The first thing I saw was his smile. I screwed up my eyes, certain I was still asleep and dreaming, but then allowed myself to peek through my lashes, for one does not inhale the pleasing scent of a man's skin in a dream, and Mr. Darcy's scent not only filled my senses, it seemed to permeate every pore in my whole body. I opened my eyes wider. His fine lawn nightshirt fell open at the neck and there in the hollow, I could see the slight shadow of his beating pulse. That was the moment I became conscious that I lay in his arms, those very arms that only yesterday I had bemused myself with the thought of touching.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said, his voice barely more than a low whisper, deep and full of gravel from early morning sleepiness.

I could not respond. In truth, I felt such shock that I wondered if I could recall how to talk. I could not take it in, his face so near to mine, my head upon his shoulder, his dark curls mussed and falling across his forehead in the most provocative manner, the dark shadow of his beard outlining his face - how had this happened?

Slowly...very, very slowly, I sat up, clutching the sheet to my throat. I dared a frantic peek below the cover to assure myself that I was still clothed and closed my eyes in relief to see my nightgown. "Where...where am I?"

"In my bed," he replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his finger against my lips. "Now, before you attack me with accusations, hear me out. Sometime in the night, I awoke and found you right here, cuddled up against me. You came willingly, Elizabeth," he said, the smile continuing upon his countenance. "I did not coerce you in any way."

"But...how...what...why would I...did we? Help me! I cannot remember anything!"

"My, my, you certainly know how to flatter a man. Share his bed and not remember a bit of it!"

I searched his face, mine evidently reflecting horror, but that same tantalizing smile continued to grace his. Then slowly I realized he had made the last statement in jest. Mr. Darcy was teasing me!

"Sir, I pray you be serious and tell me what happened."

He took pity on me then and began to explain my nocturnal wandering. "I confess I was as surprised to find you in my bed last night as you are this morning. I attempted to talk to you, but I soon discerned you were sound asleep. I had an uncle who was a somnambulist. His physician cautioned us to never awaken him as it might cause irreparable damage, so what else could I do other than allow you to share my bed?" He reached over and patted my hand. "Quit your fretting, Elizabeth, and be assured that nothing untoward happened between us, for I am not a man who takes advantage of an unconscious woman. Have you ever walked in your sleep before?"

I nodded and then sighed with relief, a sigh so heavy and obvious that I saw him struggle not to laugh. It was humorous; even I could acknowledge it, and as I saw him press his lips together to restrain his mirth, I began to giggle, softly at first, and then when he joined me, we both erupted in laughter. I had never seen him laugh before; in truth, I had never allowed myself such unbridled liberty in his presence. We both laughed until I almost cried. When our amusement eventually slowed, I became all too aware of the intimacy of our postures, for there we sat, still facing each other right in the middle of Mr. Darcy's bed.

Suddenly, I blushed anew and began to look around me, searching for a way I could escape his chamber without exposing myself. He startled me by reaching out and gently touching my face, turning it back toward him. "What is it, Elizabeth? What do you need?"

"A graceful way out of this predicament, I confess. Will you leave, sir, so that I might return to my room?"

"And expose myself in my nightshirt, Madam? Oh, I think not. You are the invader; it is up to you to leave."

"But...I am not dressed properly..."

"So I see." He smiled once more as his eyes wandered over me, lazily surveying my dishabille.

"Really, Mr. Darcy, you might take pity on me and act in a gentleman-like manner."

He folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "Aye, I might, and then again I might demand that you get out of my bed immediately - were not those the words in which you addressed me when I inadvertently wandered into your bed in that wretched little inn where we spent our wedding night?"

"But you, sir, were drunk!"

"Yes, I was and consequently unaware of my actions, Elizabeth, just as you were last night. Shall we not forgive each other these lapses and admit that neither of us is perfect?"

I was unsure whether he was serious or still teasing me, but I took advantage of the offer and agreed with him. In turn, he pulled the counterpane loose from the bottom of the bed and suggested that I make use of it as a temporary robe. I wasted no time in wrapping it around my shoulders, slipped from the bed, and hurriedly walked through the open door between our chambers. I did turn and catch one last glimpse of him over my shoulder. He sat there, watching my retreat with that same beguiling smile playing about his countenance.

Goodness, he was incredibly fine to look upon first thing in the morning!

I stewed and fretted for some time about what I had done. The last time I had walked in my sleep occurred during the wee hours of the morning after my father's burial. That time I had actually awakened lying on the ground beside his new grave. From then on, Mamá ordered the doors at Longbourn locked at night. What I wouldn't give now for a lock on the door between my chamber and that of Mr. Darcy! But then my heart raced at the memory of waking up beside him. New and exciting sensations overwhelmed me until my head felt completely muddled.

Later that day, my new gown arrived that had been ordered for Lord Matlock's ball. I welcomed the diversion and opened the box at once. A pearl gray silk, it was finer than any I had ever owned. I had prevailed and insisted that it be trimmed in black lace, but even so, the ornamentation seemed to make it more festive rather than somber, as I desired. When I tried it on, I gasped at my reflection in the glass. I no longer appeared as one in mourning and the change shocked even me. My maid was delighted and could not contain her excitement.

"Oh, Ma'am, you are truly lovely in that dress! Won't the master be pleased!"

Again, my pulse beat faster as I wondered at his reaction.

"And here, Ma'am, are the black feathers for your hair. Aren't they beautiful and with these silver combs, you will be outstanding."

"No feathers, Fiona."

"But, Ma'am, they come with the dress."

"You heard me. I do not wear feathers."

"Not even to a ball, Ma'am?"

I silenced her with a look and she quietly returned the feathers to the box in which they had come. "Help me get out of this." Realizing I had spoken in irritation, I softened my voice as she unfastened the back of the gown. "I will use the silver combs."

That seemed to satisfy her. "Yes, Ma'am, and I will fix your hair in ringlets. Fancy up-dos are my specialty, you know. I used to practice on Miss Georgiana when she was a child and I am quite skilled, if I do say so, myself, Ma'am. The master would laugh so at our shows."

"Your...shows?"

"Yes, Ma'am, back at Pemberley I'd spend hours fixing up the little Miss's hairdos and she had to run into the master's study for his approval of each one. She called it putting on a 'show,' but it weren't, really. It were just her way of begging his attention."

Once again, I noted the tone of intimacy in the maid's voice as she spoke of Mr. Darcy and Georgiana. It was almost like she was a member of the family. Just last evening I happened upon the three of them laughing together in the great hall. It ceased when I appeared and with a nod from Mr. Darcy, Fiona vanished to the back stairs; for some reason I felt left out, excluded from their shared affinity. I watched her now as she carefully hung my gown, smoothing the creases from the skirt. We were the same age. She was a pretty lass, red-haired with green eyes and fair, fair skin. Bearing a child had done nothing to hurt her figure and I could see how appealing she might be to any man. Suddenly, the hateful gossip I had heard the servant utter about her in the garden rushed up from where I do not know, almost smothering me with its intensity. I thought I had rid my heart of such ugliness, but now I felt an urgent need to see her child. I wished to see for myself if he had inherited his mother's red hair.

After dressing in my familiar black bombazine, I told Fiona she was free to go, but on second thought I decided to follow her out of the room and toward the servant's back staircase. "Do you have other duties now, or will you return to your child, Fiona?"

"I was just going to check on him, Ma'am," she said, uncertainty evident in her voice. "Was there something you needed?"

"Actually, I am curious to see your son. May I accompany you?"

"Oh, no, Ma'am. That wouldn't be proper and all, you such a fine lady going to my quarters. But I will be glad to show him to you, Ma'am. Just let me run fetch him."

I nodded in agreement. "Bring him to the small parlour on the second floor."

I found a book I had left on the table near the fireplace and settled myself to read, thinking it would be some time before she brought the child. I had not long to wait, however, as I had scarce read two pages before she entered the door, a sturdy little boy clasping her hand.

"Mrs. Darcy, this be my Willie," she said. "Willie, do your bow like I learned you."

I smiled to see him pull his thumb out of his mouth and putting his hand to his waist, make an exaggerated bow before me.

"I am pleased to meet you, Willie."

He immediately popped his thumb back into his pink little mouth although his mother tried her best to keep him from it. As she bent over him, a strand of light auburn hair escaped from her bun and I saw it fall over his dark curls. He had beautiful large eyes, but they were not green. They were as dark brown as his hair, and Willie looked nothing like his mother. His face struck me with its familiarity and yet to whom, I could not bring myself to acknowledge.

"He is a fine boy, Fiona. Take him to the kitchen and give him a treat and have Adams summon the carriage for me. I have a call to make."

I returned to my room, donned my bonnet and grabbed my shawl. I had suddenly been taken by a great longing to see my own family, to find comfort in the familiar world from which I had been thrust. I instructed the driver to take me to Gracechurch Street as quickly as possible. My Aunt Gardiner met me at the door, for she was about to go out. She cancelled her excursion when she correctly ascertained that I was in great need of her company. We embraced and sat together on the sofa for no little time as she peppered me with questions about the weeks of marriage I had endured so far.

We talked of my mother and sisters and I was gratified when she shared a recent letter she had received from Jane. I described Mr. Darcy's townhouse in great detail and I talked of Georgiana and how shy and reticent she was and what inadequacy I felt in fulfilling Mr. Darcy's wishes to be her friend. I avoided any reference to the intimate side of my union with Mr. Darcy; indeed, my aunt would never presume to intrude upon such private matters, but I could not conceal my troubled mood from her, no matter how brave my endeavors.

"Lizzy, tell me true, now," she said, "is this marriage as dreadful as you feared?"

"I am not mistreated, Aunt."

"You are not happy, though, are you?"

"I did not expect to be, and there are moments..."

"Your mother had such hopes for you and I confess I entertained them as well. You must know that your uncle and I encouraged this union only because we thought it would be best not only for your family, but for you."

"I know that is what you wished, Aunt, but I had always hoped to marry for love."

The maid brought in a tea tray just then, and my aunt stopped to pour us both a cup. She stirred in sugar cubes until the servant left us alone. "Many people marry without love, Lizzy. I hope that you will eventually come to have a high regard for Mr. Darcy. When we were in Derbyshire, his behaviour to us was pleasing in every respect, as well as his understanding and opinions. He lacks nothing but a little more liveliness and I hoped you might teach him that. Believe me, your uncle would never have entertained his proposal if he had not known him to be an honourable man."

"And how, may I ask, does my uncle know Mr. Darcy's character? Hospitality and pleasant ways do not always reflect the truth of a man. He is quite taciturn, you know, and unrevealing, certainly not an easy person to grasp. What assurance does my uncle have that Mr. Darcy is an honourable man?"

The look on my aunt's face told me I had said more than I should have. I had no intention of repeating idle gossip about Mr. Darcy and my maid or allowing my own fears to be spoken aloud. How could I have blurted out such a doubt? Surely she would now question me about things I must not reveal. Oh, why had I come here? I had allowed my need for comforting familiarity to lead me to a place where I could not afford to be candid, for I refused to accuse Mr. Darcy of a deed I hoped most desperately to be untrue.

"Elizabeth, I want to tell you something. Mr. Darcy and your uncle had an occasion to enter into an arrangement. Has he never spoken to you about it?"

When I answered in the negative, she looked surprised and somewhat troubled, but continued. "Then I am not at liberty to speak of it, but be assured that Mr. Darcy acted every bit the gentleman in all of his dealings with your uncle. It was this very occurrence that elevated him to great esteem in our eyes and provided the means by which we were receptive to his marriage proposal to you."

I was baffled by the news. "Pray, Aunt, tell me to what you refer. What possible business could my uncle have with Mr. Darcy?"

"I cannot, Lizzy." She rose, and placing her cup and saucer on the table, she walked to the window that looked down on the busy street outside, avoiding my inquiring stare. "I am sworn to secrecy, but my dearest, do believe me. Mr. Darcy is a good man, no matter what vile things Mr.Wickham said about him."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I know very well about his dealings with Mr. Wickham."

"You do?" An expression of relief seemed to light up her eyes.

"Yes, how wrong I was to believe Wickham's lies about Mr. Darcy. He explained all of that to me in a letter last spring at Rosings Park and I have rued the day I ever believed my future brother-in-law's tale of woe. I know what a rogue he truly is. We have discussed this before, Aunt. What I do not understand is any further intercourse between Mr. Darcy and my uncle and your need to keep it from me."

