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“Why, I would have married George Darcy in place of Anne, you fool. It would have been a brilliant match, the union of two of the finest fortunes in all England with the added ornament of a noble title.” She paused, and Darcy heard the chink of the bottle against her glass.

“I still might have done it. A few well-placed pillows and a little mishap with the linen press should have eliminated both of you at the same time—had it not been for that worthless weasel of a nursemaid. I hope she is burning in hell where she belongs.”

Lord Matlock thought of the beloved Nurse, as she was always called, enthroned like a little wizened queen in her apartments near the nursery at Matlock. Adored, cosseted, and constantly visited by three generations of Fitzwilliams, she was part of the soul of his home. He said nothing.

“But people have always stood in my way. Always. Until Darcy married that wretched girl, I still had hopes of uniting two wonderful fortunes. But all hope is gone. Even my investments have gone awry. I set up that exquisite men’s club in Audley Street, and Elizabeth Bennet could have been its brightest ornament.

Headstrong, ungrateful girl!” She began to sob uncontrollably.

“I hate you! I hate all of you! Go and leave me in peace!”

Darcy heard the glass fall to the floor and shatter. A quick look into the room revealed that Lord Matlock was attempting to guide his sister gently towards the exit to the porte-cochère. His cousin came up beside him, saying quietly, “I am here. We should go in now.”

They entered the room, and when their aunt caught sight of them, she screamed, “Help! Murder!” and collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

Although she was a tall woman, her brother was taller.

He picked her up, threw her over one shoulder, and started toward the door.

The two younger men fell into place behind him, and Lady Catherine lifted her head and regarded them malevolently.

“You!” she hissed. “Both of you! You are all conspiring against me.”

As they walked down the steps and approached the carriage, a woman who was obviously Lady Catherine’s maid approached with a small wineglass. “Here you are, my lady. A little composer to help you relax. I’ve mixed it with some of that port wine you favor.”

The Earl set his sister down, and as he kept an iron grip on her elbow, she drank the composer greedily.

“Now, Cathy. We are simply taking you to the dower house for a few days so that your sitting room can be put to rights. You do not want to live in a house where the workmen are hammering and painting. It will all be done in less than a week.”

They were able to place her in the closed carriage without incident, and once the maid had been assisted in, the door was closed.

The coachman and head groom were on the box, and two liveried footmen had climbed up behind.

Parker and two men led at the front, while Darcy and Fitzwilliam would bring up the rear.

“We are back here,” explained his cousin, “so that she does not see us, for we are sure to set her off again.”

The drive to the dower house took all of ten minutes.

Darcy noted that it was well situated on slightly rising ground.

A garden surrounded it, full of well mown grass and decorated with the well-manicured topiary favored by Lady Catherine, and mercifully lacking in any masses of flowers or concealing shrubbery.

The ancient Tudor house was small, more like a cottage really, and consisted of two stories.

The whole was set against a lightly wooded area of the park, and there was a seldom-used lane to Hunsford not far away.

Darcy had to admit that his aunt would be easier to manage in this small place.

Indeed, she was taken into the house with very little trouble, having fallen into a deep slumber. Her brother carried her in, followed by Marks. The two nurses were waiting inside, and once she had been deposited in the largest upstairs chamber, her brother departed.

“She is asleep already,” he informed his son and nephew. He instructed the coachmen and other riders to return to the stable and turned again. “Let us return to the rectory. There are a few items we need to settle, and then Darcy, I am sure you will want to be on your way. Parker, please join us.”

Mr. Collins had a meal laid out for them, and they ate gratefully.

“She is quiet now, but she will not be quiet long,” observed the earl.

“As I recall, she and Lewis spent part of their honeymoon in that house while repairs and renovations were being done at Rosings. It was in poor shape when he inherited it. Let us hope she regards this as a sentimental holiday, though I doubt she will.”

“I plan to leave London on Sunday after church,” said Darcy. “I will bring my wife, Anne, and Mrs. Collins. My apologies for causing them to travel on the Sabbath, Mr. Collins, but it is necessary.”

“Say no more, sir. I am grateful for your kindness to my wife. It is sensible not to expose the ladies to this atmosphere for any longer than is necessary.” Once again, Darcy was baffled.

Collins’ voice had completely lost the obsequious, wheedling tone it once had, and he merely sounded like one man thanking another.

“Depending on the length of the inquest, I will escort them back to London either on Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. It makes sense for them to remain under my protection in London until my aunt has left for Matlock.”

Collins nodded. “I agree. I shall urge Mrs. Collins to return with you until it is completely safe here, but the final decision will rest with her.”

“So, Uncle, is there anything else you require from London?”

“I do not believe so. We will meet you at Rosings on Sunday evening.”

“And what is to be done about Anne? She cannot return to Rosings without a companion.”

“It is something I have on my mind, Fitzwilliam. She may need to reside with you until we can locate someone suitable. I know it will not be Mrs. Jenkinson. Anne feels she has been betrayed by that woman.”

“Miss de Bourgh is more than welcome to stay with us here at the parsonage until a suitable companion can be located, if she desires to return to the neighborhood. She seems to have developed a friendship with Mrs. Collins.”

Again, no sign of any obsequious toad-eating, undue sentiment, or anything aside from a neighbor wishing to be helpful.

Darcy was beginning to believe that the recent events had wrought a change in William Collins.

“Good, then. It is good to have these things settled. I had best start for home now if I wish to be there before dark.” Darcy shook hands with Collins, Parker, and Fitzwilliam and bowed to his uncle.

A groom brought his horse up from the stables, and within a half-hour, Darcy was turning onto the London road accompanied by the two of Parker’s hand-picked men who would escort them back into Kent for the inquest. Darcy said almost nothing on the two-hour ride home.

His mind was engaged with what he had seen of his aunt.

She seemed seriously deranged. Totally preoccupied with herself, she had not a thought to spare for family or loved ones, not even her own flesh and blood.

He concluded that the inquest on Monday was a good and beneficial thing.

She must not be allowed to continue to act in the world.

But she would not take kindly to being thwarted and exposed.

With such gloomy thoughts as these, the two-hour ride from Hunsford seemed to drag endlessly, but eventually they turned into Brook Street.

Darcy left the two men with his thanks and a few final instructions for Sunday afternoon.

He noted with pleasure that the windows were alight in the gathering dusk.

A groom came out to take his tired horse, and as he dismounted a small, graceful figure darted out of the house and down the front steps.

He folded his Elizabeth into his arms, and after a moment they walked into the house together.

“Let me go up and change, Lizzy. I am not fit to be seen.”

“We have all agreed to have supper in our rooms, dearest. You may go up and relax and not see anyone but me.”

They went upstairs arm in arm, and when they had gained the privacy of their room, Darcy took Elizabeth into his arms. “I would spare you what is to come, Lizzy. I would spare you if I could.”

“Oh, my love, it does not matter. She is powerless now—a poor deluded woman worthy of our pity. She cannot harm me.”

Elizabeth helped Darcy take off his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. Then she looked at him. “You have a headache, my dearest love.”

“Nonsense. I never have headaches.”

“No man ever has headaches, but you have one.” She sat in her chair. “Can you be comfortable sitting on the floor?”

“Of course, I can.” He came and seated himself at her feet.

Slowly and gently, she began to massage his scalp and temples, just as he had done for her.

Her hands searched for all those tense and knotted muscles in his neck, though because he was strong, she had to work hard on them.

Before she had finished, he turned his head, nestled his cheek into her lap, and fell asleep.

“How I love you,” she whispered, and before long she slept as well.