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Darcy looked at his watch. “Sergeant Parker will be here at any moment, and I must speak with him. Mrs. Collins, if you wish to inform Mr. Collins of your safe arrival, perhaps you will write a note and I will see that it is delivered to him.”

Charlotte stood but did not approach the desk.

“Anne must go up to her room and rest. We called in the surgeon yesterday afternoon, and he has instructed me to see that the burn remains clean and to bandage it. It is large enough to require special attention to ward off any signs of infection. Unfortunately, she has no clothes with her, and that includes night clothes.”

Elizabeth stood immediately and rang for Mrs. Peterson, who sent a maid for bandages.

The three women supported Anne upstairs.

Mrs. Peterson brought a fresh nightgown belonging to Georgiana while Elizabeth and Charlotte assisted Anne to undress.

Mrs. Peterson unwrapped and observed the burn, observing, “That looks right to me.” She bathed the wound, bandaged it in clean linen, and helped Anne into the soft nightgown and then into bed.

“I have a draught for her.” Charlotte opened her reticule.

In a few minutes, Anne’s eyes closed peacefully, and her regular breathing indicated an untroubled sleep. They left her and returned downstairs.

“The burn is not trivial, Fitzwilliam. We need to watch Anne carefully and allow her to rest. I am shocked at her condition. She is also dreadfully thin. I would say alarmingly thin, would not you, Charlotte?”

“Yes. Alarmingly thin. I noticed the same thing yesterday when she was preparing for bed at my house, and the surgeon also commented on it. I do not believe she has eaten properly. She told me her mother does not permit her to eat many foods and she is often hungry. Whether she is ill or whether she has been maltreated is a matter to be decided. She needs our care, and the surgeon has called for plenty of nourishing food.”

Darcy’s face was troubled. “Sleep will be the best thing for her now. Elizabeth, we should leave orders for the cook.”

They heard men’s voices in the hall, and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered with a tall silver-haired man who could only be the Earl of Matlock.

Darcy shook hands with his uncle and quickly performed the introductions.

After bowing gravely to Charlotte, the Earl turned to Elizabeth, took her hand in both of his, and kissed her cheek.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Darcy. My nephew has found himself a bride who is not only beautiful but valiant as well. I am delighted to meet you.”

“I am pleased to meet you as well, sir.”

When they had all been seated, Darcy began without preamble.

“Our cousin, Anne de Bourgh, lies in bed upstairs. She is suffering from a serious burn inflicted deliberately by her mother. She found it necessary to flee Rosings after a second, murderous attack by her mother and has come here with the assistance of Mrs. Collins and her husband, who is the rector of Hunsford Parish.” Darcy quickly outlined the facts for his uncle, including Anne’s poor physical condition, the violent incidents of the past few days, and her situation as her mother’s prisoner.

He did not omit the misrepresentation of her age or the defacement of the parish register.

The earl sat rigidly while Darcy spoke. When Darcy finished, he stood and asked, “When may I see her?”

Elizabeth spoke up. “Sir, the burn on her arm is not extensive, but it is painful, and we are doing all within our power to see that it heals cleanly. The journey from Hunsford was exhausting and caused additional disruption to the burn. She has been given a sleeping draught and is sleeping peacefully. While she may not wish to join us for dinner, perhaps she will be able to come down to the drawing room afterwards. If not, we will arrange for you to visit her in her room. Your presence will mean a great deal to her. All she could think of during her ordeal was finding her way to your protection and when she arrived here, she asked for my husband’s assistance to travel to your home in Derbyshire.

It was only when she learned you were here that she was able to rest.”

“Well done, my dear. We will do just as you suggest.”

Darcy interrupted. “We learned yesterday that Wickham was killed while attempting to assault Miss Mary Bennet at the family home, Longbourn. He was thoroughly implicated in the scheme to abduct and abandon Miss Lydia Bennet. While Wickham has cheated the hangman, we can hope that the two hired men who murdered Caroline Bingley’s footman and abducted Elizabeth will thoroughly implicate Lady Catherine.

They will be tried at the assizes which are meeting at Wells. ”

“Mary?” Charlotte Collins was the first to speak, putting her hand to her mouth. “But what has she ever done to anyone? I am at a loss for words.”

“As were we all.”

The Earl picked up the conversation. “Wickham was obviously in the pay of my sister, serving as her executioner. She must be stopped. The situation at Rosings cannot and will not be allowed to continue. I have asked Sergeant Parker to dispatch two good men immediately to begin dealing with Catherine.” He turned to Charlotte.

“Mrs. Collins, am I correct in presuming your husband will wish to help them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The men will carry a letter for Mr. Collins. We know that some of the servants at Rosings may be in danger, and the men will be charged with safeguarding them and with ensuring that Catherine does not escape. We must keep her there until everything is prepared.

“Before I heard what happened to Anne, I had already written to my solicitor and requested him to wait upon me at nine tomorrow morning to address what to do about my sister. Clearly things are much worse at Rosings than I could have ever imagined. We must now also review Lewis de Bourgh’s will to confirm that Anne was to have inherited her father’s entire estate at twenty-five.

That includes locating the executor and trustee of the estate.

If Sir Lewis named Catherine, then she has defrauded Anne of her money and property.

If he named someone else, either she has conspired with that person or she has deceived the rightful executor and usurped the position.

“In addition to the question of the inheritance, my sister has committed a number of grievous crimes.

