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She stood in the center hallway of the parsonage carefully dusting and re-dusting the small table and mirror, running a rag over the moldings and baseboards, and listening.

Dressed in a simple round gown of brown calico, her figure was hidden by her voluminous white apron.

Her guinea-gold curls were pulled back under a starched white mob cap.

“You have said quite enough, Madam.” Ruth heard Mr. Darcy’s voice and crept closer to the door.

“I perfectly comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.” She whisked herself away, down the back hall towards the basement stairs, not waiting to hear the end of the conversation.

Within moments, the parlor door opened, Mr. Darcy’s footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she heard him let himself out.

She picked up her basket of rags and dust cloths and made her way down to the kitchen.

With the family dining at Rosings, she knew her supper would be ready and that she would have the rest of the evening off.

∞∞∞

“You are certain that this is what you heard.” Her eyes made Ruth think of a serpent’s eyes, and they were at present drilling into her. “There can be no mistake.”

“Yes milady,” replied the maid with a curtsey. “Mr. Darcy made the offer of marriage. Miss Bennet refused him, and they quarreled. It went on for some time—something about Miss Bennet’s sister, and something else about someone named Wickham. Mr. Darcy left shortly after that.”

“And you are certain the name you heard was Wickham.” The cold eyes grew harder and colder.

“Yes ma’am. I am certain of it. The name was mentioned by both.”

“Very well.” Lady Catherine turned to a ledger which lay open on the desk before her. Ruth stood quietly. At length, Lady Catherine looked up. “It seems that your mother has not yet paid this quarter’s rent on the cottage. I will see that her debt is discharged before the bailiff gets to her.”

“Thank you, milady.” Ruth dropped another curtsey .

“You may go.”

A footman was waiting to conduct Ruth down the darkened stairs, and she was soon on her way back to the parsonage.

∞∞∞

Lady Catherine de Bourgh closed the ledger, laid it aside, and took up her pen. How convenient that the _shire Militia were quartered at Meryton.

Once she had finished her letter, her thoughts turned to the maid. The chit’s mother was becoming troublesome. It was time the two of them were sent to London where they could make themselves useful. She sipped her wine and began another letter.

Rosings, Kent - Thursday, June 11, 18__

She poured herself a glass of Madeira and smiled.

All was going smoothly, as planned, and by the end of the day another girl would be on her way to Mrs. Younge’s gentlemen’s establishment in London.

She had understood from her sources that, despite the fact that her father had made his fortune in trade, this chit was a tall, willowy, aristocratic-looking brunette.

Rumor had it that she was quite accomplished.

There were many gentlemen who preferred such a girl, particularly if she could be trained in certain exotic arts and allurements of a more aggressive nature.

She proposed a silent toast to her plans and finished her wine before pouring a second glass.

According to the London papers, her quarry was staying with an uncle in Bath.

She would await word of the results with great satisfaction.