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Despite all evidence to the contrary, Miss Bingley still entertained hope that the gentleman from Derbyshire would come to his senses and free himself from the detestable Eliza.

Caroline’s obsession was so far advanced that she had imagined any number of scenarios in which Mr. Darcy’s epiphany would lead him to jilt the Bennet chit and grovel at Miss Bingley’s feet, begging for her forgiveness and hand in marriage.

He would then stand before Society’s elite and proclaim that only she, Miss Caroline Bingley, had the beauty, manners, and accomplishments to reign supreme as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley.

Of course, breaking an engagement would cause a bit of a scandal, but the Darcy name was so powerful that there could be no lasting effects, and the gossip would only make her more of a sensation when she was presented to the haut ton as his wife, Mrs. Caroline Darcy (she had been practicing her signature for years).

And then, she would host the most glorious balls and parties and wear such jewelry and gowns as would make all the other ladies green with envy!

Although Caroline certainly recognized that Fitzwilliam Darcy was an attractive man, her fantasies rarely required his presence beyond the wedding ceremony.

He had always presented himself as the epitome of cool, polite detachment, so it had never even occurred to Caroline that the gentleman upon whom she had pinned all her social ambitions might harbor much in the way of strong emotions, much less passions.

Faced with the sight of Eliza Bennet and Mr. Darcy locked in an ardent embrace in her late mother’s drawing room, Miss Bingley was too shocked to speak.

For some moments, she observed the oblivious couple with a sort of fascinated revulsion, which was only broken when the gentleman appeared to move from enthusiastically suckling her lips to nibbling her earlobe, pressing his nether regions against her and whispering, “My dearest Liz… every moment away from you is torture…”

“Ugh! Revolting!” Miss Bingley’s shrill tone was enough to break through to the couple and alert them to the presence of a third party. Two pairs of very surprised eyes turned in time to see Charles’ sister fleeing the room, leaving behind only the fumes from her heavy perfume.

Blinking a few times, Darcy tried to refocus his passion-fogged mind. This enterprise was not aided when Elizabeth raised her hands to check her hair, unconsciously causing her bodice to pucker and provide him with a superior glimpse down the front.

Still breathless, Lizzy exclaimed, “Oh heavens—what do you think she will do?” Having very recently lectured Lydia on the importance of ladylike behavior, she was left feeling very uncomfortable.

“Perhaps we will be lucky and she will go directly to your father,” responded Darcy without thinking. When Elizabeth stared up at him, completely stunned, Fitzwilliam allowed himself to break into a rare, rakish grin. “Surely he would insist that we marry this very day!”

Lizzy could not help but giggle even as she shook her head in mock dismay. While he helped her down from her perch atop the piano, she suggested mischievously, “Or perhaps Miss Bingley shall tell her brother.”

Darcy ceased laughing instantly. “Oh Lord, after the lecture I gave him at Netherfield on proper, gentlemanlike behavior… he would never let me li ve it down.”

Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow even as she set about repairing her hair. “As much as I enjoy your current, mussed look, Mr. Darcy, you might wish to see to your cravat before anyone else discovers us.”

The couple had only just finished setting themselves to rights when Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet appeared. Trying to hide her discomposure, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and inquired, “Has the tour finished already?”

With the blindness of a doting father, Mr. Bennet managed to miss his daughter’s heightened color, having reassured himself that Mr. Darcy was standing a proper distance away when he entered.

Mr. Gardiner, however, gave the younger man a sharp look and Fitzwilliam took the moment to situate himself behind a high-backed chair.

Before turning his full attention to the conversation, Will said a quick prayer that his passions would cool by the time the ladies returned so that he might move away from the chair without shocking them with the bulge in his breeches.

Fortunately, the topic was one that easily prompted passions other than desire.

“I assume that you have already told Lizzy about it, Mr. Darcy, but my Brother Bennet and I are eager to hear anything you can tell us about the outcome of Mr. Wickham’s trial,” said Mr. Gardiner.

Fitzwilliam breathed deeply and pressed his hands on the back of the chair so that he would not clench them into fists.