That same worried look descended once more upon my aunt's countenance as I spoke and she turned back to the window. "Please do not ask me about it, my dear. If it were up to me, I would tell you all that I know, but I am bound by my oath. I will say this: I refuse to believe Mr. Darcy would do anything less than that which is admirable and worthy."

A moment later, two of my young cousins escaped their nanny and descended upon us and we were prohibited from further serious conversation. I enjoyed the hilarity the children provided and by the time I took my leave, my heart was eased. Perhaps my aunt was right about Mr. Darcy and my fears were senseless fancy. After all, I trusted Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and if they thought highly of him, then they must be correct in their assessment. I repeated that idea over and over during the carriage ride, vowing to believe it, and hoping repetition would cause it to be true.

Upon entering the townhouse, a servant informed me that Mr. Darcy wished for my presence in the garden. It was almost dusk and so I kept on my coat, but discarded my bonnet. The early November air grew cooler with each day, but fortunately, that evening the breeze had died down. As I followed the servant out the side door that led into the small yard directly below my bedchamber window, I heard voices, that of Mr. Darcy and a child. We rounded the shrubbery and there I saw Mr. Darcy and Willie engaged in tossing a ball back and forth. The child delighted in his attention and eagerly ran and retrieved the object each time he missed a catch.

"Mrs. Darcy, sir," the servant announced.

"Elizabeth." Mr. Darcy looked me up and down as he usually did. "Willie, stop and greet your mistress."

The child attempted to obey, but he dropped the ball just as he tried to bow, and naturally ran off after it instead of greeting me. What child would not? I smiled and Mr. Darcy did, too, a pleasant sight, indeed. He was a handsome man - it could not be denied - but when he smiled, he was almost beautiful.

"Fee, come and take Willie in," Mr. Darcy said, and from around a bend in the walk emerged Fiona, a pair of shears in her hand and a basket of freshly cut blossoms on her arm. She curtsied to Mr. Darcy and to me and hurried her child inside.

Now why is he out here alone with Fiona and her son? I wondered. She is collecting cuttings, that is obvious, and why should Mr. Darcy not enjoy his garden? I silently chided myself at the thought of any other conclusion.

Mr. Darcy stood there watching the little boy drop his ball once more on his way into the house, and then he invited me to take a turn about the garden with him. The late fall roses were almost gone, having discarded much of their red, pink, and white petals along the path. I inhaled deeply, savouring the last delicious scent. The fall mums were in full bloom nestled in a bed below the clipped dark green hedges. All of it provided a beautiful, serene respite from the noise of the street heard in the background. If only I had never walked this walk before and heard the hateful gossip from the other side of the tall hedge. That memory insisted upon intruding into this present idyll like a slithering snake, hissing with the threat of its poisonous venom; try as I might, I could not restrain my thoughts and, consequently, the turn of my conversation.

"You appear to take great delight in Fiona's child," I heard myself say.

"He is a fine boy."

"I have rarely seen a master so interested in a servant's child."

"It is not that rare. My own father, as you know, cared deeply for his steward's son."

"Like father, like son," I murmured.

Mr. Darcy stopped abruptly. "What are you saying?"

"I only wonder if you intend to educate and provide a living for Willie as your father did for Mr. Wickham?"

"He shall learn to read and write, yes, and I shall provide him with a position in my service when he is of age, but no, I shall not send him to Cambridge along with my son, as my father did."

"And why not?"

"For one reason, we can well see what little good that did for Wickham. Elizabeth, I am not in the habit of sponsoring all of my servants' children, nor do I intend to begin doing so."

"But Fiona's child is not like all of your servants' children, is he? Do you not show him particular favour as you do his mother?"

"Perhaps I do, but only because I feel a...well, a partiality toward Fee."

"Partiality?" My agitation increased.

"Georgiana has always loved her and it is hard not to appreciate one who makes my sister happy. The two of them together remind me of more pleasant times, days gone by when George Wickham and I were boyhood friends. And as for Willie, he certainly bears no responsibility for the circumstances of his birth. He is a fine boy."

"Yes, you said that earlier."

"Did I? Well, let us change the subject." I did not trust myself to say any more and so, we walked in silence for a bit before he spoke again. "You went out this afternoon, did you not?"

"I did."

"You told no one where you were going. Why?"

"Who should I have told? I was unaware that I am required to report the destination of my outings before leaving the house. I am a grown woman."

"It is only common courtesy."

"A courtesy you fail to perform."

"I beg to differ. Either Adams or my valet is apprised of my comings and goings, with rare exception."

"And how should I have known that? You have often left the house and I had no idea where you were. You might have told me before now that you leave such information with particular servants so that I would not need to canvass the entire household as to your whereabouts. That, sir, would be common courtesy as I see it."

He stopped once more and stared at me. Had I gone too far? Would he now unleash his temper upon me? I might have feared such, except that my own self-justification was in full mode, fueled by an emotion I had not yet acknowledged. We stood there, returning each other's gaze without flinching and suddenly, right there on the garden walk I realized for the first time what I felt - I was jealous of Fiona; when I found her and Willie in the garden alone with Mr. Darcy, I did not like it. I did not like it at all! The thought so alarmed me that I hurriedly retreated to a much more familiar sensibility. I could handle anger; anger felt good and right and just and so I stood my ground. This time, however, Mr. Darcy would not respond to my baiting; instead, I saw a slight twitch about his mouth.

"Touché," he said with just the tiniest hint of a smile. "I shall attempt to mend my ways if you will mend yours." I opened my mouth to make a retort, but he silenced me. "And before you announce you have no need of mending, I shall call upon you to exercise discretion. Since we have agreed to live under the same roof for the rest of our lives and, I might add, even share the same bed at times, shall we endeavour to practice the niceties of polite society? Will it not make things more pleasant?"

I closed my eyes at the reminder of that morning's mortification, my head beginning to ache with the strain of tension. "Very well," I said flatly, and let it go at that.

We walked on a bit farther and coming upon a bench placed beneath a large deciduous tree that had already lost most of its leaves, he indicated we should sit. From there, we could see the evening sky, the reds, oranges, and blues of the setting sun streaking across it in magnificent display. London's houses were so close that I rarely caught a glimpse of the sky, and I missed the sunsets at Hertfordshire. How pleasant it would be if we could just sit there quietly for a while, but no, he would speak.

"Will you tell me where you went?"

"To Gracechurch Street."

"To visit the Gardiners? How are they?"

"Well." I looked at him, surprised that he should take any interest in my connections.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are fine people. We should include them when next we entertain."

"And when might that be?"

"Sometime next week after the Earl's ball. I think we should host a small dinner party. Will you see to it?"

"Of course, but shall my aunt and uncle be the only guests?"

"No, of course not. We shall invite Bingley and his sister, the Hursts, and Lord and Lady Matlock and Fitzwilliam, as well."

I could not believe my ears. "You wish to include the Gardiners in such a gathering?"

"Yes, I can see no reason not to."

"Shall it not embarrass you, having such low connections? My uncle is in trade, you know."

"The Gardiners should never embarrass you or me. I shall be glad to have them in my house."

I gave thanks that I was sitting when Mr. Darcy relayed that bit of news. What had happened to the censure he was sure to endure at the hands of society upon marrying a woman with lowly relatives? Had he not listed my family's improprieties last Easter when he proposed to me at Hunsford, and clearly pointed out that I could not expect him 'to rejoice in the inferiority of relations whose conditions in life were so decidedly beneath his own?'

"Mr. Darcy, my aunt told me you had business with my uncle in the recent past."

He stood up abruptly, turned his back, and I could not see his countenance. "What else did she tell you?"

"She refused to relate the particulars of your transaction because she said it was of a confidential nature. It is only natural that I am curious. Will you tell me of it?"

"No." He turned and offered his hand, indicating that we should go. "It was a private affair and not worth repeating."

"She said because of that occurrence my uncle regards you as an honourable man."

Mr. Darcy smiled slightly. "Does he now? An honourable man, hmm. Well, I shall say the same in return. I esteem your uncle an honourable man as well and one I shall be ever glad to have present at my table and among my guests. Now, shall we go in? The light is failing."

I followed him inside, more confused than ever. The man was an enigma - so many questions and precious few answers.

That night after I had done with Fiona's services and before I climbed into bed, I pushed and pulled a large chair across the room, stationing it squarely in front of the door between Mr. Darcy's chamber and mine. I then retired for the night, quite tired, yet unable to sleep. I turned from side to side; I plumped my pillows not once, but twice; I turned back the top cover and then pulled it back up around me; at last, I arose and tugged at the chair until I had returned it to its rightful place.

After all, I could not be held responsible for where I ended up when walking in my sleep.

On Wednesday evening we attended a concert at the assembly rooms in Drury Lane. A large company attended, one of which was Lady Jersey, whom Caroline Bingley pointedly informed me was a Viscountess. She was granted, of course, the choicest of seats while the rest of us filed in behind her party. Caroline pushed her way forward so that she might sit directly behind the Viscount's wife. She maneuvered Georgiana along with her and insisted that she sit between her brother and herself, whereupon she fawned over the poor girl excessively. I could see her suffer at such oppressive attentions, but Mr. Darcy and I were situated in the row behind and I was at a loss as to how to rescue her. Caroline remained frosty in her attentions to me, except to enlighten me on rank and privilege and to note how pale - "almost to the point of illness" - my complexion appeared contrasted with my black gown. I doubted, however, that her feigned concern for my health fooled anyone.

She flirted with Mr. Darcy before we went in and again while the musicians tuned their instruments, turning around in her seat to bestow adoring looks upon him as she talked and laughed far too loudly. I saw Mr. Bingley give her several pertinent frowns, as she persisted in calling attention to herself. I thought of how she had sneered in disdain when Lydia had acted up with some of the officers at the Netherfield ball, and that night she exhibited almost the same behaviour.

Relief appeared with the beginning of the concert and the quieting of the entire audience. I was much impressed with the artistry of the soloist. Her Italian art songs and arias were exquisite and I discovered that Mr. Darcy was so well versed in the language that he offered to interpret the lyrics for me while she sang. Naturally, I accepted for I knew but little of the language. In order to do so, it was necessary for him to lean his head quite close to mine so that his soft words would not detract from the performance.

The woman sang in a clear, vibrant soprano, "Sento nel core certo dolore, che la mia pace turbando va, splende una face che l'alma accende, se non e amore, amor sara."

I listened closely as Mr. Darcy whispered, "I feel in my heart a certain sorrow, which goes on disturbing my peace; there shines a torch which inflames my soul...if it is not love, it will be love soon."

I was unsettled at first by such intimacy, his breath warm upon my ear, and the essence of his scent all about me, but I did not object; indeed, I found myself almost bewitched by the tender, romantic words of the songs, a meaning I would have missed if not for his translation. His voice was as low and resonant as the diva's was high and clear and I thought how lovely it would be to hear such words on his lips if we truly cared for each other.

"Caro mio ben, credimi almen, senza di te languisce il cor."

"My dear beloved, believe me at least, without you my heart languishes." With that last phrase, I turned and found him gazing directly into my eyes as he spoke. That proved far too intense an encounter and I immediately refrained from looking at him. A flush swept over my body. I feared my rosy countenance exposed my consternation.

After the concert, we mingled with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Bingley at the tables filled with light refreshments. While I was engrossed in conversation with Mr. Bingley, Caroline returned to her pursuit of Mr. Darcy by insisting that he and Georgiana meet Lady Jersey's niece, whom Caroline evidently knew slightly. She linked an arm in each of theirs and actually pulled them away from our party and across the great room to the throng surrounding the nobility. It was a direct snub toward me evident to all and I suppose I should have been angry, but in my opinion it was of little consequence.

I almost felt sorry for Caroline. She had been out in society for some time, I felt sure, and the threat of spinsterhood loomed over her as it would for any woman her age. Now that Mr. Darcy was no longer available, she needed to broaden her vision and encourage other men who might be induced by her fortune to seek her hand. What possible motivation could she have in continuing her attentions to Mr. Darcy? Did she envision my early death? I would have experienced a chill at the thought, except for the fact that I was a healthy woman. And if she hoped for the event to happen in childbirth, how disappointed she would be to know such possibility did not exist - for one must suffer exposure before contracting the condition.

