of his affections ever since Mr. Wickham had told me she possessed a sickly constitution. I could see their marriage take place out of duty to combine the family fortunes, but I could not imagine that Mr. Darcy loved a woman of that description. No, the woman he desired must be one of great passion who could respond to his own driving need. I suddenly grew warm all over, aware that the cab was quite close and we were alone in the dark. I pushed the hood of my cloak back, hoping it would lessen the heat causing me discomfort.

"I was surprised that you left town, Mr. Darcy," I said, attempting to change the subject. "The constable's office informed me that I must remain in London until after the highwaymen's trial. I fail to see why you were allowed to depart when I was not."

"You are correct; we are to stay here. I confess I did not bother to ask permission from the authorities before Fitzwilliam and I left. Did they question you about what happened during the abduction?"

"They did. I told them the necessary facts and attempted to explain Morgan's background although I do not think it caused them to think any higher of him."

"No, I doubt that will happen, Elizabeth. You must come to terms with that."

I sighed and did not reply. We rode in silence for a while. "I hope you enjoyed your respite from town. Pleasure bent, I assume?"

"Hardly." He did not elaborate, which vexed me, but I did not know how to question him as to his whereabouts without appearing unduly interested. I wracked my brain thinking of a subtle manner in which to accomplish my goal.

"I suppose you had business in Derbyshire," I said at last somewhat lamely.

"Does it matter where I have been?" I heard bemusement in his voice.

"Of course not," I snapped. "I was simply making conversation."

"I see."

I knew he was laughing at me, most probably flattered that I was curious as to where he had traveled. I resolved to say nothing more if my life depended upon it.

We rode in silence for several blocks before he said, "Fitzwilliam and I returned to Hazleden, Jonah's Village, and the country thereabout."

Nothing could have surprised me more! Why should he wish to revisit an area of such unpleasant memories?

"You may wonder at my choice," he said. When I murmured my assent, he explained that they had spent two weeks searching out Morgan's former haunts, looking for clues as to his background and, in particular, who it was that he had slain. "You do recall that the man has committed murder, do you not, Miss Bennet?"

"Of course I do. He told me so himself."

"I am well aware of what he told you; I wished to ascertain if it was the truth or one of his tales. Turns out, it happened years ago, but Morgan was never apprehended and brought to trial. The man he killed was a landowner formerly of France, Monsieur Devereaux, who owned a large estate outside Jonah. And it seems you were right in your assessment, Elizabeth. Morgan took his life in self-defence...over a woman."

"A woman? But who?"

"You need not worry. 'Twas not one who had stolen his heart, but rather his half-sister."

"His sister? What happened?"

"She worked as scullery maid in Devereaux's kitchen and Morgan, little more than a youth at the time, served as stable hand. One evening he heard screams coming from the stillroom and discovered the landowner assaulting the woman. When he interrupted the scoundrel, Devereaux sliced his face with a sword and then lunged for his heart. Morgan defended himself with the only weapon he carried, a pitchfork."

I gasped, cringing at the image, and I could not speak for several moments. Then a thought struck me. "It reminds one of his mother's plight."

"His mother?"

"Yes, do you not remember how I told you Morgan's father took advantage of his mother when she was but a maid in his house? There he was, witness to the same horrible deed repeated upon his sister."

"Perhaps that is how it played out in his mind; I cannot say. I do know that is when his life began as a fugitive. He and his sister fled before the authorities arrived and from then on, he lived in the shadows as a petty criminal. Too bad he advanced into delusions of infamy, thinking he could act the highwayman."

"Now he faces kidnapping and extortion charges as well," I said softly.

"True; I cannot shake feeling somewhat responsible for that."

"Responsible! You? But why?" I asked, shocked at his statement.

"Because I suggested he hold me for ransom. As I told Fitzwilliam, I doubt any of those hooligans could have imagined such an idea if I had not planted it in their minds."

"Then I share in your guilt, Mr. Darcy, for if you had not sought to protect me, none of it would have transpired."

We were silent once more, the clip-clop of the horses' hooves the only sounds heard. Snatches of passing lights flickered through the sides of the shades. "Why ever did you go in search of this information, sir? Why should you seek to aid Morgan?"

He did not answer for several moments, other than a deep sigh. "I know that you...well, that is, I have no wish to see the man hang. With the background we have uncovered, perhaps the murder charge can be dismissed. And besides, I wanted to do what I could for the woman, Gert. After all, she let us go."

"Gert? What has she to do with this? Did you discover something more about her?"

"She is Morgan's sister, Elizabeth. I thought you knew that by now."

"His sister!"

"Evidently, she led a rough life after leaving the Frenchman's house. Morgan retrieved her more than once until finally he installed her at that cabin in the woods. There he could afford her some measure of protection."

"There is some good in him, is there not, Mr. Darcy?"

"There is, I believe in every disposition a tendency to good and evil."

"Did you and Colonel Fitzwilliam revisit the highwayman's cabin?"

"Yes. It is all the same. Nothing is changed. Even the blanket still lies on the floor where . . . where we..." He broke off and pulled the shade aside as though he was distracted by a passing sight.

"At times it seems like it all happened so long ago," I said, sighing.

"And sometimes as though it were only yesterday." His voice was so low I had to strain to make out his words.

"Mr. Darcy, do you ever...oh, this is insupportable. I know not why I even think about it."

"About what? Tell me."

"It is quite strange. At times I find myself almost wishing to return to that place. How can I?"

"To Morgan's cabin?" He sat up straighter and I sensed an alteration in his demeanour although I could not make it out in the darkness.

"No, sir, you mistake my meaning. I do not wish to return to the cabin, but to the woods after we were freed. I know we traveled in primitive conditions - afraid, hungry, without shelter - but at least we were at liberty. We knew the identity of the enemy and we stood...united." I pulled my cloak closer, suddenly chilled. "After tonight...in this society...I shall be as confined to my uncle's house as I was imprisoned in that cabin."

"Blast!" he said loudly. "It is utterly unfair that you should continue to suffer." Neither of us said anything, riding in silence for several blocks before he spoke again. "I noticed a park across the way from Mr. Gardiner's house. Might you not at least walk there with your sister? Perhaps Bingley and I could escort the two of you."

My heart leaped at the thought, not only of escaping the house, but the chance to see him again. However, he dashed those hopes with his next statement. "No, that would not do. If anyone saw us together, it would only cause more tongues to wag. People would say you were my...well, it simply would not do."

Just then the driver pulled up on the horses and I suspected we had reached my uncle's house. Within moments, the footman opened the door and Mr. Darcy descended the steps from the carriage and then reached for my hand to help me out. I could feel the warmth and comfort of his touch through my glove. It seemed to travel up my arm and wrap itself around my heart. How I wished he would never let go.

Inside we entered the small parlour, having been informed by the servant that my aunt and uncle had not yet returned from their evening out. I thought to ring for tea, but intuiting that both of us needed something a bit stronger, I suggested a glass of sherry, which Mr. Darcy did not refuse. We sat down and sipped our drinks in silence. I was suddenly quite conscious that we were alone. It had seemed so natural at first I thought nothing of it, for had we not spent days and nights in no one's company but each other? We were not, however, now hidden away in that cabin in the woods. We were inside a house in London and servants did talk. Almost as though we both became aware of the thought at the same time, Mr. Darcy rose to leave, stating that he should go.

As we neared the door to the foyer I thanked him for escorting me home. "Once again, sir, you have come to my aid. I have taken advantage of your kindness far too often." His eyes softened as they gazed into mine. I feared he could see the intensity of my emotions reflected on my countenance, might realize that I loved him, and so I averted my face. "Mr. Darcy, I must ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Mr. Bingley has called often upon my sister since you have been away. Did you happen to speak to him about her before leaving town?"

"How could I not attempt to right the wrong I did once you confided her true feelings to me?"

I caught my breath. "Thank you."

He let out his breath in a deep sigh. "I fear that I have been a selfish being all my life. As a child, I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, I was spoiled by my parents, who, though good themselves, allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing - to care for none beyond my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still have been...but for you."

He looked down at me with such a strange expression that I felt as though I might drown in the depths of his dark eyes. "You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, Miss Bennet, I was properly humbled."

"I never meant to humble you, sir. How you must have hated me after what I said to you."

"Hate you! I was angry, perhaps, at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction. I hope to show you, by every civility in my power, that I hope to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion by letting you see that your reproofs have been attended to."

I looked at the floor, not knowing how to respond. "Mr. Darcy, you have done much to alter my opinion of you. I shall be eternally grateful if what you have done secures the happiness of my dear sister."

"Then let us hope Mr. Bingley's affections can weather society's onslaught."

"Yes, let us hope," I echoed.

"And if it does not come about, Elizabeth, do not blame yourself. It simply means he is not a good enough man to merit your sister's love."

Taking my hand, he kissed it and then walked out the door. Without thinking, I placed my hand still warm from his caress, against my cheek. If I never saw him again, I would rejoice that we parted on such magnanimous terms. Mr. Darcy was the best man I had ever known or hoped to know and I felt certain I should love him more than any other man for the rest of my life.

Christmas arrived a few days later and with it my parents and sisters, Mary and Kitty. Lydia, the youngest, had been invited to spend the holidays with Colonel and Mrs. Forster. He was in charge of the militia quartered in Meryton and married to a much younger woman who, for some reason had singled out my 15-year-old sister as her particular companion. Kitty's nose was out of joint at lack of a similar invitation, but I felt uneasy that my parents had allowed Lydia to forsake our family's holiday for that of such a new acquaintance.

"Nonsense!" my mother declared when I voiced my concerns. "Your sister is much better off at Colonel Forster's where she may enjoy the company of the young officers than she would be here in town where no eligible young men may call. And all because of you, Lizzy." That started her off on another ceaseless round of complaints of how my senseless refusal of two proposals had thrown my sisters, much less my entire family, into the direst of straits. She went on and on and on, ending with the usual, "Oh, what is to become of us all!" refrain that my sisters and I could mimic in unison.

If not for my aunt's frequent interference and distraction of Mama's interests, I feared that my ears might literally fall from my head, such was the intensity and lengthy duration of her objections. Whenever spared, I raced either to my uncle's library to curl up in a corner with a book, to my room where Jane sympathised with me, or to my aunt's garden out back. There I rambled through the miniature paths, and lamented to the yellow tomcat that it was the time of year when little was in bloom except my mother's tongue.

I suppose we celebrated Christmas day and the ensuing festivities, but it all seems a blur when I think back on it now. My pressing concern was the upcoming trial of Morgan and his gang and with its termination, how quickly I could return to Hertfordshire. I had convinced my uncle to allow me access to the newspaper once he learned how hatefully Jane and I had been shamed at the opera. He regretted now that he had not told me of Lady Catherine's notice that Mr. Darcy and I were not to marry. There was little published, however, about the trial beforehand and I did not have any way of knowing whether Mr. Darcy's fact-finding mission about Morgan's past would benefit the man at all. All I could do was trust that he would do what he could to keep the highwayman from hanging.

What I did find in the society portion of the newspaper were accounts of various parties and balls at Almack's and other establishments wherein Mr. Darcy's name was often linked with several young women. He had been seen dancing the night away, one article claimed, with a Miss Templeton, Lady Jersey's niece visiting from Bath, and another time with the Countess Olenska's daughter from Vienna. I did not put absolute faith in the veracity of the reports, for I knew how little Mr. Darcy cared for dancing. I could not squelch the jealousy I felt, though, at the thought one of them might be the woman he truly loved.

The one spot of joy in those days was the fact that Mr. Bingley continued to call upon Jane. Actually, he called upon all of us, but no one could mistake his partiality for my sister's company. Neither of his sisters accompanied him on his visits and he no longer even pretended to offer excuses for their absence. My mother, of course, continued to ask about them, believing his family supported his interests and that nothing could hamper the gentleman's quest for Jane's hand. How I hoped with all my heart that she might be correct. He, at least, was persistent in his courting although he had yet to ask that all-important question.

"Mary," Mama demanded one morning before Mr. Bingley was scheduled to visit, "when you and Kitty walk in the park with Jane and Mr. Bingley this afternoon, make certain you lag behind them - well behind, mind you."

A light snow began to fall two hours before the visit that day, however, and my mother's plot fell by the wayside due to forces even she could not control. "Is everything against us?" she wailed, casting her eyes to the ceiling of my aunt's parlour. She made every attempt to leave the couple alone together in various public rooms of the house, but with so many inhabitants dwelling under the same roof, they were always interrupted. Each time he left without having declared himself, my mother threw up her hands and my sisters and I mouthed behind her back, "Oh, what is to become of us all!"

In bed at night, Jane and I would laugh about our mother's distress, but in reality I, too, wondered at Mr. Bingley's hesitation. Had Mr. Darcy been correct? Was he not man enough to bear the ton's disapproval and align himself with the now infamous Bennet family? Had I truly ruined my sister's chances of a successful marriage? Jane would not allow me to voice these concerns aloud and so I had to content myself with restless nights spent wondering.

The week of the trial finally arrived; my uncle planned to accompany my father to the proceedings. How I wished I could witness it, somehow unobserved by others. The day before it began, I found myself quite nervous, unable to sit still for any length of time, my mind at sixes and sevens when attempting to concentrate on a book, music, or conversation. My mother's endless laments drove me to distraction. My father had escaped the house by hiding out at my uncle's office, so I had not even his wit to entertain me. At last, I slipped out the back door and through the garden gate. I had been warned to keep to the house or inside the back enclosure, but I simply could not restrain myself from leaving the premises.

I walked around the house, which covered most of the block, and crossed the street to the park. A light wind whistled through the bare trees, tossing my curls about even under cover of a bonnet. I did not care how cold it grew; I was relieved to be outdoors and able to walk. I hiked down the path a good distance, passing the copse where Lady Catherine had threatened me, past the small pond now too cold for even the ducks to emerge. A couple of nurses pushed their young charges in prams, bundled up against the weather. The women smiled and nodded and I rejoiced that someone other than my family greeted me with civility, aware that they did not know my identity nor my notoriety. I was grateful for even the slightest bit of warmth in this bitter city I had grown to loathe.

How far I walked I know not for my mind traveled even further away from that gentle park, across town to the Old Bailey where the trial would begin on the morrow. I could well imagine what would take place although I had never set foot inside an actual courtroom. I could see Sneyd's ugly countenance, how like a weasel he would seem, dirty in appearance and reprehensible in conduct. He would not hesitate to defame Mr. Darcy or me if it would add to his defence, nor would he help Morgan. After all, had he not attempted to kill Morgan? I could well imagine what lies he might heap onto the highwayman's list of offences. As for Rufus and Merle, had they not sided with Sneyd against Morgan? I doubted that they would hesitate to corroborate whatever untruths Sneyd told. Mr. Darcy's word, of course, would be held in higher esteem by the court and surely he would denounce the gang of thieves, but what would he say in regard to Morgan? He said he did not wish him to hang for murder, but that did not relieve the highwayman from the charge of kidnapping and extortion, as well as robbery. I shook my head, all too aware that there seemed little chance he could escape harsh punishment.

By that time I had walked a great distance from Gracechurch Street. When my mind returned to the present, I saw that I had covered the circumference of the park and found myself emerging from the wood upon a city street of which I was not familiar. A row of houses similar to my aunt's lined up across the road. Several carriages passed in front of me and the sounds of the city now awakened my thoughts from those that had consumed me. I had just turned to retrace my steps through the park, for I had not the slightest intention of walking that public route, when a carriage pulled up and I heard a voice call to me.

"Miss Eliza? Is that you?"

I glanced over my shoulder, shocked to see Miss Bingley lean out the window of her carriage and address me. "Miss Bingley," I said, curtseying.

"What are you doing out here alone?" She beckoned for me to approach the coach.

"I...I went for a walk through the park and must have gone farther than I was aware. I actually do not know this street."

"You are some distance from Gracechurch Street," she announced. "You had better join my sister and me and let us take you to your aunt's house."

I thought that an extraordinary offer, coming from Caroline Bingley, but I could hardly refuse. Climbing into the coach, I greeted Mrs. Hurst, who bestowed her usual brittle smile upon me.

"Miss Bennet," Mrs. Hurst said, "what a surprise! I had thought you in seclusion."

"Yes, Charles says you do not leave your uncle's house," Miss Bingley added.

"True," I answered. "I confess that today I simply could not stay put and allowed myself to steal away."

"Rather dangerous in this neighbourhood," Mrs. Hurst said, "would you not agree, Caroline?"

"Oh, yes. You really should not go out alone here so near Cheapside, Eliza. Now, in our part of London it would be perfectly acceptable, well not acceptable, but at least safe. Actually, one should never go out alone in town. It simply is not done. I know you are used to tramping the woods in Hertfordshire, but..."

"Yes, we acknowledge what an excellent walker you are," Mrs. Hurst agreed. "But Caroline is correct. You must not wander so far in town. And especially not when you are under such scrutiny. Why, what if it had not been we who had found you, but one of those horrid reporters!"

"Oh yes, Eliza. Charles says you are held a virtual prisoner in your uncle's house. What a terrible time of year for that to happen with all the balls and parties. How you must suffer." Miss Bingley actually pulled her face down as though she sympathized with me. I wondered if she knew how prune-like it made her appear.

"I am surprised to find you in this area," I said. "Are you calling on close friends?"

"Goodness, no! We dropped Charles by to visit your poor family," Mrs. Hurst said. "He insists he must do what he can to keep up your spirits."

"Ah," I replied. "That he surely does. 'Tis a pity you could not visit with him."

"We would, my dear," Mrs. Hurst said, "if not for a prior engagement claiming our allegiance. You understand."

"Of course. Mr. Bingley has given the same reason for you oft times recently."

"Oh, you know how busy one is during the holidays," Miss Bingley offered. "One's time is simply not one's own with so many teas and luncheons to attend. I confess the stack of invitations at our house grows higher each day. You know what I mean. Oh, but you do not, do you? There I go forgetting your plight once again. It breaks my heart to know you do not share in the season's festivities. It is such a happy time of year and everyone is exceedingly cordial and good-hearted." She went on and on and on about Lady this and Lady that and the Countess' ball and being invited to the home of Lord so and so until I wished fervently that I had never accepted their offer of a ride.

"You must see a lot of Mr. Darcy then," I said, attempting to change the subject, "for I often see his name in the paper in attendance at those evenings of which you speak. Did I not read that he danced the night away with Lady Jersey's niece? Are we to expect an announcement in that regard?"

"An announcement?" Miss Bingley repeated as though in a fog. "What kind of announcement?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Mrs. Hurst interjected. "You know the newspapers. You can never depend upon them for truth. As far as we know, Mr. Darcy has not made any declaration to anyone."

Except for me, I thought.

"We did, of course, read that there would not be an alliance between you and Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said. "Naturally, that was no surprise to those of us who know him so well."

"And you chose to believe that, did you?" I asked. "When you just said the newspapers could not be relied upon for veracity?"

Miss Bingley's eyes immediately flew to those of Mrs. Hurst, both their countenances appearing stricken! "But...but the paper quoted Lady Catherine," Miss Bingley sputtered. "I do not believe for one moment a reporter would dare misquote a personage of her renown."

