A/N: You were all so mad about the last chapter's cliffy that I'm going to let you get right to it.

Disclaimer: I am not Jane Austen, and I can't help but wonder how her stories would have ended up if she'd written them online today a chapter at a time. Can you imagine the backlash from commenters just after Darcy's proposal? So much profanity. Or after finding out Edward Ferrars was engaged to Lucy Steele? It would take guts to maintain her plotlines, that's for sure.

Chapter Twelve

Lizzy awakened with a start. The room was absolutely dark, despite the curtains having never been drawn, and unpleasantly chilly. It was not, perhaps, as frigid as the second night on the road with Smythe's men the first time, but it was cold enough that the thin counterpane was insufficient.

Lizzy stood and fumbled her way through the pitch-black room, knocking into several stray pieces of furniture, until she found the wardrobe. It seemed empty, but she did finally locate a blanket lying in a heap on the bottom. It smelled musty, but the odor was not off-putting enough to keep her from taking advantage of it. She pulled it around her like a cape, ignoring thoughts of any other residents of the wardrobe that may be still clinging to it.

Of course, she seemed to have been asleep just long enough that returning to slumber would be impossible, so rather than lying on the bed, she wrapped as tightly as she could in the dual blankets and settled on the window seat, letting her eyes rest on the shadowed landscape only barely visible through the glass. In spite of the circumstances, she had noticed during the ride that the surrounding countryside had a certain charm, although it was less comforting than that of her own beloved Hertfordshire.

Her mind drifted tiredly to wondering about Pemberley, Mr. Darcy's home of which he spoke with so much warmth. Miss Bingley had raved about it, and at the time Lizzy had decided that if Miss Bingley adored it, Lizzy herself would probably despise it. However, his description of Pemberley's wildness had intrigued her, and during their evening conversation at the Tanners' fireside the previous night, Lizzy had coaxed Mr. Darcy into waxing eloquent about his youth. She had found herself enchanted by his descriptions of his childhood adventures in Pemberley's many woods and streams.

She wondered whether perhaps Mr. Darcy himself would share those places with her. She found herself thinking of his expression that morning (which now felt like years ago) when she had hinted so strongly regarding the cause of her concern for him and he had gazed at her with such warmth. A shiver entirely unrelated to the cold ran through her as she imagined walking alone with him through the trees, him tucking a wildflower into her hair then taking her in his arms and…

She straightened at the sound of the lock clicking on her door, then flattened her legs and stilled, hoping she blended into the window seat. A surreptitious entry into her chamber in the dead of night implied far more danger than she had yet experienced in any of these adventures, and her heart started racing. Why had she not thought to break a leg off a chair or pull a sconce from the wall in case she needed some sort of weapon?

At least, since her attacker would expect her to be in the bed, she might have time to scream or run from the room. She drew in a deep breath.

A small form slipped inside and gently closed the door before stopping at the side table and lighting a candle.

"Tilda?" Lizzy whispered from her seat, her posture relaxing.

"Oh! You are awake. I am so glad." Mrs. Talmadge looked deeply relieved as she moved toward the window. "I did not wish to wake you, but I hoped you might be finding sleep difficult, given your situation. Not that I wish for your misery, but I was so hoping I might speak to you."

Lizzy lowered her feet and patted the seat next to her, although she watched the woman warily. "You are not planning to aid my escape are you? I should be terribly grateful, but I fear Reg would not be happy with you."

Mrs. Talmadge sighed heavily, setting the candle between them and wringing her hands. "I would like to help you, but as you are in debt to Geoff, I do not think…"

"I am not one of his debtors!" Lizzy hissed, offended. "I am a most innocent victim!"

Mrs. Talmadge raised her eyebrows. "Then someone who cares for you is. Geoff is always most careful to be fair."

"Perhaps that is normally the case, but not so with me!"

Lizzy shared with the girl a shortened version of her and Mr. Darcy's abduction.

"But that makes no sense!" Mrs. Talmadge cried at the end. "Why would Geoff have taken you, when you are so wholly unconnected to the family at Rosings Park? It makes sense, I suppose, for him to have taken Mr. Darcy, but why you as well?"

"He implied that my presence would ensure Mr. Darcy's compliance, but the more I have thought about that excuse, not to mention the extra trouble I brought on the journey, the less convinced I am of his good sense."

