As Mr. Wickham continued his narrative, it was clear to any who knew Fitzwilliam Darcy that he had unraveled the identities of the unnamed individuals and was enraged. It was also unavoidably obvious that he did not believe a single word of the other man's tale.

He coldly asked, 'Shall I hazard a guess, Wickham, as to what is to come next in your account? The girl's brother, having previously arranged to visit his young sister, chose to surprise her by arriving a day early. By doing so, he inadvertently happened upon the rescue effort and mistook it for an astonishingly ill-advised scheme of elopement; this impression was supported by the excited young lady's wish to reveal her plans to her elder brother, hoping for his blessing.'

Here he stopped but momentarily and closed his eyes. Reopening them, he resumed with feeling, 'Am I to credit you - and in addition to your many abhorrent actions in our younger days, you remain the man who refused the living offered you in my father's will and went on to deceive innumerable persons as to our mutual roles in that arrangement - with such a benevolent intention? Do I look a fool to you?' At that, he arose and walked away from the chairs to stand in front of a bookcase, examining the titles of the books found there without ever truly seeing them.

After several minutes of silence, Darcy's irate voice came again. 'More distressing a question is how did you persuade Anne of your possessing a modicum of worth? She is the granddaughter of an Earl and, as I am certain you well know, her inheritance is quite substantial. What are you to her? The son of Pemberley's late steward, in opposition to her noble lineage? It is a disparagement. My disappointment, though, is in my cousin; she is usually more discerning and not easily misled by agreeable manners.'

On hearing his beloved's name, Mr. Wickham sat straighter in his chair and the other occupants of the bookroom could see his indignation on her behalf. 'You may speak as you wish, sir, on myself for I have never given you reason to think well of me, but do not slander my wife. She is a good woman and does not deserve your wrath. As to your other charge, do you not recall my father mentioning his cousin's property? It is how he became so proficient in his position. My grandfather was the younger son of Longstone Hall and my father was but a third son of his, with no hope of inheriting. In his youth, my father would often visit Longstone at the bidding of his uncle and he thus learned much about the running of an estate.'

Observing that Mr. Darcy was not prepared to converse civilly with her other guest, Mrs. Bennet inquired calmly, 'Your wife, Mr. Wickham? You had not yet gotten to that part of your narrative. Pray continue.'

As he was to be absent for a prolonged period, his betrothed determined that they should marry prior to his departure. They called upon the elderly cleric in a nearby village whom the daughter of the estate had befriended and he agreed to covertly perform the ceremony in three weeks' time. The banns were to be read but silently, so that the requirement was fulfilled without the threat of discovery. On the appointed day, she was to take her daily drive through the park and he would meet her just outside of the estate boundary. All went according to design and they returned man and wife. There had been precisely one occasion where they had semblance enough of solitude to fortify themselves against the imminent separation.

Despite their discretion, on the path back to house, they were met by several large men known to be in the employ of his wife's mother, who requested the immediate attendance of the couple. Left with no recourse but to accede, they accompanied the guards into a chamber preferred by the Mistress for its decor and the thickness of its doors and walls. There, they learned that the penalty for disobedience would customarily be death but, in this case, there were significant extenuating circumstances.

He had been charged with a task and, in his employer's opinion, he was the only person equal to accomplishing this undertaking. To assure herself of his loyalty and cooperation, however, the Mistress of the estate warned him that his beloved would be incarcerated and treated as a prisoner until he returned, successful. With an inducement such as this, it was unsurprising that he set off immediately to complete his mission.

Continuing his tale, Wickham commented, 'As you have likely ascertained, my trip was not successful. Darcy arrived just prior to our departure and removed his sister from my care before I could explain the situation in its entirety. Even now, I cannot promise with any certainty that she is altogether safe. My employer was not best pleased on my return and, thus, Mrs. Wickham remains locked in her rooms with no trusted conduit to ensure her health and comfort -'

'So it is true? You have wed my cousin?' Although the question was asked with impatience, Mr. Darcy did not wait for a reply to his interruption and said, mostly to himself, 'But could it be?'

As often occurred, there was truth in Wickham's look but Fitzwilliam Darcy knew him well enough to discern whether this was his usual practiced truth of an experienced deceiver; no, as Darcy examined his countenance, he could detect only honesty and perhaps - concern? Possibly even fear?

That was a novel and rather unsettling thought.

'If your words are accurate, Anne is being held captive by my aunt, her own mother. Unbelievable as your marriage might be, portraying Lady Catherine de Bourgh as an unfeeling, uncaring intriguer of the worst kind is beyond the pale. I had rather thought that to be your bailiwick.'

Struck by another thought, Mr. Darcy rapidly strode from his stance near the bookshelves and came to stand directly in front of George Wickham. He placed his hands on the arms of the seated man's chair and leant down, stopping merely inches from the other's face.