"Miss Bennet," Mrs. Hurst added, "do you deny what was written in the newspaper?"

At that moment the driver pulled up outside my uncle's house and the footman opened the door for me to alight. "Ah, here we are," I said with a smile. "Allow me to thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart for your assistance."

"But...but..." Miss Bingley stuttered. I did not answer and slipped out the door and down the carriage steps.

"Shall we come in as well?" Mrs. Hurst asked, responding to the frantic expression on her sister's face.

"And break your other engagement? Oh no, I would not dream of deterring you further. You have been more than generous with your time. Good day." I ran up the steps and into the house. I could not keep the smile from my face as I made my way upstairs. That walk had done far more good for my outlook than I had hoped for.

I covered only half the flight before Kitty called to me from below. "Lizzy, Mama says you are to come into the drawing room."

"The drawing room? At this hour of the day? Whatever for?"

"Hurry!" she called, motioning with her hand. I pulled my bonnet off as I retraced my steps, and handed it to the servant along with my pelisse. Inside the large room I found Mary reading a book, my Aunt Gardiner playing a game with her two older children, but not a sign of Jane or Mr. Bingley or Mama, for that matter.

"Close the door, Kitty," my aunt said.

"What is it, Aunt? Why are we to assemble in the drawing room of all places?" I asked.

"Mr. Bingley and Jane are alone in the front parlour," Kitty said. "Mama stands guard outside the door and she has given strict orders that no one is to interrupt them."

My mouth gaped, astounded that even my mother would stoop to such tactics. "Oh, Aunt, I must go to Jane. Surely she is mortified! Mr. Bingley cannot mistake my mother's subterfuge."

"Sit down, Lizzy," my aunt answered. "Your mother has arranged it all and there is nothing we can do about the matter now."

"You cannot approve, Aunt! You would never stoop to such stratagems."

"No, I would not have thought of doing so, but then my daughters are not yet of marriageable age, my dear."

"Oh!" I began to pace, unable to believe my own mother could employ such plotting. When I thought of how she had packed Jane off to Netherfield in the rain, though, causing her to become ill and forced to spend several days and nights at Mr. Bingley's house, I had to admit this latest plan seemed in character. "How long have they been shut up in there alone?" I demanded.

"At least three-quarters of an hour," Mary said, peering closely through her glasses at the clock on the mantel.

"I must go to her." I headed for the door.

"Sit down, Lizzy," my aunt said. "Another five minutes should do the trick - as your mother puts it - if there is a trick to be done."

Sure enough, although I sat and fumed, chewed my lip and sighed often, within five minutes my mother opened the door, her face enveloped by one huge grin. My younger sisters both questioned her at once while I rose to go to Jane. Mama was so excited she could not get the words out; all she could do was nod her head up and down, her face still frozen in that same jubilant expression.

"Fanny," my aunt said, "it is accomplished? Mr. Bingley has asked for Jane's hand?"

"I think so! I could only hear bits and pieces through the door, but I am certain I heard the words 'marry' and 'wife.'"

"I am going to her," I cried, starting for the door.

"Yes, Lizzy, go!" Mama cried. "And if Mr. Bingley wishes to speak to your father, I shall send a servant to fetch him from Mr. Gardiner's office post-haste!"

I walked down the hallway to the parlour as quickly as possible and pushed open the door without knocking. Jane and Mr. Bingley stood at the fireplace, her hands in his, and their blonde heads very close together. My heart leaped at the sight, shocked that for once my mother had been right!

"Oh, I am so sorry," I said, turning to leave, but Jane stopped me and she and Mr. Bingley welcomed me into the room and told their good news. It was too wonderful to believe and the entire house was soon so filled with joy I am surprised it did not visibly rock to and fro on its foundation.

Mr. Bingley stayed for luncheon and endured my mother's effusive admiration with valiant effort. I could not say which of the two - he or my mother - had the greatest smiles on their faces. Jane blushed repeatedly at all that was said; I had never seen her so happy or so beautiful. Mr. Bingley refused to have my father summoned back to the house. He informed us that Mr. Hurst was to call for him at three o'clock and he would have him carry him to Mr. Gardiner's place of business.

Before his expected leave-taking and after Mama had been sated with food and joy and forced to lie down for a bit, I was able to speak with Jane and Mr. Bingley alone.

"You, sir, have turned this week that forebodes such difficulty into one of great happiness," I said. "I trust you will not ever suffer because of the disgrace I have brought upon this family."

"You are not the cause of it, Miss Elizabeth," he said. "On the contrary, you have borne your plight with grace and continue to do so in the face of great adversity. I admire your courage and I shall be proud to call you my sister."

"And I to call you brother."

Jane beamed as he kissed her hand and bade us farewell. "Oh, Lizzy, if only you could be as happy as I am. If only..." She broke off then, both of us aware that my chance for joy was not to be.

I slipped my arm in hers. "Until I have your goodness, Jane, I could never attain your happiness. But let us think positively. This success shall surely spur Mama on until she finds an agreeable mate for me. And if I am very lucky, perchance he will not resemble Mr. Collins!"

At the close of the first day of the trial, the jury found the gang member, Rufus, guilty of highway robbery, kidnapping and extortion. It was not until the second day when I read the account in the newspaper and saw that his surname was Martin that I discovered he was the pig farmer's son. I thought of the young red-haired lad who had given Mr. Darcy and me a ride on the road to Hazleden and how he told us that Mr. Martin's son had fallen into bad company. For a few moments I allowed myself the luxury of amusement at recalling that entire incident and what had happened on the road afterwards. Had it only been a matter of weeks since we had laughed together with such unchecked mirth? Life now seemed quite altered and dark.

I had been surprised that a man's fate could be so easily and quickly decided. My uncle explained that it was actually somewhat unusual that each man was afforded a complete day of trial, that all of Morgan's gang were not tried at once. And the jury's fast decision was to be expected. After all, once Mr. Darcy laid out the facts, called the footmen and driver of Mr. Bingley's carriage as witnesses, what defence could the accused offer? Rufus had mumbled answers to the judge's questions, but nothing he said could acquit him of the charges.

The highwayman called Merle suffered the exact fate the next day. In fact, the court let out early because Mr. Darcy's prosecution consisted of the same witnesses and statements. The accused did declare his innocence, but according to my father's account, the judge soon grew weary and dismissed any further outbursts. 'Twas a simple task for the jury to find him guilty.

I questioned my father and uncle extensively each evening, seeking details of the proceedings, but they were fairly reticent. I was thus forced to examine the newspaper's accounts; so far, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

By the third day, the date of Sneyd's trial, I grew concerned for Mr. Darcy. The burden of prosecution had fallen on him throughout each trial even though Mr. Hurst, Mr. Bingley, and my father represented the female victims. Mr. Bingley called upon us each evening and spoke with admiration of the fine job his friend performed. He termed him a man of distinction and honour and said his reputation for integrity was well known in London circles. I could picture his upright demeanour, the tone of moral authority in his voice, and his clear recital of the facts of each case and even clearer denunciation of the criminals. Still, I worried at the constant strain he underwent. In truth, I longed to comfort him at the end of each day, hold his hand or smooth his brow but that privilege, I thought sadly, would be afforded his wife.

That Thursday set aside for Sneyd's trial I was nervous as a cat. Jane attempted to comfort me, stating that things had so far gone well, that it was almost over. My aunt, likewise, tried to pacify my uneasy manner, assuring me that Sneyd had not the slightest chance of being set free. That was not my concern. I found myself anxious at what the hateful man might say about Mr. Darcy or me. In addition, of what might he accuse Morgan? There was no love lost between them - had he not shot him? He might try to pin all responsibility for his crimes on Morgan, saying he had been unduly influenced, led astray, or forced to follow him. The more I brooded over the matter, the more imaginative I grew, envisioning impossibly heavy outcomes.

Almost as soon as my father and uncle walked through the doorway that evening, I besieged them with questions, Jane following close behind. Seeing the drawn look about my father's face, my aunt halted my onslaught.

"Lizzy, Lizzy, allow your father a few moments' peace. Thomas, Edward, come in and sit down. I shall ring for tea." They followed her into the parlour and I apologized; still, I hovered close by, hoping for any word they wished to share concerning the day's events. Mama had not yet returned from taking Mary and Kitty shopping and so we were spared her demanding questions. I did not wish to appear as taxing as she often did, so I tried my best to employ patience.

After partaking of a few sips of hot tea, my father laid his head back against the high-backed chair and closed his eyes. My uncle, although normally quite jolly, appeared somewhat resigned. He took a biscuit from the plate Jane offered him, but seemed to forget he had it in his hand, making not the slightest attempt to pop it in his mouth as he had done the night before.

At length I could not bear the suspense any longer. "Uncle, I pray you tell us what happened today. I do not mean to press you, but..."

"Yes, Lizzy," he said, sighing. "I know you are all curious. Well, the scoundrel called Sneyd was found guilty. For that we can be grateful."

"Of course he was," my aunt said. "We did not expect otherwise."

"Then why do you and Papa appear depressed?" I asked.

He sighed again and glanced at my father, who had now raised his head, a deep frown wrinkling his brow. "Oh, just the strain of the day and, uh, the length of the week is catching up with us. That is all, my dear."

I doubted that was all by any means. "Nothing was said out of the ordinary, then? That horrid Sneyd did not portray his true character by blackening Mr. Darcy's name or mine?"

"He revealed his true character," my father said. "Make no mistake about that, Lizzy. I shudder to think you were forced to endure his presence, much less his imprisonment."

"He was mean and crude and the worst of the lot, but he did not actually harm me, Father. Mr. Darcy and...in truth, the leader, Morgan, saw to that."

"Yes," my uncle said, "the two of them defended you today as well, Lizzy. I could not say which of them shouted the loudest, could you, Thomas?"

My father shook his head. "What is important is that the two together drowned out that villain's accusations."

My pulse began to race; what I greatly feared had come about. "What...what did he say?"

"No, Lizzy," my father said, rising from the chair. "Do not ask for I shall not repeat it."

"But Papa," I cried.

My uncle rose at the same time. "Your father is right, my dear. Those words shall never be spoken under my roof. Let it be. It has all been denied and forcefully so."

I watched as they left the room, climbing the stairs together. My aunt rang the bell for the maid to clear away the tea things. She indicated that it was nearing time to dress for dinner and, hearing the return of my mother and sisters out in the hallway, she left the room to join them.

Only Jane stayed behind. She took my hand in hers. "Lizzy, dearest, try not to think on it. What is done is done. Can you not put it behind you?"

"Oh, Jane, what was done? What was said? I must know!"

"But why? It will only distress you and has not Father and our uncle said you were defended, that awful man's lies disputed? No one could believe him, Lizzy, no one!"

I hung my head, chewing my lip. You think that, Jane, if it comforts you, I thought but did not say aloud.

Even Mr. Bingley refused to tell me what had been said at the trial when I questioned him that evening. He appeared chastened and sober, his normal cheerful countenance subdued, his manner quieter than usual. The only joyful moment during his visit was an invitation he extended from Mr. and Mrs. Hurst for all of us to have dinner at their townhouse on Thursday evening of next week. He said it was to celebrate the betrothal and that his sisters had delayed the event only because of the strain of the present week. I had my doubts about that, imagining the ruckus Mr. Bingley's announcement had caused among his family. A difficult task of fitting into that family awaited my sister, but if anyone could win them over, it would be Jane.

After our guest departed, I hurried upstairs with my sister, joining in her excitement about next week's upcoming dinner. I listened patiently as she surveyed her wardrobe, already in quest of a suitable gown for the evening. At last, I could bear it no longer and returned to the subject of that day's trial, questioning her as to anything Mr. Bingley might have said privately. However, he had not shared any details of the trial with her, stating that it was far better not to speak of it. I knew then whatever had come forth from Sneyd's mouth had been vile, indeed.

The next day I rose early and as soon as my father and uncle left the house, I snatched the newspaper and locked myself away in my room. There I planned to pore over each page, searching for every word written covering the trial. I did not have to look far - it glared forth from the front page for all to see.

Sneyd attempted a heated defence by calling each member of his gang as witnesses. His account was corroborated by the two gang members previously convicted, except when he asserted that he was the rightful leader of the highwaymen and not Morgan. He insisted that it was his idea to kidnap passengers and hold them for ransom. Neither of his fellow robbers agreed with that statement and Morgan, the alleged ringleader, refused to answer any question or back up any statement made by Sneyd. Neither would Morgan answer any of the prosecutor's questions even when threatened by the judge with stricter sentence for failure to cooperate. The only occasions upon which Morgan spoke were to shout down Sneyd's accusations of Miss Bennet, one of the kidnapped victims.

"That hussy lied to us!"Sneyd declared. "She and Darcy made out what they was married. We'd never have forced them to sleep together if the truth be known! Besides that, she claimed she carried his child!"

He continued by accusing Miss Bennet of actions not befitting a lady, among other things: Using her 'flirty' ways to lure him away from his loyalty to Morgan, and plotting to run off with Morgan after they retrieved the ransom from the Earl of Matlock.

Each time Miss Bennet's name was invoked in these scurrilous attacks, Morgan and Mr. Darcy both denounced him with loud and heated denials. The outcry became such a noisy protest that the judge ordered a halt to the proceedings and demanded that the defendant desist in such defamatory accusations. He also cautioned both Mr. Darcy and Morgan that they could not engage in a shouting match in his court, even if it was in defence of the honour of a lady.

I scanned the remainder of the article; it contained nothing more than notice of Morgan's trial to commence on the morrow. I lay back upon the pillows on my bed, my face flaming, my stomach burning from the emotions churned up by this public exposure. No wonder my father and uncle had refused to reveal the previous day's proceedings. Although Sneyd had been convicted of his crimes, he had succeeded in blackening my reputation beyond my darkest fears. Yes, his account had been denied by Mr. Darcy and Morgan, but I knew people's minds; how once one read something in print, it remained in one's memory. Given time, rumours often blurred with facts until believed as truth no matter how false.

I re-read the account once again, unable to tear myself from its ugly statements. Sneyd was defeated; knowing he could not extricate himself from his crimes, he endeavoured to ruin all those he held responsible, blamed them for his own guilt, and yet convicted himself with his attempt to portray himself as ringleader. What caused a person to be consumed by such hatred? I could not fathom it.

I looked over the report a third time. The only redeeming part of it was that Mr. Darcy and Morgan had at last agreed upon something - my defence. For that I was grateful. I thought of how often Mr. Darcy had done so, how unselfishly he had acted on my behalf time and again. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of the expression upon his handsome face when he had offered himself for ransom to protect the ladies with whom he traveled. I recalled the kind manner in which he had held and comforted me in the cabin in the woods, how he rescued me from the opera, and, of course, I could not erase from my memory how he had huddled with me that cold night in the cave and what transpired the following morn. If only he loved me. If only...

Much of the day I remained in my bedchamber. I had lost my appetite and refused to join my aunt's table for luncheon. Jane looked in on me several times and I implored her to make my excuses to my mother and aunt. She must have been successful for they did not intrude upon my solitude. I was left to wallow in misery for several hours.

That evening I did wash my face and put on a fresh gown. I wished to be waiting below stairs when my father and uncle returned from Morgan's trial. I had not the slightest hope that the outcome would prove any different from the previous days, but still I wished to hear the particulars. Sometimes I wondered if I was developing an unnatural desire to be punished, so great was my curiosity about these trials.

My sisters and mother and I joined my aunt in the parlour to await the men's return. Mama had grown weary of the week's distressful events and she determined that we were to celebrate the end of the trials that night. No unhappy thoughts would be allowed; we would concentrate on Jane's fortunate alliance with Mr. Bingley instead.

"Leave it to Mama to stick her head in the sand," I whispered to Jane.

"Lizzy, I am speaking to you in particular," Mama declared. "You have moped about this house far too long." She walked over and pinched my cheeks. "Snap out of it! How do you ever expect to secure a husband when you look on the verge of tears? Men do not like an unhopeful countenance, you know. Just look at Jane. Do you think she would have caught Mr. Bingley if she had gone around down in the mouth like you?"

"Yes, Mama," I answered, but as soon as she turned her back I rolled my eyes at Jane.

A few moments later Mr. Gardiner and Papa walked in. How surprised we all were to see Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy follow them! My aunt and mother both exclaimed over their presence and welcomed them warmly. By that time my mother had overcome her earlier disapproval of Mr. Darcy, especially since he had offered to marry me. She was still somewhat in awe of him, but she did her best to make him comfortable. Sometimes I wondered if she thought she might pawn Mary or Kitty off on him.

"Lizzy, Jane, Kitty, Mary, greet the gentlemen," she cried as though we were children. We curtseyed and spoke to them. Mr. Bingley joined Jane, of course, while Mr. Darcy stood off to the side somewhat stiffly. One glance at his countenance and I could see the strain he had endured that week. His eyes appeared tired, his usual striking stare somewhat glazed as though he had not slept adequately.

"Well, my dear," my uncle said, addressing me. "It is over. Morgan was found guilty of everything except attempted murder of Sneyd and, thanks to Mr. Darcy, he was also exonerated of the previous murder charge against him."

I sat down, unable to respond. Before looking up, I could feel Mr. Darcy's eyes upon me. When I raised my head, I was proven correct; his gaze did not vary.

"I am sure the newspapers will have a to-do over today's events, sir," my father said, looking in Mr. Darcy's direction. "The judge himself found it unusual for the prosecutor to produce witnesses in defence of the defendant."

"I do not understand," my aunt said.

"Mr. Darcy placed Colonel Fitzwilliam on the stand. He presented the court written, witnessed statements from servants at an estate near Jonah's Village, testifying that Morgan killed the owner, some Frenchman, in self-defence and to protect his sister from the man's attack. The sister, herself, testified to the same thing. She also witnessed the altercation between Sneyd and Morgan and swore that Sneyd shot first. In addition, she told how Morgan had given her the keys to the room in which Mr. Darcy and Lizzy were held prisoners, and instructed her to release them once the gang had left."

"Does that mean he may receive a more lenient sentence?" I asked.

My father and uncle shrugged and Mr. Bingley looked in the direction of Mr. Darcy. "There is no guarantee," Mr. Darcy said. "The sentencing is set for Monday."

"Very well," my mother announced, rising and causing the gentlemen who were sitting to do so. "Let us have no more talk of trials or sentences or criminals this evening. Let us rejoice that it is over and turn our minds to happier times. Mr. Bingley, I found the loveliest piece of lace for Jane's wedding veil yesterday. I declare she shall be the most beautiful bride in the county."

"No doubt, ma'am," Mr. Bingley responded and shortly thereafter Firkin announced that dinner was served. My aunt had placed Mr. Darcy beside me at the table; that night he was even quieter than usual and I could think of little to speak of other than the trial, the topic forbidden by my mother. He did little to encourage my attempts at dinner conversation and at last I resigned myself to eating in silence. With the service of the final course, I was surprised when he spoke to me in a quiet voice, as though he did not wish others to hear.