"Geoff always has a reason for the things he does," Mrs. Talmadge defended, her face softening. "He thinks everything through—at least when it comes to his business. If only he put as much energy into maintaining his personal life, our circumstances would be much different now."

She looked so sad suddenly, so bereft and undone, that Lizzy could not quiet her next question. "Is that how this happened?" She motioned uncomfortably toward Mrs. Talmadge's middle. "Was Mr. Talmadge neglectful?"

Mrs. Talmadge leaned her head back against the icy glass and closed her eyes. "I cannot imagine what you must think of me after what you heard earlier."

"I will admit to being… surprised, especially after you had just expressed such an abiding affection for your husband."

"I love Geoff deeply. I always have, ever since the first moment he stepped into the tavern in Amersham. My father is the proprietor, and I was waiting tables and serving drinks the night Geoff and Reg returned from school. I was so young, only fourteen, but he was the handsomest young man I had ever seen, and he was so polite to me, even when the other men—still boys, really—with him ignored me or made lude remarks. My father's business was prospering, and he sent me away to school when I was fifteen, hoping to improve our family's circumstances.

"I was nearly seventeen the next time I saw Geoff, when I was home on holiday and helping out in the tavern while some of the staff were sick with a winter fever. He had just returned home from what I did not realize was one of his debt collections. He remembered me, although this time his eyes lingered on me as I served the other customers in a way they had not done before.

"He returned the next night, and the next. We talked of small things at first, but eventually of larger things, my longing for a quiet life away from the tavern taproom or a butcher shop or a milliner, his bitterness against his father for allowing their estate to sink into such ruin that he had no hope of redeeming it. He had no desire at all to reestablish himself as a gentleman—he had grown too disgusted with the entire existence of the English gentry to fight for a place among them. He only wanted to be free of it all, just like me.

"I had truly begun to care for him, but I learned accidentally about his business, about the gambling tables in back rooms, about the loans and debts and his methods of extracting payment. I questioned his ethics, and I saw how easy it would be for his methods to land him in trouble, so I rebuffed his further attentions and intended to forget him."

She sighed again loudly. "My father had never approved of him, too well aware of his family's reduced circumstances and the shadows around Geoff's business dealings. He warned me away from him, adding that gentlemen, no matter how impoverished, had no honorable intentions toward tavern maids. I returned to school in Surrey nursing disappointment. You can imagine my surprise when Geoff came to call on me at the school. He was so persistent, so tender and thoughtful, that he wore down my objections. We ran away together, were married up north, and once we had returned to Amersham, my father was reluctantly forced to accept our marriage. Geoff promised that if he could only work his tables for another year or two, we would abandon this crumbling estate and establish ourselves somewhere on the continent where we could live out our lives in quiet and peace.

"For a year, I was content. He was away often, and it was lonely here with only Mr. and Mrs. Jones, but there was much to do, tasks I did not mind, and our time together when he was home was so precious that it sustained me when he was gone. But then Geoff decided to open three more tables up north, far north, and it took time to hire trustworthy agents, dredge up customers, and demonstrate presence enough to convince them all of his oversight. He was away for months, and although he always promised he would be home soon, each letter was soon followed by a message saying that something had occurred and he must stay to resolve it. In the midst of all that, Reg arrived."

She huddled up now, drawing her knees as close to her body as her rounded middle would allow. "Reg and Geoff are the oldest of friends, and I had met Reg several times. I liked him well enough, although he was so quiet and stern compared to Geoff's easy ways. Sometimes I felt his eyes on me, and I had worked in a tavern long enough to recognize desire in a man's gaze, but I ignored it, hoping my lack of interest would blunt his appetite. But Reg came through this area several times while Geoff was gone, leading groups on their collection rounds and observing at various tables. They always stayed here, since their presence in a large group in the surrounding towns would draw too much notice, and I was happy enough to host them.

"At first Reg was nothing but friendly, and it was so nice to have someone with whom to speak besides the Joneses. We would talk late into the night sometimes, but I believed it was all innocent. Then one night, Reg came to stay here on his own. It had been weeks since I had heard from Geoff at all, and I was angry and lonely and hurt. We had too much wine, and one thing led to another."

