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He pulled her close to him and spoke into her hair. “You are right, of course, my dearest Lizzy. But I cannot help wondering if there are any more.” He sighed. “I must go, but I will return in a couple of hours. Try to take a rest this afternoon before the evening’s entertainment.”

“Fitzwilliam, there is one more thing.”

“You have only to name it, Lizzy.”

“Those poor little children that were in that place. My heart tells me that they will be better off with Uncle’s neighbor, Evan Caldwell, than they would be at an orphanage. He and Anna will arrange for care that is more compassionate.” Tears stood in her eyes.

“You are perfectly right, Lizzy. Love and compassion cost nothing, yet for children such as those, they are everything. My understanding is that the children were kidnapped but had not been harmed. With kindness and gentle questioning, it may be possible to locate their relations. I will write to Evan Caldwell this afternoon when I return home.”

Elizabeth left him with a kiss and returned to her sitting room. Her guests were delighted with the prospect of an evening out. “I must write a note,” said Elizabeth. “But when I have finished, let us go to my dressing room and send for Jenny.”

After the note had been dispatched, they went upstairs. Jenny grasped the situation perfectly and left them, returning from Georgiana’s abundant wardrobe with enchanting evening gowns for Anne and Charlotte. The problem of Anne’s bandage was solved by a pretty zephyr shawl from Elizabeth’s things.

Jenny turned her attention to Elizabeth. “Will you wear the new diamond set this evening, Mrs. Darcy?”

“The necklace and earrings, but not the pendant brooch.”

Jenny smiled and nodded and reached into the wardrobe, emerging with a silk gown in deep rose.

It featured the square neckline Elizabeth favored, and the bodice had been embroidered in silk that was very close to the color of the gown itself.

The only other decoration was three deep tucks at the hem, and the gown closed at the back with a row of small buttons.

“It is not a color I generally wear. ”

Charlotte put her hands together. “But oh, Lizzy. How it suits you.”

“Then I will wear the pink topaz set instead, Jenny.”

The three ladies were very merry at luncheon. Elizabeth and Charlotte were especially glad to see the way Anne attacked the offering of fruit with every appearance of enjoyment.

“It does me good to see you enjoying your food, Anne.” Elizabeth offered her the bowl of grapes. “Fruit is so nourishing, and it is so very good for you.”

“And it is so very, very delicious.” Anne smiled and broke off another small bunch of grapes.

As they were finishing, Elizabeth was struck with a sudden headache. Charlotte noticed immediately. “You do look pale, Lizzy. Perhaps you should go and lie down.”

“I believe I will, if you ladies will be comfortable without me.”

“We will be resting, too.”

Elizabeth excused herself and went upstairs.

Bypassing her own room, she entered the room she and Darcy now shared.

She had soon drawn the curtains, and she lay down and closed her eyes.

She knew she should ring for hartshorn and water, but the room was so peaceful that she tried to relax.

She heard the door open, and then Darcy was standing beside her, looking down.

“I was told you had a sudden headache, dearest love. Shall I send for your maid?”

“No,” she replied, reaching out for his hand. “Only stay a little while if you like. I am glad you are here.”

“I will be back in just a moment.” He disappeared into his dressing room and returned minutes later in his shirtsleeves.

“Can you sit up? Lean back on me.” He assisted her, and soon she was leaning back against his solid form.

He began to remove the pins and combs from her hair, drawing them out carefully one by one.

He caught its weight in his hands as it fell, drawing it gently over her shoulder.

Then she felt the tips of his fingers begin to massage her scalp, moving in delicate circles, then growing firmer, then moving to include her temples.

Finally, his hands searched out her neck and shoulders, finding all the little knots of soreness that had made her miserable.

These he worked at, one by one, until all had disappeared.

And when he had done all of that, he brushed out her hair, working the tangles free with his fingers until he heard her give a little moan of pure delight.

“Does that feel better, Lizzy?” he whispered against her ear. “Could you sleep a little now?”

“Mmm, I could sleep for a week,” she replied, not moving from where she lay against his shoulder. “Can you stay? But we must leave word to be awakened by five.”