Once we have dealt with Rosings, we need to identify and assist or compensate all of her victims. Among them are innocent members of several respectable families including the Bennets, the Darcys, and the Bingleys.

We must proceed in a way that protects the reputations of these families, and especially of the vulnerable young women. I will seek the advice of my solicitor.

“That is all for now, but there will be more, I assure you all.” He turned to Elizabeth with a smile. “Until this evening, Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Collins.”

Hunsford Parsonage, Kent - Monday, August 10, 18__

Mr. Collins ate a late and lonely supper in the dining room at the parsonage.

Because he was alone, he brought a book from his study to read as he ate.

It was a curious volume, old, leatherbound, and somewhat resembling a ledger.

It was in fact the hand-written journal of Dr. Oliver, which he had found among some books left in the study by previous occupants. He had been reading it all afternoon.

Dr. Oliver’s story was doubly tragic to another priest, though it would have broken anyone’s heart.

Because of Lady Catherine’s deceit, his punishment was severe indeed.

Though Anglican clergy were never defrocked, he was deprived by his bishop of the ability to preach, to celebrate Holy Communion, to bless, to absolve people of their sins; in short, to do anything at all to minister to his congregation.

As if that cup were not bitter enough, on the very evening of the day he received this awful sentence, a woman from the village had come to the door.

Her father was dying. Dr. Oliver was needed to comfort the man, to give him the last rites, to ease his passing.

Dr. Oliver had sent the woman away, and from that moment on, his heart had been broken.

His journal was a powerful testament to his faith, which he had never abandoned.

Mr. Collins rubbed his temples, where a headache seemed to be starting.

It would have been easy, so very easy, for Lady Catherine to ruin that good man and his daughter.

Had she bribed the churchwardens? Intimidated or blackmailed them, perhaps?

Was this her first taste of the benefits to be had by ruining the lives of others simply because she could?

Mr. Collins shook his head as he reflected on his own stubbornness and blindness.

Although he had not suffered as Dr. Oliver had, he had come perilously close to abandoning all of his responsibilities.

He might lose the living at Hunsford. But wherever he found himself, he was determined to exercise his ministry in a way that would be above reproach.

His only hope was that he would be able to take care of Charlotte.

As he sat, lost in thought, there was a loud knocking at the door and the sound of shouting in the front hall. Lady Catherine swept in, immaculately coiffed and gowned, and with every appearance of being sober. Mr. Collins rose courteously from his place at the table.

“Where is my daughter? What have you done with her? And where is your wife, Mr. Collins?”

“My wife has escorted Miss de Bourgh to a place of safety. That is all I am at liberty to tell you.”

She leaned forward so that her face was unpleasantly close to his, and flecks of spittle hit his face as she continued. “Do not cross me, Mr. Collins. I can make it very, very unpleasant for you. There are those who would support my case with the Bishop.”

“Would those be the same persons who falsely supported your case against the Reverend Doctor Charles Oliver?” Collins held up the book.

“His journal makes for interesting reading. Almost as interesting as the parish register from twenty-six years ago. The difference is that the journal is not missing any of its pages.”

She tried to snatch the book from him, and when she failed, she turned and left the room without a word.

Collins, watching from the doorway, saw Darcy’s man waiting silently near the back stairs.

He followed Lady Catherine out, staying well back in the shadows, and in a few moments, he heard her carriage rumble down the lane toward Rosings.

Brook Street, London - Monday, August 10, 18__

The dinner had turned out to be a great success, given Elizabeth’s state of nerves beforehand.

Charlotte had written her letter home, washed, rested, and dressed in the gown Jenny had found for her.

Anne, looking much better after her nap, was escorted down after dinner to join the others in the drawing room.

Her uncle embraced her fondly and spoke reassuringly of her safety, though his shock at her appearance could not be entirely hidden.

Although there were intervals of serious talk, the entire party had done their best to ensure that the conversation was light, pleasant, and relaxing.

Darcy was always at his best with close friends and family, and Elizabeth realized with a little stab of delight that she formed part of that circle now.

She was also pleased with her simple gown of ivory silk, and she had worn the sapphires.

Their guests left after tea, and Charlotte and Anne begged to be excused shortly thereafter.

Elizabeth and Darcy picked up their candles and started up the stairs arm in arm.

When they reached the hallway to their rooms, Darcy said quietly, “Send your maid away.” The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice sent a delightful shiver through her, and she nodded.

When she had sent Jenny away and passed into his room, she found him waiting for her in his shirtsleeves. “I think the Earl noticed the sapphires,” she said with a smile. “Though he did not say anything.”

“He is too much of a gentleman to say anything so personal. But he noticed. And so did I.” Her preference for gowns with square-cut necklines that showed a discreet decolletage was not lost on Darcy, and this particular neckline had kept his senses on a knife-edge all evening.

He wanted nothing more at present than to explore that line between ivory silk and snowy breast, and he closed the distance between them in an instant, covering her with kisses until she moaned and pulled his face up to meet hers.

The gown and its heavy petticoats were discarded, and she stood before him in nothing but the gleaming necklace. He ran a finger around it and said roughly, “It is nothing when compared with your eyes.”

Elizabeth, never taking her eyes off him, reached up to begin removing the combs and pins from her hair. “No, not this time,” he said, reaching out a hand to stop her. “The next time I see you gowned and coiffed for the evening, I want to remember making love to you like this.”

Later, when they lay together spoon-fashion in the wide bed, he helped her remove the necklace so that it would not injure her skin as she slept.