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Mr. Bennet was tremendously amused by the motley group gathered in his sanctuary although he attempted to suppress his smirk after a pointed look from his daughter.

Lady Catherine gradually regained her awareness but did not speak, sipping unsteadily from a glass of sherry while darting covert looks at Davey Hill with what, had one not known of her indomitable personality, might have been taken as fear.

After some minutes, Miss de Bourgh turned to the other people in the room. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” she wailed in frustration.

Mrs. Hill moved to pet the young lady on the shoulder. “There, there, miss. She’s just had a shock; your mum’ll be right as rain in no time, you’ll see.”

“But what shocked her? I don’t understand!”

Martha Hill sighed, looking at her own son and then Mr. Bennet.

She suddenly felt very, very old. “I’m willing to tell you my story, if your mother and Mr. Bennet agree.

But I warn you right now it isn’t a pretty one.

I told it to my Davey when he turned sixteen and to Mr. Bennet when we came to Longbourn. ”

Mr. Bennet motioned for Mrs. Hill to sit and poured her a glass of sherry as well. “Take your time,” he said quietly before returning to his own place behind the desk.

Mrs. Hill sipped the alcohol and let the memories of her youth flood back; she had worked so hard to put them behind her that sometimes they seemed like another person’s life.

She took another sip of sherry before beginning.

“When I was eight, my mum got me hired on as a scullery maid in the London house of the family she served. She died when I was twelve, but the lady of the house had liked her enough that, before my mum passed, the mistress promised to keep me on and let me train up as a lady’s maid if I showed any talent.

She herself had two daughters, so between the sewing and dressing and whatnot, the ladies were always needing an extra hand.

The only family I’d left was my aunt—she’d married a butcher earlier that year—and the housekeeper had been a good friend of my mum so it seemed like a good place for me. ”

Mrs. Hill paused for another sip of sherry.

“I… well… oh, this is hard. One evening, I was taking some clean sheets I’d ironed up to the linen closet in the family wing.

I had just turned fifteen and was doing everything I could to keep on Lady Harriet’s good side—I was doing well in my apprenticeship to her lady’s maid and had grand ambitions. ”

At the mention of that name, Lady Catherine let out a small moan before locking her jaw again.

Hill looked at her sympathetically but continued, “It was past eleven at night and the family was out at a ball, except for the two eldest sons who’d left the party early and were getting ready to go out again for some other entertainment.

They’d never been nice boys but I hadn’t realized just how vicious they’d become as young men.

” Martha took another sip of sherry, wishing it would soothe her roiling stomach.

“Master George and Master Lewis had been drinking and were dressed to go out, though not to anyplace respectable, if you understand me. They…. well… they came across me in the hall and pushed me into a guest room, laughing like it was some kind of game. I swear to God I never gave them any encouragement—quite the opposite, in fact.” She took a deep breath and tried unsuccessfully to keep her voice steady.

“They took turns, one holding me down while the other had his way with me. I’ll hear their evil laughter ‘til my dying day. They were still laughing when they left, though not before telling me I’d best clean up the room if I didn’t want to get into trouble with the Mistress. ”

Elizabeth was beginning to feel ill, but she moved to the old servant’s side and squeezed her hand. “Whatever did you do?”

“Well, odd as it may sound, I straightened up the room as best I could—I wasn’t thinking too clear, I suppose—and then I went down to the laundry. I was desperate to clean myself—all I could think about was finding some water and scrubbing myself with the strongest soap I could find.

“I tried to keep quiet but the housekeeper always knew what was happening in that house, day or night. So Mrs. Peters found me, standing in a bucket of cold water and scrubbing myself raw while crying my eyes out. Bless her soul, she took me off to her parlor and bundled me up in her own blankets. She called the cook, a steady old woman who’d seen all sorts of things, and they fed me some tea laced with something stronger.

I got my story out and then fell sound asleep right there in her chair.

“I woke late the next morning, aching everywhere, hurting in places I never knew could hurt. I was lucky, I suppose. Any other girl would have been thrown out on her ear with nothing but the clothes on her back. But they’d liked and respected my mum and seen me long enough to know I wouldn’t be flipping my skirts at the young gentlemen.

Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Flint spoke to the mistress and she came down to see me.

She was not quite so shocked by my bruises as you’d expect a gently bred lady to be, so I suspect her husband was a bit more like his sons than she wished anyone to know. ”

Lady Catherine made a small noise in her throat and seemed to press herself farther back into the corner of her chair.

Mrs. Hill eyed the woman sympathetically.

“T’was clear I couldn’t keep working in the de Bourgh house.

Lady Harriet paid me six months’ wages and wrote me a sterling letter of recommendation, which was more than most would have done, I’ll give her that.

I went to live with my aunt and her husband and then I found out I was with child.

I’ll admit there were times I hated that babe growing in me but the moment I saw my Davey’s face I fell in love with him. ”

The old housekeeper held out her hand to her son and he knelt by her chair to wrap his arms around her, their devotion obvious to all in the room.

Miss Anne de Bourgh was feeling most unlike herself.

Having had a most enlightening conversation with Lord and Lady Matlock regarding her financial independence and now faced with the utterly foreign sight of her mother shocked into silence, Anne felt…

free. Although her sense of morality might have been informed more from the plots of romance novels than the Bible, the result was oddly similar in this instance.

Clearly her father had been a Very Bad Man, deserving of some terrible fate, regardless of what Lady Catherine had always proclaimed regarding the brilliance of her daughter’s ancestry.

Into this strained atmosphere stepped Fitzwilliam Darcy, unannounced and thoroughly unexpected.

Mr. Darcy had been out for an early morning ride in the park when the de Bourgh carriage departed Matlock and, enjoying the solitude, he had not returned until near luncheon. When he finally entered the house, he had been met by his sister and his Cousin Lucy, both looking excedingly anxious.

The two young ladies pulled him into an empty sitting room and began speaking over one another.

“Brother—you must do something!”

“We just heard from Mrs. Jenkinson…”

“Aunt Catherine left this morning…”

“She’s going to Hertfordshire…”

“…To confront Elizabeth and her family!”

Before he could react, Lady Eleanor appeared. Quickly reading their faces, she sighed and carefully shut the door behind her. “So, you have heard about Catherine.”

Darcy finally recovered his voice and snapped, “Do I understand correctly that Lady Catherine de Bourgh has left for Hertfordshire in order to confront my fiancée and her family?” No one missed that he had ceased referring to his mother’s sister as “aunt.”

Seeing that her niece and daughter were too distressed to be coherent, the Countess took control. “Yes, and I shall not tease you by pretending that her intentions are likely to be anything remotely pleasant.”

When her nephew turned to storm out the door, Eleanor caught his elbow.

“Darcy, please listen to me. Clearly, you must travel to Hertfordshire with all speed; I do not contest that. However, Catherine travels with Anne in her barouche box and made no arrangements for fresh horses along the way, so unless she chooses to run her own team to death, they shall have to stop often enough.”

His aunt’s logic steadied Darcy just enough to prevent him from charging out the door and racing off on the first horse he came upon. Still… “If I begin immediately, I may be able to catch them before they reach Longbourn.”

The Countess seized his arm and forced him to face her.

“Darcy, you must listen to me carefully. Catherine took Anne but left her companion behind; nor did they take any maids. I fear she has taken leave of her senses and, if she cannot bring about the marriage, will have little care for whose reputation is ruined. If you catch up to them on the road and end up staying a night in the same inn or even traveling in the same carriage, I can easily imagine her spreading it about that you compromised her daughter and are honor-bound to marry her. You and I both know that, although she has appeared little in London in recent years, she still has it within her power to make her version very, very public, regardless of the consequences. You cannot wish your marriage with Miss Bennet to begin under such a cloud.”

Darcy flushed with anger and his eyes met those of his sister who appeared equally stunned by their aunt’s frankness.

Turning to the window, he stared out for a minute, attempting to pull his wits together.

Finally, he spoke in a low, tight voice.

“Aunt, all I can think of is to take the fastest horse in Matlock’s stable and fly to Longbourn so that I can protect Elizabeth from that insufferable woman’s vitriol.

You clearly have other ideas, so tell me, but do so quickly. ”