“I have already done so, my dearest girl.” He helped her to lie down, pulled a quilt over her, and got in beside her, curling his tall form behind her. In moments they were both deeply asleep.

Later, as she dressed, Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

The theater had always been a rare treat for her, and tonight they would hear The Marriage of Figaro.

She put on her earrings, and Jenny clasped the beautiful pink topaz necklace about her neck.

She picked up her gloves and her fan. “Be sure you have seen to the others, Jenny, and then take the rest of the evening off. I will see you in the morning.”

Darcy was standing by the fire in their bedroom, and a rare smile brightened his face. “You are ravishing, Mrs. Darcy.” He gave her his arm, and the two walked downstairs to join the others.

The theater was crowded with what seemed like thousands of people. Nevertheless, there was a slight hush as they entered the Earl’s box, just as there had been at the church. The Earl escorted Anne, the Darcys followed, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Collins brought up the rear.

Elizabeth was slightly uneasy as she turned to her husband. “I feel as though they are all staring at us.”

“No, they are not. They are all staring at you, my dearest.”

Rosings, Kent - Tuesday, August 11, 18__

She poured herself another measure of brandy and began to pace back and forth in the large drawing room.

Her private sitting room with its ink-stained walls and shattered glass, was no longer fit to be used.

Her fury over Darcy’s marriage was white-hot, and she considered what must be done to end it.

The trollop would be dealt with, properly this time.

Her body would be found floating in the Thames.

But where was Wickham? If he had disappeared, she would require new recruits.

No matter, there were plenty of able-bodied servants at Rosings who would be happy for a little extra money.

Now that she thought about it, however, Rosings had grown eerily quiet in the days following Anne’s headlong flight and disappearance.

She had seen very few people in the house.

Her meals were served to her in solitary splendor by Timmons and the first footman, and her maid, Marks, continued to dress her.

That much had not changed. But she no longer heard the steps of a footman in a corridor or the hushed voices or suppressed giggles of the housemaids.

Even Mrs. Jenkinson kept to her room, pleading illness.

Strangely, she did not recognize the few servants she did encounter in passing.

She had not stooped to chase after her traitorous daughter. Of course, the wretched chit must have fled to London. Well, let her go! She’d come crying back again soon enough when she wanted money. And when she did, her life would be a living hell .

Lady Catherine had not deigned to appear at the regular daily service of Morning Prayer, and that idiot, Collins, had not shown himself at the house.

Regretfully, she realized she might have to summon him to Rosings in order to assist her in finding someone to replace Wickham.

He should know of some desperate man in the village who would be vulnerable to a little blackmail.

She summoned a footman to carry her message to Hunsford, but when the footman answered the summons, she realized she had never seen him before.

Wells, Somersetshire - Tuesday, August 11, 18__

Caroline Bingley sat between her brother Charles and Sir Robert Carter in a crowded guild hall in the town of Wells, some eighteen miles from Bath.

Maria Carter and Caroline’s Uncle Bingley sat on the other side of Sir Robert.

The room had been set up as a courtroom, and Caroline and the Carters were present to testify in the assault and battery on Caroline and the murder of her footman.

She looked about her. The area where they were seated in the front row was reserved for witnesses.

Some of the other chairs were occupied by people she recognized, including the surgeon and the two constables from Bath.

She presumed that the others were bystanders from that fateful afternoon whom she had not seen .

She turned to her brother. “I am amazed at the number of spectators here. It is as if they were at a play. They will idle away an entire day watching a life-or-death struggle. It is so distasteful, and the noise is dreadful.”

“Indeed, they will watch this trial and several others besides,” replied Bingley. “But it is no different in London.”

A hush fell over the room, and Caroline realized that the judge had entered and gone to his seat behind a table on a platform set up in the front of the room.

Clad in the scarlet robes of his office, his red face peered out from a large wig.

Caroline thought he looked peevish or perhaps dyspeptic.

Before she had time to think, the jury filed in and took the seats provided for them.

Almost immediately, two shackled prisoners were escorted in to stand in the dock.

Her brother patted her gloved hand reassuringly and placed her arm through his.