"Miss Bennet, I hope you have not read the newspaper accounts of the trial. Reporters seek lurid details that possess sensational appeal; they care little whom they harm by their coverage nor whether accounts are truthful as long as their readership is entertained."

"I confess I have seen them," I said, blushing at the remembrance of the terrible things that had been said about me.

Distress appeared in his eyes and, placing his knife and fork across his plate, he sat back in his chair and sighed. "Then take relief on one account of which we have previously spoken: Sneyd testified that it was his idea to take hostages for ransom. Whether his statement is true or false, I care not. What is of importance is that I did not plant the idea in the minds of the highwaymen, and my need to protect you did not in any way cause an escalation of their crimes. They had planned a kidnapping before they chose us as their victims. You should never have felt responsibility for their misdeeds and I am now absolved from any misguided guilt I took upon myself."

I had read that statement in the paper, but I was so caught up in Sneyd's evil statements about me I had overlooked its importance. I confessed that to Mr. Darcy and he said much the same, that in the heat of the moment, during the horror of all that transpired when we were first held up, he had subsequently forgotten that Sneyd had raised the idea of ransom before he offered himself.

Our guests did not stay long after dinner. They both acknowledged the need for all of us to rest after such a stressful week. Jane and I walked to the door with the gentlemen and while Mr. Bingley bade Jane a somewhat prolonged farewell, I took the opportunity to speak to Mr. Darcy again.

"Thank you for your efforts this week, sir," I said. "I confess I was surprised to see you attend upon my family tonight, for I know you must be exhausted."

"I came for you," he said softly. "I wanted you to know that I did all I could for Morgan."

"That is considerate of you, sir, but I fail to understand what you mean. I never doubted that you would do everything you could to see that justice was done."

"You do fail to understand. I did it for you."

"For me, sir? I would think your actions reflect that of an honourable man. You would have worked to ensure the highwayman received a fair trial regardless whether I was involved."

His eyes held mine so steadily it was almost as though he wished for me to look into his soul. "I hope I am that kind of man, that what you say is true, but I cannot be certain. I know only that Morgan's fate matters to you."

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. "I fail to comprehend why you think his outcome is of such importance to me."

"Have you not defended him time and again? Was it not your earnest desire that he be found innocent against the charge of murder?"

"Of course," I said. "It is just that your statement makes it appear I have an undue interest in the highwayman."

He continued to stare into my eyes, pressed his lips together and said nothing more.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Goodnight, Miss Bennet," he said, his voice weary and defeated. He bowed and walked out the door, followed by Mr. Bingley shortly thereafter.

Throughout the weekend I fretted and worried about Mr. Darcy's comments. Surely he did not believe I cared for Morgan! Had I not assured him when questioned in the cave that I felt nothing more than sympathy for his injury and pity for his unfortunate upbringing? I recalled having said something akin to the fact that my heart would not suffer if he did not survive the gunshot wound. I could never care for a highwayman. What would make Mr. Darcy now think I might harbour romantic feelings for Morgan?

It was most perplexing and occupied much of my waking thoughts. I even questioned Mr. Bingley during one of his daily calls as to whether his friend might be suffering from fatigue after the exceedingly strenuous week he had undergone.

"No," he answered, "Darcy did seem tired Friday evening when we left here, but I saw him at the club this morning and he appeared himself. Perhaps a bit more quiet than usual, but my friend is never verbose."

"Shall we have the pleasure of his company today?" Jane asked, knowing I wished to have the answer.

"He said something about an invitation to Lady Jersey's house tonight. It was up in the air; he had not yet decided whether to attend. I believe Miss Templeton is leaving tomorrow and this is to be a farewell dinner for her. I know Caroline and Louisa were thrilled to receive their invitations."

I rose from where I had been sitting on the divan beside Kitty. I could feel pinpricks of jealousy jab at my heart. Walking to the pianoforte, I ran my fingers down the keys.

"Shall you play for us, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Bingley asked.

"Oh, yes, do," my aunt responded.

"I am far too uneasy to apply myself," I answered. "I feel like a wildcat that has been cooped up in a cage for weeks on end." Mary promptly offered to take my place at the instrument and I moved aside.

"Lizzy, you have been forced to keep indoors far too long," my aunt responded. "I shall speak to Mr. Gardiner and see if there is not some way he can think of to grant you some relief."

I smiled slightly and assured her that it was not necessary and then returned to Jane's side. "Mr. Bingley, shall you attend Miss Templeton's dinner tonight?"

"No, I have not the slightest desire to do so. I would much rather remain here; that is, if you do not object, Mrs. Gardiner."

My aunt shook her head and Jane blushed. Kitty giggled and I nudged her with my elbow. Thank goodness Mamá was not in attendance, for she would surely have replied in a manner that would have embarrassed Jane even more. Mamá had gone with my father to call on a friend of Sir William Lucas, having promised him they would not forget to pay their respects while in town.

I cleared my throat and addressed myself to Mr. Bingley once more. "I assume Miss Templeton's absence will be greatly missed in London society and especially by Mr. Darcy if one can believe the newspapers."

He looked slightly confused. "I...I am afraid I do not follow you. Yes, London will miss the lady, but Darcy has never mentioned any particular attachment to her."

"Ah," I responded, "well, I should know by now how often the newspapers print false information." I attempted to speak casually as though it were mere gossip we discussed. In truth, I could have kissed Mr. Bingley for saying what he did!

On Monday afternoon my uncle returned home early. The first words from his mouth were that the sentences for the highwaymen had been delivered. A special crier from the newspaper office had run through the streets of London crying, "Public hanging! Public hanging! All four highwaymen will hang!"

I was shocked! It seemed beyond belief that someone would die for something they had done to me. True, I had been kidnapped, threatened, held against my will, and one of the men attempted to assault me, but still I could not fathom taking their lives in payment. I was now safe, in good health, perfectly fine. Why should someone die?

My uncle attempted to explain that society could not put up with criminals attacking citizens on the public roadways. People must be allowed to travel with peace of mind, unafraid of roving bands of criminals. I understood that; I perceived the truth; I still could not find Morgan's gang guilty of crimes deserving death. I saw the need for them to be made examples to deter similar thieves from perpetrating like crimes and yet I wished with all my heart that they were not to die, not even Sneyd.

"Lizzy, you are too tender-hearted," my uncle said as he rose and patted my hand. "I leave her in your hands, Thomas. I do not know how else I may reassure her." He left his study and my father took his place, seating himself beside me near the window.

"My dear," he said, "you must not take this to heart. You had nothing to do with the outcome. It is the law."

"But I did, Father," I cried. "How can I separate myself from what has happened? If not for me, they might not die."

"You forget you are not the only victim, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy was robbed and kidnapped, assaulted and threatened. Although they were not kidnapped, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley received similar treatment, as well as Mr. Bingley's servants. Whether you were involved or not, Morgan and his cohorts would most likely receive the same harsh sentence." He put his arm around me and patted my shoulder. "I pray you, dearest, do not suffer any more. What is done is done. Those men must pay for their crimes."

I nodded as though I agreed, but I quickly left the room and ran to the sanctuary of my bedchamber where I spent the remainder of the evening. I could not even join my family for dinner such was my regret. How I wished I might speak to Mr. Darcy! Surely he could do something to change the outcome, could he not? No, that would be futile, for I knew he had done more than called for to save Morgan from the gallows and now it appeared even he had failed.

I recall little else of what happened between Monday and Thursday of that week. My thoughts were so downcast that I still cannot think of that time without distress. I am certain my family did what they could to attempt to lift my spirits, but all I can remember was a dark, dark place in which I dwelt, from which I longed to be freed. If only we did not have the dinner in Jane's honour at Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's on Thursday, we could have left London for home. I had begged my father until he agreed that we would depart first thing Saturday morning. Until that time I kept to my uncle's house and mainly to my own room.

Thursday morning my mother insisted that Jane, Mary, and Kitty accompany her on a shopping excursion. She had a great desire to visit one last warehouse to narrow her search for the perfect lace for Jane's bridal veil. Fifteen different swatches now resided in her collection, but she was adamant that one more - the perfect one - still awaited her and nothing would do but that my sisters assist in its discovery.

My aunt had a number of calls she needed to make; my father had taken himself off to his favourite bookstore; and so that left me alone with nothing to do or anyone with which to visit.

"Lizzy," my uncle called to me, as he picked up his hat and cane. "Shall you stay here all alone today?"

I sat at the window in the front parlour, watching the carriages pass without. "Yes, Uncle," I replied. "Just the children and me."

"The older ones are at their studies with the governess. And are not the little ones down for their morning naps? Then what shall you do by yourself all day?"

"I have nothing in particular planned," I answered, rising to see what he proposed.

"Why not come with me?"

"With you, Uncle? To your office?"

"I am not going into the office this morning, Lizzy, but to the warehouses at the docks. Would you not like an excursion down to the water's edge?"

"Yes, I would, but I thought it better for me to stay indoors."

"You have been inside far too long. Why, you have lost the very bloom from your cheeks. There is no one who will recognize you where I am going. Come along with me and view a different prospect for a change. It will do you good, Lizzy."

I readily agreed and quickly put on my coat and bonnet. It was a rare beautiful day in January: the fog had lifted and the sun now shone brightly, warming the chill blown in by a light wind. I could not believe how much better I felt just leaving the house. I watched the sights we passed as eagerly as a starving person gobbled up his only meal. My uncle's carriage traveled a great distance from the house down through a part of town I had never seen before. Soon we arrived within sight of the water and I marveled at the great number of ships waiting for the limited number of docks. An array of warehouses lined the street and my uncle pointed out the particular one where his business awaited him.

He assisted me from the carriage and told me I might wander along the edge of the water and watch the workers load and unload the great ships. He warned me how far I might go and alerted his manservant to keep an eye on me. I agreed to his limitations and was perfectly content to remain on the walkway, pleased to watch the busy workers below. I opened my parasol, as the sun was now directly overhead and eventually grew tired of standing in one place. I made my way down the incline a little closer to the water and watched with interest as one or two passengers carrying valises now began to board a large ship out in the harbour. It seemed strange to me that people would attempt a sea journey this time of year. I stood there but a short while when I was shocked to hear someone call my name.

"Elizabeth?"

I turned to look directly into the sun and had to shade my eyes. I could not make him out against the glare. "Sir?" I asked.

"Do you not know me, Elizabeth?" The man took a few steps and walked into the shade where I could see his face. I could not believe my eyes, for it was Morgan! Dressed in his customary black, his blonde curls blowing gently in the breeze, he appeared much the same as he ever did, but for the absence of the jaunty dark hat and feather in its band. That day he wore a simple black cap, much like that of the workers loading the ship. His hair had grown longer and now covered his collar; perhaps a bit thinner, he appeared to have recovered from his previous wound. He stood on the other side of a long rope stretched across the walk, separating those who boarded the ship from those on shore. I was astounded to see him and stood there, my mouth open. "It is me, Nate Morgan!"

"Wha...I...how..." I could not form a sentence.

"You look as though you seen a ghost, Elizabeth," he cried. "Take my hand. You'll see I be real!" He reached for my hand, but I snatched it away.

"I...I do not understand. How did you come to be here of all places?"

"I'm bound for America!" he cried. "Me and Gert's sailing for the colonies."

"America! But how? I thought you were to be..."

"Hanged? 'Twas 'til a day ago."

"But how did you...what happened?"

"Transported! Me sentence is transported. Me and all the boys, that is."

"You are all going to America?" I asked, unbelievingly.

"No, Sneyd, Merle and Rufus are meant for Australia. They're forced to wallow in Newgate 'til the end of May, but when Darcy offered me and Gert the chance to board this ship to America what was leaving today, we jumped at it. Rough time of year to sail, but we'll take our chances. We've been gamblers all our lives. No need to stop now."

I blinked several times, unable to take it all in. "Mr. Darcy? What...what did he have to do with this?"

"He's the one what got our sentences commuted," he said with a smile. " 'Tis hard for me to speak well 'bout any gentleman, but I'm bound to give him his due. If he hadn't paid for me and Gert's passage, we'd still be waiting til' the end of spring, and we'd be sailing in the same ship with Sneyd. S'pose Darcy persuaded the judge that wouldn't make for smooth passage having the two of us holed up in close quarters for that long a passage."

A warm sensation began in my breast. Mr. Darcy had done this. Mr. Darcy had kept Morgan and his gang from hanging. He had paid for the highwayman and his sister to have a new life. If I had esteemed him before, it did not compare with the admiration and respect I felt for him now. He truly was the best man I had ever known.

"I am happy for you," I said. "You owe Mr. Darcy a great debt of gratitude."

Morgan smiled and looked down. "Don't remind me, Miss. Obligation don't set well with me. It takes some getting used to. But what about you, Miss? I heard you were not to marry. Cain't be true, can it? From what I saw I thought you and he...well..."

"No," I said quickly, looking away "We are not to marry. Please...I pray you do not speak of it again."

"Very well, Miss. Must say I'm surprised. Didn't think Darcy was a fool, not by a long shot, but any man who'd give you up must be, 'specially a man as much in love with you as him."

I turned and stared at him. "Why do you persist in saying that? How do you know whom Mr. Darcy cares for?"

"Don't, Miss, 'cept even a blind man couldn't mistake the way he feels for you. The way he looks at you. The way he speaks 'bout you. The way he'd give up his life for you. No way could he make it plainer 'cept perhaps to shout it in the street for all to hear!"

Could that be true? Could I have been mistaken all along? Did Mr. Darcy truly care for me? I could not take it in and found I could not speak. After several moments' awkward silence, I finally said, "I wish you well in America. Will you be in confinement there?"

"Have to work seven years for a blacksmith. By the time I'm done, I should be a right good smithy."

"And Gert? What will she do during that time?"

"She's got a job in the smithy's house and I'll be living there, too, so's I can look after her."

"That sounds promising. I hope you will apply yourself. You now have the opportunity to make a new life for you and your sister."

"Aye, and I figure the years will go by fast. Who knows, perchance I can slip away before the sentence is up and make me fortune. I hear tell America be rich in land." He laughed and winked at me.

"Mr. Morgan! Do not jest in that manner. This is a chance to change, to make a new man of yourself."

"I hear tell leopards don't change their spots, Miss."

"Men change their ways, though. Remember your mother's admonition. This could be the occasion to prove her true - to grow into your name." I looked him directly in the eye, imploring him to be serious minded and heed my warning.

"Ah, yes, but you see I go by Nate. Have for so many years I can't recall being called Nathanael since me mother died."

"Then why not alter things when you reach America? Why not tell people your name is Nathanael Morgan?" I leaned forward across the rope, hoping he would see how earnestly I felt.

"You know, if you was to come with me, Elizabeth, I just might do that," he said softly, taking my hand in his. For some reason, I did not snatch it away this time, perhaps hoping he could see that someone cared what became of him.

"You know full well I cannot," I said.

He sighed and smiled, raising one eyebrow. "A man can dream, can't he?" He lifted my fingers to his lips and kissed them. Then, raising his azure eyes, he frowned at what he saw over my shoulder. "Darcy again!" he muttered and I whirled around to see the gentleman alight from his carriage. Mr. Darcy! He stared at us, his mouth open, a deep frown across his brow.

"Guess he's come to make sure I get on the boat." Then, his voice louder, he called to him. "Don't worry, Darcy! I'm just saying me good-byes. Farewell, Elizabeth! Don't be forgetting me! May you dream of me every night 'til I see your bonny face once again."

I suppose Morgan boarded the ship then; I do not know, for I remained transfixed, my eyes on Mr. Darcy. I watched him immediately open the door to his carriage, climb aboard, and signal the driver to depart. They made short shrift of the distance between the ship and the end of the street, disappearing from view while I stood there watching. When I came to myself and looked around, the highwayman had vanished onto the sailing vessel and I never saw him again.

My uncle returned not long afterwards and I joined him in his carriage. I listened patiently as he pointed out various points of interest, the different warehouses with which he conducted business, and two or three ships bringing merchandise for his trade. When at last we left the port, I told him of meeting Morgan and how Mr. Darcy had caused the sentences of the highwaymen to be commuted to transportation. I questioned him as to how this had come about and he assured me it was not unusual at all, that men of wealth and status were often able to influence the courts' decisions, especially when it provided labour for plantations in Australia and the West Indies. He was somewhat surprised that Morgan was being sent to America, for since the war, England rarely transported convicts to the colonies. However, a man of Mr. Darcy's means could purchase passage and cause Morgan and Gert to leave England for America.

"There is little a man as wealthy as Mr. Darcy cannot have if he truly wants it," my uncle said.

Once again I was amazed at the ways of the world and how easily the rich could have their way. I did not spend much time concerned with it, however, for a greater worry besieged my deliberation. What had Mr. Darcy imagined when he saw me with Morgan at the shipyard? Surely he did not think I had gone there to bid him farewell! Why, how was I to even know he was sailing? If he thought that I was in love with the highwayman, though, would I not have moved heaven and earth to find out where he was? Would I not have questioned my uncle until I learned that he was to be transported? Oh, what must Mr. Darcy think of me now? I could not bear to know he was alive in the world and thinking ill of me, believing I could possibly care for another man!

All afternoon I stewed about it. When my mother and sisters returned from the warehouse, I questioned Jane as to whether Mrs. Hurst had invited Mr. Darcy and his sister to their house that evening for the betrothal dinner. She did not know, but hoped that he had. She understood that the dinner party consisted of only family, but since the Darcys were such close friends of Mr. Bingley, they might well be included. That did not pacify me for that meant there was just as much chance that Mr. Darcy would not attend. If only there was some way I could meet with him, could talk to him, could make him understand what had happened that morning, how it had all been nothing more than coincidence.

The afternoon wore on forever. After bathing, Jane and I styled each other's hair. Mamá insisted my sister try on four different gowns so she could select the most favourable for the evening. I reminded my mother that Jane was already engaged; she did not have to appear perfect in order to secure Mr. Bingley, he was already hers, but it did little good. She still fussed and fretted over every detail of my sister's wardrobe. How relieved we were when she, at last, retired to her own chamber to dress for the evening.

Sarah, the maid, had just fastened the back of my dress when we heard a knock at the bedroom door and she answered it, retrieving an envelope addressed to me. Jane slipped her dress over her head and did not see me open it, for which I was grateful. Inside, a separate sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. I dropped to my knees to discover a single ticket made out in my name for passage on the Laconia, sailing for Virginia on May 29th. There was no other message enclosed, not even a sentence of explanation, or a name indicating from whom it had been sent.

I knew immediately from whom it had come. Mr. Darcy! Who else would send such a thing? But why? Why on earth should he send me a ticket to America?

I sank down on the far side of the bed. My hands suddenly felt icy cold; my face began to burn. He must assume I wished to go with Morgan, to join him in his new life, and there he was providing my passage! There could be no other explanation. I could not believe it. Could he insult me in any greater manner? I was shocked, horrified, and angry beyond belief. My hands began to shake as I crushed the ticket and envelope into a ball.

"Lizzy, are you ready?" Jane asked, peering into the mirror. "Do you have your gloves?"

"What?" I said, not comprehending. "Oh, yes, here they are."

