Page 38 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

Barnwell’s Boarding House

The next morning

On the slight chance that Stefano might manage to get to the docks, Mr. Williamson, accompanied by one servant from Pemberley, had already left for the ship to confer with the captain and take their places alongside the ship’s crew. Stanton had assured them last night that his old friend, Fernando Diaz, would cooperate in their plans to keep his son from leaving with Elizabeth. The captain had had a disagreement with Stefano years before over payment for some freight, and he had never forgotten the incident nor forgiven him his duplicity.

Lieutenant Marbury and his men had arrived late, as expected. After a few hours rest, they had taken their position about a mile up the road from Tuscany, where they would be a last outpost to stop any coach that might get past Richard and the others. Thus, the early morning fog enshrouded William, Richard, Evan and the others nearing the drive to the villa. As he rode behind his brother and cousin, Evan could not help but reflect on the conversation of that morning.

“ Everyone check your weapons, even if you have done so already,” Richard ordered. “There will be no time once the confrontation starts.” He turned to William. “You did bring your sword?”

William nodded, reaching into the coach to grab the sword that his father had given him upon the completion of his studies at Cambridge.

“ Strap it on. It will do you no good in there, and you never know when you may have use of it. Pistols are only good until they are empty. ‘Be prepared,’ my old sergeant always said!”

Evan laughed, strapping his own sword about his waist and saluting. “Yes, sir, Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

Richard smirked. “You may laugh now, but you will both thank me for the warnings before the day is finished. Now remember, keep your heads down while on horseback; it makes you a much smaller target, and do not allow yourselves to be separated. There is strength in numbers.”

William and Evan exchanged smiles, which Richard noted. “I intend to take both of you back unharmed.” Turning briskly, he walked over to the other men to issue the same caution to them.

“ Richard is the consummate army officer, is he not?” Evan asked, following his cousin with his eyes. William stopped what he was doing to observe Richard, who was now expounding on military strategies for surviving this venture to the servants who were helping.

“ Yes, but he is much more. He has not lived this long without being very clever. I know I would not feel quite so confident without him being here.”

Evan laughed mirthlessly. “To tell the truth, neither would I. Take care, Brother. I would not like to be put in a position to explain to Ana why you got hurt.”

William patted Evan’s shoulder. “Nor would I like to explain the same about you. God preserve us all.”

“ Let us hope that He is as tired of Stefano as we are!” Richard declared, overhearing their somber conversation as he returned. Then he smiled warmly. “If your weapons are ready, inspect your horses and mount up.”

As they arrived at the woods just outside the entrance to Tuscany, dawn was beginning to lighten the skies, and they could see two overwrought servants running to meet them.

Arriving first, Mr. Avery said breathlessly, “I was wondering what to do—send Hawkins to find you or wait until you arrived!”

“Just what has you so disturbed?” Richard queried.

“Another coach has arrived! It entered the drive not a half-hour ago! If not for the racket it made in passing, it could have passed us unnoticed as it was still pitch black.”

“So you could not determine if there was a crest on the side?”

“No, sir!”

