Hello everybody! I hope you're ready for the ever increasing levels of angst in this story! :-) And please read the note at the end of this chapter for a special announcement!

Elizabeth hardly knew what to think. She remained rooted in place, her hands clenched at her side, as thoughts whirled in her head. Then she began pacing back and forth in the narrow room.

Who could she talk to or confide in? She must speak to Darcy, of course! Regardless of their present misunderstanding, he was still the man she had married, the one who had appeared at her side to save her and Jules from an angry mob. He would know what to do!

Clearly she could not become a spy for Wickham! Of course she could not! Every fiber in her being rebelled at the thought. But if she didn't, what, then, would become of her aunt and uncle? Would Wickham denounce them? Would he truly be willing to hurt her family just to hurt her? She could not live with herself if they and Jules met a miserable end when she could have saved them.

On the other hand, maybe she could do as Wickham asked, listen to the gossip at the upcoming ball and tell Wickham whatever she heard. It would be a simple exercise. There was no knowing what she might hear, or if it would have any significance. In fact the more she considered this option, the more appealing it became.

What gossip could she hear that would possibly be of any importance here in London? Nobody here was in fear for their lives. And she did not have to repeat what she heard faithfully. She could even invent items of gossip out of whole cloth and give them to Wickham as if they were the gospel truth. He would be none the wiser and she would get the information she needed. It would be gratifying to her feelings, to pay Wickham back in kind for the way he had deceived her.

But almost immediately she saw the weaknesses in this plan. Wickham was clever; he would have thought of the possibility of her crossing him. Most likely he would not carry out his end of the bargain before confirming that she had done hers. And even if he didn't, there was always the chance that something she made up might damage another person in some unforeseen way. She could not live with herself if that happened. Her pacing increased. Darcy must have some solution to this crisis!

Elizabeth stopped in mid step. Wickham had threatened to hurt her uncle if she spoke to Darcy about any of this. Yet how would Wickham possibly find out what she did in her own home? He would have to have preternatural abilities to know what she and Darcy discussed behind closed doors. But Wickham knew, or said that he knew when she and Darcy had married, how they had left the city, and even the reason her aunt and uncle did not follow them immediately.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch when she reached the obvious conclusion. Wickham had spies in France; he must have placed one in her uncle's home in Paris! That was the only way he could have found out so much about what happened there. And if he had a spy in that setting, did he also have one in Darcy house? The walls of the study suddenly seemed to close in on her. Servants knew everything that happened in a home. Which of the faces she saw around her every day were in Wickham's employ? Which of them might even now be reporting her words and actions to their master? How infuriating, to think that her private life might not be so private after all!

To tell Darcy about Wickham's visit might endanger her aunt and uncle, but not telling him would also have consequences. There were no good options, only danger on every side. The safety of those she loved most was in her hands.

Darcy came home later than expected that night. His business with Bingley and the colonel had taken longer than he had planned, and then he had stopped at a florist's and bought a bouquet of lilies. The flowers were a peace offering, for he had made up his mind. He would speak to Elizabeth as soon as possible and mend their relationship. It was unbecoming of a gentleman to let such a minor disagreement set the tone in the house. He was the husband, the man of the house, the leader of their home. It was up to him to take the initiative and make things right. He could not tell her what she most wanted to know, of course, but he could reassure her of his devotion. And he could ask her to be patient. Soon, very soon, after the Gardiners were safely in London, he would finally tell her the secret behind his supposed business dealings. He only had to get them both through until then.

Darcy's plan lasted only until he had handed off his coat and hat to the nearest footman. With the bouquet in his hand he turned towards the hallway, ready to find Elizabeth. Just the thought of seeing her again gladdened his heart. But before he could go through the entryway Benson appeared at his elbow. He must have been waiting for his master's appearance. "If I may have a word with you, sir?"

"Not now, Benson, I am anxious to see my wife." Did he not see the flowers in his arms? Did he not comprehend their significance?

He took two steps before Benson coughed loudly, something the discreet butler only did in matters of the gravest importance. There would be no putting this off. Darcy slowly turned to face him. "This cannot wait?"

"I am afraid not, sir."

"What is it?"

Benson did not answer, but pointedly slanted his eyes towards the nearest footman.

"I see. Come into my study." In his four years in Darcy's service, Benson had shown a remarkable talent for sensing and protecting his master's interests. This must be serious indeed.

As they entered the study Benson made a point of closing the door of the room before standing at full attention and waiting for Darcy to address him. Darcy placed the bouquet carefully on his desk but remained standing behind it. He nodded at the servant. "Go ahead."

"It is about Mrs. Darcy, sir."

"What about her?"

"She had a caller this morning."

Darcy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "My wife receives many callers. I take it there must have been something unusual about this one."

"It was a gentleman, sir. He refused to give his name."

The short statement took Darcy aback. "He?" he repeated. "My wife had a gentleman caller?"