"Then come along. I can hear Mamá calling out in the hallway."

I rose and faced her, keeping my fist hidden in the folds of my skirt. "Jane," I began.

"Yes, what is it? Why, Lizzy, are you unwell? Your face is quite pink."

"I...I do not feel well, Jane. I believe I must beg off and remain here." I continued to offer excuses, pleading a sudden headache and sick stomach to my mother whom Jane had hastened to find. My aunt offered to stay with me, but I refused. I agreed with my mother that I should be fine by myself and would send one of the servants if I grew worse. I assured my family that it was nothing serious and was greatly relieved when at last, they all trooped out the door and climbed into my father's and uncle's carriages.

From an upstairs window I watched both vehicles turn the corner, then grabbed my cape and flew down the stairs. Firkin stood at the front door. he asked if he could help and then looked shocked when I told him I wished for him to call a hackney coach from the Spread Eagle stand on Gracechurch Street.

"But Miss Elizabeth, surely you do not plan on leaving the master's house alone tonight in public transportation!" he declared.

"I do and if you will not secure a coach, Firkin, I shall do it myself." I refused to look away and stared him down. The poor man was in a terrible fix and I should have felt sorry for him if I had been in my right mind, but I had only one destination on my mind and nothing would keep me from it. The servant pleaded that he would lose his position once my uncle learned what he had done, especially if he allowed me to leave the house alone. After more argument, I at last struck a bargain with him. If he would call for the hackney, I would allow Sarah and him to accompany me. Within moments, he had Sarah dressed in her coat and waiting at the front door. Shortly thereafter, she and I climbed into the hired coach while Firkin rode on top after giving the address to the driver.

I knew that what I was doing was wrong, unacceptable and improper, but I no longer cared about what was right, acceptable or within the rules of propriety. London society already shunned me; what was one more transgression? I proposed to call on Mr. Darcy alone; nothing would do but that I met him face to face that very night!

It took some time to cross the city and reach the fashionable section of town in which he lived, time that might have caused me to reconsider, to return to my uncle's house before I made a fool of myself, had I not been livid with anger, far too upset to think clearly. I wanted nothing except to meet with Mr. Darcy and to take him to task for shaming me in such a manner!

At his townhouse I, of course, announced that I was calling on Miss Darcy, but that did little to erase the disapproving look of the butler. He admitted us, explaining that Miss Darcy had gone out for the evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam. When I asked if her brother was in, his raised eyebrows provided the only clue as to his disapproval; he was well trained and made no verbal notice of my unusual request. Firkin and Sarah stood behind me in the vestibule and I knew they were mortified to attend a young lady asking to see a gentleman alone, much less calling at his house at night. I gave it little concern; I was long past caring about appearances. I wished only to confront Mr. Darcy.

I should have waited in the vestibule, but out of fear that Mr. Darcy might refuse to see me, I followed the butler down the great hall. I was properly impressed with the understated elegance of the house. If I had not been so caught up in resentment, I might have given it greater notice; for the moment, however, all I could take in was that it reflected his natural grace just as I expected. The servant opened double doors to a large library, entered before me and announced my name. Determined to gain admittance, I slipped in right behind him. The butler then withdrew and closed the doors; the noise resounded in my ears.

It was a vast room; floor to ceiling bookcases lined with volumes covered the walls. Across the room a huge fire roared. A solitary candle provided the only other light. In consequence, the room was dark. The fire caused shadows to dance about the walls and over the rows of books. I blinked several times, adjusting my eyes to the dim light, unable to locate Mr. Darcy's presence anywhere in the room. I cleared my throat and advanced a couple of steps before he spoke.

"Miss Bennet," he said, emerging from the shadows near the windows on the far wall. He held a brandy glass in one hand and a bottle in the other and his voice appeared somewhat diminished. He walked slowly toward the light and bowed somewhat unsteadily. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I...I wish to speak to you," I said, somewhat taken aback. "Have you been drinking, sir?"

"I have."

"How much...that is, are you inebriated, sir?"

"Not yet."

I turned around, heading for the door.

"Miss Bennet? Shall you leave so soon?"

"I shall not attempt to have an honest discussion if you are drunk," I declared, not even stopping to turn around.

"I just told you I am not yet drunk. Sit down."

I stopped and turned, suddenly somewhat afraid of the tone of his voice. He had spoken the last words like a command, loud and hard. "I shall stand," I said, willing my voice not to tremble.

"As you will. Now, shall you tell me why you visit me all alone and risk further damage to your reputation?"

"I should think my reputation matters little to you, sir. Not after you insult me in the manner you employed today. At last I know exactly how little you think of me!"

"Insult you, Miss Bennet? In what way?" He held out his hands, still clasping the bottle of brandy and almost empty glass.

"With this!" I cried as I walked toward him, unfurled the wadded-up ticket and thrust it forward. "How dare you purchase this ticket to Virginia and have it delivered to me! Do you think to banish me from England? Is that how you rid yourself of the embarrassment my presence causes you?"

"Banish? You employ a harsh term in reference to a gift. After the tender scene I witnessed at the harbour today I thought to afford you the means of joining the man with whom you obviously are in love." He spat the last words out as though they left a bitter taste on his tongue.

I could not believe what I heard! He did actually assume I loved Morgan. What I had feared was all too true. "How can you accuse me so?" I cried. "How can you think I would give my heart to a highwayman?"

He walked to the fireplace and placed the glass on the mantel, the brandy on a table nearby, before turning to face me. "I have tried, madam, with everything that is in me to deny it, but today you forced me to face the truth. When I saw you travelled to the port to bid Morgan farewell, I could no longer conjure up anything that would make me disbelieve it. There is no longer any need for you to keep up the pretence. I saw you allow him to kiss your hand. One cannot help whom one loves. If your heart is his, then..." His voice died away, as though he had given up, that the attempt to speak was too much for him.

"You are mistaken, sir. I happened upon Morgan by accident today. That is all it was - accident, coincidence, whatever you choose to call it. I do not love him!" I said with feeling, stepping closer so he could see my countenance in the firelight. "What must I do to convince you?"

"Elizabeth, no need exists whereby you must deny it. I am resigned to it. You love the scoundrel and there is nothing I can do to change it." He turned away and stared into the fire.

"Why do you persist in saying that? I know whom I love and it is not Morgan! How can it be when I love you..." Oh, what had I done? How had my tongue betrayed me?

Instantly, he looked up and although I attempted to turn away I felt the force of his eyes upon me, willing me to meet his gaze when all I wished to do was hide my face. Before I knew it, he crossed the distance between us and stood before me so close I could smell his scent, feel the warmth of his body emanate toward me. "What? What did you say?"

"I love you," I whispered, "and I wish to God I did not."

"Elizabeth," he breathed.

I said nothing, simply stood there watching, waiting. I had lost all sense of honour, dignity, presence. I stood naked before him, my heart exposed and hurting, my shame lying open for his ridicule. Against every intelligent part of me that screamed I should be silent, I had blurted out the truth, the absolute, unalterable truth: I loved him. God help me, I loved him.

And then unbelievably I felt his hands upon my arms, pulling me toward him, gathering me into his embrace. I felt as though I stood to the side watching it happen to some other girl, some incredibly fortunate woman whom this man wished to touch, to hold close.

I watched his face incline toward mine, his lips move ever nearer. His breath warm on my cheek, I saw his eyes move from my eyes to my mouth and then oh, so gently his lips touched mine and I thought I would literally break into a hundred million pieces. With tender caresses, he kissed me not just once, but once more and then again and again and again. A pervading pit of fire began far, far down within me, so deep I could not fathom its depth, a sensation I recalled from the single time before when his lips had touched mine. I felt myself lean into him, my hands spread wide open upon his strong chest, mindlessly moving back and forth and then upward until I reached the warmth of his neck and those enticing curls edging his collar.

By then his kiss had grown harder until he forced my lips apart, taking my mouth with a fierceness that cannot be described until...I surrendered and allowed him to do what he willed. I was lost, utterly and completely lost in him and I wished never to be found. When, at last, he released my lips and began to kiss my cheek, my ear, and the place right below, my mouth throbbed in rhythm with my heart and I trembled in his arms, clinging to him in actual fear that I could no longer stand.

"Elizabeth," he whispered again and again and led me to the sofa, never relinquishing his hold, nor lessening his embrace. Once seated, he eased my head onto his chest and I felt his hands smooth my curls back as though he would soothe and comfort me while his heart beat in my ear with a wild, furious rhythm all the while. It was only then that I realized I was weeping.

"My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, do not cry. I can bear anything but your tears." I felt his lips upon my eyelids. He gently kissed away my tears, his tenderness more than I could bear. "Why are you crying? Tell me."

"Because I have humiliated myself before you and because I am helpless to cease from doing so," I whispered.

He sat back and lifted my chin so that I was forced to face him. "Whatever do you mean? I do not understand."

I kept my eyes closed, turning my face aside. "Oh, why do you torment me so? I come here unescorted. I allow you to hold me and kiss me as though I were a woman of the night. I even confess that...that I love you. How can I not find that humiliating?"

When he did not say anything, I lifted my eyes to find him smiling at me. "For one so intelligent, you are a silly little goose. What do you know of women of the night?"

"I know enough. Only that type of woman would approach you alone at night, would allow you to force her into making a declaration, and would allow you to kiss her in...in such a manner when you have made no similar avowal."

"No similar avowal? What are you talking of? Did I not propose marriage to you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Yes, but we both know why - to protect my good name, to rescue me from society's disapproval. I know that you do not love me, Mr. Darcy."

He smiled that infuriating smile once again. "Oh, you do, do you? I see that you have it all figured out. What is going on in that strange little mind of yours? How can you possibly think I do not love you?"

I blinked and swallowed. "In the cave."

"Yes, I remember what happened in the cave only too well."

"You kissed me and then said it was a mistake. You did, sir. You said kissing me was a mistake."

He took my hands in his and brought them to his mouth. "Of course I did, Elizabeth. I should never have taken advantage of you in that way. It was a mistake to do so, quite brazen and thoughtless of me. That was what I meant."

I could not believe what he was saying. "That is truly what you meant?"

He nodded.

"So...so you do love me?" I whispered.

He reached out and took my face in his hands. "Of course I do. I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I closed my eyes, knowing he was about to kiss me. Tenderly, his lips met mine and I felt myself grow weak all over again.

Suddenly, however, I pulled away, a new thought having struck me. "Then why, sir, did you not declare yourself? Why did you not say you loved me? Why all that talk that we had to marry, that it was best for my family, best for my reputation? Never - never did you profess your love. How dare you allow me to suffer all these weeks!"

"I am a fool," he said, "an utter fool. I thought everyone could see how I felt and you most of all. I feared that you did not love me. All this time I suffered from the delusion that Morgan had captured your affections. Can you now fathom how I have suffered? After all, you defended him time and again and exercised much effort pointing out my faults!"

"Oh, I did!" I cried, glimpsing for the first time the predicament Mr. Darcy had endured, the manner in which he had read my actions. "I am the fool, sir, not you."

"Let us not argue with the bard; we are mortal and therefore guilty. But no more, Miss Bennet. From this day forward we shall speak plainly. I love you with all that is within me, all that I am, all that I ever will be...all that I ever hope to be."

"And I love you," I said, growing weak as he pulled me against him and once more began to ply me with kisses. I could not seem to control my hands; they roamed back and forth over his hard, powerful chest while his strong but gentle hands caressed my back and shoulders. I matched his hungry fervour with that of my own, allowing him to recapture my mouth over and over. At length he sat back and held me at arms length. Both of us struggled to catch our breath. With a groan, he released my hands and stood up, walked to the fireplace and rested his forehead against the mantel. When he turned his handsome face to look over his shoulder at me, I saw the hungry passion still alive in his eyes and my heart turned over.

"Elizabeth," he said, still breathing deeply, "You must leave this house. I do not want you to - God knows it is not my wish - but for your sake, I must get you out of here and a safe distance from me."

I nodded slightly and unknowingly began to chew my lip, keeping my eyes on him.

His eyes narrowed and I saw his chest move visibly as he breathed. "Do not..." he faltered and put his fist to his mouth. "Do not do that, Elizabeth."

"Sir?" I was at a loss to what he referred.

"Do not chew your lip. If you knew how often I have watched you do that...and what it does to me." His eyebrow shot up and the expression on his face caused me to blush from head to toe. There was little need for him to say more. I rose and gathered up my cloak; instantly, he stood behind me and smoothed it around my shoulders, causing me to close my eyes and sigh deeply. I could not keep from leaning back against him and within moments he turned me around and placed his forehead against mine as he fastened the garment at my neck.

"I fear that we have a problem, sir," I said softly, "of which you may not be aware."

"I have a problem of which I am acutely aware, but to what do you refer my dearest?"

I smiled and then lowered my eyes. "When last we spoke of marriage, you vowed never to renew your addresses to me again, sir, and I know full well that you are a man of your word. Does that mean we are to remain unmarried for the remainder of our lives?"

"I did say that, did I not?" he mused, frowning slightly. "Another bit of foolishness."

"What shall we do? If you cannot propose again, it seems a hopeless case, does it not?" I raised my eyes and made them as wide and seemingly innocent as possible.

"It does," he agreed, a statement I had not expected. "However, you must not expect me to resign my life to this exquisite state of torture, Elizabeth."

"I must not?"

"No indeed, madam, you must not!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. "Come with me."

In the hallway, he called for his butler, instructed him to make haste and have his carriage brought to the front door. Firkin and Sarah stood where I had left them, expressionless but for their eyes wide with wonder. Mr. Darcy asked me who they were and I explained that they were my uncle's servants that had accompanied me, to which he readily praised them for their care of my person and then instructed them to join us as we marched out the front door.

He placed Sarah and me inside the carriage while Firkin took the footman's position at the rear. Mr. Darcy announced that he would ride up front with the driver, commenting that he could do with a blast of cold night air. As soon as the horses began to walk on, Sarah asked if I was well and when I answered in the affirmative she asked me our destination.

"I have not the slightest idea," I answered.

In truth, I did not care as long as Mr. Darcy led the way.

I have now lived with Fitzwilliam Darcy more years than I have lived without him and yet, to this day, he still surprises me. The hour I think I might sketch the illustration of his thoughts or the moment I conclude that I can predict how he will react, he turns around and proves me false by acting the opposite. I sometimes accuse him of doing so just to keep me unbalanced. He feigns ignorance of what I speak and proclaims that he is a typical man, easily read, as mundane as last night's soup. He is nothing of the sort.

That night when I first confessed my love for him and he whisked me out the door of his London townhouse and tucked me away in his carriage, I truly did not know where he intended us to go. I thought possibly he would return me to my uncle's house at Gracechurch Street and quickly before my family returned from dinner at the Hurst's, so that no one but the servants would know of my daring, impetuous and highly improper visit to his house alone and uninvited. However, his carriage did not turn toward Cheapside, but remained in the fashionable portion of town; in fact, it traveled but a few blocks before turning into Grosvenor Street and shortly thereafter pulled up in front of the residence of Mr. Hurst.

As we climbed the steps together, I gave him a quizzical look, but all he said was, "Will you trust me?"

When I replied, "With my life, sir," he said, "Then follow my lead."

Once indoors, the butler said the family and guests were at table, whereupon Mr. Darcy asked him to allow us to join them. The servant hastened to oblige and snapped his fingers at a passing footman, barking orders for two additional places to be set.

"Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet," the butler announced as he opened the doors to the dining room and stepped back so that we might make our entrance.

"Darcy!" Mr. Bingley cried, rising from his seat, "and Miss Elizabeth, how delightful! Do come in and join us. We have just finished our soup."

There was a general uproar of surprise among our friends and family. Each of the gentlemen rose to acknowledge my presence, Mrs. Hurst urged us to sit down, and Caroline Bingley remained speechless.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hurst, Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied, although he made no effort to sit or to allow me to do so. Instead, we advanced into the room and stood near the end of the table. He had tucked my hand inside his arm before we entered the room and he kept his hand placed over mine, making certain I did not leave his side.

"Lizzy," my mother said, "I thought you unwell. Why are you here and with Mr. Darcy?"

"If you will allow me to explain, ma'am," Mr. Darcy said. "I beg your leave for interrupting the meal, Mrs. Hurst, and I ask the gentlemen to be seated. I fear that what I am about to say may take some time. I must importune upon Mr. Bennet concerning a matter of grave importance."

"Importance?" Mamá cried. "More important, sir, than my daughter's betrothal dinner? I think not!"

"I pray you will forgive me, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Darcy replied, "but when you hear my tale, I think you may find it takes precedence."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood next to Georgiana's chair, began to frown. "Has something happened, Darcy? Do you require my services? Come man, out with it." Others at the table began to murmur similar remarks.

My father held up his hand. "Let us give the gentleman a chance to speak. Shall you and I excuse ourselves, Mr. Darcy?"

"If it is all the same, sir, I prefer to speak before all of you." Mr. Darcy turned and looked at me as though he were asking for my assent. I still did not know what he proposed to do, but I smiled up at him.

"Very well," my father said and motioned for the gentlemen to take their seats. Everyone had ceased eating, of course, but when they seated themselves, no one picked up their spoons again except for Mr. Hurst who continued on, seemingly unaware there was anyone or anything in the room more interesting than his soup.

"Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy said, "some weeks ago I asked for your daughter Elizabeth's hand in marriage, did I not?" My father answered in the affirmative and I heard a faint moan emanate from the portion of the table where Miss Bingley sat. "At the time I related the fact that due to no fault of her own, she had been forced to spend three nights locked in the same room with me, an occurrence that mandated we marry. Alas, Elizabeth refused to accept my offer."

"She did," my mother cried, "oh, she did! The ungrateful, uncaring girl! I have chastised her daily since then, Mr. Darcy. Daily, I tell you!"

"Very wise, ma'am," he replied. I could sense his amusement. "Since her refusal, Elizabeth, as well as your family has endured scorn and public humiliation. Any sensible girl would retract her refusal, especially when I was obliging enough to offer her time to consider it, but the second time I asked for her hand, once again she told me no."

"Oh," my mother cried, "twice? You asked twice? Lizzy, how could you!"

"Mamá," I murmured, beseeching Jane with a frantic look so that she attempted to calm her.

"Shocking, I agree, ma'am," Mr. Darcy said and I closed my eyes. What was he doing?

My uncle came to my rescue then and said, "Mr. Darcy, I fail to see what good it does to bring up all this?"

"If you will permit me, sir, I shall make it evident. The last time I asked for Elizabeth's hand in marriage, I confess I spoke rashly. I told her I would not renew my addresses again."

"Oh, thank God," Caroline said, reaching for her wine glass.

"Sir, is there a point to all of this?" my father asked.

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy said. "It is my painful duty to tell you, sir, that tonight Elizabeth arrived on my doorstep uninvited, having traveled in a hired cab, alone but for two of Mr. Gardiner's good servants." A sudden collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the room. "I fear there is more. Your daughter and I spent a good three-quarters of an hour or longer all alone behind closed doors in my library. For verification, you may consult Mr. Gardiner's servants who presently wait in the hall."

