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They entered the back room, where smaller tables entertained gentlemen playing games more familiar to Elizabeth including whist and piquet. She received more than one admiring glance, and more than one murmured greeting, but she did not recognize anyone she saw.

∞∞∞

“There she is,” said Wickham in his most ingratiating tones.

“Is she not lovely? Truly, my lord, a diamond of the first water.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“And I’ll vouch that she’s as pure as the driven snow.

The chosen betrothed of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy until the unfortunate news about her sister became known.

” Viscount __ sat with his eye glued to the strategic gap in the velvet draperies.

Wickham sat beside and a little behind him in the hidden alcove, speaking quietly but persuasively .

Wickham felt he should be earning hazardous duty pay.

The viscount was truly odious. Well past middle age, he attempted to display his form to best advantage by means of a corset which creaked ominously.

His hair was dyed black and pomaded, his wrinkles were concealed by a careful maquillage, and his thin legs were carefully padded.

The combined efforts of his barber, his tailor, and his valet had fallen flat before the multiple failures of his dentist. His breath was worse than that of a street dog, and in combination with the man’s reek of sour sweat, it was giving Wickham a headache.

The only attractive part about him was his fortune, and he could not give that away.

There was no mama in England who would see her precious daughter allied with such a monster.

It was quietly whispered that he suffered from the French disease.

“Refresh my memory again on the figure,” said the Viscount without removing his eye from the curtain.

Wickham murmured a truly staggering sum.

“Don’t yet know if she’s worth it,” replied the old man. “But I’ll give it my careful consideration. That little blonde she’s with is quite an armful.”

“Yes, she is lovely. But with her you would not enjoy the experience of being her first lover, of introducing her to all the pleasures Cupid has in store for her—and for you. With the brunette, all that would be yours. And you must admit, she is incomparable.”

“Her, ah, pristine condition is a strong inducement. I see they are gone back into the front room. I’d best change seats with you.”

∞∞∞

Sophie had stopped to chat with a gentleman she obviously knew well, and Elizabeth carefully sauntered back into the front room, surveying it from the door before she entered with an eye to possible escape routes.

To her astonishment, she spied Mr. Hurst playing Macau.

He already had a small stack of gold in front of him.

As she stood wondering what to do, he turned around and saw her.

He stood immediately as if encountering her in a drawing room.

“Miss Eliza!” Hurst’s voice was loud enough to carry.

“Well met!” As she approached him, his eyes, often so puffy and sleepy, looked into hers intently.

As she watched, they seemed to shift quickly towards the front door before resting on her again.

Elizabeth approached him and curtsied before offering her hand, and he squeezed it tightly as he shook it.

His eyes caught and held hers again. “What brings you here, Miss Eliza?” The room fell silent.

It was a wager more desperate than any ever made in that room, and Elizabeth staked her life on it.

“How do you do, Mr. Hurst? I was abducted from my father’s estate this past Sunday, and I am being held here against my will,” she replied in a light, clear voice which also carried to the edges of the room.

“Are you indeed?” He picked up and pocketed his winnings and offered her his arm. “Then permit me the honor of restoring you to your family. Everyone in the county, and half of London, is searching for you following your abduction from your father’s lands.”

At this juncture, gaming had come to a standstill in the three salons on the ground floor of the house. Gentlemen crowded into the front room to get a better look at the fracas, and the murmur of their voices grew louder.

Elizabeth quickly removed the necklace and earrings and dropped them on the table with disdain. Then she took Mr. Hurst’s arm so that he might escort her from the room.

When they were halfway to the door, Hurst turned to face the crowd of gentlemen.

“I would like to leave a thought or two with you gentlemen,” he began.

His voice was again perfectly pitched to carry.

“Before I escort this lady to her anxious family, you should all know that she is a gentleman’s daughter of impeccable lineage, gently reared on her father’s country estate.

She was abducted by agents of this establishment while on a Sunday walk after church services.

After church services, no less. And I tell you this: She is not the first, nor will she be the last. Ask yourselves, gentlemen, how becoming it will be to your good names to be associated with persons soon to be known as criminals of the lowest sort?

And while you are pondering that, ask yourselves if your family—your sister, your daughter, your wife—could be next.

Is your home safe so long as these criminals may come and go as they please? Is your home truly your castle?”

The wealthy patrons began to leave, by twos and threes at first, but the trickle soon became a flood.

Hurst kept a close hold on Elizabeth’s arm, placing them in the middle of the crowd and managing to get them out without encountering the doorman.

They walked down the steps, making their way through the throng, and Mr. Hurst got them on to the brick walkway.

“Miss Eliza, there is no need to tremble so.” Mr. Hurst spoke calmly and quietly as they made their way carefully through the milling crowd of gentlemen.

“You are safe. I am taking you to Mr. Darcy, and there are men all around you ready to come to your defense. They are capable of easily fighting off anyone who would recapture you. Hold your head high and keep walking as if I were escorting you home from Grosvenor Street. Do not look back.”

Elizabeth murmured her thanks, and when they had at last reached the corner they were joined by another man. Elizabeth noted that he was tall, plainly dressed, and walked with a pronounced limp.

“Permit me to present Sergeant Parker. He is one of Darcy’s men of business, and he has been leading the efforts to find you.”

Elizabeth nodded, took the sergeant’s offered arm and continued walking between the two men.

She spoke without slowing their pace. “Sergeant Parker, a young woman lies gravely ill and injured in the cellar beneath the club. It is filthy, and her wounds have given her a fever. She must be attended to immediately. There is no time to lose; in fact, it may already be too late.”

Parker stopped and let go of her arm. “Thank you for informing me. I shall attend to her immediately. Mr. Hurst and my men will see you to Mr. Darcy’s house.”

She noticed that several other men had fallen in before and behind them. The walk seemed endless. She had never seen Darcy’s town house before and was unsure of how far away it was.

Then, suddenly, they were stopped in front of an imposing home with lights blazing from every window. The door opened, a tall figure rushed down the front steps, and she was in his arms. He swept her up and carried her inside, and someone shut the door, and she was safe.

“I never gave up hope. I was ready to go to the ends of the earth for you,” he murmured between their kisses.

Elizabeth said nothing, but she tangled her fingers in his hair.

The safety of his arms made her feel faint, as though they were the only reality.

She breathed in his scent of clean linen, and spice, realizing that it had become familiar and dear to her.

She felt she could rest for the first time in days.

“I knew you were searching for me. I could feel it somehow. I tried so hard to discover a way to escape.” And after another kiss, “Fitzwilliam, they did not hurt me. They did not dishonor me.”

“I would have killed them if they had.” Finally, he tore himself away from her and said, “Your Uncle Gardiner is here.”

Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Your coat. May I have it?” When he looked at her in some confusion, she added, “This gown. It . . . was made to shame me.”

He removed his coat immediately and helped her into it, buttoning it tenderly and rolling up the sleeves until she could find her hands.

“There you are, my dearest. I will get you something better as soon as I can.” The coat carried his warmth and his scent, and Elizabeth felt shielded from the world.

They turned together and walked into the book room, where Elizabeth found herself in the embrace of her Uncle Gardiner.

“My dear little Lizzy, I am so glad to have seen this day.” Uncle Gardiner’s voice shook with emotion.

“Your father and mother, your sisters, all of us. Thank God you are returned to us.” Elizabeth wept in his arms, unable to speak.

When she had composed herself, she turned to Mr. Hurst, embracing him and kissing his cheek. “I know not what to say, sir, or how to thank you,” she began. “I feel as though you have rescued me from death and hell.”