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The scene was peaceful as he watched for his opportunity.

The quoits rang out, his prey attended to her book, and the eldest sister, Jane, continued to snip flowers.

Still, he watched and waited. The two younger girls left off their game of quoits and went to the swing.

Mary attended to her book. Such a shame he could not lure the eldest over.

She was almost as voluptuous as Elizabeth, and she was a blonde.

However, he knew from the past that she was not spirited at all.

In fact, she was rather bland in his opinion.

Forcing himself on Elizabeth would have been much more fun.

Idly he wondered if his chosen prey would be a spirited fighter.

It would certainly add something to an otherwise dull encounter.

He had become so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his opportunity.

Jane called to the young man to come and assist her with some heavy branches.

When the lad responded, Wickham moved quickly from his hiding place, put the knife to Mary’s throat, and pulled her back into the thick brush adjoining the wilderness.

“Don’t say a word. Don’t scream. I might even try to make this enjoyable for you,” he said, caressing her throat with the blade.

“At least you won’t have to die an old maid.

” Mary’s eyes were wide as she stayed as still as death beneath the knife.

Moments later, Wickham attempted to tear the cloth of her gown.

The sturdy gingham did not yield, and with a curse, he tried to use both hands while retaining possession of the knife.

An instant later, the weapon was in Mary’s hands. She screamed loudly as she aimed a slashing cut in the direction of Wickham’s chest. It drew blood. At the same time, Jem Hill emerged from the outer hedge, dealing Wickham a stunning blow to his head with the large hedging shears he carried.

Jem was at her side in mere seconds, and her assailant was on the ground, the dirty white shirt turning crimson. Mr. Bennet and several of the men had come running at the sound of the scream. “Send for Constable,” said Tim. “Send for Sir Henry as well,” added Mr. Bennet.

“Wickham!” Lydia spat.

The sound of his name being uttered with withering scorn by a mere chit of a girl was the last thing George Wickham heard.

∞∞∞

Jem, who had remained silent with a steadying arm around Mary, knelt beside Wickham before turning to Mr. Bennet. “He’s done for, sir. He won’t be harming any more innocent young women—not here at Longbourn nor in Meryton nor anywhere else in England.”

Mary maintained her self-possession, although she could taste the bile at the back of her throat.

“Let us tell Mama that I screamed because I was terrified by the sight of a dead animal in the garden. She must not know what happened.” She turned to Jane.

“I should like to lie down,” she said. And for the first time in anyone’s memory, she wept on Jane’s shoulder as though her heart would break.

Jane seated her on a bench and put her arms around her as her father and the other two girls hovered nearby.

Surprisingly, it was Lydia who spoke. “When you are ready to go in, Mary, I will have someone bring you warm water. You will feel ever so much better after you have washed. I know I did. And we will take that dress away and burn it so that you never have to see it again. Then, if you like, I will come and sit with you until you sleep. I promise to be quiet, and I will even read to you from Fordyce or any other book you choose.” Lydia turned to Jane and said, “Mary should have some hot tea with plenty of sugar and perhaps some brandy. And when she is ready for bed, you should give her something to help her sleep.” She paused and knitted her brow in thought.

“Just think, Mary! You and Jem Hill have given Wickham what he deserved. He will never hurt another girl, ever again.”

Brook Street, London - Saturday, August 8, 18__

When Elizabeth woke on the morning after her wedding, it was to the sound of the clock chiming eight.

She knew instantly where she was, and she could feel the warmth of her husband’s body sprawled next to hers.

He was lying on his back, and his face looked very young, even with the shadow of his beard.

She wanted to run her hands over his face, but it would be a shame to wake him.

She carefully raised the covers and eased herself out.

“You should come back here and let me kiss you,” he said sleepily. “Why get up when we can be here in bed?”

Elizabeth returned to him, smiling. “I had quite forgotten. Now I may see you in your bed every morning.” Her smile grew impish. “And I know why I find that so very attractive. I had no idea of what wonders could be accomplished in bed.”

“They can be accomplished in other places as well, Mrs. Darcy. But bed has its advantages. It is soft and spacious. It is quiet and private. And it is generally behind closed doors. Now come here. Let us see what we can accomplish this morning.”