My father rose once more, his brows knit together in a scowl. "Is this true, Lizzy?" I looked away at first, but then held my chin up and answered in the affirmative. Mr. Darcy looked down at me and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He thoroughly enjoyed his performance.

"But why?" my father asked. "What on earth would be of such importance that you would engage in such behaviour and put yourself at risk?"

I pressed my lips together, wondering how I might word my reason prudently. "Papá, a misunderstanding had arisen between the gentleman and I that warranted immediate attention."

"What type of misunderstanding?"

"One due entirely, I am afraid, to my ignorance," Mr. Darcy interjected.

"Your ignorance, sir?" my father asked.

"Yes, sir. I feared that because of her refusal of my offer Elizabeth did not care for me, but I was mistaken, you see. Tonight, behind the closed doors of my library, she confessed that I am indeed the fortunate man whom she loves after all, in spite of my numerous faults."

He turned to face me, took both my hands in his, and slowly shook his head while gazing into my eyes. "Mr. Bennet, if Elizabeth were my daughter - and I am eternally grateful she is not - I would instruct my child that she may not call upon a gentleman alone at night, confess her love for him, and not expect to pay the consequences. I would then demand that the man in question agree to marriage and I would insist that my daughter marry him! I think every honourable man in this room would stand behind you in that decision. Do you not agree, sir?"

I held my breath, shocked at his audacity, at how cleverly he had kept his word not to ask for my hand in marriage. The entire inhabitants of the room seemed to hold their breaths also, silent, save for the sounds of Mr. Hurst continuing to slurp the last remnants of his soup, his spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl.

I glanced at the table: Jane appeared shocked; Mr. Bingley somewhat nervous; a faint smile played around my aunt's eyes; and my mother seemed dumbfounded, blinking as though she could not make sense of it until all of a sudden she recovered and cried aloud, "Yes! Yes, Mr. Bennet, that is exactly what you must do! You must make Lizzy marry Mr. Darcy!"

My uncle rose from his chair. "I agree, sir. As Elizabeth's kinsman, I assert my right to make certain you do the proper thing, Mr. Darcy."

"Well," Mr. Bingley said, also standing, "as...as her future brother, I add my voice in support as well."

"Representing my father, the Earl of Matlock, and Darcy's family," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, as he stood erect, and did his utmost to keep a straight face, "I feel it my duty, cousin, to demand that you act in an honourable manner."

Every man at the table had now pledged their agreement except one. Mrs. Hurst attempted to catch her husband's attention. "Psst! Ambrose, Ambrose!"

"What?" he asked, raising his head slightly from his bowl.

"Say something!" she hissed.

"Humph?" he grumbled and slapped his spoon down on the table. "Yes, right! Damn tedious waste of an evening!"

By that time a droll expression covered my father's countenance. He cleared his throat and folded his hands together. "Well, Lizzy?" he said, raising his eyebrows as if to ask whether I agreed. When I nodded vigorously, no longer able to restrain the smile breaking forth upon my countenance, he said, "Then you leave me little choice. You see before me an unhappy task. For once, I must be in perfect agreement with your mother. Daughter, I insist that you marry Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, Father," I said.

"No!" Caroline cried, but her sister must have kicked her under the table for she said no more, and a joyous uproar commenced throughout the entire room that drowned out her dissent. As each person rushed upon us and offered their best wishes, hugged or kissed my cheek and shook Mr. Darcy's hand, I stole a glance upwards at his handsome face. It was bathed in smiles, his dimples winking in abundance. He beamed down upon me in return, full of the best kind of pride and tender regard.

After much ado, we were led to the table and placed side by side. Fresh wine was poured and numerous toasts were offered in our honour. At last we all applied ourselves to the remainder of the feast. Mr. Darcy and I skipped the soup, for Mr. Hurst had eaten our portions, and proceeded on to the next course. We both ate with unusual appetite; for some reason, we suddenly found ourselves beset with ferocious hunger.

After dinner the ladies and I heard a great deal of laughter filter down the hall from the library where the gentlemen enjoyed their brandy and cigars. Jane and I blushed at Mamá's pointed remarks that talk of our upcoming marriages most likely proved the topic of the men's conversation. Mrs. Hurst, surprisingly, put on her most agreeable expression and actually played the part of gracious hostess quite well. She congratulated me and said she looked forward to a long association between our families now that the Hursts and Darcys would be almost related. She spoke of Pemberley's charms with great enthusiasm and I could see that she hoped to continue to be invited as guest once I became mistress of the great estate. Even the impetus of continued invitations did not, however, provoke a similar response from her sister. Miss Bingley remained sullen and uncommunicative, tucked away in a corner chair with a glass of sherry that I noticed she refilled often enough.

"Miss Bennet?" I heard a soft voice and turned to find Miss Darcy at my side. "I am very happy you have accepted my brother. I have never seen him so happy."

"Thank you."

"I hope you shall be content leaving your sisters and joining yourself to such a small family."

"Ah, but I look forward to our acquaintance as sisters. Pray, call me Elizabeth."

She smiled shyly. "And you must say Georgiana when speaking to me."

"I shall, I shall," I said with great enthusiasm.

Not long afterwards the gentlemen joined us. Mr. Darcy strode to my side, a gleam in his eye. Mrs. Hurst prevailed upon Georgiana to play the pianoforte. She did her utmost to avoid Mary's attempts to gain her attention. I smiled across the room at Jane. If our sister did succeed in making her way to the instrument, I felt certain not even Mary's pitiful performance could ruin the evening.

At the end of the gathering, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley escorted Jane and me to our father's carriage to join Mary and Kitty for the ride home. How thrilling it was to allow Mr. Darcy to kiss my hand before others who now acknowledged it as his right.

"I shall call first thing tomorrow if that is acceptable," he murmured.

"Of course." I smiled up at him.

"Until then," he whispered, turned my hand over and kissed my palm, which sent shivers of delight running up my spine. Did he know how that simple action caused me to go weak in the knees? From the rakish look in his eye, I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. Two can play such games, I thought. Purposely, I parted my lips and ever so slowly began to bite my lip. I watched with satisfaction the effect it had on him. How skilfully he struggled to repress his emotions, the only clues being his sudden intake of air and consequent heaving chest.

"Goodnight, William," I whispered and climbed into the cab.

Our family's return trip to Longbourn was once again postponed because of my engagement. Nothing would do but for us to stay over until the next week so that Mamá could tote me to the warehouses to select silks and laces for my wedding gown and trousseau. She dared not leave such important decisions to me alone without her expert opinion. I protested that I still could not show my face in public without scorn, but Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy soon banished that excuse.

With much forethought and planning on the part of Mr. Darcy and much active cajoling on the part of Mr. Bingley, my mother was persuaded to consent to a double wedding for Jane and me and much earlier than my sister's previously planned ceremony. At first, Mamá had been adamant that she could not plan a wedding in less than three months' time, but after extensive praise of her abilities by both men and the added extravagance of their promises to secure special licences, Mamá agreed to a wedding ceremony to be held in the middle of February. She could not pass up the distinction of two daughters marrying by special licence.

As soon as my father approved the plans, which he was content to do, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley marched to the offices of the London Gazette and published our announcements forthwith. At last I could read my uncle's newspaper with alacrity and without misgiving. The day the notices were printed, Jane and I walked in the park with our intendeds accompanied by Kitty and Georgiana. A light snow had fallen that morning, just enough to coat the barren landscape, causing it to appear fresh and new.

My younger sister talked Georgiana into scraping enough snow together to fashion snowballs and soon they began to pelt Mr. Bingley with them. He, in turn, retaliated in like manner while Jane stood by laughing. Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to take my hand and steal away from our companions. He hurried us into a copse of shrubs and evergreens so that we might be somewhat hidden from public view, ostensibly to protect me from the snow being thrown (or so he would have said if questioned). There he pulled me close in a tender embrace. He lowered his head until his cheek met mine and I could inhale that delicious scent of his that filled me with such delight.

"How I have longed to hold you," he murmured.

"Mmm, and I you," I agreed.

"It seems we are never alone, Elizabeth. How can you keep your wits in a house filled with so many?"

I laughed lightly. "You forget that I have never known any other. I do feel sympathy for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; their house has been filled to capacity far too long. Although they would never say it, I feel quite certain they will be relieved when we leave on the morrow."

"Shall you miss having such a big family around you after we marry and you have only Georgiana and I with whom to share a home?"

"At the moment, sir, I would be content to share a home with only one other person."

He placed his forehead against mine, his arms entwined around my waist, holding me snugly against his warm body. "And just who might that one person be?"

"Someone tall and handsome who thinks himself exceedingly clever."

"Clever?" He leaned his head back against the bark of the tree against which he stood. "In what way?"

"Do not play the innocent, sir. I yet marvel at how shrewdly you succeeded in arranging our marriage without going back on your word and offering another proposal. I shall take that as a warning that from this point on, I must heed your conversation with great care and acknowledge that you mean what you say without exception."

"A prudent decision," he said, smiling slightly.

"I suppose that is why your ability to make up tales surprised me so. On that terrible day when we were accosted by the highwaymen, I was astounded at how quickly you delved into the imaginary."

"Yes, I did rather hastily declare you my wife, did I not?" He took my hand and led me to a stone bench within the hidden enclosure of shrubs. "When I recall that day, Elizabeth, I remember that I had not the slightest hesitation in doing so. The idea sprang to my mind immediately, no less natural than drawing breath. At times I wonder if I did not already think of you as my wife, that uttering the statement only gave credence to the desire I had buried deep within my heart."

"I thought you said it only to protect me."

He nodded. "In truth, I could have said you were my sister and afforded you the same measure of protection."

"Perhaps," I said, "and perhaps not. As I recall, in a previous conversation you declared with great emphasis that no one would ever believe us brother and sister. In any event and for whatever reason, it is done."

He looked down at the ground but not before I glimpsed regret in his expression. "In truth, I am the one who could never think of you as my sister. The idea was completely unnatural to me. If I had, I might have spared you the pain, the suffering you have endured here in town." He stood up and clenched his fists. "What a selfish being I truly am, Elizabeth! If I had called you my sister, you might never have experienced this last hellish month."

I rose and caught hold of his arm. "Do not torment yourself, William. If you had done things differently, I might have been abused by Sneyd or even...Morgan. You did the right thing. All has turned out well."

He turned and faced me. "And can you honestly say you do not harbour any ill feelings toward me in regards to the past?"

I smiled. "The feelings I have are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."

"With me it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I can yet see the anguish upon your beautiful face the night of the opera."

I raised my hand to his forehead to smooth away the frown. "William, dearest, you think far too much."

I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He caught my hand and kissed the exposed skin at my wrist between my glove and sleeve. Then reaching for me with his other arm, he gathered me close and bent to kiss my lips. Beginning slowly, he contented himself with soft, chaste kisses until I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned against him. Within moments his passion mounted and with it the fervour of his mouth upon mine. I felt that now familiar release of my will as his caresses easily forced me to surrender to him, caught up in the tide of emotion his slightest touch excited within me.

How long we stood enmeshed within the essence of each other I do not know. We emerged from our idyll, however, with a jolt - a cold, wet jolt! An icy snowball cooled the ardour of passion, when it landed upon our cheeks and within seconds slid down our collars!

I screamed and William uttered an oath before we looked up to see our younger sisters race away, giggling with glee.

"Kitty!" I cried.

"Georgiana?" Mr. Darcy asked, wonder in his tone. "My timid, shy little Georgiana is a party to this evil?"

"Oh dear. I fear her association with my family may lead her down the path to corruption." We both began to laugh and, scooping up hands full of snow, we formed our own weapons and soon embarked on a mission of our own. Once again William surprised me, acting the child as much as Mr. Bingley or Kitty or I. It turned out that haughty, arrogant, proper Mr. Darcy still harboured a bit of the boy within.

The day arrived at last whereupon we were to leave London for Hertfordshire. Jane and I thrilled to the news that both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy decided to travel with us. Mr. Bingley determined to remain in the country until the wedding took place and make Netherfield his permanent residence thereafter. We were less than thrilled to discover that Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Caroline Bingley were also to accompany us. Thus, it came about that we made the trip in three carriages: Mamá, Mary and Kitty rode in my father's carriage so that Mamá might have a seat to herself in which to spread out; Papá and Jane joined Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst in Mr. Bingley's carriage; and Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy and I rode in his carriage.

How strange that I was to make that return trip with the same three companions with whom I had embarked on that momentous journey. Several things were different about this excursion, however. For one, Mr. Darcy's carriage was finer, larger and more comfortable than that of Mr. Bingley. Still, two people seated together were forced to jostle against each other from time to time, occurrences Mr. Darcy and I endured with great tolerance, seeing that on this trip he and I sat together facing Mr. Bingley's sisters.

Miss Bingley, I regret to say, had not yet reconciled herself to our forthcoming marriage. Oh, she knew well enough that it was to happen, but it was evident she still struggled to speak with civility in my presence if she spoke at all. I bore up under that trial as best I could, but Mrs. Hurst seemed determined to cause the two of us to become friends. Once again, I wondered if her concern stemmed from the goodness of her heart or whether she looked to her family's future interests in retaining a connection with the owner of Pemberley.

We had bid our farewells to my aunt and uncle early that morning. My aunt held me close and whispered, "Be happy, Lizzy," in my ear. With earnest expressions of gratitude, I kissed both of them goodbye and we all looked forward to our reunion at the wedding in a fortnight. Before we drove out of view, being the final carriage in the caravan of three, and while I still waved to our relatives, Mrs. Hurst undertook her campaign to strike up a friendship between Caroline and me.

"Miss Bennet," she began, "since we are all to be family very soon, shall you not call my sister and me by our Christian names? And in turn, might we have the pleasure of addressing you by yours?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hurst," I replied.

"Then Eliza, you must call me Louisa."

I murmured her name and wished I could instruct her not to shorten my name to 'Eliza,' but I restrained myself and smiled.

"You and Caroline must be about the same age," she went on. "Now that we are all to be one family, you must explore your common interests. Were we not just speaking of this, Caroline?"

Her sister gave her a look that indicated the opposite, but she did make the effort and nodded in confirmation.

I pressed my lips together, wondering what Miss Bingley and I could possibly have in common and also what Mr. Darcy thought of this line of conversation. I chanced a glimpse at his countenance, but he stared out the window at the scenes of London passing by. I could see that it was left to me to come up with possible suggestions. "We both enjoy music," I began, "although Caroline is far more accomplished on the pianoforte than I."

She snorted and I saw Louisa nudge her with her elbow. "But you have such a lovely voice, Eliza," Mrs. Hurst said. "Does she not, Caroline?"

"Yes," her sister said, refusing to add to the compliment.

I sighed and looked out the window. The conversation was insupportable. Caroline had not the slightest interest in being my friend and we had nothing in common except that her brother was to marry my sister. Mrs. Hurst continued her endeavours to introduce various topics on which we might agree, but nothing would induce Caroline to put herself out, to advance the exchange to any degree. I was relieved when Louisa, at last, gave up and resigned herself to riding in silence. I let out my breath and settled into the swaying hypnotic rhythm of the coach, allowing myself to lean against Mr. Darcy's arm, our legs touching from time to time as well. He did not seem to mind; in truth, he appeared to take up much more room than necessary so that we might be forced to sit close together.

Within half an hour's time we had left town and I rejoiced to view the passing countryside. Even though winter was upon us, the landscape brown and barren, I still gloried in the open spaces uncluttered with crowded rows of houses and shops. I smiled to see flocks of sheep search about for sparse blades of grass in the meadows, and up above fluffy clouds strewn across the wide blue sky. Oh yes, at last I could breathe freely.

"Is it not lovely, William?" I asked softly.

He smiled at me and nodded. " 'Tis a peaceful, pastoral scene. Does it make your heart yearn for a long walk?"

"Aye! I can hardly wait to return to the country lanes around Longbourn."

Caroline snorted again. "Oh, please, Eliza. Do not tell us you plan to continue tramping through the woods like a gypsy now that you are to be mistress of Pemberley. You must think of your new position in society or at least consider Mr. Darcy's reputation before you are seen running through the wilds."

I sensed the tension arising in William. Evidently, Mrs. Hurst could see it, as well, for she said quickly, "Caroline and I would be glad to advise you on these things, my dear. You can hardly be expected to know all the changes you must bring about before you move into that great estate. My sister and I have long moved in such exalted circles and we would be more than happy to aid you in the necessary modifications."

I took a deep breath, willing myself not to react as I wished. "That is an exceedingly generous offer, Louisa."

"But unnecessary," Mr. Darcy interjected. "I am more than satisfied with Elizabeth exactly as she is. I would not have the slightest alteration made either in her behaviour or her character. As for walks in the woods, I have come to possess a distinct fondness for them, myself."

Caroline frowned and Louisa sniffed before saying, "I understand walking is very beneficial exercise."

Nothing more was said for several miles. I noticed that we had reached a wooded area by then, one in which Mr. Darcy appeared particularly interested. He leaned toward the window and surveyed the passing landscape as though in search of something. Within moments, he tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane, signaling the driver to stop.

"Is there a rest stop here?" Caroline asked. "I can see naught but trees."

The footman opened the door and lowered the steps, whereupon Mr. Darcy exited the carriage and stood looking about for a moment. "This area is where we were apprehended by the highwaymen. I desire to examine the scene if it will not cause any of you distress for me to do so."

We assured him that it would not and I rose to leave the carriage and join him, causing Louisa and Caroline to promptly do the same. Papá's carriage and that of Mr. Bingley had already gone on ahead and did not make the stop with us. Mr. Darcy stood and scanned the line of trees. He then walked back and forth about where the highwaymen had stopped us the first time.

"Mrs. Hurst," he asked, "can you show me where Bingley's carriage was pulled off the road? I cannot place it." She welcomed his attentions and led him into the wooded area, stating she believed the site was nearby.

"Why ever does Mr. Darcy wish to explore this horrid scene?" Caroline complained. "I should prefer never to visit it again!"

"I tend to agree with you," I said. "It holds nothing but painful memories." I shuddered slightly, having suddenly visualized images of Rufus sitting astride his horse holding a gun on us, Merle rummaging through our valises, and Sneyd demanding our jewelry. I looked about and could almost picture the first time I caught sight of Morgan dressed all in black, that jaunty feather tucked in his hatband, waving about in contrast to his golden curls.

"Where have they gone?" Caroline whined. "I want to leave this place."

"It must have been terrible for you," I said. "Bound and gagged and hidden in the woods. However did you manage?"

"It was insufferable! I cannot begin to describe it. We were shoved and crammed into that coach with menservants! I doubt that I shall ever recover from such mistreatment. I still suffer from night terrors and Louisa does, as well. You have no idea how fortunate you were to be taken, Eliza. At least Mr. Darcy remained by your side to protect you and you were never abandoned or left to defend yourself against those criminals. Oh yes, you are fortunate, indeed."

"That I am, Caroline," I said quietly, although images flashed through my memory of the times I was forced to fend for myself against Sneyd as well as Morgan. How would it benefit either of us to tell her of my experience? Because of her jealousy, she had closed her mind against me and the most I could hope for was civility between us. For Jane's sake I would do what I could to promote such grace.

