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E lizabeth Bennet felt very grown up; she had just turned ten.

Her Aunt and Uncle Phillips, along with her two youngest sisters and Charlotte, a very good friend Lizzy had made in Meryton, were visiting the Gardiners at their new house on Portman Square.

Mary was eight and would be nine in September coming.

Cathy and Lydia were six and four, respectively.

The former would be seven in June and the latter five in December.

The Gardiners made sure that Lizzy and Mary knew that the birth of their daughter in no way changed how much they were loved and wanted.

They explained they had moved to a larger house so that there would always be more than enough room in their house for all of the family, no matter how many more children they could be blessed with.

Nothing would change the fact they were Lizzy and Mary’s guardians.

As happy as she was to have her younger sisters with her for this milestone birthday, Elizabeth was excited that her very good friend, Charlotte, had accompanied them.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Between the Gardiners and Phillipses, they made sure that the sisters were together as much as possible, especially for their birthdays and holidays like Easter and Christmas.

They had begun to do this shortly after Cathy turned three.

There was a strong sisterly bond between the four Bennet sisters even though they did not live in the same house.

Each time they had visited the Phillipses and the two youngest girls in Meryton, Elizabeth and Mary could not understand why they, who lived in London, were received so warmly by the locals.

For some reason, they were treated as the favourite daughters of the town.

What the girls were not aware of was that as much as Mr and Mrs Bennet, along with Miss Millar were disliked—reviled actually—in the market town, the four Bennet sisters were loved.

The more time the two eldest Bennets spent in Hertfordshire, the more the talk of their beauty and intelligence was marvelled at and spoken of, especially that of Lizzy.

The residents of the area made sure to always comment on how pretty and nice all four Bennet girls were whenever Mrs Bennet or Miss Millar showed their faces in the town.

Mrs Bennet would always lead her snobbish daughter away with a pinched, much scandalised look on her face.

The girls who lived in Town had begun to make some friends in Hertfordshire.

Lizzy had met Charlotte Lucas when she was not yet seven.

Despite the seven-year age gap, Charlotte and the precocious child had become friends.

Charlotte was the eldest of the three children at the time, but now there were four.

Their father, Mr William Lucas, owned the general mercantile and a shop which sold both millinery and haberdashery in Meryton.

Cathy and Lydia had become close with the youngest Lucas, Maria, who was a few months younger than Lydia.

Mary’s closest friends were the orphaned Long sisters—Mandy and Cara.

The former was a year older than Mary, and the latter was a little more than a year younger.

The girls had been adopted by their uncle and aunt whose estate, Longmeadow, bordered Longbourn to the northwest.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The Duke of Hertfordshire was riding around the lake at Castlemere in the company of two guards he had employed recently and whose families had been in service at Castlemere for generations.

They were both around eighteen years old, and before the Duke had asked them to be part of his personal guard, they had thought of joining the army.

Besides having lightning quick reflexes, excellent with all sorts of weapons, and being incredibly strong, both young men were huge.

Mountainous was not an exaggeration where the two were concerned.

They were taller than six feet four inches and their arms were as thick as many men’s legs.

Having grown up on the estate and attended the school together—the Chamberlains believed that education was a plus for those who served them.

They did not see it as a negative like many in the upper ten thousand thought, John Biggs and Brian Johns had been the best of friends practically since they were able to walk.

Hertfordshire was procrastinating about going to London to attend part of the season.

He had yet to find a woman who attracted his notice—truth be told, he was not looking very hard.

At twenty, his nephew Anthony was at Cambridge and was everything that would be needed to carry the title forward.

His nephew was sanguine with the fact that if his uncle married and sired a son, he would be pushed down the line of succession.

He had one more year at Cambridge, and thereafter his nephew would spend most of the year with him learning about the responsibilities of the dukedom in case it fell to him.

The main attraction for the Duke in going to London was to see friends and family members.

He accepted very few invitations from outside of his circle of friends and family, and other than the royals, given his rank, no one could chastise him for being unsociable.

The three men were riding on the lake’s sandy shore, so there was hardly any sound being made by the horses’ hooves. Hertfordshire raised his hand when he heard raised voices from the other side of the large boulder ahead of them.

“Wickham, why on earth do you want to hurt me? I did not even tell Father it was you who pushed me into the lake for your father to save,” William Darcy asked with a raised voice. He was being held by two large boys from Kympton whom Wickham had managed to befriend.

“My late mother planned that,” George Wickham snarled.

“Your father was supposed to be so grateful to mine that he would have rewarded us significantly, with one of the satellite estates, not just to become my godfather and send me to school. I know it all! My mother told me that Mr Darcy is my true father, and as long as you are around, he will never be able to acknowledge me.”

The Duke and his two men dismounted and left their mounts near some shrubs and tall grasses.

The horses were well trained and would not wander off.

With the two guards in the lead, the three of them positioned themselves unseen on the side of the boulder between them and the four young men.

Both big men had their pistols in their hands.

Biggs raised his head slightly so he could see over the top of the rock.

“You are delusional,” William bit back. “My father has never been unfaithful to my mother. Add to that, your father was not employed at Pemberley when you were born. If memory serves, Father told me your father was under-steward at an estate in Yorkshire. How would it be possible for you to be my father’s son when the first time he met your family you were three? ”

“Did ya lie to us?” One of the ruffians holding the Darcy heir’s arm enquired. “Ya said the money you promised will come once you be the ‘eir.”

“George here has a problem with the truth; he never tells it,” William goaded.

“You will get paid!” George Wickham growled. He bent down and picked up a fair-sized rock. “Hold him still so I can hit him, and then we will throw him in the lake. His father will think he fell off his horse, struck his head, and drowned.”

“Ya said ‘e would leave afta ya scare ‘im, not that you were gonna kill ‘im,” the smaller of the two boys said. He had not agreed to be a murderer.

Hertfordshire nodded to his men. Both sprang up, pointing their pistols at the young men restraining young Darcy.

“Unless you would like me to order my men to shoot, release him now!” the Duke commanded.

He saw the two holding his friend’s son’s arms hesitate.

“Is the pittance he promised you worth your lives?”

The boys from Kympton looked at one another and shrugged. They released the arm each was holding and stepped back from the young gentleman.

An enraged Wickham lunged forward in fury to try and strike William Darcy on the head with the rock in his hand.

A shot rang out. George Wickham looked shocked beyond all reason.

He looked at the arm which had held the rock—it had fallen from his hand when he was struck by the bullet—and saw the red stain blooming.

How could this be? There had never been consequences to his actions before. Why now? The damned interfering duke!

“Good shot, Biggs. Bind his arm until we get him to the apothecary, and Johns,” the big man waited for his instructions.

“Ride to Pemberley and summon Mr Darcy. I will have the magistrate sent for as soon as we reach the house.” The Duke turned to the two boys who had been helping the Wickham boy.

“I give you one chance. Let me hear of even the slightest infraction by either of you, and I will make sure you are transported! I need you to come with us to the house; after that, if you cooperate, I will release you. But once you leave today, never set foot on my land again.”

The two looked about; they wanted to take off in a run towards Kympton, but seeing a few other guards had arrived, attracted by the sound of the shot, they complied.

William Darcy had known that George Wickham had a bad character, but he had never suspected the boy who used to be his friend of murderous intent.

He had always thought Wickham intelligent, but to believe his mother’s nonsense when he had not been born near Pemberley was unfathomable.

At least, Father could not ignore and forgive this infraction without the Wickhams paying some sort of penalty.