William growled, “Stanton never meant to wait! Somehow he must have escaped Mr. Judson’s watch!”

~~~*~~~

Awakened while it was still dark, Elizabeth was untied and made to dress. She was then forced to accompany Mrs. Preston to the large front portico, which was illuminated by torches along the length of it and part way down the drive. Alongside them stood servants and guards, awaiting Stefano’s order to board two coaches piled high with trunks. One coach was to transport most of the men, guards and servants, several riding as footmen. The other was to convey the count, Elizabeth, Mrs. Preston, and the young girl, Maria, as well as the other men.

Elizabeth and the widow exchanged uncertain glances, though they did not speak. In no humour to converse with the woman who had betrayed her, Elizabeth glared as Cecile lowered her head. It was obvious that she wished she had never been involved with Wickham or fallen so low as to help the lunatic regain control of Miss Elizabeth.

Visibly on edge, Stefano paced about nervously, giving orders and asking questions. After Elizabeth had championed Mr. Darcy, he had begun to suspect that he might have underestimated the man. If Darcy had already surmised that Elizabeth was in Liverpool, he could arrive before they departed England. Giving last minute orders to his bodyguards, Stefano was the last to notice that those about him had ceased their activities and were staring at something in the distance. Barely distinguishable in the torchlights, a lone coach rolled towards the manor.

Stefano held his breath. No one would dare arrive at this hour unless they had come to confront him. Glancing about, he was pleased to see that his men had already drawn their weapons, so he resisted the urge to do the same. He never liked to appear fearful, though unconsciously his hands clenched into fists. When at last he was able to read the crest on the side of the luxurious conveyance, he began to shake with uncontrollable anger.

Father!

As Lord Stanton’s coach stopped in front of Tuscany’s front steps, a visibly nervous footman climbed down to open the door. Stefano’s father exited his coach as though he had not a care in the world, though his anxious eyes instantly swept the people standing alongside his son. Finding Miss Elizabeth and meeting her eyes, he noted that she did not appear overly frightened. He nodded. She looked perplexed as to his intentions but remained calm as she nodded slightly in return. Next to her stood the maid, Maria, who had grown up at Tuscany, and next to the servant, another woman who looked quite traumatized.

As he approached the group, Stefano reached to grip Elizabeth’s arm and pull her close to his side. Stanton ignored his son as he addressed her. “Miss Elizabeth, I am so very grateful that you look well. Your welfare has been of great concern to so many.”

Elizabeth’s brows knit in uncertainty, but she replied solemnly, “I am well, Lord Stanton.”

Stefano glared at her before he addressed his father. “Why are you here, Father? Have you not been sufficiently warned to leave me alone? Do you realise the dangerous situation you have created by coming?”

“May we go inside, Stephen? I would like a word with you in private.”

“Anything you have to say, you can say now—in front of everyone.”

Lord Stanton frowned, but shrugged his shoulders. “In that case, I am here to ask you to allow me to return Miss Elizabeth to those who love her.”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION!” Stefano shouted, ignoring his father as he turned his back and addressed his men. “Let us get started!”

Immediately, servants began bustling about, finishing their tasks as Stefano clamped his hand around Elizabeth’s arm and dragged her forward.

Lord Stanton stepped in front of his son. “I cannot allow you to take her with you, Stephen. You are already married; you cannot marry her. She deserves a chance for happiness, and I ask you again to please let me take her home.”

“Home? To that fool Darcy, you mean. Or you will do what exactly, Father? You have not enough men to take her from me by force, and you do not see Mr. Darcy here, do you? She is mine! He has no right to her! She will sail with me to Spain within the hour.”

“Do not underestimate Fitzwilliam Darcy or the lengths to which he will go to find you and recover Elizabeth. He truly loves her.”

Tears shone in Elizabeth’s eyes at Lord Stanton’s declaration, though she was clearly trying desperately not to cry.

Stefano’s voice escalated. “I have no doubt you and he have become allies in your quest to take Elizabeth from me!”

“Darcy is a decent man who will take care of her, which is more than you can claim!”

“Is that all you have to say?” Stefano sneered. “Get out of my way, old man.”

Again the count started towards the coach, trying to shove his father out of his path. But Lord Stanton did not budge, instead pulling a small pistol from an inside pocket of his coat. “Release her to me or I shall ...”

Stefano let go of Elizabeth, who retreated several feet, while he fought with his father. As they wrestled more violently, a solitary shot rang out. No one made a sound as father and son halted in their struggle, still holding on to each other.

After several seconds, Stanton murmured weakly, “I never stopped loving you, Stephen,” then sank to the ground, mortally wounded.

Stefano, purloined weapon still in his hand, stared at his father’s body in astonishment. For a fleeting moment, his face took on the look of a young boy who had suddenly discovered that his beloved father had died, and his face contorted in anguish as tears filled his eyes. Those standing about were astounded at the transformation. Nevertheless, only seconds later, his expression reverted to its former state, and the man they were well acquainted with replaced the child.

Lifting his chin in defiance, he spit out orders. “Put him in his coach! No wait! Switch the coach from Northgate with the one that was to carry the women, and get his men aboard it.”

As Maria quickly tried to follow Cecile to a coach, he shouted, “Mrs. Preston, wait where you are. Maria, come here!” Visibly frightened, both women turned slowly, afraid to hear what he might say. Having no alternative, Maria did as he said, moving forward. Stefano had caught up with Elizabeth and roughly untied the ribbons on her bonnet, jerking it from her head.

“Take off your cloak!” he barked, and Elizabeth did as he demanded. Bonnet and cloak in hand, he motioned to Maria to take them. “Replace yours with these!”

Maria obviously understood English even if she did not speak it, for immediately the girl replaced her own modest coat and bonnet with the more expensive ones Elizabeth wore moments before. When she was finished, Stefano motioned Maria to make a complete circle. As she did, he laughed, his eyes glowing in satisfaction.

“Excellent! Now, get in the coach with Mrs. Preston and sit next to a window, but do not show your face. With your head turned, they will think you are my wife.”

Meanwhile, Stefano’s men had finished depositing his father’s body in his coach, so he marched over to the stunned driver and footmen. “Leave now! At the main road, take a right away from town. My men will be following and if you disobey, you shall be killed! Do you understand?”

Nodding vigorously, Lord Stanton’s stunned servants took their positions, and with the driver whipping the horses into a run, they fled the estate in one of Stefano’s coaches with their murdered master.