Mr. Darcy's requirement that I eventually present him with an heir intruded upon my thoughts and I felt myself grow warm at the thought of what that would entail. Three weeks ago the very idea would have alarmed me, but now I felt the lock upon my heart slightly, oh so slightly, loosened. I certainly would not welcome such an event, but I no longer cringed at the thought. No, that is incorrect, for I had never cringed at the thought; I had been far too caught up in my anger. And now with memories of his touch still alive in my heart, and at times like this evening when his head inclined close to mine and his warm, caressing voice repeated words of love in my ear, I found it difficult to remember exactly why I ever disliked him.

Georgiana and I both slept late Friday morning, descending the stairs together around 11:00 o'clock for breakfast. We had taken but two or three steps before the sound of forceful argument stopped us. It emanated from the drawing room below. One voice definitely belonged to Mr. Darcy and the other filled me with familiar apprehension and drove Georgiana to turn and flee in the opposite direction. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's imperious demanding tone was unmistakable.

"Where are you going, Georgiana?" I cried.

"S-h-h! Do not let my aunt hear. I shall have Cook send breakfast to my room." With an expression pleading for my co-operation, she vanished down the hall.

I sighed and proceeded toward the lion's den, or should I say lioness, for from what I could hear, Lady Catherine was already attempting to preside over this house just as she did every house into which she entered. I halted outside the open door and listened, for neither party had yet seen me, although I had a clear picture of their confrontation.

"It is insufferable!" she cried. "The son of my late sister aligning himself with such an upstart is unbelievable! When Mr. Collins told me of this arrangement, I imagined it a scandalous falsehood and now you have the gall to tell me it is true. You have actually married the girl?"

"I have," Mr. Darcy said.

"How can you stand there and make such an announcement without a sign of remorse? Surely, you were tricked into the agreement. Her arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made you forget what you owe yourself and all your family. She must have drawn you in."

"I assure you, Madam, that is not the case. There was no trickery, no infatuation, no practicing of arts, as you put it. And if there has been any allurement, it is only that of her own good character and fitness to be my wife." Mr. Darcy stood at the fireplace, his hands behind him, but when he turned I could see how tightly he clenched his fists.

Lady Catherine stood opposite him beside a small table on which she tapped her forefinger as she continued to list her objections to me. "But she has no family, connections or fortune! Is this to be endured? It must not, it shall not be! You must secure an annulment at once, Darcy! I absolutely insist upon it!"

"And I respectfully insist that you discontinue giving orders in my house, Aunt. I am a man full-grown, beholden to no one, and I shall marry whomever I please. I have already married and I shall not make any provision to end the marriage. I must beg you, therefore, not to importune me any further on the subject." He then offered her his arm as though he would escort her from the room.

"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of Miss Bennet's younger sister's infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense of her uncle. And is such a girl to be your sister? Is her husband, the son of your father's servant, to be your brother? Heaven and earth - of what are you thinking, Nephew? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"

"You have said quite enough, Madam," Mr. Darcy said, his eyes black and narrowed. "I shall hear no more of this. I beg your leave, Ma'am." He started toward the door and saw me standing there, knowing I had heard the terrible accusations. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he did, Lady Catherine also became aware of my presence.

"Aha! So there she is! Eavesdropping at the door on a private conversation."

"It can hardly be considered private, Lady Catherine, when the pitch and volume of your voice may be heard throughout the house," Mr. Darcy said. "We can have nothing further to say to each other. Good day."

He strode toward me and taking my arm, hastened me from the room, but his aunt was not so easily deterred, for she followed, pointing her umbrella in our direction as though to physically stop us. "This will not do, Darcy! I shall not have Georgiana brought up in that girl's presence and under her influence! I shall take steps to have her removed to Rosings and my care. It is the least I can do for your poor mother."

Mr. Darcy halted and faced her once again. "And just how do you propose to do that, Lady Catherine? I am my sister's legal guardian."

"But you are not the sole guardian. My nephew Fitzwilliam shares your responsibility and once I meet with him, he and I shall journey to my solicitors and petition the court to have you declared unfit."

"Unfit?" Mr. Darcy was incredulous. "You would attempt such an assignation of my character, Aunt?"

She blinked several times and modified her tone slightly, making it more placating. "Darcy, you know how dear you are to me. Can you think this is my desire? Why, it was the wish of your mother and I from your birth that you would one day become my own son, wedded to my dear Anne. But if you persist in this ill-judged alliance, I cannot in good conscience allow Georgiana to remain in this house, exposed to this unfeeling, selfish girl's lack of character. Duty and honour forbid it. And I am sure Fitzwilliam will be in agreement with me, as well as the Earl and Lady Matlock."

"Then with all due respect, Madam, go to it," Mr. Darcy said evenly, indicating with an outstretched arm that she should exit through the door from which she had entered. With an obvious sniff at me, Lady Catherine raised her head and turned for the door. Mr. Darcy, however, had one more thing to say. "Be advised, however, that Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up with me at our wedding. He congratulated the both of us on our union, and his parents have already called upon us and given us their best wishes. In fact, they have invited us to a ball to be held at Eden Park tomorrow evening."

Lady Catherine's eyes bulged and her mouth flew open, but she could not speak. Truly, I feared for a moment she suffered from apoplexy, but only for a moment. "And this is your final resolve, Darcy! Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified at Rosings. Neither you nor Darcy will be welcome there again until my nephew recovers his senses! I take no leave of either of you. You deserve no such attention. I am seriously displeased."

And with head high and nose even higher, she stalked out the door.

Mr. Darcy was seething; I knew not what to say, and so, I waited. He stood watching his aunt's retreat and at last said, "I apologize for the ill-treatment Lady Catherine has rendered you, Elizabeth. I shall make it a point from this time forward to refrain from criticism of your family. None of them can begin to exhibit such abominable behaviour as my aunt."

He bowed stiffly and strode briskly up the staircase. A flood of emotions fought their way through my being and I neither knew whether to feel relief or anguish. I made my way into the breakfast room and sank upon a chair, grateful for the cup of coffee the servant placed before me. I supposed Lady Catherine would be ill-pleased at the news of Mr. Darcy's marriage to me, but I never dreamed it would cause her to break relations with him...or that in such a rift, he would choose in my favour and defend me with such fervour. It seems I had a champion!

The next day, Saturday morning, presented the first occasion for Georgiana to truly warm toward me. It even resulted in her discarding formality and addressing me by my Christian name. All week she had, in her own gentle and unassuming manner, pestered her brother for permission to attend Lord Matlock's ball, but Mr. Darcy refused, adamant that she was far too young.

"But I am almost seventeen, Wills," she said that morning at the breakfast table for the umpteenth time. "My birthday is less than two months away."

"You have not yet come out, Georgiana, and I shall not have you endure the scrutiny of the ton until you have."

I was surprised that the young girl wished to attend the dance, as she had proved far too reticent to enter into any other social obligation with alacrity, but for some reason she would not give over about that evening's entertainment.

"I shall be out after Easter. You and Lady Matlock have already settled upon the date I am to be presented. That is scarce six or seven months from now. What could it hurt for me to attend tonight's ball?"

"I shall not have every fortune hunter in town eyeing you before that time!" Mr. Darcy slammed down his cup of coffee with such emphasis that it sloshed out upon the tablecloth. "You are not going, Georgiana."

"Even if I promise to dance with no one other than the Earl or Richard?"

"Once you dance with anyone, you shall be fair game for every young blade in the city."

"I fear there will be a scarcity of young blades in attendance tonight," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, entering the dining room at that very moment without waiting to be announced. "Good morning, Mrs. Darcy, Georgiana, and you, my overwrought and highly agitated cousin." He smiled with the last remark, as I did. "I am not accustomed to seeing your colour so high this early in the morning. Pray, tell me what all the racket is about."

"Come in, Fitzwilliam." Mr. Darcy's tone sounded less inviting than his words.

"Will you not join us in some breakfast?" I offered.

"A cup of tea will suffice, but someone take pity and explain what has my cousins at each other's throats. No, let me guess: Georgie wants to attend my parents' ball and you do not want her to, Darcy. Am I correct?"

"You are." I spoke quickly before either of the two resumed their carping.

"Wills is being somewhat stubborn, Richard. He says I am too young to go and I am almost seventeen!"

"The fact is you are now sixteen, Georgiana," Mr. Darcy said, "and too young to attend a ball. That is all there is to it."

But his sister would not let it rest. Her obstinacy truly surprised me, for I had never seen this side of her. "I have even promised to dance with no one other than the Earl or you, Richard, and still he will not relent. Pray, talk to him."

"Ah," the colonel said, "and what makes you think I wish to spend the evening dancing with the likes of you?"

Her only reply was to make a face at him and I could not refrain from laughing. Mr. Darcy, however, did not.

"If she dances with anyone, she will be fair game for any who ask," he repeated. "You know that as well as I do, Fitzwilliam."

"Well, that may be, but I have it on very good authority that tonight's ball shall be quite intimate. The majority of the ton have not yet returned to town what with this being the season for grouse and pheasant as well as partridge. Most every young so-called blade remains in the country in search of game they can shoot rather than dance with."

"I fail to see why your parents are even hosting this ball then," Mr. Darcy said.

"Well, it happens to be in honour of your new wife."

I was surprised to hear this and evidently so was Mr. Darcy. We both looked at each other as though to ask why? Fortunately, we remembered that we were a newly married couple and recovered in time to make the appropriate responses of gratitude.

"My mother knows that Elizabeth will be unable to meet the majority of our friends because of their absence, but after all, she is a new bride and we must make her feel welcome."

"Thank you, Colonel," I said, "that is most kind."

That provided even more impetus for Georgiana's argument. "And if I stay at home, think what impression that will give, Wills. People will say I do not welcome my sister-in-law."

"They will say nothing of the sort." He rose from the table and headed for the door and I could see that he was not open to any more discussion.

"Mr. Darcy," I said before he left the room, "might I offer a compromise?" When his response was nothing more than a frown, I ventured on. "If Georgiana agrees not to dance at all, but to remain in my company, would you allow her to attend?"

"But that would limit you. Shall you give up dancing the entire evening just so she can go?"

"I shall. I am not inclined to dance and as we both are well acquainted with your abhorrence of the art, we may be quite content remaining on the side with her."

"Well," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I trust the two of you will concede and at least lead the first dance, as is the custom when you are the honorees. And if you do, I suppose I might sacrifice myself and tend the child during your absence." Once again, Georgiana screwed up her face at him, but he only laughed.

"Very well," Mr. Darcy said, "if you are sure about this, Elizabeth, I shall go along with it."

"I am sure." Our eyes met, transmitting an unspoken understanding between us that united us in our solicitude for Georgiana. He turned away at last and departed the room with Colonel Fitzwilliam following.

"And now, young lady," I said, turning to my sister-in-law, "whatever shall you wear at this late date?"

She smiled the biggest smile I had yet seen on her pretty face. "My aunt has already taken me shopping, Elizabeth. I returned with a beautiful blue ball gown. Shall we go up and see it?"

I agreed, of course, thrilled that she had called me by name, and we spent the morning selecting gloves and shoes and ribbons for her hair from the vast array she had brought home from her visit with Lady Matlock. We actually giggled at times during our visit and I felt my heart lighten almost as it had when at home with my younger sisters.

That evening Fiona did her best with my unruly curls and when she was through, I was surprised to see how well she had succeeded in taming them into a pleasing array. The silver combs provided just enough sheen in my dark hair to suit me. When I stepped into the silver gray gown and she fastened up the back, I caught my breath at my image in the floor-length mirror. The touch of black lace inside the silk neckline proved much more provocative than demure and it appeared to me that the scoop neck was cut even lower than I remembered. Lady Catherine's angry accusation that I had won her nephew by my 'arts and allurements' suddenly echoed in my ears. If Fiona had not been there, I think I would have immediately changed the dress for my familiar black. I longed for the safety of its dark concealment. But the maid was all too excited and I could not think of an excuse for such action.

"Oh, Ma'am, you will turn every head in the place tonight, you will!"

I dismissed her remark and sent her into the dressing room in search of my wrap, but only so that I might quell the tremor I felt upon seeing my image in the mirror. Why had I ever consented to leave off my mourning clothes? And why did I feel so exposed having done so?

She had just returned with the shawl when we heard a knock at the interior door between my room and Mr. Darcy's bedchamber.