"I suggest we do all that we can to put this behind us," I offered. "We have both suffered in our own ways. We have shared and survived a common peril. Perchance, in some unforeseen manner, the experience will bind us for all time. I know I shall never think of the beginning of that journey without remembrance of you."

She turned to meet my gaze and I witnessed a visible alteration in her countenance. "You may be correct, Eliza. We are survivors, are we not? Our degree of suffering does not have to equal, I suppose, for us to extend a common understanding toward each other."

"Nor a common sympathy," I added, smiling. I was rewarded with the faintest hint of a similar expression crossing her face.

Mrs. Hurst returned about that time, emerging from the wood alone. Somewhat out of breath from her walk, she struggled to speak without panting. Eventually I understood that Mr. Darcy wished for me to join him as she waved her handkerchief in that direction. I stepped quickly and hurried to find him, eager to depart Caroline's renewed whine to complete the journey. It was not difficult to locate Mr. Darcy within the grove of trees and shrubs, for he knelt within a portion now flattened from where Mr. Bingley's carriage had been stowed.

"Elizabeth," he said, looking up, an air of excitement in his manner, "I have found it!"

"Found what, sir?" I replied.

He stood up and held out his hand wherein I saw a thick gold money clip in the shape of the letter D. "My father's money clip! I discovered it here, along with a woman's necklace. It must belong to Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst."

"I thought Colonel Fitzwilliam said all that was stolen by the robbers had been sold, but for my cross. How did you know to search in this place?"

"When I met with Morgan, he confessed that he had dropped part of the loot sometime either during the robbery or on the ride to the cabin. I took a chance that the loss might have occurred before we left this site and embarked upon that long ride through the woods."

"When you met with Morgan?" I echoed. "I do not understand. When did such a meeting occur?"

He took my arm as we began to exit the woods. "After he was sentenced and before I spoke to the judge about commuting his decision to transportation, I visited with Morgan at Newgate Prison. I offered him the opportunity to go to America in return for certain promises."

"What kind of promises?"

"The assurance that he would do all in his power to make a decent life for Gert in Virginia, meaning that he would forsake his old ways and dedicate himself to become a law-abiding citizen instead of a lawbreaker."

"Is that all?"

He took a deep breath and swallowed. "No. I also told him that if he ever did anything to harm you in any way and I learned of it...I would kill him."

I swallowed as well. "Did you tell Morgan you planned to send me to Virginia?"

He shook his head. "When I met with him, I had not even thought of purchasing your passage. Yet, I still feared you and he might someday be united and I wanted to put him on guard. I wished him to know that someone else cared what happened to you and would take every means to protect you."

"Oh, William." I stopped and turned to him. Once again that tormented expression played about his eyes. "I cannot bear that I caused you such worry and fear."

He took both my hands in his and then looked around where we were standing. "This spot...this very spot is where Morgan sat on his horse and Sneyd thrust you into his arms. I can still see the way his hands encircled your waist and how he pulled you close against his chest, his rough cheek brushing against yours. I wanted to kill him, Elizabeth! God help me, if I had possessed opportunity, I would have!"

I reached up and touched his cheek, turning his face to meet mine. "It is over, dearest. From this day forward, only your hands shall surround my waist and I shall lean upon no one's chest but yours. I shall nestle safe in your arms, William, with your beloved cheek next to mine. Let us leave the past here. It is dead and finished. We are alive and well and, God willing, have a lifetime in which to create memories that will fill our hearts and cancel out these that torment us."

He leaned toward me and although he could not take me in his arms then and there, I rejoiced to see the light return to his beautiful dark eyes, the anguish vanish, replaced by love and joy and eager anticipation of days to come.

The day we returned to Hertfordshire, rain set in and it continued for three weeks but for the briefest of respites. The cold, raw temperatures of late January and early February only added to the general unpleasantness of the climate. Consequently, I was forced to stay indoors and my longing for a good tramp through the woods remained unsatisfied.

The inclement weather, however, did not halt Mamá's frantic wedding preparations. My father's carriage was called for daily so that she might frequent the dressmaker's establishment in Meryton and meet more often than needed with the vicar of Longbourn church. She raided her friends' stillrooms, begged gifts of their finest dried blooms with which to decorate the sanctuary, and urged the advice of Mrs. Philips and Mrs. Long, seeking their opinions of her proposed arrangements, which she then promptly disregarded. Thus, the muddy ruts along the road from Longbourn to Meryton grew ever deeper with each passing day.

Still, I was happy to be at home, away from the clamour of London and its noisy, crowded atmosphere. One would hardly deem our house quiet, but in comparison, its country setting filled me with a peace I had not experienced since leaving it over two months earlier.

My sister Lydia's return added to the degree of giggles and wails. If not regaling us with joyful accounts of her days spent with Mrs. Forester and her retinue of young officers, she mourned bitterly the loss of one young man in particular. It seemed that Mr. Wickham had attached himself to Miss King, a relative newcomer to the area, but one of some importance. She had recently inherited a fortune of 10,000 pounds and Lydia was inconsolable at the news. She declared that if she had a fortune, not only Mr. Wickham, but several of the young officers would ask for her hand, a vision reinforced by my mother.

"Of course, I should choose Mr. Wickham," Lydia announced, "for if anyone could make me be true, it would be him. Is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen in his regimentals?"

Kitty agreed with her, but both Jane and I admonished her not to engage in such idle talk. Jane suggested that it was not proper to speak in that manner of a gentleman already attached to another, while I lectured her on the importance of choosing a man of worth, not just looks.

"Oh, pooh!" Lydia declared. "Just because Mr. Wickham did not choose you, Lizzy, is no reason to denounce his merit."

"She can afford to now," Kitty said, "since a man ten times his worth has asked for her hand."

Lydia made a face and threw the bonnet she had been trimming onto the table. "Mr. Darcy may be rich enough, but I think him a bore. Can you imagine spending your life with such a strict, proper man? I much prefer a man of excitement. One could never grow restless married to Mr. Wickham. There is such an air of daring about him!"

Neither Mary's moral platitudes, nor anything Jane or I said could dissuade our youngest sister from her foolish ideas. My elder sister and I had privately decided not to share with our family the information about Mr. Wickham's indiscretion with Georgiana because of the embarrassment it might cause Mr. Darcy and his sister. Thus, when warning Lydia, we were forced to speak in general terms of Mr. Wickham's lack of reliable character traits. Since it had little visible effect on her inexperienced outlook, I took relief in the fact that Mr. Wickham had now removed himself from the marriage market in Hertfordshire.

"Besides," Jane later said in my bedchamber, "Mr. Wickham would never importune upon one of our sisters even if he were not attached to Miss King, for he must marry money."

"Now that you and I are moving up in the world, Jane," I said, "our sisters' circumstances are somewhat altered. A man with Mr. Wickham's outlook might see our connections as promising. Yes, it is a very good thing that he is safely settled on another."

I do not know whether it was the forced indoor confinement that caused those weeks before my wedding to crawl by at such an interminable pace or not, but rarely have I wished for anything to pass as greatly as I yearned for that time to elapse.

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley called daily, but we were rarely granted more than a moment alone. Either my father's house grew smaller each week or my family gained in weight. I felt as though we were smothered in people and not only members of our household. Mrs. Long, Mrs. Philips, Lady Lucas, and other friends of my mother called regularly. Mrs. Forester, accompanied by several of the young officers of the militia attended upon us as well. And then, the week before the wedding Mr. and Mrs. Collins returned to Hertfordshire to stay at Lucas Lodge. It seemed that Mr. Collins was now out of favour with Lady Catherine because he and I were cousins and she had not yet reconciled herself that I was to marry her nephew. My father's bizarre sense of humour caused him to advise Mr. Collins that if he had a choice, he should stand by Mr. Darcy, as he had more to give. Thus, we were treated to frequent visits from Charlotte and her husband. Although I enjoyed time with my good friend, even a little of Mr. Collins' obsequious presence strained Mr. Darcy's patience to the breaking point.

Jane and I were often invited to visit Netherfield, but there Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Caroline prevailed upon our attentions and Mr. Darcy and I found ourselves alone only upon the odd occasion and then but for a moment or two. I sensed that he grew increasingly frustrated and watched him resort to his unsociable behaviours with more and more frequency. He spoke less and less, entering into conversation only when forced to; he spent undue amounts of time gazing out the windows of both Netherfield Hall and Longbourn; and his impatience with my mother, Mr. Collins, Caroline Bingley, and my younger sisters grew ever more obvious.

At last, I suggested he refrain from calling for a day. The rain had let up that evening and as he bade me goodnight, I said, "It appears we shall have a favourable break in the weather. Why not spend tomorrow outdoors in sport with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst?"

I could see the relief in his eyes, although he expressed regret at not visiting me.

"Perchance a brief absence will do us both good, William. You may find yourself racing back to see me the day after." I gave him an arch smile, as he kissed my hand. I should miss him, but I knew he needed time away from my family.

The next morning I rose early, donned my bonnet and grabbed my shawl, intent upon a long, solitary walk in the woods. Mamá would have warned me about soiling my petticoat on the muddy roads, but I cared not a whit. I longed for the freedom of no other company but my own. Just as I reached the front door, however, the heavens greeted me with yet another round of raindrops. It was not a heavy storm, but a persistent drizzle, and canceled any opportunity for a hike. With a great sigh, I picked up a book I had left in the parlour, grabbed an apple from the dining room table, and slipped out the door.

Making a hurried dash, I ran around the house, crossed the courtyard, and entered into the back part of the stable used primarily for storage. Bridles, saddles, blankets, and various grooming tools hung neatly from pegs on the walls, against which the winter's supply of hay bales were stacked. None of the servants were about and so I selected a blanket, threw it over my shoulder, and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where a mountain of loose hay lay in great abundance. A favourite childhood retreat, I thought it a perfect hideaway. I spread out the horse blanket and mounded up enough hay for a pillow before reclining with only an apple and a novel for company. It was not a walk, but at least I could be alone for a while.

Some time later, I heard the arrival of a carriage and peered through the rough window to see my Aunt Philips had arrived, along with Mrs. Long. Once they entered the house, the servants drove the carriage into the main stable. I knew I should go in and greet them, but the thought of giving up my solitude prodded me to remain exactly where I lay. Besides that, I had unpinned my hair so that the plump chignon did not rub against my scalp as I reclined. I had little desire of redoing my coiffure just to see my mother's visitors. I returned to the adventure I had been reading, content to conceal myself as long as possible. I do not know when I fell asleep, but as often the case when reading, my eyelids began to droop and eventually closed. How long I slept, I know not, but I do recall how I was awakened.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said softly, trailing a wisp of hay along my cheek. I remember slapping at it to remove the tickle, when I heard him chuckle. Opening my eyes, I found his face just above my own, his lips so tantalizingly near I could have kissed him with the barest of efforts.

"William?" I attempted to raise my head, but found his arms on both sides of me, providing an enticing restraint. "Why are you here? How...how did you find me?"

"Your housekeeper told me of how you slipped out early this morning," he said. "As to why I am here - listen." Thunder boomed in the distance and I could see flashes of lightning through the opening below. "One can hardly engage in any type of sport in this weather. Unless it is my favourite pursuit - ensnaring you in my trap!"

I could not keep from giggling. "And now, sir, what shall you do with me?"

"Oh, perhaps this," he said, kissing my cheek, his breath warm, his lips gently caressing. "Or, I could do this," he added, nuzzling the other cheek. "And then there is always this." He moved his lips to my forehead. "And this most definitely." He nibbled my left ear. "Or especially this." He proceeded to the spot below my right ear while I trembled with delight.

"One never knows. I might even do this," he said, his voice almost a growl. His lips touched mine with the lightest of kisses. I raised up slightly, hoping to keep his mouth upon mine, but he pulled back just enough to thwart my desire and raised his eyebrows.

"What is this? Can my prey possibly wish to be ensnared?" His eyes widened in mock surprise.

I answered by taking his face in my hands. I pulled him down until my lips met his, my eyes closing with pleasure. Softly I stroked his mouth with my own, my caresses growing ever deeper and more urgent until I heard him groan and gather me up into his arms, whereupon he proceeded to match my desire, with his growing stronger moment by moment. At last we drew apart and he rolled over. He lay beside me on the blanket, nestling my head upon his chest as he stroked my hair. His heart beat in my ear with a furious rhythm and I could feel him struggle to control his breathing.

"Elizabeth, you have bewitched me."

"How can I, sir, when I reside within your trap?"

He laughed softly. "In truth, it is you who have trapped me and I am caged within a pen from which I never desire release. Do you have any idea how you tempt me with your curls freed from restraint?"

At the moment I had forgotten that I had unpinned my knot and raised my hand to pull my hair back. He snatched my hand away. "No, let it be. I love to see it down."

"How can you? It is all untidy and wild."

"I recall the first time I watched your curls fall. You rode in front of me on Morgan's horse. I saw your bonnet loosen and drop to the ground and then one by one, your dark tendrils slipped from their pins and trailed down your neck."

"I was mortified to appear so disheveled in your presence," I murmured, remembering how I had searched for a means to rectify my appearance.

He slowly shook his head. "An inapt description. I thought you captivating. Ever since we returned to civilization, I have longed to reach up and throw away those pins." I could feel him bury his face in my hair, as he kissed my forehead.

"Oh, William, I do love you so," I cried as I raised my head from his chest, cupped his face with both hands and began to kiss him once again. His response was equally urgent and greedy. He rolled me over onto my back and began the process of kissing me with such abandon that I feared my heart might burst. At last and only moments before I thought I could not bear the excitement building within me, he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath.

Quickly he sat up and I watched his chest heave as he struggled to gain control. He put his hand to his mouth in that manner I had come to know so well and did not look at me until he had regulated his breath. I knew that I should rise to a sitting position, myself, but, in truth, I felt too weak at the moment to move. Eventually, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The desire in his eyes did little to aid my resolve. I knew full well that one of us had to be the stronger, and I prayed that it would be William.

"Three more days, Elizabeth," he said. "Three more days and I shall not stop."

I blushed, but could not keep from smiling.

"Until then we must stay out of haylofts," he said.

"Must we?" I said wistfully. "Why, sir?"

The barest glimmer of amusement played about his eyes. "You know why. Have mercy and do not tease me."

I raised up on my elbows and lifted my chin. "I am innocent, William."

He nodded, saying nothing for a moment, and continued to stare at me. "Yes, I know. If you were not innocent, you would realize in what danger you now reside."

"Danger?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet, danger." He turned and reclined upon one arm.

I placed my hand upon his cheek and gazed into his eyes. He took my palm and kissed it, a practice he had already learned filled me with delight. "I am not afraid of you, Mr. Darcy," I tried to say bravely, although my voice trembled somewhat.

"But I am," he whispered, kissing my palm again. Then, rising, he leaned down and pulled me to my feet. "Come my love. Let us return to the lion's den and enter our true cage. I have enjoyed all the sport I can for the present."

That evening saw the arrival of the Gardiners from London, a welcome addition to our household. My uncle renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy and I was pleased to see their genuine appreciation of each other's company. Mamá claimed most of our aunt's attention, as she thought it imperative that Mrs. Gardiner know every detail of the wedding plans. It was late that evening after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had left for Netherfield before Jane and I had a chance to visit with our favourite aunt for any length of time.

"So everything is in order," she asked, smiling, "all in preparation for the great day?"

We nodded. "In spite of Mamá's worries, I do think all shall be well," I said.

"Your young gentlemen appear as much in love with the two of you as ever. Ah, Jane, Lizzy, it does my heart good to see you happy. Now that all the unpleasantness is over, you can look forward to the future with the greatest assurance of hope."

Jane and I rose and kissed her and reminded her of how much joy we owed to her hospitality and gentle guidance. We retired that night filled with pleasure.

Unfortunately, the next day brought with it a new dawn and a new obstacle.

"Lizzy," Jane asked, interrupting Mamá's insistence that I model my wedding bonnet for my aunt. "Did Mr. Darcy say anything to you last night indicating he and Charles would delay their visit today?"

I answered in the negative and for the first time glanced at the clock above the mantel in the parlour. I was surprised to see that it was more than two hours past the usual time when our fiancés called upon us.

"Do not be alarmed, Jane," Kitty said, standing at the window. "Here comes Mr. Bingley's carriage now."

Sure enough, his pleasant face appeared before us within moments. Mr. Darcy, however, was nowhere to be seen. When I questioned Mr. Bingley, he appeared somewhat nervous and apprehensive. He drew Jane and me to a corner of the room away from my mother's presence, which did not distress her, for by that time she had moved on to display the handkerchief she was embroidering for my aunt's approval. She wished Jane to carry it with her bridal bouquet.

"An express arrived at Netherfield late last night," Mr. Bingley said, "from Colonel Fitzwilliam." I immediately asked if anything was wrong, if Georgiana was unwell, and was relieved to learn she was not the subject of the letter. Instead, the colonel wished to inform Mr. Darcy that an impediment to our marriage had been declared. An impediment! I could not take it in.

"What sort of impediment?" I cried, forgetting myself and raising my voice. This, naturally, caught the attention of the other inhabitants of the room and soon Mr. Bingley found himself surrounded by anxious, demanding requests for more details.

He explained that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had prepared a sworn statement through her attorney, declaring that Mr. Darcy and I could not marry because of a prior arrangement, that her nephew was engaged to Lady Catherine's daughter and had been for many years previous.

"But that is untrue!" I said. "Mr. Darcy told me himself that neither he nor his cousin wished to marry and any attachment between them was but a figment of Lady Catherine's imagination."

"Exactly," Mr. Bingley replied. "Darcy said as much last evening, but he felt compelled to leave for London at first light. He said he must set this straight before Lady Catherine calls upon the vicar of Longbourne church."

Mamá began to wail, grabbed her chest, and required assistance to be seated, calling for her salts and throwing the house into general uproar. While my younger sisters attended her, I continued to question Mr. Bingley, my father and uncle adding their own concerns. He could tell us little else, other than his assurance that Mr. Darcy would take care of the matter.

At length I managed to steal away from the tumult and crept up the stairs to my chamber. How could Lady Catherine stoop to such depths? Surely it would all come to nothing...or would it? Fear and doubt began to eat away at my confidence as I thought of how easily the rich so often got their way. If Mr. Darcy could use his wealth and influence to transport the highwaymen from the gallows to foreign countries, could not his aunt halt a simple wedding if she so desired?

My family and I spent the next two days on pins and needles. At first Mamá took to her bed with laments so loud I feared they might be heard in the village. Jane walked around with a persistent expression of dismay tarnishing her normally serene countenance. What should have been happy days of anticipation turned to dread. Mr. Bingley was everything a young man in love could be - eager to keep up his beloved's spirits, full of encouragement for me, and willing to embark upon any plan either my father or uncle suggested.

I was grateful for my aunt and uncle's presence. If not for their sensible outlooks and sage counsel, the situation could have grown worse. Repeatedly they advised us to rely upon Mr. Darcy. He was not without friends and connections in high places; he was intelligent and resourceful; he had truth on his side; and, as my uncle reassured me, he was a man in love.