~~~*~~~

Learning of Stanton’s arrival, Richard ordered the two servants to mount their horses. They had barely done so when a coach suddenly left out of the gate to Tuscany, racing as though the devil himself was chasing it. Having turned right at the end of the drive, the coachman lashed the horses into a frenzy as they sped past the group’s hiding place—heading away from Liverpool. In the light of the early morning sunrise, it was easy to read Stefano’s crest on the side.

“Come on!” Richard cried, and everyone pursued the pitching and swaying coach. As the men on horseback drew nearer, getting off a few shots, the unarmed driver and footmen were convinced to raise their hands in surrender. Richard forged ahead, managing to grab the reins of the lead horse, and pulling the carriage to a stop several hundred yards past the gate. As they gathered about the ill-fated coach, they realised it was not Stefano’s men but only Lord Stanton’s servants.

“My Lord, man! Why the devil did you speed past?” Richard barked to the thoroughly frightened driver. For a moment, the driver could not find his voice. “Speak up!” Richard shouted, as William, who had already dismounted, opened the door to make sure Elizabeth was not inside.

“He killed Lord Stanton!” a footman cried. “That son of his—sorry bastard that he is! He told us he would kill us, too, if we did not leave straightaway and head right at the end of the drive! The others are supposed to be just behind us!”

William examined Lord Stanton for a pulse, but he was already dead. Shaking his head at the other men, he slammed the door. At that precise moment, two coaches flew out of the drive to Tuscany not two hundred yards back—both headed in the opposite direction.

“After them!” Richard shouted, kicking his horse into a gallop and easily taking the lead. The others were close behind, with Evan out front of that group. Since William had dismounted to peer inside the coach, he was the last to mount and was several yards behind everyone else when he passed the drive that turned to the villa. The same small voice he had heard in the past spoke again.

Elizabeth is still at Tuscany.

William pulled his horse up short, watching the others get smaller in the distance. He could hear the sounds of gunshots from afar as Richard apparently caught up with the last coach. Frantically he tried to decide what to do—keep going or trust the voice. He glanced to the skies. Show me what to do!