"That be the master," Fiona said, smiling, as she hurried to turn the knob. Sure enough, when she opened the door, there he stood dressed in formal evening clothes, more handsome than ever. "Here she is, sir. All ready for the ball."

"Thank you, Fee," he said, keeping his eyes on me. "That will be all."

I suppose that she curtseyed before departing, but in truth, I could not tell you, for I was not conscious of anyone other than Mr. Darcy. His presence filled the room until the walls suddenly seemed much too close. He walked toward me, his eyes sweeping up and down my form. I waited. Was he displeased? I could not tell, for he did not smile or frown. He just looked and looked and looked.

At last, I broke his gaze and lowered my head. I knew I blushed at his inspection and if he were to reprimand me for my choice of gown, then let him do so at once so that I might change back into my familiar dress and be done with it. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his rebuke, but they flew open when, instead, I felt his hands at the base of my neck. He stood very close behind me and encircled my neck with a delicate gold chain containing a perfect black pearl quite large in size, encrusted with diamonds on either side. I gasped at the beauty of the rare pearl that appeared to match my gown in colour, a luminous silver gray.

"I am glad I chose this trinket now that I see your choice of gowns. Perhaps our tastes are more in common than we first thought."

"It is a beautiful necklace." I fingered the pearl as it lay against my bosom. "Thank you."

"You are welcome and thank you for wearing something other than that blasted black."

No compliment. No kind words about my appearance. Not one solitary word of approval other than I was not wearing black. Well, why should I have expected more? This is Mr. Darcy, after all, I reminded myself. I gathered my shawl from the bed and swept out the door he held open, my head up and my teeth placed tightly together. Lord, give me strength to get through the night without throttling him!

Georgiana chattered throughout the carriage ride to Lord Matlock's estate, an unusual amount of conversation on her part, for which I was grateful. She talked because of nerves while I remained silent for fear I would say more than I should. Mr. Darcy answered in one-word sentences except when he reminded her more than once of her agreement to remain on the sides of the room within my view at all times. Even his dour mood could not dampen her excitement, though, and I was glad to see that at least one of us looked forward to the evening.

When Lord and Lady Matlock had called earlier in the week, I was glad to learn that she was nothing like Lady Catherine, and Mr. Darcy had said privately that her thoughtful demeanor reminded him of his late mother. She was kind and welcoming, although somewhat curious as to my background. The Earl seemed much like Colonel Fitzwilliam with his genial manner and I soon felt at ease around him. Their estate just outside London reflected their status in society, for it was grand enough for any lord and lady. Tonight it shone with candles and crystal, elaborate autumn floral arrangements on each table, and a polished inlaid walnut floor in the huge ballroom awaiting dancers made up from the throng of richly dressed people who filled the room. If that was considered an intimate gathering, I wondered at the size of a grand ball. Before the first dance began, I had met more couples than I would ever be able to remember. If Mamá could see me now, would she not be undone by such fancy finery! It would take her a full two days just to describe the lace on the ladies' gowns to my Aunt Philips.

I rejoiced to see Mr. Bingley stride across the large room, a smile stretching his countenance from ear to ear.

"Mrs. Darcy, I say you look exceptionally well tonight," he said, bowing to me. "And you, as well, Miss Georgiana," he added upon seeing her.

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley. Are your sisters and Mr. Hurst not with you tonight?"

He looked around and nodded across the room at Caroline whom I happened to know had seen me when I first entered the room, but had not as yet, bothered to speak. She could not escape now and so she and Mrs. Hurst made their way through the throng and greeted us. Caroline was in her usual feathers and satin and Mrs. Hurst's ample bosom almost fell out of her low-cut velvet dress. Well, at least these people and their clothing were familiar to me. I endured the sisters' false compliments as well as I could and when Caroline stood far too close to Mr. Darcy than any single woman should, I simply turned my head. Tonight I would have given him to her in a heartbeat.

"She is tolerable, I suppose, but not pretty enough to tempt me." Suddenly those words from a year ago reverberated in my ears. I recalled his utterance of that contemptuous statement as clearly as if he had said it again. I turned to look at him out of the corner of my eye, but he was deep in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Would I ever be able to forget his rudeness? And did he still consider me only tolerable? That would explain his earlier lack of compliment.

Just then the musicians finished tuning their instruments and the first dance of the evening began. The Earl motioned for Mr. Darcy and I to lead the way and I took a deep breath, as he held out his hand to me. We circled the room and then lined up with the other couples following us. As the sprightly tune began, we moved together in a semi-embrace before parting to move back into position. I held my breath when his arm encircled my waist, but fortunately, we had only to look into each other's eyes but a moment. The number was long and I held hands with many men, making my way down the line opposite Mr. Darcy. Each time I met my temporary partner's smile with one of my own, only to have it banish upon facing Mr. Darcy's somber countenance. Did the man never smile when dancing? Could he not at least pretend some enjoyment of dancing with his wife?

At the end of the number, we both let out relieved sighs. Neither of us had said one word to the other during the entire half hour of the dance. He returned me to Georgiana's side while he went in search of the punch bowl. I politely begged off invitations from several gentlemen who presented themselves before me, and guided Georgiana to the far side of the room where we might sit for a moment. Mr. Darcy soon found us with cups of punch and, naturally, his presence brought more guests to engage us in conversation

We went into dinner at the appointed hour and Lady Matlock's table was laden with the season's bounty. Turkey, venison, and lamb along with white soup, of course, fall vegetables, and at least three different puddings. Iced cakes were served for dessert, as well as platters heaped with squares of marzipan.

Caroline Bingley managed to sit upon Mr. Darcy's right and she attempted to monopolize his attention throughout the courses. I found myself at Lord Matlock's left and was fascinated at his knowledge of Hertfordshire. He spent a great part of his youth there on hunting expeditions and he was well acquainted with the countryside. We spent no little time extolling its virtues.

"Hertfordshire may be a hunter's delight," Caroline interrupted once, "but it cannot compare in beauty with Derbyshire and Pemberley, in particular, is that not correct, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am somewhat prejudiced," Mr. Darcy said, "so it will not do to ask my opinion."

"And I suppose you will answer in the opposite," Caroline said, directing the supposition to me. "Or have you even seen Pemberley as of yet?"

I knew she was fishing to know more of my history with Mr. Darcy. "Not as yet, Miss Bingley, but some of my family has and they assure me Mr. Darcy does not exaggerate its beauty."

"Your family has visited Pemberley?" She lifted an eyebrow in doubt. "Pray, let me guess which of all your sisters has been so fortunate? Surely not the youngest."

Before I could answer, Mr. Darcy did so. "My wife's aunt and uncle visited the estate last summer, Miss Bingley. Do you not remember? You were there at the time."

"No, I do not, sir."

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner dined with us two, perhaps three times, I believe."

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner? The people who reside near Cheapside were your guests at Pemberley?"

"They were. Yes, now I recall. You and your sister made a side trip to Ashbourne that week to visit your aunt. Forgive me, you were not there after all, so how could I expect you to remember? 'Tis a shame, for they are delightful people. You must meet them sometime."

Caroline's mouth remained agape much longer than it should have before she was able to respond. "I have met Mrs. Gardiner," she finally said and returned to her plate. She was noticeably quieter for the remainder of the meal.

The evening progressed with little more to report except that I could not help but notice Georgiana's toe tap to the beat of each number. The child wished to dance ever so much as my younger sisters and I thought it harsh of her brother to forbid it. Toward the end of the evening he had wandered from our presence and was in deep conversation with several acquaintances. Colonel Fitzwilliam had joined Georgiana and me, and he spent no little time teasing her as to how popular she should be once she was out. He often whispered in her ear and caused her to laugh. Once again, I envied their gentle camaraderie.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana said, "will you excuse me while I freshen up?"

I nodded and turned back to the crowd to converse with Lady Matlock and yet another of her friends she wished me to meet. When I glanced around sometime later, neither my sister-in-law nor the colonel could be seen. I knew sufficient time had elapsed for her to return and so I began searching the room for her blonde curls. It would not do for Mr. Darcy to discover her absent from my company. I made my way around the perimeter of the ballroom, but she was nowhere to be found. At last I exited the room into the large gallery outside where I stopped in surprise at the sight before me, for there was Georgiana dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, the two of them all alone. I could not help but smile, for they made a pretty couple and the colonel was quite adept at maneuvering the steps so that there was no need to change partners as was the custom among the dancers inside. Neither of them saw me and I slipped back inside the doorway so that I would not spoil their fun.

When the music ended, Fitzwilliam bowed over her hand and kissed it. She laughed gaily and I rejoiced to see her pleasure.

"Oh, Richard, what fun! May we do it again?"

"As long as we are not found out, Sprout." He looked up and down the hall. I pulled back even farther so they would not see me, and when the next air began, he embraced her and began the dance. I turned back to the inside room and prayed that Mr. Darcy might still be engrossed in conversation, but it was not to be, for here he came striding across the room straight toward me.

"Where is Georgiana?" he asked immediately.

"She excused herself for the moment." I moved to stand between him and the entry to the hallway.

"Well, shall we take the opportunity and dance this number? I believe it to be the last of the evening."

Although surprised at his invitation, I nodded quickly, and with an anxious glance over my shoulder, I allowed him to lead me once more to the floor. This time he appeared relaxed, perhaps because the ball was nearly over. He even smiled slightly and his touch was gentle, almost like a caress. I found myself caught up in the beauty of the music, for I loved to dance, and however much he disliked the art, he was skilled in his performance. Suddenly, I wished the dance would never end. Although we did not talk, there was no need for we seemed in harmony, complementing the other perfectly, our bodies in tune with both the music and each other.

Upon returning home, Georgiana kissed her brother's cheek and thanked him again for allowing her to attend the ball. She then squeezed my hand and ran up the great staircase to her bedchamber.

"Elizabeth, I am glad you persuaded me to change my mind about Georgiana attending the ball," Mr. Darcy said, as we stood before the fireplace in the drawing room. "I have not seen so much colour in her complexion in months, nor such sparkle in her eyes. One would think she had danced the evening away instead of watching from the side. I did not know it took so little to make her happy."

He poured glasses of wine for both of us and I accepted mine without response. What could I say? That I had gone against his wishes and allowed her to dance with Fitzwilliam? Truly, there had been no allowance on my part; they had simply done it, but I had not moved to halt its occurrence. Why should I? It was innocent fun in my opinion, no matter what Mr. Darcy thought, and yet I felt a twinge of conscience at deceiving him. When I felt his gaze upon me I wondered if he could read my guilt; instead, I was surprised by his remark.

"I was right about you. You are good for Georgiana."

We stood close to each other. I could see gratitude in his eyes and yet, something more, a sort of ease about his countenance that I had not witnessed prior. I resolved not to tell him of Georgiana's dance, for I did not wish his good will or that look in his eyes to vanish or for anything to break the mood.

He took my hand in his. "I failed to tell you how beautiful you are tonight, Elizabeth. Forgive me." His eyes traveled to my lips and to my eyes and then back again. I could not say a word. I could not even think. He stood so near. I felt mesmerized by his presence and yet intensely alive, conscious only of the intimacy of the moment. How long we remained thus, I know not, but at last he spoke again.

"Will you not content yourself with mourning ribbons from this day forward?"

I almost gasped, searching for breath with which to speak. "I shall," I said softly. "I shall."

He smiled and kissed my hand before releasing it. We then retired for the night, each to our separate rooms, and I was even more aware than usual that we lay sleeping with only a wall and an unlocked heart between us.

Did I say heart? I meant door. Truly, I did. Indeed, I meant door.

Preparations for the dinner party we were to host the following Thursday night consumed much of the coming days. I spent considerable time with Cook in planning the menu; I gave the housekeeper a list of every room that needed to be in pristine condition; I met with the gardener an entire morning, examining and choosing the plants that were still in bloom; and I ordered the best silver polished once again, as well as re-washing of the china. Mr. Darcy's house was kept in perfect order, but still I persisted in ordering extra care and attention, as I found myself nervous and yet excited at the prospect of presiding over my first table. I truly desired Mr. Darcy's good opinion of me in this endeavor, a desire I found surprising, uncomfortable and disquieting. I even went to him for approval of the seating plan I had worked out.

"Shall Lady Matlock take offense at having Mr. Gardiner seated so nearby? Shall I place my aunt and uncle in lower positions at the table?"

