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Elizabeth listened to the running commentary between the two ladies while they donned their wraps and departed, waving over their shoulders.

She was mildly puzzled; when she had first been married, she had been warned that Mrs. Pratt and Mrs. Dewitt could hardly stand to be in the same room because of some old feud that no one else remembered.

She peeked out the window and saw the pair dismiss their carriages to walk along toward the park together, arms linked and still in animated conversation.

Lizzy shook her head in amusement, but then squaring her shoulders and going to face what she expected to be a far less pleasant interview.

When he turned thirty years of age, the Earl of Matlock’s eldest son, Lord Edward Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashbourne, finally gave in to his parents’ increasingly ardent demands that he marry.

He had turned a critical eye on the ladies that Season, commenting to his friend, Lord Westinghouse, that they were like so many mares at a livestock auction.

As such, he checked their bloodlines, dismissed those with poor conformation or other health issues (real or potential), and then settled back to consider what he termed each potential bride’s “package”—what her family would give him to marry the girl.

After dismissing several prospects (one had an extremely healthy and domineering father, another was not handsome enough to tempt him), Ashbourne settled on Lady Alameda Warren.

Just seventeen, the girl had the dark hair, fair complexion, and buxom figure that Edward preferred.

Her most alluring charm, however, was that she was the only child of a baron from Essex, and, as both of her parents were dead, all of the wealth, prestige, and properties of the barony she brought to the marriage would be immediately accessible to her husband.

Lady Alameda’s guardian was an elderly bachelor uncle who socialized little and, not knowing what else to do, had sent the girl off to a respectable seminary as quickly as possible.

Alameda’s introduction to school had been quite a shock, but, after some painful lessons, she had learned that her wealth and a title provided her with power.

She might think wistfully of the warmth of her parents’ love from time to time, but they were gone and she had to make her own way in the world.

To Lord Ashbourne, Lady Alameda was a perfect mark.

She was wealthy enough that, when he took control of her assets upon their marriage, he could pay off his burgeoning gambling debts without his father knowing.

She had organized several fashionable dinners at her uncle’s house and demonstrated her capabilities as a Society hostess.

She was feisty but innocent (Ashbourne had checked around at his clubs and had heard of a few lively flirtations linked with her name, but no hint that she had yet been plucked).

Best of all, she was largely unprotected, so once in control of her inheritance, Edward would finally be able to live the life he was born for, without the need to go begging to his father for an advance on his allowance whenever he found himself caught short (which was most months).

Recently, the Earl had been taking him to task more often over his spendthrift ways, an attitude that irritated Ashbourne to no end.

He had expected the marriage to please his parents and hoped the Earl would cease nagging him about spending more time learning to manage the estate.

He had smirked—undoubtedly his parents would be even happier when his heir was born; perhaps the Earl would put Ashbourne in charge his grandson’s trust. Sentimental old fool.

Ashbourne envied his Cousin Darcy with an intensity that he could barely conceal—both parents dead and fully in control of the vast wealth of Pemberley. It was hideously unfair, as the prudish stick-in-the-mud seemed determined not to enjoy it.

Thus, when Lord Edward Fitzwilliam had courted Lady Alameda Warren, the lady had been pleased with his handsome looks and flattered to have gained the attention of a powerful earl’s heir.

For all her polish and fashion, Alameda was still an orphan with no one to warn her of the viscount’s gambling and rakish ways.

Any who did try to give her a more truthful opinion were dismissed as jealous.

Whatever Mrs. Darcy had expected to find in her drawing room that afternoon, it was not what she was confronted with upon opening the door.

Lady Alameda was known for wearing striking colors and her dresses were always the leading edge of fashion, yet today she was the dark point in an otherwise cheerful room.

The Viscountess wore a subdued grey travelling suit, her dark hair hidden beneath a simple bonnet that veiled much of her face, although Lizzy thought she could detect dark circles under the woman’s eyes.

Her entire attention appeared to be focused on the child beside her, resting his head in her lap and appearing to be very nearly asleep.