When at last they lay entwined, replete and contented, Elizabeth’s stomach mortified her by growling again, most audibly. Darcy’s laughter rumbled in his chest and shook the bed. “What is this, Mrs. Darcy? Must I feed you again?”

“Well, it has been nearly twelve hours, Mr. Darcy. If we are to continue our recent activities, it appears I must be fed. There is only one problem. If I go down to forage in the kitchen dressed as I was last night, I certainly will cause a scandal.”

He stood. “We must avoid talk and suspicion at all costs, Mrs. Darcy. Put on that shirt you pilfered from me last night, please, and wait for me here.” He got into his dressing gown and rang for his valet, and when the discreet knock sounded at the door, he stepped into the hallway.

He returned in moments. “When the knock sounds again, we will go to your room, where our breakfast will have been set out on the small table there.” He looked at her with a teasing grin.

“I have ordered a large, nourishing breakfast. When we have seen to it that you are fed, you and I will part company. My valet will come to me, and one of the maids will come to you, and we will dress as civilized men and women and go downstairs to greet the new day. Do you approve?”

“Most definitely,” she replied, showing her dimples again.

“Then come and kiss me one more time.” A few moments later, he raised his head and looked down at her. “There is a problem with this shirt. On you, it reveals far more than it conceals. It is enough to incite me to riot.”

“Riot. Foraging savages. Uncivilized persons. Whatever next, Mr. Darcy? Sedition? Gunpowder, treason and plot? Marriage to you may prove very exciting. ”

“You left out abduction and dubious residences for young ladies.”

“Who would believe such tales? Why not just bespeak a dozen shirts and give them to me to wear?”

“I think not. It would rob me of a great deal of enjoyment. As it is, I envision myself getting dressed, wondering whether the shirt I am about to put on has ever been wrapped around your delectable form. I believe it will enliven the prospect of putting on the same dull clothes each day.”

After breakfast, Elizabeth went to her dressing room.

She was greeted by a smiling young woman named Jenny who bobbed a curtsey, wished Mrs. Darcy happy, and said, “Your bath is ready, ma’am.

” Elizabeth was soon soaking, comfortably hidden by a screen as she had always been at Longbourn.

Jenny had a wrapper ready for her when she emerged, and they stood side by side considering the collection of day dresses.

Mrs. Peterson had chosen only a few things, but she had chosen well.

Elizabeth chose a gown in a russet-rose muslin very much like a gown she had at home, and she was soon seated at her mirror as Jenny brushed out her hair.

The maid clucked at the number of tangles she found and worked them carefully out with a comb but said nothing about doing the hair up in a plait at night.

She put her head to one side and paid close attention as Elizabeth described the simple style she preferred for the daytime, and before long, she was deftly styling Elizabeth’s hair just as she liked it.

There was a knock at the door. Darcy stood outside, and he and Elizabeth clasped hands and walked downstairs together. When they got to the library, he opened the door and stood aside for her to enter.

“What a delightful breeze. Is it coming from the garden?”

He turned her around and guided her to a small alcove where a French door stood open. “There is a similar door in your sitting room,” he said. “I have always enjoyed it. Come and sit down.”

They sat comfortably, side by side on the sofa, and he kissed her gently before beginning.

“We should be on our honeymoon, but this has been an extraordinary series of events. Let us spend as much time as we can together these first few days. The announcement of our marriage is in this morning’s newspapers, so there will soon be engagements and social correspondence.

Let us go over those together until you are perfectly comfortable, dearest.” He smiled and kissed her again, unable to resist. “I have a letter to write, and then I would like to take you shopping. It is an unusual way to spend the second day of one’s marriage, but it is clear you are in dire want of some necessities.

Would you prefer to stay here and keep me company, or would you rather acquaint yourself with your own sitting room until we are ready to go? ”

“Of course, I would rather stay here,” she replied. “But there is something I would like to discuss with Mrs. Peterson.”

“Let me show you the path to your sitting room. Once you have spoken to Mrs. Peterson, return here and we will visit the shops.”