"A man as much in love with you as Mr. Darcy is, Elizabeth, will find a way to marry you. Mark my words. It will happen."

I clung to the hope manifest in that prophecy and yet, I still worried. I slept little for two nights and my appetite vanished with Mr. Darcy's departure to London. The day before the wedding, I cringed when gazing into the mirror. I could see the plague of dark circles once more ensconced below my eyes. My mother, by that time, had risen from her bed and determined to make the best of things. After all, one daughter would marry on the morrow whether the other did or not. One glimpse of me at the breakfast table caused her to pinch my cheeks.

"Now, Lizzy, I will not have you look pale and drawn. Whether Mr. Darcy leaves you at the altar or not, you shall look well and happy for your sister's sake!"

"Mamá!" Jane cried, but I held up my hand to signify not to interfere.

"I shall do my best for Jane."

Just then we were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Mr. Bingley, who rushed into the dining room, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "I heard from Darcy last night! He sent an express around midnight."

Everyone clamoured to hear what it said and I caught my breath, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking.

"I shall read it," he said.

Bingley, Things are still not settled, but progress has been made. The Earl of Matlock, Fitzwilliam and I leave for Kent early on the morrow. Tell Elizabeth to meet me at the altar at the appointed time. Nothing shall keep me from her side. FD

"There!" Mamá cried. "I knew it would work out. I never doubted for a moment that Mr. Darcy would make things right." The rest of my family echoed her sentiments, although my father questioned Mr. Bingley as to details. Alas, he knew nothing more. In the general din and commotion, I had said not a word. At length, Mr. Bingley reached my side.

"Would you like to have the letter, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked.

"Thank you," I murmured, reaching out to take the precious missive. It was only then that I realized my face was wet with tears.

I read that brief letter from William again and again throughout the day and went to bed that night, holding it next to my heart. I knew that the problem was far from over, but I went to sleep believing I would marry the next day. I believed in the man who was to be my husband; I believed his promise and because of that, I slept soundly.

Sometime during the night the rain ceased and a light snow began to fall. We awoke to find the countryside dusted white with a hint of sunshine winking through the clouds. I could hear my mother's voice crying, "Hill! Hill!" and the scatter of footsteps, as my sisters and the servants scurried about. I yawned and stretched, rolled over and felt William's letter beneath my breast. I picked it up and kissed it.

"Good morning, 'almost husband,'" I whispered. In truth, I still did not know whether he had removed the impediment to our marriage, but I intended to do exactly as he instructed. I rang for the maid and proceeded with my scheduled ablutions. I was a bride that day and I resolved to be a happy bride, refusing to allow any negative thought to intrude upon my dream.

My mother and my younger sisters ran back and forth between Jane's bedchamber and mine while we dressed, adding their suggestions, or in Mamá's case - orders, as to our preparations. At length, I had bathed, perfumed, and corseted my body. I sat patiently while the maid transformed my unruly hair into an array of curls. I stepped into the beautiful white gown and my aunt placed the lace-trimmed bonnet and veil upon my head. Even I could not help but be pleased with my appearance in the floor-length mirror. I turned around to see Jane enter the room, a vision too beautiful to behold. It was all either of us could do to restrain our tears, but fortunately within moments, my uncle called from below stairs that it was time for us to depart. The tears would have to wait.

Our entire party walked to the church, since it was but a short distance from the house. A collection of carriages were lined up outside, but I had not the time to scan them all and recognize if Mr. Darcy's was a part of the queue. My younger sisters retrieved our bouquets from Aunt Philips in the foyer and after handing them over, they scampered inside. Lydia and Kitty hoped to seat themselves by Denny and Captain Carter. Mr. Gardiner escorted my mother and aunt into the sanctuary.

"Well, Jane, Lizzy," Papá said, holding out his arms to conduct us, "you are both about to marry fine men."

"The very best of men," I said, and Jane murmured her assent.

"I could not have parted with either of you to any less." He kissed Jane's cheek and then mine, and a lump rose in my throat upon sight of the mist about his eyes. He would not give us time for emotion, however. Lifting his head, he led us through the great double doors.

Inside I sensed that the pews were filled with guests, but in truth, I could not tell you who was there. I had eyes for only one person standing at the end of the aisle. I suppose the vicar stood there, as well as Mr. Bingley. I, however, saw only Mr. Darcy - my William - waiting for me. The expression on his countenance was deadly serious, his eyes commanding mine with a piercing stare. It was that same look I had seen him direct upon me so often, one I had in the past erroneously thought of as disapproval, but now recognized as William's intense struggle for self-control. He needed me; he wanted me; he loved me; but he would hold it all deep within. I could read it all over his face...and it made me smile.

It was not until after we had endured the wedding breakfast and raced through the bridal arches with Jane and Mr. Bingley, that William smiled. All through the meal and endless line of friends and family extending their best wishes I never saw his countenance ease or felt a lessening of the tension that beset him. Therefore, when his face broke out in smiles as he led me to the carriage, it was as welcome as the sun pouring forth through the clouds in all its splendour.

Even before the carriage reached the end of the drive, we had turned to each other, love and desire culminating in a tender, tentative kiss. For some reason, I suddenly felt timid, knowing that now we were married, a kiss could mean much more than when we were engaged. Once his lips met mine, however, my shyness evaporated as I tasted his sweet mouth and felt that exciting rush of anticipation envelop me.

"I love you, Mrs. Darcy," he murmured, drawing me into his arms.

"I love you more, Mr. Darcy," I replied.

"Impossible!" he declared, kissing away my protests. Ah well, I thought, I shall let you have the last word this time, since you convince me in such a beguiling manner.

Jane and Mr. Bingley traveled to London for their wedding trip, but William wished to take me home to Pemberley and I had not the slightest desire to go elsewhere. Since it was a great distance to Derbyshire, my husband's uncle had offered us the use of his country estate, Ardengate, in which to break the journey. It was situated little more than a half-day's drive from Hertfordshire. We stopped several times to change horses on the way, but still the trip seemed long. I know not whether it was because of our anticipation of the evening to come or what, but William, in particular, appeared more than eager to reach the grounds of the great house.

A great house it was, indeed; very old, yet well maintained. I was amazed at its size and grandeur. Inside all was prepared in expectation of our visit. I was shown to my spacious, elegant chamber, where a maid unpacked my bags and helped me dress for dinner. The meal, itself, was held in a great dining hall with a table fit for a banquet of fifty instead of merely two. Upon entering the room, William shook his head.

"This will never do," he announced to the butler hovering nearby. "You have placed Mrs. Darcy and I at opposite ends of a table clearly intended for a party. Kindly remove her plate and set it next to mine on my right." The servant snapped his fingers and two footmen immediately did as directed.

Over a sumptuous feast, we talked of the day. In the carriage he had explained all that had happened with his aunt. William's attorney never thought Lady Catherine's document would hold up in a court of law, but its existence could delay the wedding, especially since her overbearing demeanour frightened the vicar of St. George's in London, and even more so the country minister of Longbourn parish.

Thus, Colonel Fitzwilliam's father determined to pay a visit to his sister, along with his son and nephew. The three men's endeavours, and especially those of the Earl, eventually persuaded Lady Catherine to withdraw her petition. She was not happy with the outcome, but she was not a stupid woman. With dire threats of a serious rift in the family, she gave in. She had no desire to be ostracized by the Earl of Matlock.

Toward the end of the meal I could see that the strain of the last three days had taken its toll on William. "When did you arrive at Netherfield?" I asked.

"Quite late last night," he replied. "It must have been well after midnight before Fitzwilliam, Georgiana and I were able to retire. I am glad my cousin and sister shall remain in the country for a few days as guests of Mr. Bingley's sisters. It will give her time to recover from the journey."

"You must be tired. I fear you did not rest any during that time."

"I am well," he said in a dismissive manner. "It is you, Elizabeth, for whom I worried. Was it so very distressing?"

I looked at my lap before answering. "It was," I said softly, "until Mr. Bingley brought your letter. I confess I held it next to my heart all last night. Once I read your promise, I felt your presence and slept very well, indeed."

A light kindled in his eyes and he reached for my hand. "I, too, have always slept better within your presence," he said.

The next morning I awakened entangled within William's embrace, my head on his chest, my hair flowing over his shoulder. I felt him stir and tighten his arms around me before kissing my hair. I raised my face just enough to glimpse him through drowsy eyes and smiled.

"Good morning, husband," I whispered.

"Good morning, wife," he replied, kissing my forehead again. "Mmm, this is the perfect way to awaken - holding you in my arms. I knew it for truth upon its first occurrence."

"Wha...what did you say?"

Now it was his turn to smile. "The first time I woke up with you in my arms, I knew that I wanted to awaken that same way every day of my life."

I giggled and hugged him closer. "Ah, now I know to what you refer - that morning in the cave."

"Y-e-s," he said, stretching out the word, "that was a particularly enjoyable manner in which to awaken, but I had roused from slumber with your arms around me prior to that morning."

"But..." I raised up on one elbow. "That is impossible. What can you mean, sir?"

"You truly do not know, Elizabeth? I did not think you were awake at the time, but I suppose in my vanity, I had hopes."

I now sat straight up and stared at him. "William, of what are you speaking?"

He looked away, pressed his lips together, and then turned back to face me. "I am speaking of the cabin in which we were locked for three days and nights. The first evening after your night terror summoned the highwaymen and Morgan forced us to share the same blanket, you huddled against the wall, never turning even once. The second night was another matter."

My eyes widened and I gasped. "What...what did I do?"

"Nothing so very bad, my love. Do not distress yourself. It is just that I awoke to find you cuddled up against me, your arm thrown across my chest."

"But I...I never knew it, William. How could I not know that happened?"

"Well, I took every precaution not to cause you embarrassment. I slipped out from under your embrace very carefully, even though I must tell you that was the last thing in this world I wished to do."

"William!"

"My dear, do not look at me in that manner. I am just a man, after all. And you know you are a beautiful woman." He reached up and began to caress my bare shoulder, stroking my neck with a tender touch.

"Pray, do not distract me," I said, disturbed that my voice came out a bit shaky. "Was that the only time I imposed upon you in that manner?"

He smiled that tantalizing smile of his that revealed the answer. I sighed and rolled my eyes. What else had I done? "Do you recall the gunshots that wakened us on that third night?" he asked.

I nodded. "I called out your name."

"And I put my hand against your mouth immediately to silence you, did I not? That was because you had slept on my shoulder for some time, your mouth buried against my neck. I had not far to reach to quiet you."

"Oh, William," I cried with dismay. "What must you have thought of me?"

He lay back, raised his arms and placed them behind his head. "I thought you enchanting and the greatest temptation I had encountered in my life. I knew without a doubt that as soon as we escaped or were rescued I had to make you my wife."

"And you assumed I wished to marry you as well. Of course you did. My behaviour led you to believe I loved you."

"In truth, Elizabeth, I think a part of you did love me a little even back then. You fought against it; that is evident. Perhaps, though, that secret, hidden part of your heart knew you loved me even when your speech and actions when awake indicated the opposite. I like to think when asleep, you revealed your true feelings. And then, of course, there was Morgan and my mistaken belief that you cared for him. That shot my hopes to smithereens." His voice turned sour, as though he tasted something bitter.

I threw myself upon him, stretching out my arms to pull his own out from under his head so that they might encircle me. "Is it possible that you know me better than I know myself, Mr. Darcy? It is for certain you know more about the ways of love. One thing, however, you do not. I shall tell you now so that you never forget it. You are the only man I have ever loved and the only man I shall ever love. And I intend to wake up beside you every morning of my life from this moment on!"

Throughout our years together, from that time on, mornings proved to be the favourite part of our day.

Mr. Darcy and I have now been married more than a quarter of a century and I can say with sincerity that our love for each other has only grown in depth and intensity. Bits of grey now streak his dark curls, but they still entice me to tangle them in play as much as ever. A few lines have deepened in his forehead and between his brows, but they do not diminish his handsome face. Instead, he appears experienced, distinguished and wise. He still surprises me in ways I never expect and I have learned with effort not to assume that because I know him better than anyone else, I perceive how his mind works. In expressions of either love or displeasure, he continues to leave me breathless.

I would not have you think ours has been a perfect union; I do not believe such a thing exists. How could two people of strong wills dwell together without some degree of friction? Our arguments have been forceful and vigorous, both of us at times refusing to bend; but our periods of atonement and reconciliation have proved equally spirited and fervent. We have separated twice in our marriage and then not by choice, for only the deepest of concerns could keep us apart.

Unfortunately, the first such occurrence took place during our first year of marriage. From the time of our wedding on the 17th day of February through the 31st day of July, Mr. Darcy and I enjoyed an idyllic honeymoon. Caught up in the joy and novelty of our love and passion, we had little time or thought for anyone but each other. Georgiana, of course, joined us at Pemberley by Easter, but she was a welcome addition. A gentle soul and easy companion, I grew to love her more and more each day. None of us had the slightest desire to return to town for the season. I had endured enough of London to satisfy me for some time, and Mr. Darcy was content to remain in his beloved Derbyshire. He announced that we would wait until the following year to make our return in spite of numerous invitations we received from his friends in town, wishing to entertain us and make my acquaintance. I took pleasure in extending our regrets, more than willing to put off facing the renewed scrutiny of the ton.

I say the previous so that you will understand why the month of August descended upon us with shock and horror. We were forced to interrupt our tranquil country life when I received a letter from Jane informing us that Lydia had run off from her friends in Brighton with none other than Mr. Wickham!

She had traveled to the seaside town as guest of Mrs. Forester when the militia removed from Meryton and transferred to a shire near Brighton. I had cautioned my father by letter not to allow her such licence, but by the time he received my missive, Lydia had already departed. I issued the warning because of Lydia's general unthinking, forward behaviour, never imagining that Mr. Wickham had any interest in her whatsoever, although I knew she had long looked upon him with a young girl's fancy. Although his engagement to Mary King had been broken not long after it began, I still assumed he would seek to marry a woman of means. The fact that he eloped with Lydia just did not make sense.

I suffered deep shame at news of my sister's behaviour, not only because of how it affected Georgiana, but because I knew how unthinkable it was that Mr. Wickham should soon become my husband's brother-in-law. William said little after reading Jane's letter; a dark cloud of anger and resentment descended upon him and consequently, upon the entire house. When called upon to enter the conversation at dinner, he answered only in the briefest of terms and retired to his study afterwards, where he remained behind closed doors for hours. Georgiana and I endured an awkward evening. We spoke of everything but the huge monstrous thing that dwelt between us.

At last my sister retired for the evening; still, William did not join me in the parlour. I ventured into his study where I found him at his desk, deep in thought. He barely acknowledged my presence and bade me only the briefest goodnight before I walked upstairs. For the first time in our marriage, I fell asleep alone and not without tears. I wondered if he now regretted having married me, if all his earlier judgments about the unsuitability of my family had returned to haunt him, and he found himself mired in a marriage he now faced with abhorrence. Without his warm, comforting presence lying beside me, I allowed my imagination to run wild.

He awoke me early the next morning, already dressed, having never inhabited my bed. "Elizabeth, I have come to bid you a hasty goodbye. I leave for London with the morning light."

"London?" was all that I could utter in an incredulous, stupefied manner.

"Yes, I have not the time to explain. I shall write to you." He kissed my hand and with one last tormented look, he strode out the door before I could rise or manage to question him further.

I spent the next ten days equally as tormented if not more so, for I did not hear a word from him and had not the slightest idea what had happened. Georgiana was at a loss to explain her brother's actions and she grew more and more reserved as I began to withdraw into my shell. Not only did I suffer the worry of Lydia and my family, but also I endured the additional fear that my own marriage might fall apart.

At length, I received a terse note from William that said, "My undertakings have met with little success. I shall be detained for some time." Of what was he writing?

I dispatched a furious letter with the next post, demanding an explanation. He did not reply for two more weeks, whereupon I received a cryptic, "All is well. I shall explain in due time." As though I am a child, I fumed!

In the meantime, Jane and I exchanged several letters, none of them containing favourable news. Lydia and Wickham had been traced as far as London and my father had traveled to town, but so far had not found a hint of their whereabouts. I thought of how large and heavily populated the city was; they could not select a better place to hide. Although Jane continued to hold out hope that they were married, my own thoughts grew bleaker with each passing day.

Mr. Darcy spent the entire month of August in London, returning to Pemberley without notice on the third day of September. He marched into the house, a triumphant but weary expression about his eyes, only to meet with my unleashed fury. I lit into him with all my old righteous anger and we had a horrific row. By the time our anger was spent and the dust settled on our wrath, I learned that my husband had discovered Wickham and Lydia's whereabouts and forced the man to marry my sister, an action the scoundrel never intended. Not only had William spent his waking moments securing the man's agreement, he had purchased Wickham a commission in the regulars, paid off the majority of his debts, and purchased a special licence so that he and Lydia could be married within the month.

When I questioned him as to why he took so great a responsibility upon his shoulders, he simply said it was his place to do so. He felt that it was owing to his reserve and want of proper consideration that Wickham's character had been misunderstood; consequently, he had been received by polite society in ignorance of his true self. William thought that had he informed my father of Wickham's actual nature, none of this would have ever happened to Lydia. I had my own doubts as to whether Papá would have made the effort to check his youngest daughter even in the face of such truth, but my husband disregarded my thoughts.

"In truth, Elizabeth," he said, "I did it for you. As much as I regard your family, I could not bear to see you suffer such anguish."

"Then why did you inflict distress upon me?" I cried. "Why did you not tell me, William, why you departed for town in such a hurry? Why did you not write to me the reasoning behind all of this? Why did you leave me in such ignorance and misery? Have you no feelings for me at all?"

He met the infliction of my anger and fear with complete surprise; he had assumed that I knew to where he had traveled and the purpose of his quest.

"How could I?" I demanded. "Do you think I can read your mind?"

Once we resolved upon a future marital policy of honest discussions and solemn promises to never again leave each other without adequate explanation, no matter the crisis, we collapsed into each other's arms, making up for the time apart with renewed and energetic ardour.

Lydia and Mr. Wickham moved far away from both Longbourn and Pemberley and although Mr. Darcy could never receive him at Pemberley, yet for my sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Their manner of living was unsettled in the extreme, moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into indifference; hers lasted a little longer; and in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to reputation which her marriage had given her.

Kitty, being removed from Lydia's influence, greatly improved to her material advantage by spending much time with us or under Jane's gentle guidance. Both she and Mary eventually made suitable marriages to men of honourable character, if not great fortune. Within a year of their marriage, Mr. Bingley and Jane left Netherfield and purchased a house in a northern county within 30 miles of Pemberley. This move added greatly to the satisfaction of both my sister and me. Georgiana never married and spent her days either at her establishment in town or with us in Derbyshire. Her expertise on the pianoforte increased each year and she acquired quite a name among those who appreciated her skill and artistry.

I am sad to say that within five years of my marriage Mamá died of a trifling little cold that settled in her chest. My father, subsequently, spent much time in Derbyshire, perusing my husband's extensive collection of books or contenting himself watching his grandchildren grow either at our house or Jane's.