Her voice had remained steady through the telling, but when Lizzy glanced up at her face in the candlelight, there were tears streaking down her cheeks. "I was horrified the next morning, but Reg was so happy, and it was nice to be held again, to feel loved. He stayed with me for several nights, and it was not until he had to leave and I was left on my own again that I truly realized what I had done, what I had become. He came through for a single night a fortnight later, and we argued about my wish for us to end our affair, so he did not return for some weeks, long enough for me to receive a letter from Geoff saying that he had been taken quite ill and had only just returned to himself. He said he would be home as soon as he was well enough to travel.

"Almost the next day, I felt the quickening and knew for certain that I was with child. That was nearly three months ago. Geoff returned home, and I pretended all was well, I pretended to be joyful when he told me that it was time to leave this life and make a new one elsewhere, but all the time I have carried this awful secret, knowing that as soon as I began to show, it would be obvious that I had been unfaithful to him. Reg came to see me again just after Geoff sailed from Dover. I never should have told him about the child, but I had no one else. He has spent the past fortnight trying to convince me to come away with him, that he loves me and that we could be happy."

When she did not continue, Lizzy gently prodded, "And you are considering his offer?"

"Reg does care for me, and I believe he would be a most attentive partner. His eyes sparkle when he speaks of caring for our child. But I would not be his wife. I would never be his wife. And how could I ever be happy knowing I had been so faithless?"

"Could you love him, do you think?"

"Perhaps in time." She thought for a moment, then shook her head, more tears spilling over. "But there would always be Geoff at the center of my heart. My memories might fade, but my shame never would, and nor would my love for him."

"Then why not refuse Reg's offer? Stay here."

"But how can I face Geoff and admit what I have done? How could he ever forgive me or love me again? Would he ever be able to love a child that was not his own? What if I spurned Reg and then Geoff abandoned me in his justified anger? I would be all alone!"

Lizzy reached her hand out and grasped Mrs. Talmadge's. "I will admit that I have little experience with love. My own affections are so new to me, still so fresh and uncertain, that I feel unqualified to advise you." Her mind raced, words coming to her lips as the thoughts coalesced in her mind, appearing suddenly clear through the confusion and fear of the past several days. "The only thing I do know is this: love can surprise us. It can spring up in the most unexpected places, and its strength is not always dictated by the quality of the soil from which is grows or the length of its life. Love can survive both drought and storm, both neglect and abuse, if it is revived afterward with gentle care, feeding, and patience. If you love him truly, and if he loves you truly in return, I believe… well, I believe it would be possible to salvage that love despite all that has occurred."

Lizzy's heart raced as she finished speaking, Mr. Darcy's face appearing as clearly before her as if he stood in that dark chamber. How she loved him! And how joyful she felt to be certain of the name for this warmth permeating every inch of her!

"You think I should deny Reg and wait here for Geoff's return? How could I bear to tell him the truth? I am so horribly ashamed!"

Lizzy brought herself back to reality, banishing Mr. Darcy's image, if not the feelings insider her. "I suppose you must simply love him enough to bear the shame, to face his reproach. It will not be easy, but I believe all of that would be better than spending your life pretending love and marriage with another man, no matter how he cares for you."

"But I shall break Reg's heart!"

Lizzy dropped Mrs. Talmadge's hand and stood, putting her fists on her hips. "Tilda, you cannot have it both ways! You have put yourself in a situation where you are responsible for two men's hearts! You cannot escape it or hide from it. You must break one heart or you shall be forced to break three!"

"Oh, I cannot do this! I cannot make this choice!" Mrs. Talmadge covered her face with her hands. She broke down again into sobs, and after a few moments, Lizzy's annoyance abandoned her. How could she say what she would do under similar circumstances? She settled back on the window seat and rubbed Mrs. Talmadge's back sympathetically.

It was not long, however, before the tears slowed and Mrs. Talmadge looked up, a new expression on her countenance. "I must leave."

"Yes, you ought to attempt to rest, for your sake and your child's."

"No, I mean I must leave. Go. This moment." She leaped to her feet. "Reg believes I have gone to bed. He will not notice I am not here until late morning when I do not emerge from my room. I will have time to get some distance from here, even on foot, and…"

"Leave now? On foot? Are you mad?"