Instantly, he saw a vision of Elizabeth standing on the porch that night at the inn when the voice told him she was in trouble. Without another doubt, he turned the horse around and kicked it into a gallop as he hurried down the drive towards the villa.

~~~*~~~

After all the coaches had disappeared into the fog, Stefano turned to the two guards he had ordered to stay behind. “Now, let us prepare for Mr. Darcy! Do not stop him from entering the house. Let him find me in the ballroom, but do not let him leave the villa under any circumstances.”

He spat out an order to an older man who did the gardening. “Have a curricle prepared now! Bring it around front.” The man nodded nervously and headed to the stables. Then Stefano addressed Elizabeth as he began dragging her back into the house. “If my father was stupid enough to follow me, I have no doubt that your friend is equally as stupid!”

“Please, I beg you, just let me go! If you leave now, you can sail out of England before anyone knows your father is dead.”

“So now you are willing to beg. Well, you may as well know that I have changed my mind. You and I are not sailing right now, but will be travelling to Scotland. Before we leave, however, I have decided it will be enjoyable to teach your friend a lesson. You need to see for yourself which of us is the better man!”

Elizabeth tried to resist, but it was futile as Stefano overpowered her, jerking her back inside and then from one room to another. Instead, she forced herself to focus on how she might help Fitzwilliam if he were to come.

Her thoughts flew to the very small, gold coloured knife that was hidden in a pocket of her gown. Early this morning, she had remembered that it was in her sewing box. It had been a simple matter to loosen a button on the gown laid out for her. After showing the button to the maid, she had quickly retrieved the sewing box from her bag, and while the servant was distracted, had slipped the knife into the pocket. She was relieved to realise that it was still there, as she felt the weight of it as she walked.

After tugging her down a long hallway, they entered a room that might once have been a ballroom but was now empty except for a small table and chairs that were stacked at one end. Looking about distractedly, Stefano walked to a window and jerked loose a piece of decorative braid that still held the curtain back. Dragging her to the table, he lifted one of the chairs and sat it on the floor, pushed her down into it, and began tying her wrists and feet with the braided rope.

Elizabeth tried to hold her hands as stiffly as possible, to leave room for manoeuvring, but once he was finished, she found that while she could easily move her fingers, her wrists were securely tied. Stefano left the room, and while he was away, she tried to free her hands. It seemed hopeless, as the rope made her skin raw where it rubbed. Nevertheless, she kept at it, ignoring the pain.

The count returned shortly with a pair of decorative swords, which he placed on the table, a jar of oil and an armful of linens that he proceeded to pile around the walls and under the curtains. A guard came in right behind with wood in his arms. Dumping it in the hearth, he had a good blaze going shortly, and with a wave of his hand, Stefano dismissed the man. Taking the jar of oil, he walked over one of the linens on the floor and poured some of the contents on the cloth. Then he picked it up and tossed it into the flames. It immediately caught fire, and his eyes danced.

Wiping his hands against his breeches as he stood, he jerked his head around to study her, almost as though he had forgotten she was in the room. “There you see! They burn exceptionally well!”

He strode in her direction. “After I finish with your Mr. Darcy, I intend to set this place afire and leave for Scotland. There shall be nothing left of the esteemed Lord Stanton’s home or your honourable friend.”

He forced a kiss on her as she shook her head back and forth. Unable to break away, she bit his lip, causing him to pull back. He backhanded her, his ring causing a gash on her cheek. She cried out in spite of her resolve not to react. Then still rubbing his mouth, he laughed as if he were possessed and began to tie a handkerchief across her mouth so she could not speak. Studying his handiwork, he was apparently satisfied and stalked out of the room.

Ignoring her aching cheek, Elizabeth managed to grip the small knife in her pocket, extracting it by the heavier handle, as she slid it between the constraints on her wrists. The blade of the knife sliced into her wrist, but she ignored the pain and persisted in her mission. Then she began to rub back and forth against the blade. Focused on this undertaking, she was stunned when the count raced back into the room and took up a stance in front of her. Facing the door at the far end of the room, he pulled a pistol from his coat. Elizabeth’s heart raced, and she almost panicked. Had William come? Would Stefano kill him without a warning?

~~~*~~~

It did not take long for William to navigate the drive and arrive at the front of the villa, pistol in hand. While dismounting, he noticed an older man, who had evidently just brought round a curricle, jump out of it and race back towards the stables. William had no way of knowing if he was going to alert Stefano’s men or if he was just afraid. Looking about, he could see no one else in sight.

Cautiously, he made his way up the steps to the front door, tried the handle and finding it unlocked, eased inside. Once in the foyer, he waited. Hearing nothing, he took several steps towards the grand staircase and was just about to climb them, when an older woman appeared to the left of the stairs. She shook her head as if to warn him that he was going in the wrong direction. Bringing her finger to her lips in a sign of silence, she pointed down the hallway from which she had just come and raised her eyebrows. William nodded, though he did not know if she was warning him or leading him into a trap. With no other choice, he went in the direction the woman had pointed as she hurried away.

Further down the hallway, another servant, possibly the butler from the look of his clothes, waved William forward, motioning that what he was seeking was inside the next door. Taking a deep breath, William did as directed, and with pistol drawn entered a room that looked as though it was once a ballroom. He was not surprised to find a man fitting the count’s description standing at the far end of it, his pistol leveled at his heart. Elizabeth sat in a chair behind him, her hands and feet tied and a gag in her mouth.

“Well, well. We meet at last, Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Stefano crowed quite civilly. “I have heard far too many flattering things about you!”

William ignored him as his eyes met Elizabeth’s, and he said gently, “Are you well?”

Smiling despite the tears that had begun when she first glimpsed him, she nodded her head. Her eyes told him how much she loved him, and he smiled as though he could read them, sending the same message with his own.

Stefano growled, stepping in front of her to block William’s view. “Now that you have that little pleasantry over with, suppose you put down your weapon, Mr. Darcy.” William hesitated, so Stefano roared, “You do not really have any choice in the matter as I have someone you want!”