"Hmm," Mr. Darcy said, "I see nothing wrong with your plan, other than the fact that Miss Bingley sits next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. That may cause offense on his part."

He said these words with a smile and I joined him with one of my own. I immediately moved Miss Bingley next to Mr. Gardiner and we both burst out laughing at the thought of her reaction to such a slight.

"No, no, Elizabeth, you must not inflict her on Mr. Gardiner. I think too highly of the man. Here, move her next to Mr. Hurst, for he is far too occupied with his plate and drink to be aware of who sits next to him."

We laughed again at the absurdity of it all and I felt an ease in his presence I had never experienced before. This newly found atmosphere persisted throughout the week and it spilled over into every occasion upon which we were together. I discovered that Mr. Darcy could charm when he wished. We spent at least two evenings listening to Georgiana play and sing for us and on another night Mr. Darcy read to us from his latest acquisition, a copy of Coleridge's lectures on literature and philosophy. I was amazed that not a single word of dissension had passed between us since the night of Lord Matlock's ball. What had caused this transformation? Surely it could not be just the absence of my mourning clothes, could it? No, that would afford my appearance far too great a power; however, I was surprised to find that when I donned lighter colours, my entire mood lightened and I flattered myself that perchance my outlook influenced his as well, at least a little.

I followed through on my resolve not to reveal Georgiana's transgression at the ball to her brother, for I did not wish to cause any conflict between them or draw his wrath upon me for concealing it. I did confess to my sister-in-law, however, that I had seen her dance with her cousin in the great hall at Eden Park.

Her eyes grew large with fear at my words. "And have you told Wills?"

I shook my head and could see the relief upon her countenance. "That does not mean that I condone your disobedience, Georgiana."

"I suppose it was wrong of me to go against Wills, but I so wanted to dance, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is my guardian, also. I cannot see that I behaved so badly if he approved."

"You are very close to the colonel, are you not?"

"I adore him," she answered, her eyes aglow. "I always have. He is the kindest of men. Next to Wills, I think I love him more than anyone else in the world."

"You are fortunate."

"Yes, I am, but you are as well, Elizabeth."

"Oh? Do I enjoy Colonel Fitzwilliam's favour?"

"Of course you do, but you mistake my meaning. You are married to my brother and he is the best of men. I am sure you could not find a better husband in the land."

"Ah, yes." I turned away and busied myself with rearranging a vase of already perfectly arranged flowers.

But Georgiana persisted. "Tell me, what is it like to be married? Is it so different from one's solitary state?"

I felt myself blush and kept my face averted. "I fear that I do not understand your question."

"I mean...do you feel differently?"

"Feel differently?".

"Yes, once you are married, do you feel more sure of yourself? Do you develop more confidence, or have you always possessed such nature?"

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes with relief that Georgiana was not asking me the personal question I had presumed. "Actually, my feelings are not that altered. I suppose I have been cursed with too much confidence all my life. At least, that is what my mother would tell you."

"Oh, no, I should never call it cursed, but rather blessed. I would give anything to be as self-assured as you are, never to fear others' judgment or censure, to know in myself that I am correct in whatever I do."

I walked to her side and sat beside her on the couch. "Oh, my dear, believe me, I am not that confident. I, too, have fears and doubts about my abilities."

"But you never show them, Elizabeth. You appear in control."

"It is a good act, Georgiana, one I have perfected. Consider this dinner party I am planning. I am quite concerned that I get it right, that I do not embarrass Mr. Darcy in any way."

"You could never do that, for he has the highest regard for you."

"Does he?" I looked into her eyes, searching for the assurance she felt.

"Oh, yes. Wills would never have married you if he did not."

I looked away then, reflecting on my sister-in-law's simple conclusion, her total ignorance of the facts. Had she known the true nature of our arrangement, she would not have spoken of his regard with such concreteness. She would have wondered about the truth of his feelings for me, but not nearly so much as I did.

On Wednesday, the day before the anticipated party, I did not see Mr. Darcy at all. Adams informed me that he had left the house before breakfast and would be at his solicitor's office for much of the day. I thought nothing of it, as Mr. Darcy did not discuss his business affairs with me, and I had a long list of duties awaiting my attention. Georgiana accompanied me on my morning calls; during the afternoon while I checked with the steward on the wines to be served, I heard her practice the pianoforte, for she had agreed to play for our guests after dinner. The day was full and I did not notice Mr. Darcy's absence until the hour arrived for our evening meal and yet he still had not returned. That did surprise me for it was quite unusual. Georgiana and I eventually sat down to eat without him and passed the evening reading. We both looked up several times, anticipating his arrival, but when the clock sounded ten bells, we retired to our chambers.

Fiona had just unpinned my hair and brushed through the curls when he knocked on the door adjoining our rooms. She opened the door and then vanished with the wave of his hand. I watched him walk into the room, my surprise evident. He was still dressed in daytime garb, obviously just arrived, having shed only his coat and hat. I stood in greeting and pulled my robe close around my figure.

"Elizabeth, forgive me for intruding so late in the evening."

"Of course. Will you not sit down?"

"No." He strode across the room and paced back and forth. "I have a pressing task for you. Cancel the dinner party for tomorrow night. Write to each of our invited guests this very evening and inform them of our regrets. Say that urgent business calls us back to Pemberley. Then see that Fiona packs your trunks so that you and Georgiana may leave by first light. I have already directed my sister's maid to prepare her things."

"But why? I do not understand."

"I do not have time for explanations. Just do as I say and with all haste. Do you understand, Elizabeth? I demand that you carry out my orders with strict compliance."

I felt vexation rise in my throat. "And are you coming with us?"

"No." Without further word or allowance of questions, Mr. Darcy strode from the room, firmly closing the door between us.

I was speechless! How dare he demand this of me, cancel all my carefully laid plans with a curt word of dismissal, and not deem me worthy of an explanation! Did I not merit any more value in his eyes than a servant? With his evacuation of my bedchamber, all of the recent goodwill between us disappeared like a cup of water poured out on parched ground. I paced the floor in the exact pattern he had not five minutes before, my previous doubts and fears descending upon me with a vengeance. How could he treat me in such manner? He was as arrogant, as uncivil, as brash in his conduct as he had ever been.

How long I persisted in my anger, I know not, but Fiona interrupted by lightly tapping at the door opening into the hallway. When I granted her entrance, she quietly went about her duties, hauling out my trunks and emptying the drawers and armoires of my belongings. Obviously, Mr. Darcy had already informed her that we were leaving. My first inclination was to question her and ascertain whether she knew the reason for our banishment from London, but I thought better of it, not wishing a servant to know how angry I was nor how humiliated I felt by a man who professed to be my husband. I sat down and began to write the notes of regret to my aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock, the Bingleys and Hursts, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. I confess that I had to discard the first two notes because tears of rage soiled them. I balled them up and threw them into the fire. Digging my fists into my eyes, I willed myself to cease crying, for I did not want Fiona to witness my distress.

All my work had been for nothing, all my plans a needless exercise. What could be so important that our departure for Pemberley could not be delayed by at least one day? And why could not Mr. Darcy confide the reason in me? No, I was not his confidante. How could I ever have dreamt I might be? In truth, I was not his wife, but only a figurehead. I played the part, hostess when he desired it and banished non-person when it struck his fancy. His tender words the night of Lord Matlock's ball must have been nothing more than pretense, his affability this week a sham, for now he discarded me with a single command without the barest courtesy of an explanation.

"Will there be anything more, Ma'am?"

I turned from my writing and saw the trunks lined up against the wall.

"I left your traveling clothes in the armoire, Ma'am, and your toiletries I will pack in the morning after you are dressed."

"Very well. That will be all for tonight."

She curtsied and left the room and not five minutes later I regretted having dismissed her. I should have sent the notes with her to be placed downstairs for delivery first thing tomorrow. It was bad enough form to cancel a dinner party, but on the very day it was to be held must be a grievous breach of manners. I finished up the last note and resolved to take them downstairs myself. Perhaps I would slip into the library while there and find some dull book to help lull me, for I knew in my present mood sleep would be difficult to come by.

It was after midnight, so I felt safe in leaving my room dressed in gown and robe, for surely everyone had retired by then. At the bottom of the great staircase, I laid the notes on the silver salver where all outgoing messages were left, and walked across the gallery toward the library. I was surprised to see a light coming from the room next to it, the room I knew to be Mr. Darcy's study. The door was open and I wondered if the servant had failed to extinguish the candles. I walked softly; my slippers barely made a sound. I peered through the entry, and there saw Mr. Darcy sitting with his elbows leaning on the desk, his head in his hands. He had discarded his coat and neckcloth. His waistcoat hung open and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His hair appeared mussed as though he had raked his hands through it over and over again. As I watched, he raised his head and leaned against the high back of the chair, closed his eyes and sighed. A deep frown knit his brows together and I was astonished at the amount of pain I saw canvass his face.

I started to turn away and go about my first inclination of searching the library shelves for a book, but the haunting look upon his countenance drew me into the room like a siren's song. I cleared my throat and he looked up, surprise evident in his eyes.

"Pardon me, sir, but you appear ill. Shall I not call a servant to summon the doctor?"

"No, no."

"Truly, sir, you are not well. May I get you something for your present distress? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal. "I am not ill, Elizabeth. Do not concern yourself."

I ventured closer and sat on the edge of a chair near the desk. "Will you tell me what is troubling you? May I not be of some assistance?"

"There is nothing you can do. Indeed, you must leave me, for there is nothing anyone can do tonight." He rose from the desk and walked around it to stand before me, but instead of assisting me to my feet, he chose to sit on the chair next to me. I could see the worry and concern in his eyes, the anguish so apparent on his countenance, and I sensed that he did not wish me to go, in spite of his words to the contrary.

We sat quietly for a while, but at last I could not keep from speaking. "Mr. Darcy, will you confide in me? Can you not tell me what is causing you such discontent?"

"I would not burden you, Elizabeth."

I did something quite daring then. I reached out and took his hand in mine. I held it between my palms and forced him to meet my eyes. "I am your wife, sir. I know that we are not partners in the truest sense, but can we not attempt a beginning? Will you trust me enough to share whatever it is that disturbs you so?"

His eyes looked like deep pools of black, tortured with worry and yet lightened somewhat at my boldness. He made no reply at first, but gazed into my eyes for the longest time.

"It is Georgiana," he said at last. "She...I fear she may be in danger and must be removed from London immediately."

"Danger? From whom?"

He rose, took a letter from his desk and held it out to me. "This is a blackmail notice. From whom I do not know, but the author knows our family and knows it well. This blackguard threatens to tell Lady Catherine of Wickham's designs on Georgiana, how he almost succeeded in seducing her and eloping to Scotland. You heard my aunt's threats last week. This will surely give her fuel for court action to remove Georgiana from my guardianship. This will provide fodder for the idea that I am unfit and remiss in my duties toward my sister."

I hastily read the note and was shocked at its contents. How could anyone be so cruel, so hateful as to separate a brother and sister who were devoted to each other? And yes, I could well imagine Lady Catherine using such knowledge to have her way in the matter. She did not take defeat with grace and her venom would only be enflamed with such revelation.

"Do you not have the slightest suspicion as to who might have knowledge of this occurrence?"

"The only people who know are the parties involved, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam, you and I, and, of course, Mrs. Younge."

"Could she have written the note?"

"She could, but why? She knows nothing of Lady Catherine's desire to take Georgiana from me. How could she be privy to that intelligence?"

My heart went out to him. What a heavy burden he bore. How foolish I had been to let my anger erupt when he was laden with worry. "What shall you do?"

"Remain here and search out the person or persons who have made the threat. As you can see from the note, I am to leave the funds they demand at the designated drop on Saturday next."

"And shall you pay them, sir? I cannot fathom rewarding such scoundrels!"

"I have little choice right now. I met with my barrister most of the day, along with a trusted detective he recommends. We arranged to have the meeting place watched and hope to discover the blackmailer. What I do not know is how to find the informant. I suspect it may be someone here in my own house, a suspicion I find most alarming."

"In your own house? But why?"

"Because of the anger and pitch of her voice, Lady Catherine's threats were heard throughout the house last week. I have not the slightest doubt every servant in the place knows of the situation. I must find out who it is that would betray us."

