So this was how it will end Elizabeth thought brushing away bitter tears. Of all the scenarios she might have imagined, that Lydia would elope with George Wickham had never been contemplated. He was twice Lydia's age and the son of a steward. He had no money and Lydia was but fifteen, penniless and empty headed. Elizabeth didn't believe for a moment that Wickham had any intention of marrying Lydia. It had to be a seduction for his own amusement and nothing more.

"I must leave for Longbourn first thing in the morning and please, Mary, keep this dreadful news to yourself until I'm out of Kent."

"But I can't, Lizzie. I must tell Mr. Collins."

Elizabeth stood up angrily. "Please allow me some dignity, Mary. I will write a note to Anne which you will have delivered to her after I'm gone. Then you may tell Mr. Collins the truth. You know very well what his reaction will be. He'll scurry over to Rosing's Park to impart this news hoping to curry Lady Catherine's favor by sharing this gossip heedless of the fact that this ruination visits upon his own wife as well as your sisters and parents."

"But how will I explain your sudden need to leave here?"

Tell him that I'm anxious to see Charlotte. He'll believe that. Besides, he must be eager to see the last of me. I'm sure he blames me for his fall from grace. I was witness to his humiliation. He will never forgive me for that."

"Oh Lizzie, you are too hard on him."

Elizabeth stared at Mary in disbelief but the sound of the front door opening kept her from replying to this nonsense. "Don't fail me, Mary," she begged before escaping to her room. There, she reached beneath her bed and pulled out her portable desk and sat down to pen the last letter she would ever write to Anne DeBourgh. As she gathered her thoughts images of Darcy would intrude. She had last seen him standing so tall, his dark eyes regarding her with shared amusement at her audacious statements, ready to do battle with her. She remembered so well the excitement of being able to tease him and his reaction to her. She began to comprehend that he was exactly the man who in disposition and talents would most suit her. His understanding and temper would answer all her wishes. She felt how improbable it was that they would ever meet again on such terms of cordiality as had marked their several meetings in Kent. She feared that the loss of Darcy's esteem would cripple her forever.

Dear Anne,

Forgive me for taking leave of you by letter but I have not the strength to speak of the disgrace that has fallen upon our family and I am now on my way back to Longbourn. I'm sure that Mr. Collins will be delighted to give you all the details and as you read this letter is sure to be on his way to Rosing's Park to share his news.

I want to thank you and Georgianna for the friendship you offered me when I most needed understanding and support. I will never forget your generosity of spirit. These past weeks have been a joy and I will miss you all. My memories will always be filled with affection and though I may never see you again be assured that the Darcys and de Bourghs will forever remain close to my heart.

With deep regret, I bid you all a fond farewell,

Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth's letter was delivered the following morning as the family sat down to breakfast.

Lady Catherine frowned at Anne as her daughter's obvious joy when first opening the letter from her friend turned to dismay. She watched her read, then read twice more the letter. "For heaven's sakes, Anne, what does Miss Bennet have to say that has so distressed you?"

Darcy looked up sharply and waited for Anne's response.

"She is on her way back to Longbourn. She speaks of a disgrace to her family."

"What kind of disgrace?"

"She doesn't say, but she says that Mr. Collins will be sure to give us all the details. Oh Mother, I fear it has something to do with her youngest sister."

True to Elizabeth's prediction Mr. Collins wasted no time before rushing to the manor to deliver his news. At his entrance into the breakfast room Darcy stood and walked to the window. When he turned and faced the room and the odious cleric, he was twisting his pinky ring, a sure sign of his disturbance of mind.

Lady Catherine did not offer her cleric coffee or even ask him to sit down. "I understand you have some news to share with us?"

His face flushed with excitement, "Oh, yes, your Ladyship," Mr. Collins replied. "The news I feel called upon to relate is of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune or that may comfort the Bennet family, under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of their daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed in contempt. "Speak plainly, Mr. Collins, for I am anxious to hear what sin could be so egregious that a mother would prefer to see her child in the grave."