With those words, Stefano pulled Elizabeth from the chair, holding her as a shield while he placed the pistol under her chin. As fortune would have it, he was so preoccupied that he never noticed the small knife still in her hands. William’s countenance darkened, but he eased his pistol to the floor, never breaking eye contact with Elizabeth.

“Now, kick it over here!”

Once William had complied, Stefano pushed Elizabeth back down in the chair. Darcy glowered at his roughness, and Stefano laughed. It delighted him to see Darcy lose a bit of his storied self-control.

“This is your lucky day!” Stefano smirked as William’s eyebrows rose in question. “I am predisposed to prove to Elizabeth that you are not the champion that she believes you to be and, most assuredly, not someone to esteem.”

Stefano laid his own pistol on the table, methodically unbuttoning his coat. Discarding it, he donned a glove that he pulled from his waistcoat pocket. Then turning slightly, eyes still glued to William, he picked up one of the swords lying on the table. Gripping the handle, he pulled the blade from the scabbard and instantly whipped it about in several directions. The movements made swishing sounds in the air.

“You may use this one.” He tilted his head at the matching sword on the table. “But I trust you would rather use the one you are wearing.”

William did not answer, instead shedding his coat and donning the glove he had pulled from the pocket before throwing it in a corner. He had no more than pulled his sword from its scabbard when Stefano abruptly lunged forward with his right leg, while wielding his sword erect, his left arm lifted in a square. “En garde!”

Taking advantage of the fact that William had no time to take his stance, the count advanced without further warning, managing to slice through William’s sleeve, leaving a small wound that began to bleed. Elizabeth paled at the sight. Nevertheless, William was able to lift his sword in time to thwart a following lunge, and their swords began clanking back and forth against each other. Both accomplished swordsmen, they appeared equally matched at first, though William’s wrist moved the weapon effortlessly compared to the count’s awkward strokes.

While they parried in a circular direction away from her, lunging and thrusting in turn, Elizabeth continued to work the knife against the ropes, managing to cut through enough to slip one hand out. Surreptitiously, she began untying her feet whenever the count’s attention was well engaged. She left the gag in place, fearing he would notice its absence right away.

As the battle escalated, it became clear that William was the stronger of the two, and he scored several hits along Stefano’s limbs as he began to move forward, forcing Stefano to retreat as he began to sweat profusely. For a long while, the swords clashed in rapid succession, and the fight went on for several minutes, as first one then the other scored light hits. Suddenly, Stefano’s sword was whipped from his grip by William’s blade, landing several feet away. Then as William advanced for the kill, one of Stefano’s guards stepped out of the hall and moved to stand in front of his master, pistol in hand.

The count sneered derisively, “You did not seriously think I would let you win, did you?”

During the course of the match, Elizabeth had managed to free her feet and cautiously reached for Stefano’s pistol upon the table. Neither villain paid any attention to her, but William was very aware of her efforts. He had to force himself not to look at her, knowing she could be killed if either man learned she was no longer bound. Stefano was totally caught up in his triumph and kept his eyes on William while taunting, “Watch, my dear wife, as the man you thought so highly of—the one who would be your saviour—dies like a dog.”

He barked orders at the guard. “Shoot him!”

Just as the guard took aim, Elizabeth fired, killing the man instantly and causing Stefano to whirl around to look at her. The look of fury upon his face was so evil that he no longer looked human—just as it had been the day he shot Addie. Instinctively Elizabeth backed into the corner as he headed towards her, spouting venom.

“You have betrayed me! I killed all of them for you and—”

“Stefano!” William shouted, closing in as he kicked Stefano’s sword back to him, “Defend yourself!”

Stefano snapped around thoroughly disoriented and seeing his sword sliding towards him, stooped down to reach for it. William’s pistol still lay on the floor nearby, and as he pretended to pick up the sword he lunged for the pistol. With one last thrust of his sword, William ended the count’s reign of terror as he plunged the blade into his heart.

As Stefano fell to the floor, William extracted his sword and stooped to pick up the guard’s unused pistol. He stood just in time to catch Elizabeth as she rushed into his arms. He soothed her, rocking her back and forth and kissing her hair while he kept the pistol and his eyes trained on the doors. He was not sure how many guards remained or if the servants were loyal to Stefano. All of a sudden, the man and woman who had directed him into this room stuck their heads inside cautiously.