"Perhaps," she said, sounding breathless. "But I do not care. I shall be free to think for a few days."

"Where shall you go?"

"I shall walk into town—'tis only a few miles, and obviously I am in no condition to ride on horseback. My sister married a solicitor, and they keep a small phaeton. My brother-in-law will allow me to take it for a few days. I shall go to visit a cousin of mine who lives in a cottage near High Wycombe. Reg would never know to look for me there."

"And you will return in time to go north with Reg if you so choose?"

"Perhaps I will not return at all," she said bleakly.

"Mrs. Talmadge… Tilda, I do not think this is wise. What if you were to be injured on the road?"

"You could come with me! Then I would not be alone."

Lizzy felt hope rise in her. "I could at least accompany you to Amersham, and there I could… well, I could…" Her optimism died quickly. "I could do nothing. Even if your family would help me send a message to someone, so much of our activity the past few days has been attempting to avoid attracting attention to my situation. Appearing mysteriously in a tavern in Amersham would be difficult to explain to anyone. And besides, my disappearance will be noticed much more quickly than yours. It is so late that we might not even reach Amersham before I was missed."

"I suppose you are right, but I am determined to leave regardless. I shall… I shall simply tell them that I cannot sleep and am going to visit my horse in the stable. Keeley and Stoneman are guarding the back door, and they have no reason to keep me from going on a walk, even if it is late. Or early, rather."

Lizzy felt ill at the thought of this young woman traipsing through the world in the dark, but she was helpless to prevent her. "Please be careful, Tilda. I know you are afraid, but do not allow your fear to endanger you. I beg you to rethink this plan."

"No, I must leave before I lose my nerve and end up making a choice I will regret for the rest of my life!" She reached out and hugged Lizzy tightly. "I know you have no reason to have been so kind to me, to have listened so willingly, and I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I hope that when you have been returned to your gentleman and your life is peaceful once again, you will think kindly of me."

"Tilda, you are too hasty. Please, you must wait and…"

Mrs. Talmadge bustled out the door with a backwards wave and closed it silently, leaving Lizzy sitting alone with the flickering candle. Lizzy eyed the door, quite aware that Mrs. Talmadge had not locked it behind her.

But even if Lizzy could leave her room, where would she go? If she were in real physical danger, it would be worth any risk to escape it, to climb out a more accessible window on a lower floor or find somewhere to hide until she could dart through an unguarded door, but as it was, flying off into the blackness of the night would put her in more danger rather than less. Truly, any choice besides simply remaining here put her reputation at great risk, and if she had any hope of Mr. Darcy renewing his addresses to her, she needed to maintain all the gentlewoman's status she could claim, however dubious.

She leaned back in the window seat and stretched her legs out before her, resting the candleholder in her lap and watching the flame reflected in the glass. She had to remain here doing absolutely nothing but worrying, originally about what Mr. Darcy was suffering in her absence and now about Mrs. Talmadge's well-being. It was, in its own way, a rather dreadful form of torture.

"Darcy, come quickly!" hissed a voice from the darkness to Fitzwilliam's right. He spun and just managed to make out Bingley's shape before Darcy stood from where he had been leaning against a tree limb broodingly.

"What is it, Bingley?"

"I have found her—I have found Miss Bennet!"

Bingley sprang away with Darcy close on his heels. Fitzwilliam followed them after instructing Matthew to remain in the trees with Smythe.

Bingley had grown restless some time ago, too anxious to remain still, and he had volunteered to make a circuit of the house in case anything untoward was occurring on the far side. Perhaps they should have surrounded the house in a scouting formation, especially in case John had been caught inside and needed their help, but Fitzwilliam had been concerned that they would find it difficult to locate one another in the dark, and he had wanted them all present to keep a close eye on Smythe.

They crept around the back of the yard, keeping low against the stone fence, until finally pausing just around the western corner. "Look," Bingley whispered, gesturing to the house. "Up there."

It was not difficult to see what he had seen. The entire house had been dark upon their arrival with the exception of a few rooms on the first floor lit behind curtains. Now all but one of those lights had gone out, but there was a window on the second story lit vividly by a single candle. Seated in a window seat was Miss Bennet. She was too far for them to read her expression—she might even have fallen asleep there.

"Elizabeth," Darcy breathed.