After taking a moment to steady himself, he replied tersely, “George Wickham was found guilty of both disciplinary offenses and criminal misconduct charges. He shall be transported to the penal colonies in Australia on the next available ship, certainly within the week. If he survives the trip, he is sentenced to ten years indenture.”

“So he is not to be hanged? What of his blackmail victims?” demanded Mr. Gardiner.

“If Wickham ever sets foot in Britain again, he will be executed immediately without possibility for appeal. The order is written so that there is no possible leeway. All of his victims will be notified of this and their possessions returned to them.”

There was a moment of silence. Finally Mr. Gardiner nodded. “Very well; that seems fair enough. We thank you for looking after our family’s interests in this matter.”

Darcy dared a quick glance in Elizabeth’s direction and cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir; your family shall soon become my own. Besides, it was unpardonable of me not to have made Wickham’s crimes public long ago, regardless of his connection to my own family.”

Gardiner shook his head at the younger man. “I believe that you take too much upon yourself, Mr. Darcy. But regardless, we thank you.” He turned expectantly toward Mr. Bennet.

Elizabeth’s father roused himself. “Yes, yes … we are indeed thankful, Mr. Darcy.”

Seeing her father’s discomfort in being obliged to her fiancé and worried that it might prompt him to begin teasing, Elizabeth interjected, “What of Lydia’s letters?”

Darcy gladly turned to her. “They are still locked up with Wickham’s other papers in my study. I can bring them to you or burn them myself, as you wish.”

They had just concluded that Fitzwilliam should feed them to the fire at the next possible opportunity when Bingley’s butler appeared at the door.

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet desires you to know that they have completed looking over the attics and shall be touring the family rooms on the third floor, if you wish to join them.”

Smiling at what, from Jane, amounted to a command to attend her, Elizabeth nodded and the gentlemen followed her cue, rising and trailing behind Barton.

They caught up with the group just removing the dust sheets from the furniture in a large, airy sitting room with windows looking out over a small but pleasant courtyard.

Already thinking that she would like to make the room her personal boudoir, Miss Bennet was pleased to find most of the furniture quite acceptable.

“Truly, Jane—we can replace it all if you like. Do not worry about the expense—I want you to feel that it is your house… your home,” pressed Charles.

The future Mrs. Bingley smiled sweetly. “It’s really not necessary—the furniture is lovely.”

“The drapery is a bit faded… and perhaps some of the upholstery could be updated at the same time,” suggested Mrs. Gardiner gently.

Mrs. Barton nodded approvingly and Elizabeth added that yellow wall coverings might help lighten the room and compliment the dark blue glazed tile surrounding the fireplace.

Jane was quickly drawn into the discussion.

To the amusement of the others, this sequence was repeated several times as the group moved through the various public rooms of the house.

Unfortunately, as Jane and Charles became more and more excited over their new home, Miss Bingley became increasingly stony.

She seemed to use her last reserves of energy to prevent them from touring her girlhood apartment (although not before Elizabeth caught a glimpse of pink ruffles just before the sitting room door closed).

By the time the visitors had viewed the house from attics to cellars, Caroline had disappeared without a word to anyone and the others found themselves perfectly content.

Mrs. Barton served lemonade in the drawing room and was convinced to join them so that Jane could continue to question her.

Although she was truly happy for her sister, Elizabeth found herself wishing for time to talk with Mr. Darcy about their own future.

With a quiet word to the gentleman, she waited for a lull in the general conversation before excusing them to take a stroll around the square.

None of the others were inclined to accompany the couple and so, in no time at all, Darcy found himself walking down Waverley Street in perfect contentment with the loveliest of ladies on his arm.

As they walked, Fitzwilliam pointed out various points of interest and explained some of the architectural history of the buildings. Elizabeth entertained him with witty comments about the people they saw and carriages that passed by on the street.

Although it was a lovely day, it was probably not surprising that they eventually returned to the subject of Mr. Wickham.

Darcy sighed. “It was his greed that truly finished him. In addition to the letters, he kept a notebook detailing who he had blackmailed when, what threats he had used, and how much they had paid.”

“And his victims? What shall happen to them?”