Seeing the count lying in a pool of blood, the woman exclaimed, “Thank God you have prevailed!” The man nodded his agreement, beginning to edge close to the count as though he thought the villain might rise from the dead.

A little puzzled at their reaction, William ventured, “Are there any more of Stefano’s men here?”

“None that can do any harm!” the woman replied. “My husband and the gardener have the last two guards tied up in the stables. All that is left are servants, and we want no trouble. We were loyal to Lord Stanton—God rest his soul—not to this vile creature. Perhaps I should not be happy that he is dead, but I cannot pretend otherwise. At least now he cannot hurt anyone.”

Focusing on Elizabeth, she added, “I am sorry we could not help you while he and his men were in charge. Are you well?” She reached out to touch Elizabeth’s wrist. “You are bleeding too.”

Noticing the blood for the first time, William exclaimed, “We need bandages!”

The housekeeper hurried out of the room to fetch them.

Elizabeth tried to smile. “The cuts are not deep.” She examined his injuries, frowning as she declared, “Your wounds are worse than mine.”

William smiled lovingly. “They are minor. Besides, I am perfectly well as long as I have you.”

Several young men, all clearly servants, appeared in the doorway abruptly, and the old man motioned for them to come forward. As they began to help him remove the count and the guard from the room, Elizabeth took one last look at the dead men before burying her face in William’s chest. He ran his hands up and down her back in comfort, until she leaned back to look up at him.

“I have killed a man this day, but God help me, I would do it again! I would kill anyone who tried to harm you.”

William touched his forehead to hers. “My brave, brave darling. You saved my life.”

“Just as you saved mine.” Elizabeth sniffled, clutching him even tighter and beginning to place kisses wherever she could reach, murmuring, “I love you ... I love you ... I love you.”

Deliriously happy, William lifted her chin until she was looking at him and they exchanged words of love with their eyes. Their lips met with great urgency, and for some time they were lost in their own world, oblivious to the stares of the servants now standing about. William broke the kiss by feathering light kisses across her face, stopping to whisper in her ear, “We need to find the others and let them know we are safe.”

“Others?” Elizabeth murmured languidly, still in a trance from his kisses.

Just then, loud footsteps echoed down the hall towards them and suddenly someone was rushing into the room. William leveled his pistol at the intruder.

“Richard!” William shouted as recognition dawned and he lowered the weapon. “My Lord, I almost shot you!

“That makes two of us!” Richard declared, holstering his pistol in exasperation. “You are going to be the death of me! You never follow orders!”

Once he had realised that Darcy was not with them following the coaches that had left the villa, Richard had shouted orders for the others to continue while he returned to look for his cousin. Having found the villa looking very much deserted, he had just reached the top step when the sound of a gunshot brought him to a halt. Frantic with worry, he stole into the house, stealthily checking room after room, until the sound of voices brought him down the correct hallway. He was just in time to see several men carry Stefano’s body out of the room. With pistol raised, he had rushed past an old woman to find his cousin and Elizabeth both alive and well.

“If I had not seen Stefano’s body, I might have thought he had prevailed! It would be nice if you had let someone know you were still alive!”

William smiled, knowing Richard’s rants were only to mask his concern for his safety. “We were just about to come and find you.”

“Right! After another kiss perhaps?” he retorted with a wry smile. “Please do not let me keep you from whatever you were doing!”

With a slight smirk, William pulled Elizabeth into his arms, capturing her mouth in a kiss so torrid that Richard began to feel a bit uncomfortable. He left the room quickly, loosening his collar which now felt entirely too tight and seeking some fresh air. Lost in each other, neither William nor Elizabeth heard the low whistle that echoed through the halls just before Richard lunged out the front door.

By then Evan and several men were running up the steps. “Did you find Darcy? Is he well? And Miss Elizabeth?”

Richard looked more flustered than Evan had ever seen him as he spit out, “He is fine. Elizabeth is fine. Stefano is dead. All is well.”

All the men collapsed, exhausted, on the steps, except Evan, who started towards the door. “Then why are they not out here with you?”

Richard stayed him, grabbing his arm as he shook his head sternly. “You do not want to go in there just yet, Cousin.”

Evan stopped, looking perplexed, until suddenly he understood. He grinned, dropping down to sit on the top step to take a well-deserved rest. Richard took his place beside him as Evan chuckled.

“Do you suppose we shall have to wait long? You know how slow Darcy is when trying to make up his mind what to do next.”

~~~*~~~