"Yes. Please understand that I would not have brought this to your attention if I were not gravely concerned for Mrs. Darcy's welfare. Also, you did ask me to let you know of any unusual occurrences in the house. A gentleman who would not give his name seemed . . . irregular."

Darcy frowned. "What did he look like?"

"Not as tall as you, sir, and perhaps a few years younger. Fair haired."

"Did my wife agree to see him?"

"She did, sir. They were together in the parlor, with the door closed."

"I am surprised at you, Benson! Surely you are not alleging that . . .

The butler looked pained. "Forgive me, sir, I mean no disrespect to Mrs. Darcy. I am sure her behavior was quite proper in every respect. They were only together for a few minutes. He then left the house."

"And you've no idea who he was?"

"None whatsoever."

Darcy considered this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "I will ask her about him, of course. How did she seem after his visit? Was she distressed?"

"She seemed somewhat . . . distracted. She went upstairs and kept to herself for some time. When she came out again she called for a carriage to take her to Mrs. Bingley. Ordinarily, sir, I would not think any of this was my business. The only reason I decided to mention it to you was, as you recall, that you wanted to be notified of anything out of the ordinary."

"I understand. What else can you tell me about this unknown gentleman?"

The butler searched his memory. "He was quite well dressed. His clothing was French, but he himself was English."

Darcy looked up sharply.

"Are you certain? Absolutely certain that he was English?"

"Undoubtedly, sir. His clothing may have been foreign but he himself was a native of this land."

Darcy sat down heavily behind his desk, the flowers forgotten. His mind was whirling. "I think you should tell me about this caller from the very beginning, Benson. Tell me every detail you can possibly remember; leave nothing out."

Elizabeth heard Darcy return at the end of the day and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror. Their custom was to come together when Darcy returned home in the late afternoon, a pattern they had followed faithfully, and she was not going to change it now. She must not give her husband the least reason for suspicion.

When she reached the first floor she was disappointed to find that Darcy had disappeared into the study, with the door closed behind him, instead of coming to find her. Up until now he had made a point of seeking her out first every afternoon. It was another example of the new distance between them. She retreated to the parlor to wait for him to come out.

When she heard the study door open she moved in that direction, nearly colliding with Benson. Had he just met with her husband? Benson apologized and bowed to her before continuing on his way. Darcy was right behind him, his expression unreadable as he looked at her. He nodded politely, his hands behind his back.

"Welcome home," she said rather formally, wondering if he would greet her with a kiss on the cheek as he had usually done. Darcy hesitated a moment before he leaned down and performed the ritual perfunctorily.

"I thank you." Darcy's voice was as polite as though speaking to a stranger. "How was your day?" He might as well have asked about the weather.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I had a letter from mama, and Jane and I went to the dressmaker's. The Queen Charlotte ball is next week, you know, and I needed to have one of my gowns repaired."

"That sounds pleasant." There was an awkward pause. "Benson mentioned that you had a gentleman caller today."

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot about him. He was a merchant."

Darcy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A merchant, coming to our home to sell his wares?"

"He was not selling anything. He specializes in French clothing. He heard that we just came from France and he wanted to know about the latest styles there, to be sure that his wares are not out of date."

"I hope you were able to set his mind at ease."

"I believe so. We will not see him here again."

"It sounds like you had an unremarkable day."

Was it her imagination, or did her husband's eyes narrow slightly as he made the statement? "Utterly unremarkable," she agreed.

The door to Darcy's study, behind him, was open, and a flash of color caught her attention. She was surprised to see a bouquet of lilies on the desk, lying as if they had been set aside and forgotten. "Did you bring flowers home for me? More lilies?" Perhaps he was not as indifferent to her as she thought.

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. I stopped for flowers on the way home but after I bought them I realized that they are somewhat faded. You would not want them."

Elizabeth was confused. "But I love lilies! And they look fresh, not faded."

"You may have them if you wish; it makes no difference to me. They were attractive from a distance but they do not bear closer scrutiny." He shrugged. "Sometimes appearances are deceiving."

"I thank you regardless." She passed by him and retrieved the flowers, then passed him again, the flowers in hand. "I will take these to the kitchen to have them arranged in a vase. Shall I see you for dinner shortly?"

"Of course." He inclined his head as she went around the corner, and Elizabeth's footsteps faded down the hall. But if she had turned back or somehow caught a glimpse of her husband just then, she would have seen a look of deep disappointment on Darcy's face.

What would you do in Elizabeth's place? Would you tell your husband and hope for the best or try to outwit the bad guy yourself? Elizabeth has made her choice and now we have to wait and see how it plays out.

And now for a special announcement: my collection of short stories, Stories to Make You Smile, is being released on Amazon this weekend! It has short stories based on Pride and Prejudice and one special short story for fans of North and South! I hope you enjoy all of them! Thank you so much for your feedback, comments and support. This is truly a wonderful community. -Elaine Owen