"Yes, yes, your Ladyship. It seems, much to my distress, that my youngest cousin has eloped from Brighton with a lowly soldier by the name of George Wickham." Into the stunned silence that followed this announcement, he continued blithely on, "I believe that this licentious behavior has proceeded from a faulty indulgence on the part of her parents though for their consolation I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad to have committed such an enormity at such an early age. And as if this wasn't bad enough, my dear wife informs me that Miss Elizabeth has met with George Wickham on several occasions and disliked him from the very beginning. She tried to tell Mr. Bennet that he was not a man to be trusted. But she obviously didn't try hard enough so she should shoulder some of the blame for this catastrophe. This afternoon I will write the Bennets and advise them to throw off their unworthy child from their affection forever and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offenses."

"You will do no such thing," Lady Catherine snapped. "By what convoluted reasoning did you come to blame Miss Elizabeth for what has happened? It seems to me that she showed a keenness of mind to warn her father that Mr. Wickham was trouble. Do you blame your wife for not seeing him for the man he is? And how about yourself? You spent time with the Bennet family. Why did you not warn them to curb Miss Lydia. It's all becoming clear to me now. It's all your fault, Mr. Collins! Indeed, the more I think of it the more inclined I am to believe you are responsible for the calamity."

The clergyman's knees buckled and he landed on his knees looking for the world as though he were kneeling in supplication. "Stand up," Lady Catherine sneered, "I will not have you praying in the breakfast room. You had better save that for church. And I also recommend that you practice spending at least fifteen minutes a day in rational thought." She waved him away dismissively, "you may go. And give my sincere condolences to your long-suffering wife."

The first to move was Georgianna who stood up and fled the room. Anne followed at a slower pace. Next went Richard, "excuse me, I have a couple of brief notes to get off by express." He shot a look at Darcy who nodded.

Lady Catherine saw the look exchanged by her nephews and dismissed the servants and waited until Darcy returned to the table. "Now relate to me, Nephew, the sins of George Wickham. I fear I had almost forgotten him during my worry over Anne's health."

Darcy spoke quietly of his childhood friend showing little emotion. "He is completely devoid of conscience, Aunt. He wreaks havoc no matter where he goes. He drinks and gambles to excess and takes advantage of every tradesman who dares trust him. He almost crippled the economy of Lambton by running up debts which he could not possibly repay. There are debts of honor which he repaid by provoking secret and illegal duels. He's killed men who were little more than boys. And there are his seductions. There was a thirteen year old who died giving birth. Her child also died. There is a fourteen old who has the mental capacity of a five year old. Her son was born healthy and lives with her parents. She thinks he is her little brother."

"You've said quite enough, Nephew. And what do you plan to do about it? Can you bring the law down on him?"

Darcy nodded, "if we can find him it's debtor's prison for him. I swear he'll never again see the light of day."

I suggest you leave Georgianna here. She will be good company for Anne and we will return to Town in about ten day's time. Is that agreeable?"

Darcy nodded. "That would be best. Richard and I will probably leave for Town at first light."

When he entered his sister's rooms a short time later Georgianna was still weeping quietly.

"Who do you weep for, Georgianna?"

"Not for George Wickham, if that's what your asking. He's no longer the young funny man who used to bring me boxes of chocolates. I despise him! No, Wills, I weep for Lizzie. I've grown so fond of her and to know that she returns home under these circumstances breaks my heart. I don't understand why her whole family must suffer this disgrace. It isn't fair."

"I know, dearest, but society sets certain rules which, believe it or not, are mostly formed for the weaker and gentler sex. Ladies must be protected from the George Wickhams of the world. It is why in our world ladies do not come out before the age of eighteen and if they are allowed to attend a ball before that age, they may only dance with a member of their family or a very close and trusted friend of the family. That Lydia Bennet entered society at such an early age was begging for trouble. She was far too young to know her own mind. I have no doubt that she believes herself to be in love and that Wickham will marry her. But she isn't, and he won't. The proper rules of conduct were never instilled in her. If she had given a thought to how her elopement without the sanction of her family would reflect upon her entire family, she would not have been so irresponsible."