He began to pace again. I watched him for some time, my own thoughts in a whirl. Who could it be? Mr. Darcy treated his servants well. How could any one of them turn against him in a traitorous manner? And yet, throughout history the lure of silver has corrupted many a man or woman. My thoughts darted back and forth searching for any means of discovering a malcontent among the household, when all of a sudden the recollection struck me; the memory I had tried so hard to forget washed over me.

"Sir, I...I must tell you something."

"What is it?"

"Some weeks ago, I overheard two of the servants talk, gossip actually, and one of them exhibited anger towards you. I do not want to accuse anyone unduly, but you might begin your investigation with him."

"Tell me exactly what you heard."

I blanched at repeating the ugly words spoken against him and bit my bottom lip.

"Elizabeth? It is vital that you tell what you remember."

I nodded and, taking a deep breath, I repeated the under-gardener's scurrilous remarks about Mr. Darcy and Fiona. He began to pace again, placing his hand at his mouth, knitting his brows into an even fiercer scowl than before. "And do you know who the man was that said these things?"

I shook my head. "No, sir, for I did not see him. All I know is that the other servant called him Johnny."

"Johnny? We have more than one servant by that name. What about the stable hand who supposedly told Johnny in the first place? Did you learn his name?"

"No." I felt sad to see his disappointment. I watched him retrace his steps back and forth until I wondered if the carpet would be permanently indented from his desperate walk. I finally rose and, placing my hand on Mr. Darcy's arm, I stopped him. "What else can I do to assist you, sir? Is there not some way I might help?"

"You can help me by doing as I ask, Elizabeth. Take Georgiana to Pemberley where she will be safe. I have asked Fitzwilliam to accompany you and I have not the slightest doubt that he will protect her on the journey. I trust my staff in the country implicitly, for they have been in my service for years. I shall feel much relief to have my sister tucked away in Derbyshire, rather than here in town. And pray, do not tell her of this threat. I do not want her frightened."

"But what reason have you given her for this sudden trip?"

"I told her I had changed my mind and wanted both of you out of the city, what with winter coming on and disease rampant during the cold weather, which is not an untruth."

"And she accepted this without further explanation?"

"My sister is accustomed to obeying me." He smiled slightly. "You could learn from her example, and if you will do so in this regard, I shall rest easier."

I blushed, wondering if he had read my mind earlier. Did he know how angry I had become when ordered about? "I confess obedience does not come easy to me, sir, especially when I am given orders without reason." We stared at each other and by the turn of his countenance, it appeared that he understood my application, and so I did not allow my earlier disappointment further reign.

"In this matter, however," I said softly, "I shall do as you say. I only regret that I cannot do more, for I do not like to see your countenance consumed with anguish."

He closed his eyes and turned away, but then returned his gaze to me and when he spoke, his voice was tender and low. "Your compassion does you credit. I am not in the habit of being so cared for. I find I quite like it."

We stood very close to each other and I suddenly remembered that I was in a state of undress when I saw his eyes roam over my figure. He took my hand and my skin burned at the warmth of his touch. This time he was the one to enclose my hand within both of his and I found that I liked the way his large hands completely covered mine, making it feel small and protected. With his thumb, he began to rub circles around and around my palm and I suddenly found my breathing somewhat constricted.

"Elizabeth," he said very softly, almost in a husky whisper.

"Yes," I murmured, never taking my eyes from his.

"You should go to bed. It is late."

"Yes, I suppose I should."

"You must arise early."

"Yes, very early."

Neither of us moved to act upon our words. His gaze traveled from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes, as they had done the night of the ball. I felt a longing well up deep within me with a force I had never felt before, a quickening within the pit of my stomach that only added fuel to that yearning. I wanted him to kiss me - oh, how I wanted him to kiss me - and I wondered if that was the same desire I saw reflected in his dark eyes.

"Leave me," he pleaded, his voice utterly ragged, but he still neither moved nor released my hand.

"Yes," I whispered and then without thought, I reached up with my free hand and touched his face. I felt its flushed heat and drew my fingers along his jaw. And then I kissed his cheek. It was the most natural impulse I had ever experienced. When I drew back, he searched my eyes, his breath coming short and hard. And then he closed his lips upon mine, slowly, softly searching his way until my lips parted and I tasted heaven for the first time in my life.

I felt the room whirl around me, my whole body tremble as I clung to his hands. At last he gently released my lips. Neither of us moved; our eyes gazed at each other, both of us too filled with emotion to move or speak. I could not even think, for my senses flooded my entire being. He still held my hand, I knew that much for I could feel the pressure of his thumb tracing circles in that same maddening, probing pattern, and finally he looked down at it.

"Such a little hand," he whispered, and placing it next to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, while once again gazing into my eyes. "Go," he said softly, and released me.

I nodded and turned woodenly. Somehow I found my way to the door and up the stairs to my chamber.

If I said that I slept much that night, it would be a lie, for my thoughts, my feelings, my senses, every nerve in my body was so intensely alive that I could find ease in neither bed nor pillow. I could not fathom all that had happened that evening. My emotions had run the gamut from fierce anger to...to what? Was this feeling of unbearable excitement and joy actually love for Mr. Darcy? I did not know, I truly did not know. I just knew that the last thing I wanted was to be sent to Pemberley, to be out of his sight, unable to see his face, hear his voice, and give him comfort. Was that love?

And what about Georgiana? Who could wish to harm her? Who would want to cause Mr. Darcy such distress? Over and over again I went over the blackmail note in my mind, searching for any clue that might stand out, that might enable me to assist my husband in solving this terrifying riddle. My husband - I had come to think of him as my husband for the first time.

And then those delicious memories of his kiss flooded my body once again and I relived the sensation. I pondered how and why it had happened, and wondered when and if it ever would again.

Fiona awakened me before dawn by lighting a candle and laying the fire. I shivered in the cold morning as I washed my face with the water she poured into the china basin. She helped me dress and as I sat down to do up my buttons, she began to brush my hair and pin it up with the expertise she possessed. Another knock at the door caused me to turn in expectation, hoping against hope that it was Mr. Darcy, but I was disappointed to see it was only another servant bearing a tray containing my breakfast. She said the master had ordered light meals for Georgiana and me to be served in our rooms. I looked at her closely and wondered if that girl from the kitchen perhaps might be the spy in our employ, the one who had assisted Mr. Darcy's blackmailer with news of Lady Catherine's threats. But she was a simple girl, dull of manner and wit, and one I would never suspect clever enough to carry out such a scheme. Ashamed of my suspicions, I spoke kindly and thanked her for the meal.

After eating and gathering a few books Fiona had failed to pack the night before, I was ready to don my coat and bonnet.

"Here you go, Ma'am," she said, holding out my coat for me. "The master bid me have you ready to go by 6:00 o'clock and it be nigh onto it."

"Yes, Fiona, call the footman and have him gather my bags. Then you must hurry and get your things together so that you and your child will not miss the deadline, either. I am sure the servants' coach will travel right behind that of Miss Georgiana and myself."

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" The maid looked at me as though I spoke French.

"Your bags, Fiona, yours and Willie's. You cannot travel to Derbyshire without your things. Come, hurry! Do not wait for me. I can manage from here."

"But Ma'am, I am not going to Derbyshire with you."

I stopped tying the ribbons of my bonnet. "What? Are you not moving to Pemberley as my maid?"

"Eventually, Ma'am, when it is the master's wish. But for now, he bid me stay here in London until he is ready to leave the city. I will travel when the master does."

The footman knocked at the door and she turned her attention to assist him in carrying my trunks below stairs. As they left the room, I found myself sink onto the bed. What possible reason could Mr. Darcy have to keep Fiona here with him? She was my maid, after all. And then the old fears crowded into my mind. I could see Willie's dark eyes and hair, the soft look about Mr. Darcy's expression when he played with him in the garden, and his refusal to reveal the identity of the child's father. I suddenly recalled that when I had repeated the servant's hateful gossip last night, it had angered Mr. Darcy, but he had never denied it.

I felt sick to my stomach and it was all that I could do not to lose the breakfast I had just eaten. What kind of man had I married and what sort of game was he playing? Sending me off with the memory of his tender kiss and yet keeping his mistress and child here with him?

I walked down the stairs with a heart as heavy as the trunks carried before me. Just outside the entry I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam mounted on his horse, ready to ride escort while Mr. Darcy assisted Georgiana into the carriage. I steeled myself not to show any emotion, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt me.

"Elizabeth." He held out his hand to help me into the carriage.

I refused to look at him and ignored his outstretched hand. Instead, I reached for the side of the coach and climbed the steps without assistance. "Good morning, Georgiana," I said, seating myself on the far side of the carriage and turning my face to the opposite window.

"Good-bye, Wills," Georgiana cried. "Come soon."

"Yes...yes, I will come as soon as possible."

I could hear the confusion in his voice, but I did nothing to alleviate it. I gave him no greeting; I took no leave of him; I refused to even glance his way as I heard him say to the driver, "Walk on," his voice possibly cracking somewhat. I felt little sympathy for him, for I could feel my own heart breaking, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Fortunately, Georgiana slept through the first hours of the journey. I was relieved to be spared the agony of making conversation when all I wished to do was weep. The reprieve allowed me to wallow in my misery, and wallow I did. How could I have allowed myself to let down my guard, to permit Mr. Darcy entrance into my heart when even yet I did not know the depth of his character? I brooded over Fiona's words, "I will travel when the master does."

What reason could he have to send me off and yet keep her with him other than the vile, ugly thought now breaking my heart? She was his mistress after all and Willie his child - I must become reconciled to that truth no matter how much I hated it. And yet it went against every single thing I had learned about Mr. Darcy in the short time we had been married. Indeed, it ran contrary to what I knew of him even before our marriage. Had he not condemned Wickham for his dissolute ways and for attempting to meddle with his own sister? Could he, in turn, be as false and low? Was he nothing more than a hypocrite?

Once again, I thought back to the letter Mr. Darcy had given me months ago in Rosings Park. Jane still had not found it among my belongings at Longbourn, but she had written that she would continue her search. I wanted to re-read it, to consider it carefully as I had not taken the time to do so before. I recalled the feelings of mortification I had gone through when first I read it, for I had misjudged Wickham's character entirely. Could it be possible that I now did the same to Mr. Darcy? Or had I been fooled by him, flattered by his attentions, and wooed by the memory of his affection last evening?

That kiss! Just the memory of his lips upon mine washed over me with such intensity that within an instant my senses yearned for him in the same manner they had last night. I closed my eyes and entered into it, feeling the heat warm my body. And then I was stricken with the almost certain probability that Mr. Darcy had bestowed that same favour on my maid, and I suddenly felt such a chill that I gathered up the rug lying on the seat and wrapped it around me.

You must gain control of yourself and be sensible, I thought. In this world it would not be unusual for a man of eight and twenty to have some experience with women before marriage. Why should I expect Mr. Darcy to be different? But to take advantage of an unlearned girl of fifteen - no, that was insufferable! A man who satisfied himself with his servants was unthinkable. Why, he was no better than that lecherous earl who had employed Jane!

Oh, I could not bear to think of it! I summoned all of my strength and searched the byways outside the carriage for distraction, hoping to see an errant rabbit, a flock of sheep, or even farmers plowing their fields, anything at all that might do the trick. When the vista provided no relief, I summoned all of my determination and attempted to think on Mr. Darcy's good qualities - his generosity, his intelligence and good breeding, his affection for his sister - but like a hateful, slimy demon, fear would do its deed and worm its way back into my head. Thus, around and around my thoughts swirled until without conscious thought, I finally cried aloud, "Enough!"

My outburst awoke Georgiana, but fortunately she did not comprehend what had disturbed her sleep and shortly thereafter, we stopped at a village to change horses. I almost bolted from the coach, so anxious was I to interrupt my thoughts and place my attentions on anything else, anything at all. We both were grateful to stretch our limbs and walked around outside for some time before Colonel Fitzwilliam bade us enter the inn for refreshment.

"We have made good time," he said, as we stirred our tea.

"Yes, we are half-way to Pemberley, are we not?" Georgiana asked. "Even yet, I wish that Wills had come with us. If he fears the contagion of disease for us, should we not fear the same for him?"

"Do not worry about him, Sprout. You know Darcy's too fearsome to get sick. Why, there is not an illness in existence that would dare broach his presence."