Elizabeth tried to close the door softly, but even that slight sound was enough to prompt the child to jerk awake and whimper. Deciding that there was nothing else to do but be polite, she offered, “Lady Ashbourne—how nice to see you. Welcome to Derwent House.”

Lady Alameda had begun to stand at Elizabeth’s entrance, but upon hearing her son’s cry, she turned back to soothe him.

When the boy seemed more settled, she turned to her hostess and spoke in a voice laced with at least some of her usual sangfroid.

“Mrs. Darcy, thank you for receiving us.” Just then, the boy pressed his head against his mother’s waist to hide his eyes and she stiffened as if her whole person was wracked with pain.

When Lady Ashbourne next spoke, all traces of condescension were washed away by weariness and pain. “Please, forgive me… we came straight here after traveling from Essex this morning on the post… I realize that I am imposing on you... ”

Having taken several steps closer, Elizabeth was shocked to realize that the lady’s eyes were not just shadowed but blackened and her jaw showed purplish traces of some recent violence as well.

Mrs. Darcy’s compassion immediately displaced any other feelings.

“Of course! You both must be exhausted. I’ll have rooms prepared for you to rest and freshen up.

” She smiled kindly at the six-year-old who sat clutching his mother’s hand.

“After all, I’m certain we can find someplace more comfortable for this young man to nap than that hard, old sofa! ”

The child appeared less ready to flee but continued to stare at the stranger with watchful eyes.

Lady Ashbourne closed her eyes for an instant as if gathering her strength.

“That would do very well for Reggie, if Mrs. Hudson might stay with him?” She looked to an older servant who had remained silent and watchful in the corner.

At Mrs. Hudson’s nod, Alameda turned back to the pleasant young woman whom she had treated so poorly over the past year and asked quietly, “If you would allow me a few minutes to speak with you privately, Mrs. Darcy, I would appreciate it very much.”

Elizabeth was becoming increasingly concerned and moved quickly to ring for a servant.

The footman who answered was sent to have a suite readied for the unexpected visitors and refreshments sent to the drawing room.

Although the lad was not inclined to let go of his mother, he obeyed her and was comfortable enough with Mrs. Hudson to take her hand as a replacement when they reached the stairs.

As this was happening, Elizabeth noticed that the little boy held his left arm at an odd angle.

When the tea tray was brought in, Elizabeth dismissed the maid and served the two of them herself. For a minute, there was silence while Lizzy searched for something to say.

Lady Alameda took a sip of her tea and savored its warmth for a few moments.

Then she gathered her strength and tried to look her hostess in the eye; in the end, she could focus on little beyond her own hands.

When she finally forced herself to speak, there was none of her usual haughty confidence in her voice.

“Mrs. Darcy, I appreciate your receiving me without warning.”

Seeing that the younger woman was about to protest, the Viscountess continued quickly; “Please— I’m well aware that your courtesy is far more than I deserve, given my treatment of you upon your engagement.

” She paused to gather her courage for her next words.

“I… I have come to beg for sanctuary, for my son and myself.” She tightened her hands around the cup and could not bear to look up.

Elizabeth’s natural compassion drew her to sit beside Alameda and touch the lady’s arm. “Of course you may stay here.” She hesitated a moment but finally chose to be frank. “Your son’s arm—should I call our physician? He could see to you as well. ”

After a moment of surprise, Lady Alameda nodded and then closed her eyes tightly, although a few silent tears still leaked out.

Elizabeth squeezed her hand before moving resolutely to the door and quietly sending a footman running for the Darcy family doctor.

After shutting the door again, she went to her sewing basket and withdrew several plain linen squares that she had planned to embroider for her husband.

Resuming her seat beside the distraught visitor, Elizabeth pressed the fresh handkerchiefs into Alameda’s hand to replace the wet square she had been clutching.

Touching her shoulder, Elizabeth noted how thin the woman was.

“I’ve sent for our physician, Dr. Tolmach.

He is completely trustworthy, in addition to being an excellent doctor. ”