"Will they stop loving her as Mr. Collins thinks they should?"

"It isn't that easy to stop loving, Georgie. Whatever you might do in the future you can always be assured that I will always love you and I'm quite sure her family feels the same way. I'm sure Lizzie...Miss Bennet has hurried home to offer comfort to her family. They must be worried sick over what may befall their youngest child."

"May I write Elizabeth? I told her I would when she returned to Hertfordshire. I would not want her to think I had abandoned her."

"Of course you may write her. And Georgie, you may assure her that we all feel nothing but pain at the misery she and her family must be enduring."

"Thank you, Wills, I'm sure she will appreciate hearing that."

"Richard and I will travel to Town in the morning. I can't promise anything, dearest, but Richard has connections and he can possibly locate the pair of them."

"What will happen then?"

"If they have eloped to Scotland there will be nothing to do. However, I doubt he has any plans to marry the girl and if that is so the best I can do is have him thrown into debtor's prison and send her back to her family."

"Wills, Lizzie has an aunt and uncle who live in Cheapside. They were the couple we saw at the theatre that night. By Lizzie's account, her uncle is a very astute business man and she describes them both as being very intelligent and clever. Perhaps if you find miss Lydia, you might think of sending her to them. Maybe they can help to avoid disgrace."

Darcy didn't have to think twice, "an excellent idea, Georgie. I don't suppose you know their name."

"It's Gardiner and they live on Gracechurch street."

For the first time since hearing that Elizabeth was on her way back to Hertfordshire Darcy allowed himself the luxury of smiling, "we have the start of a plan, Georgie. Now all we have to do is find them."

Two brief notes were waiting for Richard when he and Darcy arrived back in Town the following day. "They've started tracking. They'll keep us apprised."

"So we wait."

Richard nodded, "so we wait."

In his rooms Darcy stretched out on the bed wondering how Elizabeth was faring. When he first heard Wickham's name dropped by Mr. Collins his shock had been as close to physical pain as he had ever known. He hadn't seen Wickham for years. That he could suddenly surface to destroy the Bennet family was beyond the pale and he had been at a loss for words as that horrendous cleric spouted his loathsome ideas of Christian charity. All he could think of was the distress Elizabeth had to be suffering and how he wanted to comfort her though he was well aware that he had no right to. He was beginning to think that his life had slipped beyond his control. He could think of nothing but Elizabeth Bennet and his growing desire for her colored by his long simmering hatred of George Wickham.

When he awoke two hours later the skies had darkened and the rain had begun as it would continue for the next four days. Richard came and went ignoring the intolerable weather while Darcy stayed home, brooded and waited for word of Lydia Bennet. On the fourth day Darcy finally left the house assured by Richard that he would not leave the house.

Darcy spent time in the book shops and enjoyed a late lunch at his club hoping to hear any gossip concerning George Wickham but he was as successful as Richard had been. No one had heard of him in years. By early evening he returned home in despair. It was a hopeless task. Wickham and Miss Bennet had been traced as far as London and no further. A full week had passed since their defection from Brighton. The damage had been done. Not only was Lydia Bennet poor, she was no longer a virgin. She'd made herself a useless commodity in the marriage mart.

When he entered his house his butler informed him that Richard had earlier received a letter and had left the house immediately. What this information augured was anyone's guess but there could be no happy outcome. Lydia Bennet would return home in utter disgrace or she would marry Wickham and rue the day she ever laid eyes on him. Fifteen years old and her life was in ruins. Darcy delayed supper for an hour but still his cousin didn't return. After supper he spent an hour pacing in his library unable to concentrate on any book. By midnight he was exhausted and out of sorts. He was not a patient man and waiting for Richard had grown interminable.

He stood in the shadows across from the gambling hall. He was cold and wet for he had been standing in the rain for more than six hours. The unpaved road had turned into a viscous slime of mud and he felt his heavy boots sinking into the sludge. He opened the the bottle of cheap gin and took a sip grimacing at the taste wondering how anyone could drink such poison and survive. He watched three men stagger out of the hall. Still his prey did not appear. Another hour passed and the rain didn't let up but he was patient. He'd had worse assignments.