'Wickham - what are you doing here? Let us suppose that I accept all that you have said - then to what purpose precisely were you sent to Meryton?'

Mr. Wickham's countenance became pallid and frightened and he glanced at all occupants of the room before responding, 'I . . . ah, I have not quite finished my explanation. It is just . . . that is . . . . oh d-.'

Stopping and clearing his throat, he turned toward Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and said in a pleading tone, 'You comprehend my dilemma and why I was all but forced to seek out your group? I was given two choices: fulfill my orders or return and be killed - then what would become of my wife? She will be wholly at the mercy of her ruthless mother.'

'And the Mistress of that estate wished you to do what, Mr. Wickham?' quizzed an attentive Mrs. Bennet.

With an ashamed expression, Wickham muttered, 'To halt your league and to kidnap Darcy.' At that man's outraged exclamation, he explained further, 'There were two assignments given and both were of equal importance to my employer. She had desired to conduct business on several of the most lucrative roads but had been told of the difficulty in this locale for any wrong-doing to occur. In consequence, a number of her men have been stationed in this area for a short while to determine the origin of the difficulty. It appears that the closer to Meryton, the more rapid the reply to any assault; ergo, we have been sent to this specific place to discover the exact peoples who are causing such an interruption of her schemes. We were to begin our search with the principal families of the neighborhood. Mr. Bennet, your cousin is on a similar mission as myself; however, his I believe to be of a more murderous nature than my own.'

As a lion raises its head from a kill still steaming, maw stained and dripping with the gore of what had been living but a short time before, wondering who would dare to interrupt its meal, so this beast slowly turned its attention from the bound and bloody figure lying motionless on a table. His garments and self were stained and splattered; the knife in his hand was coated in crimson. Most frightening of all was the sound of his laughter, his vicious laughter amidst such butchery..

The young man opening the door to this small cabin had come in search of the source of the distressing cries reverberating throughout the surrounding park but could not move, could not comprehend the sight that met his eyes on stepping through the door frame.

Before he could aim his rifle at the intruder, the miscreant gave another chilling laugh and all but threw himself past the young man. There was no time to shoot; now he was present, now he was not. For one who had been reared on this estate, the notion of such an evil person to have this great a familiarity with the land? It was deeply alarming.

The young master advanced into the room, in part morbidly curious and in part affrighted of the poor girl who had the grave misfortune of having known that fiend, for though the unclad body was covered in blood as if in a garment, she had undoubtedly been female. He walked forward, wondering if this person had relations who would be concerned about her continued absence, and if there were aught he could do. He knew there were blankets to be found in the far corner; she should not have to face death in this manner. Incapable of taking a deep breath for the smell and the fear and the terrible tension, he kept his eyes on all that he could see of her head as he crept closer. He carefully covered her up to her neck, as if any person could mistake her as sleeping; he happened to truly notice her features.

And began screaming, unable to stop.

The next afternoon, Lydia and Kitty were out walking along a little used lane when they encountered Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham in earnest conversation but on noticing the sisters, they moved to greet the young ladies. In two pairs they strolled until Lydia saw that her sister and Mr. Denny had slowed and wandered off the path. Using hand signals known only to these two girls, Kitty let her sister know that she and Mr. Denny would rejoin Lydia soon, possibly about ten or fifteen minutes hence.

Seeing an opportunity to impress Mr. Wickham, Lydia began to flirt outrageously, for she was certain that he could not fail to be fascinated. When the handsome officer replied that he would rather she not do that, she was puzzled. Did not every man, unless he was married - and even certain of those - wish a little flirtation?

Mr. Wickham was about to disabuse her of that notion when they heard others approaching and Lydia was prepared to call for her sister to hurry. But the people did not sound like Kitty and Mr. Denny. Recognizing one of the voices and warning Lydia to be perfectly quiet, Wickham pulled her quickly away from the lane and surveyed their immediate surroundings for possible spots in which to hide. Not there. . . . . not there . . . . . aha!

Some short steps away but overgrown and partly obscured, he saw a worn footbridge spanning the dry bed of what appeared to have been at one time a nicely-sized stream. The strength of fright gave him speed and they were safely secreted in the leafy greenness and shadows beneath the bridge.

It was none too soon. Two men strode along the small road, stepping without care for discretion, as if they were certain that not another soul was about, and stopped on spying the old footbridge.

'Ah, here's the nasty thing. We can talk now for there in't any around. I tell you, it in't usual. We's losing men and I can' stop it. Her Ladyship said this was a good area for business but I don' know if she's right this time. I think we should jus' go and tell her to find another place.' Lydia's eyes were wide open, unlike her mouth, which moved slightly but remained very much closed. Despite being shut, Wickham could hear a faint hiss from her which resolved into a faintly audible 'That is Mr. Collins?!' He nodded but placed his finger upon his mouth to indicate continued silence.

The other fellow responded, 'This used to be a good spot. But I've been gone for a while - it has been upwards of two years - so I cannot speak to whether it persists in being an easy target.'