"She looks well enough, Darcy," Bingley said, sounding almost cheerful. "'Tis an excellent sign."

Fitzwilliam wanted to ask what a woman would look like from that distance who was not well enough, but Darcy only responded with a grim nod, and Fitzwilliam decided not to add to his concerns.

"When I first saw her up there, she was seated side-by-side with another young lady I assume was Mrs. Talmadge. The woman appeared to be distressed, for Miss Bennet was rubbing her back soothingly. Then they both rose, and after a few minutes, Miss Bennet returned."

"Leave it to Elizabeth to make a friend at such a time in such a place," Darcy murmured. The affection in his voice when he spoke about her still sometimes took Fitzwilliam by surprise. It was unlike him to be so open about anything, especially something so personal.

The three of them stood there for a moment, and although he could not speak for them, Fitzwilliam knew he was feeling a very strange mixture of hopefulness and helplessness. She was right there within their grasp yet so unreachable at the same time. And she seemed so alone up there, so vulnerable, so much like the tiny candle flame beside her.

As they watched, she bent over all of a sudden and blew out the flame, leaving the room in total darkness. He hoped it was not an omen of things to come.

They watched for a few more minutes, but when nothing else noticeable occurred, Fitzwilliam suggested they return to the far side of the house. Bingley led the way, followed by Fitzwilliam, but it took several more seconds before Darcy could turn away from the window and join them.

There were low voices speaking urgently when they reached their copse of trees.

"Yes, sir. I counted four guards, two at each entrance. Two of the men are sleeping in each of the rooms at the top of the double staircase. The two servants were nowhere to be seen, but the door was locked to the room you said was theirs."

Fitzwilliam and the others drew close enough to see John speaking with Matthew and Smythe, and they hurried to join them without interrupting.

"The door to the mistress's chambers was open, and it seemed to be unoccupied, but there were two feminine voices speaking quietly inside a room on the upper floor, two doors away from where two of the guards were sleeping. There was a key in the lock."

"Bingley saw them," Darcy added when he noticed Smythe's surprise at the location of his wife. "They were talking together in front of the window. He said that Mrs. Smythe seemed distressed and Elizabeth was comforting her. That must have been some minutes ago, however, for I only saw Elizabeth there alone."

"Yes, sir," John confirmed. "It took some time to leave, for one of the guards began wandering the entry looking restless. I had to wait for him to settle again before I could make my way down the servant's stairs."

Fitzwilliam clapped John on the shoulder. "Young man, if you ever decide a life of service is not for you, enlist and come to me. The army has need of good spies."

John glanced at Darcy, who had raised an eyebrow at Fitzwilliam, before nodding and bowing. "Thank you, sir."

"We must get in there," Smythe said, appearing truly impatient for the first time. "I need to reach Tildy. If something is wrong, I must go to her."

"We need a plan," Fitzwilliam argued. "We know where the men are now, and we can…"

"We have a plan," Smythe disagreed, his entire body straining toward the house. "Method: enter through the side door and subdue any man who attempts to prevent us. Goal: extract the two young ladies without any harm coming to them. 'Tis quite simple."

"Sir, I know you are eager, but we ought to discuss whether there might be a means of preventing some confrontations. If some of the men are sleeping, we could find a way to shut them into those rooms. We should enter quietly and split into two groups, hoping to incapacitate the guards at the entrances without them alerting the others to our presence. And if possible, we should…"

"Yes, those are excellent suggestions, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said, loosening his sword in its scabbard and checking the pistol Fitzwilliam had brought from Darcy House before placing it in his coat. "Now, let us go."

"Darcy!" Fitzwilliam objected. "That was not a plan. Those were ideas… Those bloody fools." He watched as Smythe, followed closely by Darcy, darted across the open yard and approached the side entrance. He turned toward Bingley and the others. "Love makes fools of all of us, I suppose."

"Indeed," Bingley agreed bleakly. "Come along, then. We cannot allow them to go alone."

The four of them ran across the yard with light footfalls, and as Fitzwilliam made his way inside through the rickety side door, he sent up a soldier's prayer. Dear God, protect us in this righteous endeavor. Aid us in our efforts to protect the innocent. May we not take life unnecessarily or lose it prematurely, according to thy will. Amen.