At the age of two and twenty I gave birth to my first son, Thomas Fitzwilliam Darcy, whom we called Will. He was the image of his father, so much so that I sometimes wondered if I had any part in his creation other than giving birth. I adored him, though, and motherhood as well. Two more sons followed within the next four years: Charles Edward, who spent his childhood following in his older brother's footsteps, and James Henry, a boy destined to go his own way.

William proved an indulgent, but excellent father. He delighted in training the boys to ride from the time they could walk. Our oldest son shared my husband's temperament and they enjoyed each other's company exceedingly. Edward became entranced with things nautical from his youngest days and we made many trips to Bath and Lyme Regis so that William could further our second son's interests so much so that he grew up to launch a distinguished career in the Navy.

Henry was born with a hint of my mother's auburn curls and a bit of recklessness and strong will to go with it. Being the youngest, I could not help but spoil him, and he and his father often found themselves at loggerheads over whose will prevailed. William accused me of coddling the boy, but I found him difficult to discipline. He could quickly sway me to his way of thinking when he threw his sweet arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I longed for another baby and confess I did my best to restrain Henry from growing up too fast.

Although Mr. Darcy and I continued to share a bed every night and our love grew stronger with each passing year, by the age of six and twenty I ceased to conceive. It caused me some concern, but my husband very little. Oh, he said he would be perfectly happy to welcome another child if we were granted one, but he took pleasure in our three sons and also in the fact that I was not consumed with all that takes over a woman's life when she is with child.

"Your waist is as tiny as when we married," he declared one evening in my bedchamber, spreading forth his warm hands to encircle it, and draw me close. I could have corrected him with the bitter truth that it was two inches larger, but I rather enjoyed his delusion and contented myself with untying his cravat. I unbuttoned his vest and slipped it off his shoulders while he played with the buttons at the back of my dress. He had never been a patient man with buttons and over the years had ruined many a gown of mine, so I drew away and undressed myself, all the while watching him do the same. That hungry look of desire that persistently lit up his eyes still filled me with delight, causing a delicious anticipation to ignite that fire deep within me that could only be quenched by my husband's strength and passion.

And so I resigned myself to mothering three sons while I watched Jane give birth every year or two to daughters. She had five by the time she was thirty and showed little sign of abatement. The year before I reached that same momentous age proved to be another difficult time in my marriage and the means of a second enforced separation.

Lady Catherine never fully reconciled to her nephew's marriage, although she had learned to treat me with civility when we were forced to occupy each other's company. Still, she much preferred to visit Mr. Darcy alone. In the beginning, he insisted that he would not call upon her at all if I did not attend, but eventually I persuaded him that I much preferred to remain in town while he made day trips to Kent, able to return to our townhouse late the same evening. Lady Catherine would rather have held him captive for a fortnight, but she soon discovered that would not occur unless I was invited. And so we made our tentative peace and lived thus for the first nine years of our marriage.

And then Lady Catherine de Bourgh died.

Although she named her daughter, Anne, as heir, she had appointed Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as co-executors of her will. Both men were, of course, called to Rosings at the news of her death and because of the extensive property holdings and various sources of income that comprised his aunt's fortune, William was forced to remain there much longer than he had foreseen.

My dearest Elizabeth, he wrote, I shall most likely remain in Kent from four to six weeks. Anne is quite helpless and Richard and I are compelled to see that our cousin's interests are provided for and ensured.

I greeted the news of my husband's absence from Pemberley with regret, but soon resolved to put our time apart to good use. Mr. Bingley had recently employed the services of an accomplished portrait artist, a Mr. Dupuis from Bath. He painted an enchanting portrayal of Jane, capturing her ethereal beauty with each talented brushstroke. Since William's birthday was but two months away, I determined to have Mr. Dupuis paint a grouping of my three sons and myself as a surprise for my husband upon his return from Rosings Park.

Thus, I sat for the artist daily during the six weeks William was away. Mr. Dupuis suggested I wear a ball gown and I, naturally, selected my husband's favourite - a soft rose silk. The nanny, with the help of other servants, managed to dress my three wriggling boys in matching navy suits, which was no small feat in anyone's estimation. The next difficulty arose in persuading three active young men to sit still for any length of time. Mr. Dupuis directed me to recline on a cream-coloured velvet chaise and then attempted to place the boys around me. Seven-year-old Will stood at my head; five-year-old Edward perched near my feet, and Henry, who was three, reclined upon my bosom.

Georgiana clapped her hands with delight when the artist completed placing the boys exactly as he desired. He then took three steps back, picked up his easel and brush, and the perfect pose fell apart. Edward pinched Henry, who put up a squall, causing Will to race to the opposite side of the chaise and thump Edward.

"Boys! Boys!" Georgiana cried to no avail. It took their nanny, their aunt, and myself to restore a moment's peace and then promises of iced raspberry sorbets afterwards before the children returned to their places and then for only the briefest of terms. After three days of such insanity, I wondered why I had ever thought the idea feasible. Mr. Dupuis, however, assured me that by then he had outlines of each of the boys' positions, a favourable sign.

"From now on, I shall only require the presence of one child at a time," he said, "and, of course, you must sit for me each day, Mrs. Darcy. That should ensure a more peaceable hour, should it not?"

His solution pleased me, for I knew I could control one son at a time. Georgiana, of course, attended me each day, bringing her needlework or a favourite book belonging to the child required to pose. I was grateful that she was willing to read or sing or whatever it took to help me keep the little one in the proper location.

Mr. Dupuis, himself, proved entertaining to the children. A striking man, he was tall and blonde with hair that hung below his shoulders. Most days he secured it at his neck in a long tail, but at times he allowed it to hang loose, wild and unruly. It provided a constant source of curiosity to Edward, for he had never seen a man wear his hair in such a style.

"Mum, does Mr. D not look like the bogey man?" he asked one night.

"Why, Edward, what makes you say such a thing?" I replied.

"When his hair is all bushy, he scares me."

I hugged him before I sent him to bed, reassuring him that the artist was not a man to fear. In truth, I found Mr. Dupuis an attractive man in an uninhibited, artistic manner. I could picture him quite at home in bohemian circles within London, and Georgiana and I spent many an evening wondering at his background. Eventually, when the boys' pictures were completed and I the only subject remaining, my sister and I ventured to question the artist. He was open and forthcoming, and to our disappointment, sadly lacking in mystery. He had not lived a romantic, fanciful life as we had imagined, but had grown up outside Bath, the son of a seaman. His mother was terrified he might lose his life at sea and, thus had encouraged his artistic talent. She proved successful in persuading him not to follow his father's example.

And so I passed the days, waiting for William to return. His last letter indicated he would return on Saturday next, and I entreated Mr. Dupuis to complete the portrait the week before.

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy," he assured me. "In truth, if I can capture but a few last details, I shall finish this very day."

"Oh, that would be lovely," I replied, smiling. He stepped forward and pulled a long tendril of my hair forward so that it trailed over my shoulder.

"There, that is exactly as it was the previous day - perfect," he murmured, stepping backward.

Unknown to either Georgiana or me and quite unexpectedly, at that very moment, Mr. Darcy walked into the room. "You have described my wife correctly, sir," he said, his voice hard and angry, "but by what means do you presume you have the right to touch her?"

Before I could say anything, with one rough, swift move, William grabbed Mr. Dupuis by the arm and pushed him away from me, causing him to fall over a table filled with various paints and thinners, brushes and scrapers. Georgiana and I both cried out, fearful that he would advance further and strike the young man. It took some doing and much explanation before we successfully convinced my husband that the scene he had walked in upon was innocent and that Mr. Dupuis had done nothing improper. Naturally, William's birthday surprise was spoiled, but that was of little consequence. I was simply relieved to see his good humour return and the artist accept his apologies.

That night in the seclusion of his bedchamber, I attempted to make up to my husband for his unfortunate homecoming. He made love to me, however, with a desperate need, as though he still could not erase the fear that had overtaken him upon finding me with another man. Afterwards, I held him in my arms, his head upon my breast, until his breathing stilled and he appeared at rest. I thought he had fallen asleep when his voice proved him awake.

"Elizabeth, have you forgiven me?"

"Of what should I forgive you?" I murmured, my body and mind consumed by a delicious lethargy.

"My earlier behaviour this day was that of a brute. I do not know why I reacted with such little control. I saw that blur of blonde hair and the man's hand touch your hair and all I could think was...Morgan!"

I caught my breath. The highwayman. We had not spoken of him in over nine years; I could not recall when I had last thought of him. And still he yet haunted my husband? I could not believe it.

"Oh, my dearest, my darling," was all that I could say. Repeatedly I murmured words of love and reassurance, kissing his hair and his forehead until he raised his head and his lips met mine. That night our last child was conceived.

She was born on the occasion of my thirtieth birthday; we named her Elizabeth Jane Anna, but she was Beth from the first time her father took her in his arms. He adored her, as did I, and she grew up the spoiled pet of the entire household. Even her brothers, who could find countless things to disagree upon among themselves, doted on their little sister. In their eyes, she could do no wrong, nor in the eyes of her father.

Consequently, by the time Beth was sixteen, she was a handful. William had taught her to ride as a toddler, and yet she now terrorized him by racing about the grounds at a speed we both feared might easily break her neck. By that time, both Will and Edward had completed their education at Cambridge. Edward took his place in the Navy and Will spent much of his time in town, establishing his presence as the heir apparent to Pemberley. He was a good young man, however, and did nothing to sully the Darcy name, or at least nothing of which his parents learned. Henry was another matter.

At twenty, our youngest son, a desultory student at best, announced that he was leaving his studies and wished to travel. His father, naturally, disapproved and ordered him to return to the campus. He hoped Henry would make the church his profession, but I knew my son would not make a clergyman, not with the wanderlust that bedeviled him. Countless arguments ensued between father and son until the entire house was beset with gloom. Each time I took Henry's side, William accused me of still coddling the boy. When he insisted his will be obeyed or the boy disinherited, I accused him of harshness and rigidity.

At length, when neither side would give in, Beth intervened with her father and convinced him to permit her brother two years' leave from school wherein he might satisfy his longing to see the world if, in turn, Henry promised to return to Cambridge at the end of that time and complete his education in a satisfactory manner. I was surprised at my daughter's sensible solution, but not at her ability to convince her father. She could have made him think black was white if she so desired.

Thus, Henry set off for America in 1836. Even though I had argued his case with William, still I dreaded to see him go. A heavy heart beat in my chest as we stood outside Pemberley, bidding him safe passage. Not even seeing Edward off to the Navy had filled me with as much foreboding as watching Henry take off for parts unknown. I stood waving my handkerchief as long as I could see the barest outline of the carriage hurtling down the roadway. Suddenly, an image of my mother flashed across my vision. How many times had she stood outside Longbourn and waved farewell to one of her daughters? Until that moment I never understood what she must have felt.

Those two years passed slowly for me. Henry was an infrequent correspondent; I could count on one hand the number of letters I received. Whilst he was away, the time was not uneventful for us, however. Will married a beautiful young woman from a good family, of whom his father and I both approved. They took a house in town, but visited us often. Edward advanced in his career and sent interesting reports from various ports. Beth made her debut, an exciting event for her, but one that filled her father with anxiety. From then on, he was forced to endure a houseful of young men far more frequently than he wished, for she was not only beautiful but would enter marriage well dowered.

At last the day arrived when Henry returned to us unannounced. I sat in the garden at Pemberley, watching William and Beth train a young mare my husband had recently acquired. Although the riding grounds were some distance from where I sat, I could watch their progress with pleasure, safely ensconced among my roses and hydrangeas, marguerites and daisies. I had never come to share my husband's love of horses, just as he did not share my passion for gardening.

I heard footsteps approaching from behind my chair, but assumed it to be a servant with the pot of tea I had ordered. How thrilled I was to find, instead, my youngest son kneel beside my chair and whisper, "Mother?"

We embraced for a long time and when he released me, my face was damp with tears of joy. I began to call for William and Beth, but Henry restrained me. "Let it be just the two of us, I pray you, Mother, for a few moments. I have so much to tell you."

"Will you not have to repeat it for your father and sister?" I asked, but he just laughed and said he did not mind. He began to tell me of his adventures in that strange, new land called America: how he had embarked at Virginia and explored the towns and villages up and down the eastern coast for much of the first year. Within months, however, he grew restless and pushed on into what he called the wilderness, eventually making his way to the southern border and a city called New Orleans.

"You cannot envision the great space there, Mother. There is land enough for the entire world and much of it still inhabited by savages."

That alarmed me and he spent no little time assuring me he had not so much as glimpsed an unfriendly Indian. He then began to describe the city where he spent the second year of his visit - New Orleans - a mixture of French, Spaniard, English, and Negro. He spoke of great new houses called plantations and fields of white cotton maintained by slaves. I was glad to see the institution troubled him, but his eyes still filled with delight when he described the port city, itself, and its exciting manner of life.

As he took a moment to catch his breath, I asked if he had made friends. "I met a girl," he responded softly, looking away.

"Ah. And is she someone special?"

"She is beautiful. She has long dark curls and her eyes - Mother, I have never seen eyes like hers - they are the bluest blue one can imagine. Her name is Elizabeth." He looked up and smiled. "With that name, how could she not please me?"

I sighed and began to chew my lip before I asked if she came from a good family. His response was less than satisfactory, somewhat evasive. He said her mother had died in childbirth; her father and an aunt, who was now well up in years, had raised her. When I questioned Henry as to her father's status, he grew somewhat defensive.

"Mother, America is different. People are not divided into classes as we are. A man does not have to be a gentleman to be a man of importance in New Orleans."

"You mistake my meaning, son," I replied. "I simply wish to know if Elizabeth's father is a good man."

"He is certainly successful. He owns three of the busiest saloons in the city."

"Saloons? Henry, have you spent the last two years at gaming tables?"

"Of course not!" He rose, drawing away from me somewhat. He walked about for a moment or two before settling upon the stone bench facing mine. "Mother, I am no longer a child. I am two and twenty years old now. You cannot expect me to not have...well, I am a man, after all."

I assured Henry that I did not live in a rose-coloured world and understood what he said. Still, I had no desire for my son to waste his life in riotous living. "Maturity requires wisdom," I said softly, "a goal your father and I wish for each of our children."

"I know, Mother, and that is why I have returned. I am more than willing now to take up my studies and settle down as Father desires. However, I reserve the right to choose my own way in life. I may return to New Orleans someday. You must accept that." His eyes wore that same pleading look he had used all his life when beseeching me to see his side. I knew that now was not the time to argue and so I looked away.

I returned to the subject of Elizabeth and he was more than willing to describe her. He could not get over her striking eyes and said he was even more surprised to see them duplicated in those of her father. "He said he knew you, Mother."

A warning bell began to sound within my heart. Blue eyes? A blue never seen before? I steeled my voice to appear normal as I asked the man's name, but I was not surprised when Henry replied, "Morgan."

"I cannot imagine you and Father knowing someone like him. Indeed, I challenged his assertion," Henry said, "but Morgan was adamant. He described you - well, you as I have seen in your bridal portrait, Mother, more than twenty-five years ago."

When I questioned him as to how my name was even brought up in conversation, Henry told of how Morgan had immediately sought him out when his daughter told him of meeting a man from England named Darcy. His first inquiries had been to ascertain that Henry was the son of Fitzwilliam Darcy and then he had asked for the name of his mother.

"When I said your name was Elizabeth, Morgan's only response was, 'You have her eyes.' He said he knew you before you were engaged to Father, but he was surprised to learn you had married." Henry looked down at the ground for several moments before raising his eyes to mine. "Mother, I had the impression the man might have been in love with you at one time. Am I correct?"

I rose and gathered up my basket of cuttings, feigning great interest in straightening the stems. "That was a long time ago, Henry. Your father and I chanced to meet Mr. Morgan while traveling. We maintained only the briefest of acquaintance and there was never any attachment between the man and myself."

I chanced a glimpse at my son's expression and could see a shadow about his eyes. "I stand corrected," he said at last. "Morgan did give me the impression he knew both you and Father more intimately. He spoke of Father with respect, although perhaps somewhat grudgingly. It bespoke envy more than anything else."

"Perchance because your father has lived a moral, upright life, while Mr. Morgan traffics in saloons," I declared.

"Mother, pray do not be condescending. Have I not told you I am no longer a child? I can certainly see the difference in Father and Morgan. I know which man is considered the better in anyone's eyes. Yet, I cannot help but think that while Father has been content to live his life safely hidden away here at Pemberley, Morgan has followed his dreams. Not only has he struck out on his own and made a pile of money, but he longs for more. He offered to sell me his New Orleans establishments because he plans to head west to a place called San Francisco. It sits on a bay that leads out into the Pacific Ocean and promises to be a port of unimaginable riches."

"Surely he was not serious about your taking over saloons!" I said. "Henry, you are far too young to even think of such a thing."

"Of course I am, Mother. Do not distress yourself. Naturally, I refused, but I must admit the idea appealed to me." When I rolled my eyes, he took my hand and entreated me to sit beside him. "Morgan told me he asked you to come with him when he sailed for America."

I was astounded! How could the man reveal such a thing to my son? Neither Mr. Darcy nor I had ever told our children of the highwaymen or kidnapping that had happened so long ago. I do not know why - it just never seemed appropriate in the life we had subsequently made together.

"Mother," Henry said, "do you ever have second thoughts? Have you ever longed, in the deepest part of your soul, for a more exciting life than Father has given you buried away here in Derbyshire?"

"Henry, listen to me. I have never considered myself 'buried away' by any means. Your father and I have traveled to Paris, Vienna, Frankfurt, and to Florence several times. If I asked him today, he would take me anywhere I wish to go. I do not desire to leave this place. How can I make you understand? This is the life I chose and it fills me with a joy that cannot be replaced by travel to faraway lands."

He smiled and raised my hand to his lips. "Have it your way, Mother. I will not trouble you further. Will you admit, however, that you did have a choice? You could have picked Morgan instead of Father?"

I shook my head. "No, my son, there was never any choice." I looked up and watched William lead our daughter around on the new chestnut mare, his beautiful curls still falling over his forehead in that same entrancing manner they had all those years before. "Your father won my heart a long time ago. No other man ever had a chance."

And now, my children, with these final strokes of my pen, I conclude my story. I have written it down for each of you: Will, Edward, Henry and Beth. I shall hide it away at the bottom of this deep old chest that contains memories I hold dear - letters from your father, brief though they may be; your baptismal certificates; the garnet cross my own father gave me when I was a girl; the first red rose I cut from Pemberley's garden, now faded and pressed; along with various mementos of your childhood and the years of my marriage.

Someday long after I am gone, it is my hope that one or more of you, or your children, or perchance even your grandchildren may happen upon this old trunk stored in the attic at Pemberley. I trust that someone will possess enough curiosity to dig deep enough to find this little book. It tells of a journey that took place when I was young, a journey that changed my life and that of your father, a journey I began as a girl and ended as a woman.

Authors love feedback; you can express your appreciation for Jan's work here