Mr. Collins queried, 'Whad you do, Pearson? It could not ha' been too bad or you would not be in England now.'

'For that,' answered Mr. Pearson, 'It is simple. She was the daughter of some attorney - Phipps? Phillips? - and she said that she did not do 'those types of things'. Oh, she did after a bit of persuasion but I could not have her talk later, so she had to be gotten rid of. I had to leave for a while because people were asking questions.'

The two men spoke for another five minutes plotting further actions before removing from the immediate vicinity. When Mr. Wickham advised that it was finally safe to emerge from under the bridge's beams, Lydia all but exploded in fury.

'Pearson! He killed her! That . . . that depraved, low, common pile of rubbish. I will do the same to him and worse.' Lydia did not realize but, in that moment of fury, she greatly resembled her sister Elizabeth.

Feeling that here was a detail of import, Mr. Wickham asked carefully, 'You knew the girl?'

'Oh certainly! Her name is Rachel Phillips - not Phipps, the stupid fool - and she is my cousin. Her mother is sister to my mother. But -' Her words ceased and Lydia became still; she was contemplating something. Shortly, she shuddered and picked up again, 'We must go to my mother. Now. She has to know what we heard.'

Mr. Darcy found himself walking behind Longbourn, escorted by Elizabeth Bennet at the behest of that lady's mother, through the trees and toward the hidden barn. He was displeased with the outcome of his earlier interview but recognized that his intention in returning to Longbourn was, in fact, to do what he was now about to embark upon - gleaning all he could regarding the Watchers' methods and ways. He felt deeply unsettled, for his stated purpose in this county was to protect his land and people from the likes of George Wickham. But Wickham, according to his testimony, no longer wished to be a threat. Could he trust the man's word?

As they walked, Elizabeth realized that her role as guide to Mr. Darcy necessitated patience and politeness; they therefore must have some speech together, even if it be inane.

'Mr. Darcy, you are from Derbyshire; perhaps you have heard of a town called Lambton? My aunt, wife to my mother's brother, spent part of her life there and she swears by the untamed beauty of the area.' Elizabeth assumed that he could hardly decline to discuss environs familiar, and likely dear, to himself.

He replied, 'I do know of the town for it is but five miles from Pemberley and am in agreement with your aunt's assessment of the county. It has a wildness to it that is a pleasing contrast to the ordered squares of the breadbasket counties.'

'As you appreciate the place, does that imply that you prefer to spend most of your time at your home? For if the question were put to me, I would assure you that I am awfully partial to Hertfordshire as my residence over other locales and would endeavor to remain in its borders more often than not. The favor of a place dwells in its inhabitants, does it not?' asked she.

'Ah, he answered, 'But you have not seen enough of the kingdom to compare, have you? On visiting other districts, you might discover that the fascination for those features so loved in one site is diminished when compared to the characteristics of a different region.'

It must have been the uneasy state of the gentleman's emotions and his near to complete distraction that caused him to be almost entirely unguarded in his replies; consequently, Elizabeth found her conversation with Mr. Darcy to be almost agreeable in this instance and she was astonished at his well-hidden but pleasant ability. However, her opinion was quite settled on this score: He was a difficult man, one who could find little with which to be satisfied and could not be an enjoyable companion. He disliked her and disdained the necessary efforts of the Watchmen; how could she find anything to admire in such a man?

Rather unexpectedly, Mr. Darcy asked, 'How ever did your family determine to begin the Watchmen? I had intended to inquire of Mrs. Bennet today but . . . . . was unable.'

'Pardon?' Elizabeth was too shocked at his presumption for further speech, which went unnoticed as Mr. Darcy had not yet finished speaking.

'Was it simply too many thefts? Truly, it must have been something quite ghastly -' but he got no further, for Elizabeth turned to him in great anger; her curled fists held tightly to her sides so as not to strike him .

'Sir, I have been asked to give you the respect due to a guest and a gentleman. But I find myself unable to do so when you unfeelingly ask home questions and in the most reprehensible and callous manner. Perhaps it might best if we were to return to my mother and request that she send another in my place for I do not feel equal to your presence any longer.' Thus saying, she turned away from their destination and began walking with all rapidity back to Longbourn.

'Wait, Miss Bennet,' called out Darcy, 'I beg you.' The entreaty and absence of his usual indifferent tone was so uncommon that Elizabeth halted her progress and rotated to face the gentleman, though she would not be the one to close the distance. He approached her with caution, looking somewhat discomfited, and said with stiff formality, 'It was not my intention to injure you and I extend my apologies if my conduct was lacking. If it is too distressing for you to explain, please disregard my inquiry.'

Not completely satisfied - but recognizing what his admission must have cost the proud man - she nodded and agreed to continue on toward their original goal. However, she remained irritated with him and pledged to herself that no more speech than was necessary would cross her lips.