Georgiana protested his teasing description of her brother; my reaction was somewhat different - I almost bit my tongue in half to keep from adding my own thoughts to the colonel's depiction.

I was thankful that he was our escort, not only for protection, but because of his amiability with Georgiana. Their good-natured repartee allowed me to remain still. Eventually, I excused myself from their presence and escaped outdoors where I walked up and down in a small wilderness area across from the inn. I reveled in nature and hoped that the trees and grasses might offer respite from the heartache bubbling right below the surface, choking me with its intensity, threatening to erupt in untoward emotion at any time. It was late autumn, however, and now that we traveled northward, I saw the branches almost bare and the grass turned light brown, anticipating winter's approach. Instead of lifting my spirits, the scene only reinforced the surety that my own hopes and dreams that had sprung to life just last night now belonged in the grave.

In spite of my despair, I discovered Pemberley far more than I had ever anticipated and it did much to distract me and lift my mood. From my first glimpse of the house through the windows of the carriage some distance away, I found myself completely enchanted. I had never seen a place so happily situated, and the woods and hills surrounding it were breathtaking in their beauty. Although I was tired from the journey, upon entering the place a new energy possessed me. There was so much to see, so much to take in. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, met us at the door and I liked her immediately. An older woman and obviously efficient, she seemed to genuinely care for my young sister-in-law and was enthusiastic in her welcome to me and yet perfectly attuned to her place in the household. I sensed that we would work together with little adjustment, for she seemed willing to have a new mistress about the place.

After serving us tea and at my request, Mrs. Reynolds led me above stairs to my chamber. I was all too ready to shed my traveling clothes and have some time to myself. I was also curious as to the appearance of my room and its placement. I followed her down a long, vast gallery, magnificent in design. All along the walls huge portraits of what I assumed were generations of Darcys stared down at me. Toward the end I stopped, my eyes wide, my mouth unconsciously agape at the full-length painting before me - it was him, Mr. Darcy, and with such a smile over his face as I remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at me. He was beautiful. There was no other word to describe him.

"Is it not a good likeness, Ma'am?" Mrs. Reynolds said. I nodded, for I did not trust myself to speak. "I am sure I know none so handsome as my master and none so kind. I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old."

Indeed! I thought. Well, then, you must sit in on some of my conversations with him.

This was praise most extraordinary and I listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "If I were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world."

I began to re-think my earlier impression of Mrs. Reynolds. I wondered if perhaps with age, she might be slipping into early dementia. I managed to squelch my thoughts, however, and followed her down the hall, all the while listening to even more praise of this man I thought I knew.

"He is the best landlord and the best master that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."

She opened a door and stepped back so that I might enter. "This shall be your room, Ma'am. I hope it meets with your approval."

If I had found my chamber in London charming, this room could only be described as magnificent. I literally could not speak at first, for want of taking it all in. From the pale green and rose colours of the draperies and cushions to the luxuriousness of the bedding, the gleam of the furniture, even the paintings on the walls of hills and dales and nature's glory, all of it seemed far more than I could ever live in. As in town, I had a separate dressing room/bath, but even more spacious and equipped with every necessity a woman could desire. The entire suite was much larger than any bedchamber into which I had entered and I endeavoured mightily not to run from corner to corner, pulling open drawers and inspecting closets. Such behaviour would not do in front of the housekeeper.

And then I saw the large inner door on the opposite side of the room. Ah, yes, I thought, this time I know to where that leads. I walked over to it and attempted to disguise my inspection of the doorknob. Sure enough, it did not contain a lock. "Mrs. Reynolds, did the senior Mr. and Mrs. Darcy occupy these same rooms at one time?"

"No, Ma'am, their suites are on the other side of the house. Shortly after your marriage, young Master Darcy wrote and instructed me to prepare these rooms, instead, because there is a fine prospect of the lake from the windows. He wrote to say you were particularly fond of nature and he personally selected the paintings on these walls."

She smiled as though there was great affection between Mr. Darcy and me and of course, I did not contradict her. In truth, I was surprised at the thought that he had taken into such account my preferences and even rearranged our bedchambers so that I would be pleased. How could he be that accommodating and thoughtful on one hand and yet engage in unforgivable behaviour on the other? No, it did not add up.

That night after Georgiana had entertained us for an hour on the pianoforte, she retired and the colonel and I were left alone in the drawing room. He had excused himself several times during the evening and then returned and I wondered if he had been checking on the surety of our safety. When I asked him, he confirmed my suspicions.

"But do you think that Georgiana is in danger even here?"

"No, but I have been a military officer far too many years not to make certain."

"I still do not understand how anyone could benefit from harming her."

"Harming her would fail to benefit them for sure, but holding her for ransom could prove very profitable."

"Was there a threat of kidnapping, also? Mr. Darcy showed me only the blackmail note."

"No, not as of yet, but if one would attempt blackmail, the thought of kidnapping would not be prohibitive."

"No, of course not," I murmured, suddenly ashamed that I had spent the entire day mourning my own loss when the possibility of such a threat hung over my sister-in-law. "What can I do, Colonel Fitzwilliam, to assist you, to assure Georgiana's safety?"

"Just be with her. Act as though everything is as it should be; give her no reason to be afraid, but know where she is throughout the day. If she leaves the house for any reason, go with her, even if it is nothing more than a walk down to the lake."

"How long shall you remain with us?"

"I have taken an indefinite leave from my post, as my commander knows the situation and he has given me leave to stay until the danger is dissipated. That is, of course, if the Corsican does not expand his present hostilities."

"I am relieved to hear that." I rose and extended my hand. "I shall be glad of your company and your protection. Good-night."

He took my hand and kissed it lightly. "Do not be afraid, Mrs. Darcy. Your husband has the best men on this case and I think he will get to the bottom of it quickly enough and soon be back by your side."

I nodded and left the room. Well, that answered my question about how much the colonel knew of my marriage arrangement. It was evident he believed Mr. Darcy and I happily married. I wondered if Mr. Darcy had confided the truth in anyone? Did he long for a confidante as much as I? Was he as lonely as I was in this strange marriage we had concocted? And then a thought struck me and my heart fell as deeply as an anchor sinks into the sea. He probably did have someone - Mr. Darcy most likely confided in Fiona. If she were his mistress, would he not share the truth of our marriage if only to keep her happy, to assure her that she was the one he truly loved? And yet in my presence she had never let on that she knew; she was skilled at hiding her thoughts, I presumed, with never a hint of jealousy. Well, why should she be jealous? He loved her, did he not?

But did he love Fiona or did he use her? Mrs. Reynolds' words echoed in my mind, "He is the best master that ever lived." The best master would not avail himself of an innocent young maid in his employ. No, it must be love. Surely, Mr. Darcy must love her, but then why had he professed love to me all those months ago and why had he come back after being refused and renew his attentions to me? He truly must have married me only to provide solace for his sister and to provide a legitimate heir for Pemberley.

I was miserable beyond description. If only I had someone in whom I could confide my fears, someone who would advise me, sympathize with me, and tell me what the future held. I thought of writing to Jane and resolved to do so that night so that she would at least know where I was, but even to her I could not reveal my doubts as to Mr. Darcy's character. It would destroy her happiness to learn of my distress. And I wished her to be happy; that was another task I must attend to as soon as Mr. Darcy came. I must make sure he kept his word and told Mr. Bingley of his part in keeping him from my sister. Mr. Bingley must learn that Jane cared for him as much as I was sure he cared for her. One of us deserved to be happily married.

My Aunt Gardiner! I would write to her for advice, for she was the most sensible woman I knew! But then I remembered that I could not bring myself to confide in her when last we met, so how could I do so now?

In my room, I allowed the maid to help me dress for bed and brush out my hair, but after she left, I chose to sit before the fire. I stared into the flames until the logs burned down to ashes, unaware of the passing hours until I began to shiver, suddenly feeling the loss of the blaze. I wrote to neither Jane nor my aunt. I had no one with whom I could be completely truthful, for I could not bear the shame of admitting that I had married such a man. I was alone, completely alone, and I could see nothing but years of loneliness stretch out before me.

The next day I descended the stairs to find that Mrs. Reynolds had lined up the entire household staff for my introduction. The number was so great it appeared much like a small army and as I spoke to each one, I endeavoured to find some way of remembering their names. There were a number of Marys and several named Thomas, and I was much relieved when it was over and Mrs. Reynolds gave me a detailed list with their names and duties outlined. We then went over the household accounts and menus for the week and by mid-afternoon, I was gratified to realize that all day I had not the time to even once dwell on my troubles. Running Pemberley was like presiding over a small town, I decided.

I took my cup of tea and settled myself in a small sitting room overlooking the back park. It was not long before the colonel, who had entertained Georgiana outdoors whilst I was engaged with Mrs. Reynolds, walked toward the window at which I sat, and waved. I returned his greeting with a wave of my own and then smiled to see Georgiana sneak up behind him and place a wildflower behind his ear. She acted far different with him than anyone else. It was as though they were more brother and sister than she and Mr. Darcy. Perhaps she wished he was her brother, but no, it was evident Georgiana loved Mr. Darcy. It appeared hard, however, for her to mature in his mind. She was doing so before our very eyes, for her blossoming figure revealed her coming maturity.

The colonel entered the sitting room then and I offered him a cup of tea, which he readily took.

"Is not your young charge with you?" I asked.

"She has gone above stairs to change her shoes. I should do the same with these boots, as we both wandered into mud unawares." He smiled and did not seem overly concerned about the condition of his footwear. "And how has your day gone, Mrs. Darcy? Are you now thoroughly acquainted with all of Pemberley and its retinue of attendants?"

"Goodness, no, Colonel. I fear it may be some time before I am brave enough to address anyone by name other than Mrs. Reynolds. Right now I cannot even remember what my upstairs maid is called."

"Well, when Darcy returns, he will bring Fiona to replace her."

"Yes," I murmured, surprised that he knew her, much less possessed the knowledge that she would come to Pemberley when Mr. Darcy did. "I did not know that you were aware of my maid's name."

He looked somewhat embarrassed. "Well, when all of that happened...her predicament...Darcy came to me for advice. I knew how fond Georgiana was of the girl. It was a difficult situation to work out."

"What was a difficult situation?" Georgiana asked, upon entering the room.

"Why, the fact that Mrs. Darcy has so many names to remember here at Pemberley," the Colonel said, covering our conversation with surprising ease. "You shall have to assist her, Sprout."

"I shall be glad to, for I know every servant here. Most of them have been in service since before I was born and now some of their children work for us."

"Thank you, Georgiana, I am sure I shall have need to call upon you."

She sat down near me and picked up some embroidery, but then laid it aside without interest. "Richard, shall we not take Elizabeth riding tomorrow?"

"Do you ride, Mrs. Darcy?"

"A little and ill, indeed, I am sure, compared to the two of you. I had little opportunity or inclination to do so at Longbourn."

"We should take her to see the tenants, Richard. I need to check on them since Wills is not here, to make sure none of the babes or grandmothers are ill, and it will be ample opportunity for Elizabeth to meet them."

"Oh, dear," I said, sighing, "do you mean there are even more names I must learn?"

"Well, yes," Georgiana replied seriously, "and you have not yet been introduced to the stable hands or grooms, the drivers, and gardeners."

"As long as you are about it, Missy, I suggest that you demand she memorize the names of all the thoroughbreds in the barn, as well." Not the slightest hint of a smile graced the colonel's face.

"Oh, Richard, how you do tease me! Pay him no mind, Elizabeth, for it only encourages him."

We spent the remainder of the evening in good harmony and upon retiring for the night, we made plans to set out the next day on our ride. I crawled into bed that night, feeling slightly better for a change. I had thought of Mr. Darcy very little and I truly liked Georgiana. Perhaps we might even become close, as near to sisters as possible in such a situation. I looked forward to the morrow with a somewhat brighter outlook.

The horse Colonel Fitzwilliam selected for me was a beautiful roan mare, her red coat sleek and shiny. He assured me she was gentle and so I allowed the groom to assist me in mounting; sure enough, she responded easily to my every command and my confidence grew as the three of us set off on our tour. The countryside abounded in glorious autumnal reds and golds mixed in among the evergreens. I inhaled the aroma of the rich earth in the fields that had been plowed under since the harvest. Pemberley was a vast estate, larger and grander than the Gardiners had described, and greater than I had ever dreamed of.

