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She opened the letter and read it with some satisfaction.

Country bumpkins and other riffraff were swarming about Hertfordshire like ants, while the object of their search languished in a dark cellar in London.

She reflected that Elizabeth Bennet had already been compromised in the strict sense of the word, and the occupation she was soon to take up would complete the task as efficiently and quickly as fashionable London could get the word out.

She had recently been toying with the idea of offering the jade to her nephew as his mistress.

It would be most gratifying and would doubtless save her own precious daughter from many of his distasteful importunities.

She shuddered slightly at the thought of what her delicate girl would be forced to endure.

Resolutely, she laid the thought aside. The final victory was almost achieved.

Any frills and embellishments could be added later.

Yet another encouraging letter had arrived by express from London. This one was definitely a cause for celebration, and she poured herself a glass of port from the decanter at her elbow. Such a shame the Madeira was gone. It was far more delicate than the port. But the port had its own appeal.

Wickham had recalled the same two men and sent them to Bath, and he had conceived a brilliant plan. Indeed, it was difficult to see how it could fail. She tapped the letter with a fingernail and finished her port. According to this letter, today would see victory in Bath.

Bath - Tuesday, August 4, 18__

Sir Robert Carter carefully escorted his betrothed, Miss Caroline Bingley, out of the Pump Room.

Although she had largely recovered from the attack, her ankle was not yet strong.

Sir Robert, who had been in the midst of a promising Army career when his elder brother died, had one of Mr. Manton’s finest pistols in his pocket.

He had been experiencing the uneasy feeling of their being watched for the past few days, and he was taking no chances with Caroline.

The Bingleys’ first footman was just behind them, and he was also armed.

As they waited for Sir Robert’s carriage, some sort of altercation or scuffle began nearby.

The constables soon arrived, and Sir Robert sent the footman over to inquire.

The man returned in only a few moments. “Sir, please allow me to stay here and watch over Miss Bingley while you go and speak to the constables.”

One of the constables spoke without relaxing his hold on his prisoner.

“Sir Robert. It is fortunate you happened by. We have apprehended the two criminals who attacked Miss Bingley and murdered her footman.” He shook the man he was holding.

“You can see there, sir. Missing the first joint of his index finger and got scars on the side of his hand where Miss Bingley injured him.” He pointed to the other man, in the custody of the other constable.

“And that one was carryin’ a cudgel, sir.

No telling what possessed them to come back to the scene of their crimes.

” The constable pointed out two neatly dressed men standing nearby.

“Those two men apprehended them and called us. Seems the criminals are wanted in Hertfordshire for the same sort of trick—abductin’ a young lady. ”

Sir Robert looked over at the two men who were standing quietly on the sidewalk. “I don’t know who you are, but well done. ”

One of the men spoke quietly. “Sir, it is important that we speak to you today. Perhaps we could meet you after you have escorted Miss Bingley home.”

Sir Robert consulted his watch and looked sharply at the men standing quietly in front of him. “Very well. Do you know the White Hart? I will meet you there in one hour’s time.” He turned and went back to Caroline, finding that the footman had wisely seated her in the carriage.

“Oh, Robert. Do you think they had come to town to finish me off?”

“Do not worry, dearest. They will be behind bars now. They are also wanted for a similar crime in Hertfordshire.”

“Hertfordshire! But that is where my brother’s estate is located.”

“I know little more about it than that, dearest. Do not let it trouble you too greatly. I will take you home now, and I hope you will rest.”

Sir Robert arrived at the White Hart a few minutes early, sat where he could see the door, and ordered himself a pint of the homebrewed.

The two strangers joined him about five minutes before the appointed time, reinforcing his hunch that they were ex-troopers.

After signaling for another two pints, he got down to business.

“Who are you two, what were you doing here, and who sent you?”

The elder of the two sipped his pint. “Our names are Jones and Harrison, we were sent here to keep a discreet watch over Miss Bingley, and we are in the employ of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of London and Pemberley in Derbyshire.” He took another sip before continuing.

“Mr. Darcy is a friend of Miss Bingley’s brother, Mr. Charles Bingley.

His own betrothed, Miss Bennet, was abducted in Hertfordshire under similar circumstances, circumstances too similar to make it a coincidence.

Mr. Darcy believed that there would be another attempt on Miss Bingley.

He sent us to watch over her without alarming her or her family. ”

“Well, you have certainly been successful. Do you have Darcy’s direction in London? I presume that is where he is at present.”

“Yes, sir.” The man took out a notebook and a lead-pencil and wrote the direction. “Sir, it would be of great help to Mr. Darcy’s investigation if we could question those two men. Can you assist us with arranging for that?”

“I can, and I will. Meet me at the gaol at four o’clock. I will arrange it with the constables.”

“Thank you, sir.” Both men stood and shook Sir Robert’s offered hand.

“You’re troopers, aren’t you? Both of you.”

“Yes, sir. Until four o’clock, sir.” The man who had been speaking saluted, and the two men left to return to their own inn.

London, Unknown Location - Tuesday, August 4, 18__

Elizabeth awoke with a violent start in the pre-dawn darkness a few minutes past four o’clock.

She had always boasted that her courage rose with every attempt to intimidate her, but during those hours of darkness, she had to admit that her boast had not extended to her present dire circumstances.

As she lay in the dark, hoping vainly for sleep, anxieties seemed to press on her from every side.

Would she ever see her beloved Fitzwilliam again?

How did her family get on, and were they being threatened by the same wicked men who had brought her to this prison?

And would she find a way to avoid the wretched fate of Arabella Grant?

She turned and pummeled her heated pillow, beating it into a more comfortable position and resolutely closing her eyes.

These actions only brought on a fresh spate of worries.

She had failed miserably to find any means of escaping her prison.

Indeed, the only thing of significance she had gleaned was that Ruth was the same made who had been employed at the parsonage in Hunsford.

Did that mean that Mr. Collins was involved in this?

God forbid, was Charlotte? Lady Catherine.

Her only certainty was that Wickham had aided in her capture and was probably the leader of the two other men .

“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth woke hours later with another violent start, not knowing where she was. It only took a few seconds for her to realize that she was still in captivity in London. Ruth held out a steaming cup of coffee. Elizabeth smothered her despair and sipped it gratefully.

“You have a full day today, Miss Bennet. At noon you will be fitted with a selection of gowns which have been cut to measure from the gown you were wearing when you—when you came to us. That will take much of the afternoon. Dinner is at six, and you may choose to dine here in your room or to go downstairs and meet the other young ladies. You will not have any other duties tonight. Tomorrow morning you will meet with Madame Charpentier at eleven. She is the directress.”

She gave Elizabeth a chemise, stockings, and a silk wrapper to dress in, then left for a few minutes and brought breakfast. By the time Elizabeth had finished, it was a little after ten.

Ruth pointed to the dressing-table. “I will dress your hair first, Miss Bennet.” As she worked to brush out and dress Elizabeth’s hair, Ruth said, “Your hair is quite lovely—it is a very fashionable shade. But it is too long to be really fashionable. Madame Charpentier may wish to have you confer with the hairdresser. It will be her decision.” Elizabeth’s heart sank at this, for she knew that Darcy loved her hair.

She swallowed her despair and tried to focus on possible means of escape.

Her hair was brushed into a stylish knot at the top of her head with a few ringlets falling to either side of her face.

Next, Ruth opened the center drawer of the table and pointed out cosmetics—boxes of powder, pots of rouge, phials of scent, and an array of puffs, brushes, and rabbits-feet with which to apply it.

Elizabeth inspected it all and colored. “I . . . I have never used cosmetics. I have no idea at all of how to apply them.”