We rode for most of the day with brief stops at various houses wherein Georgiana amazed me with her ease in greeting the folk. She inquired as to their needs, gracious in her introduction of me. It was apparent she had done this kind of thing all her life and that her father or brother had trained her well. She genuinely cared for the people; there was no pretense of compassion; indeed, I had never seen the slightest pretense about the girl since we had first met. My esteem for her blossomed more and more.

We picnicked under a large chestnut tree in the middle of the woods, Mrs. Reynolds having made sure that we carried with us a basket of fruit and cheese, a freshly baked loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine. I grew drowsy after eating and without intent, fell asleep on the rug spread over the grass. How long I slept, I know not, but I awakened upon hearing voices. I sat up and saw the colonel and Georgiana some distance away, apparently returning from a walk.

"But, Richard, we always have a harvest ball. How can you think that we would not this year?"

"It is well past harvest."

"I know, but we were not here at the right time. Just as the crops were coming in, Wills had to leave unexpectedly for London, and a month later, he sent for me. By the close of September he traveled to Hertfordshire and then there was the wedding in early October. We were never able to return to Pemberley until now; thus, we must remedy the situation and celebrate the harvest even though it is months overdue. The tenants expect it. I think we should hasten our plans before the first snow."

"I only said not to count on it. Your brother may not return from town until Christmas. You must not set your heart on it, Georgiana."

"It is not my heart that is set, but the hearts of our people. We cannot disappoint them; it is not the Darcy way. I shall write to Wills this evening and urge him to return immediately. Surely his business cannot keep him away that long."

"Georgiana," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, but she marched away from him, evidently determined not to entertain any further discussion of hopelessness. Once again, I was amazed to see her resolute nature. She had displayed little of this fire and spirit in the company of society, but here in her own sphere, Georgiana was completely at home and in charge of her opinions. I returned to the house that evening with a new respect for my young sister.

A week later Colonel Fitzwilliam had cause to ride into Lambton, the nearest town to the estate, but five miles away. Before leaving, he cautioned me once again to keep Georgiana within sight at all times while he was gone. We spent the morning sewing; I wrote another short letter to Jane and one to Mamá while she wrote to her brother.

"Shall you not write Wills also," she asked me at the completion of her task, "and we shall have them posted at the same time?"

I rose from the desk at which I worked and walked to the window overlooking the lake, as much to give myself time to think of an excuse as to enjoy the prospect. "For now, I fear my fingers are cramped from writing. Let us go out and walk about the grounds. I long for fresh air and the breeze appears to be gentle."

She readily agreed and after donning our shawls, we walked the lane that led down to the lake. I could see trout jump within and marveled at their antics. Stooping down, I leaned over and trailed my fingers through the cold water. "How beautiful!"

" 'Tis," Georgiana agreed, "but far too cold in which to swim."

"Swim? Do you mean to say that you would even consider bathing in this water?"

"Not here." She glanced over her shoulder as though to make sure no one might hear, and then whispered, "Follow me. I shall show you a place where the water is much more to my liking."

My curiosity was alive, of course, and I hurriedly caught up with her as we walked a distance through the trees, where we came upon an enchanting small pond. Lilypads encircled a part of it and a pair of frogs leaped into the water upon noting our intrusion.

"This water is much warmer," Georgiana announced, "and perfect for bathing in the middle of summer."

I looked at her in amazement. "And so you have been swimming here?"

She looked down, a blush covering her pretty countenance. "I confess I have, many years ago when I was but a child. Fee and I used to sneak down here on late summer afternoons when it was far too hot to play or climb trees." I felt myself stiffen at the mention of Fiona's name, but I tried not to show it. "It is deep out in the middle, but beside the shore one can wade for quite a distance before the water reaches your waist."

"I suppose your family must have gone sea bathing at the coast, and that you have a bathing costume," I said, searching for something to say other than speaking of Fiona.

She giggled, leaned close to me and began to whisper once again. "No, I have never gone sea bathing and neither Fee nor I owned such a garment. We stripped down to our chemises and swam in them."

"Indeed!"

"Do you think me incorrigible?"

I smiled. "Of course not. You were a child."

"Fee suggested it and back then I so longed for a friend, I believe I would have followed her anywhere."

"And were you successful in not being found out?"

"Almost," she said, and then looked away and said nothing more.

I did not know how to reply. Had this triggered a memory of a time when she was chastened or even punished? Surely, all children had such memories, although I recalled few, as neither my mother nor father paid particular attention to curbing their daughters.

Georgiana began to walk around the pond and I followed her, remaining silent, vowing to give her time if she wanted to confide anything further. On the other side, under a stand of birches, she sat down and began to pull up a wildflower, its bloom now spent. I sat beside her and watched as she plucked each drooping petal, twirled it around in her fingers and then dropped it into the pond.

"We have never spoken of Mr.Wickham, Elizabeth."

I caught my breath, wondering what she would tell me.

"I know he is your brother-in-law, but...he is a wicked man."

I nodded in agreement.

"He was not always that way. When I was a child, he spent countless hours entertaining me."

Her words echoed in my brain - Mr. Wickham had used the same phrase when speaking of her at Longbourn.

"And once, he came upon Fee and me right after we had submerged ourselves in this pond. Instead of threatening to tell on us, he promised to keep our secret and then he did the strangest thing. He discarded his jacket and vest and even his neckcloth and outer shirt. Fee and I were shocked and when he began to pull off his boots, I ducked my head under the water, for I feared he might do the same with his trousers! But he did not; instead, he plunged into the pond and dove and swam all around us. He was as much at home in the water as a fish and he spent much time that afternoon teaching me how to swim. Fee had already taught me to float on my back, but I had never mastered swimming until George showed me how easy it was."

She stopped her recital and looked directly into my eyes. "Do you think me awful, Elizabeth, confessing this to you?"

I immediately shook my head. "Of course not, my dear. You were a child obviously enjoying yourself."

"But it was not fitting...for us to be so unclothed in George's presence. If my governess or Wills had seen us, they would have been angry. And George cautioned us not to tell, for he feared he might be horsewhipped if discovered!"

I nodded and chewed my lip. What could I say? She was correct in her assessment of the situation, but it was Mr. Wickham who was to blame. He was full-grown and they were but children - well, Georgiana had been. I could not remain so generous in my opinion of Fiona, for I could not think of her with unbiased judgment. At last, I took a deep breath and said, "And so, I take it, you were not discovered."

She shook her head. "I was frightened, though, and so we did it only once more, but that time we waited until nightfall. George said there would be less chance of being caught and Fee agreed with him. We came very close, though. One of the grooms walked right over there through those trees and all three of us stayed under water until we thought our lungs might burst. I was too afraid to dare attempt it again."

She rose and indicated we should return to the house, and I was more than willing, for I had much to think over. I was more shocked than I had let on to Georgiana, not at the childish escapade she had confided, but at the fact that Mr. Wickham knew Fiona. I had always assumed he had left Pemberley before she arrived from Scotland, for I knew that he and Mr. Darcy had both attended Cambridge together and by that time Mr. Wickham's dissolute habits were well known to the son and heir. But now, Georgiana told me that in actuality he was there, cavorting in the pond with Fiona. My mind whirled with new suspicions, unanswered questions and the briefest glimmer of hope.

Mrs. Reynolds met us shortly after we entered the house. "The Colonel has returned and is in the drawing room, Ma'am, and the post has come. Here are letters for both of you."

Georgiana exclaimed with delight when she saw that hers was from her brother and tore it open at once. "Oh, I hope Wills is coming home and that he approves of the Harvest Ball." She scanned the letter quickly, her face falling at its contents. "He is not coming, but wait...he says we are to go ahead and make plans for the ball, that we are to hold it whether he is here or not. I am glad, but I cannot imagine a harvest ball without Wills."

And I dare not imagine it with him, I thought.

"Who did you hear from, Elizabeth? Did you receive a letter from Wills, too?"

I shook my head in response as I sifted through the mail in my hand, recognizing Kitty's scrawl and a thick parcel addressed in Jane's handwriting. I had not seen Mr. Darcy for over two weeks, nor heard one word from him. Neither had I written to him. Indeed, I was thankful I had not corresponded when filled with anger, for today's revelation now confused me. I truly did not know what to think. Could it be that all my suspicions were in error, that Mr. Darcy was innocent?

Oh, dear Lord, let it be...let it be.

Author's Note: From what I have learned through limited research, the harvest would have taken place in late summer or early September with a harvest festival ensuing no later than the end of September. I know it is a stretch for Pemberley to host such a celebration in late November, but please allow me this indulgence for the sake of the story.

That night I walked in my sleep again and it was no wonder, for if I had ever been troubled before, it could not compare with the condition of my heart when I finally lay down my weary head.

As soon as possible after dinner, I had deserted Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam and escaped to my bedchamber, pleading a headache. I curled up in a large wing-back chair and tore open my parcel from Jane, for I could see that it contained more than a letter.

"Oh, well done, Jane!" I cried aloud when I recognized Mr. Darcy's torn seal on the back of the enclosed pages. My sister had found his letter that I had lost after returning home from Kent. I was anxious to read the words again - it had been so long since I had received it from his hand - and I had read it quickly at the time. I remembered little of what it contained; my father's death three days later had overtaken all other thoughts.

For now, though, I laid it aside, for surely my sisters' letters took precedence in importance. I turned my attention to Jane's correspondence, looking it over hurriedly, glad to see that things were going well at Longbourn and that she seemed in good spirits. I then attempted to read Kitty's post, but Meryton's gossip paled considerably when all I truly wished was to once again read Mr. Darcy's letter he had given me on the morning after his first disastrous proposal.

I tossed Kitty's news on top of Jane's and picked up the letter. A contrariety of emotion excited me as I made my way through it. I could easily recall how angry I had been when first I received it and how hastily I had put it aside, protesting that I would not regard it, that, in fact, I would never look in it again. Now I wished to weigh with impartiality every circumstance outlined therein and deliberate justly on the probability of each statement. I began with the fact of the senior Mr. Darcy's high regard for Mr. Wickham.

He was his godson, a detail I had overlooked completely the first time I read the letter, and a true marker of how highly Mr. Darcy, Sr., thought of my brother-in-law. Apparently, Mr. Wickham's mother was extravagant, a trait she evidently passed on to her son, and which consequently caused her husband's impoverishment. And the older Mr. Darcy's attachment to Mr. Wickham remained steady to the end of his life.

And then this detail struck me: 'My excellent father died about five years ago...'

Five years...five years, that phrase played in my head when I first learned that Fiona had a child near that age, but I could not recall where I had heard it before. Now it stood out before me in black and white. I lay the letter down and having moved from the chair to the sofa, I stared into the fire.

Mr. Wickham was a favourite of the deceased. Surely he would have returned to Pemberley upon knowledge that Mr. Darcy, Sr., was dying and he would have stayed for the funeral and the reading of the will. I had no way of knowing how long the gentleman lingered before his demise, but I could well imagine Fiona attempting to distract Georgiana from her grief by engaging in a lark such as swimming in the pond. And knowing Mr. Wickham's false nature, it was not hard to see him steal away from the deathbed to entertain himself with a foolish young lass.

I returned to the letter and saw that it was six months after the death of the late Mr. Darcy, when Mr. Wickham wrote that he had resolved against taking orders to become a clergyman and desired 3,000 pounds in settlement. That meant he must have left Pemberley sometime during the six months after his benefactor died. If Mr. Wickham had dallied with Fiona and was then confronted with the result of his misdeeds, would it not be consistent with his character to desert her and flee Pemberley?

The letter stated further that Mr. Darcy 'was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman...all connection between us seemed now dissolved.' If Mr. Darcy knew that Wickham was responsible for Fiona's predicament, but refused to bear the burden, that would have caused Mr. Darcy to be even more 'perfectly ready' to spend 3,000 pounds in order to get rid of him. And in the meantime, he had moved Fiona to London, thus removing both bad influences from his impressionable young sister's company.

Suddenly, I began to feel great oppression - astonishment and apprehension flooded my mind. Never, in the whole course of our acquaintance, had I actually seen anything that betrayed Mr. Darcy to be unprincipled or unjust - anything that bespoke him of irreligious or immoral habits. Could it be my own blind vanity that had allowed me to suspect him of such a gross violation of everything right? Among his own connections he was esteemed and valued - even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother - and over and over I had seen his repeated concern and protection for his sister. How could I have c