At last shortly before eleven o'clock he saw the man he'd been waiting for stumble out of the hall and he quickly left the shadows and hailed him. "As I live and breathe! Is that really you, George?"

Wickham eyed him blearily trying to focus on the stranger. When recognition penetrated his befuddled brain he managed a smile, "can you loan me a tenner? I've had a spot of bad luck."

"Of course, old friend." He pulled out the bottle of gin and handed it to Wickham, then threw his arm around him in a comradely fashion while steering him down the street.

Wickham took a long swig from the bottle. "I have a little slut waiting for me. She's yours if you want."

"How delightful and generous of you."

Wickhams's drunkenness and the increased intensity of the wind and rain made walking difficult until they turned the corner and gained some shelter in the shadow of another brothel. Here the light was dim and ideal for his purpose. He pushed Wickham forward and with a sharp blow kicked the back of his knees followed by a swift open-handed slam to his back. Wickham fell flat on his face and with no further thought the boot that had felled him now came down on the back of Wickham's head and pressed it hard into the mud. There was little resistance; he suspected that Wickham had been unconscious and never realized that his life had ended so ignominiously. He poured the rest of the gin on the body then dropped the bottle next to the body before he began to trudge forward away from where he'd connected to Wickham. The rain still hadn't let up by the time he reached his coach and gave instructions to his driver.

He headed back down the road towards the seedy boardinghouse. Upon entering his ears were assailed by the noise of the drunken revelers, his nostrils by the smell of ale, vomit and body odor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he made his way up the narrow stairs to the second floor. He found the door he was looking for and rapped sharply and waited. It took but a moment before the door was flung wide and he got his first glimpse of Lydia Bennet. He'd half expected to see a terrified fifteen year old but that was not the case and he was filled with dismay as he regarded her. She was dressed in nothing more than a transparent robe which left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was down and uncombed and her lips and cheeks were rouged.

"Who are you," she cried. "Is Wickie with you?"

He pushed her back and stepped in shutting the door behind him. "Lieutenant Wickham is gone and won't return. I'm here to return you to your family."

"Oh no you won't! Wickie and I are to be married. Where is he?"

"Pack your valise. I have a carriage waiting."

"I told you I won't go with you and when Wickie returns I'll tell him how rude you've been and you'll be sorry."

She never saw the hand that shot out and slapped her so hard that she recoiled in shock and fell back onto the filthy unmade bed. He straddled her, gripping both wrists and pressed them down on either side of her face. He now had her full and undivided attention. "You're used goods, Miss Bennet, and Lieutenant Wickham no longer finds you attractive. I've been sent to see that you are safely delivered back to your family. If you're wise, you'll do as I say. If not, I've been given leave to offer you to the men downstairs at a penny a throw. He stood up and stared down at her with undisguised distaste and waited.

She stared back at him in horror, taking in the icy, dead eyes of a man who meant what he said. She managed to get to her feet and began to stuff her meager belongings into a valise. Her face was scarlet and she was now weeping loudly. "Shut up," he snapped, "and don't forget to put a dress on. You would not wish to appear on your uncle's doorstep looking like a whore, would you?"

She gasped and started to cry again until she raised her eyes to him and saw the cold aversion in his eyes. She lapsed into silent tears with an occasional sniffling.

When she was done he shoved her to the door. "Walk down the stairs and don't utter a word or it will go bad for you and that's a promise." She did what she was told and he sighed in relief when they were safely in the carriage heading for Cheapside.

When they arrived at the address in Gracechurch street she jumped down and flew to the door, crying and banging at the door. He waited, watching the candles being lit both down and upstairs. When the door was finally opened and she fell inside he rapped on the coach panel signaling his driver to move on. He needed a large drink and a good ten hours of sleep.

There were few people who were automatically admitted to Darcy's townhouse without an announcement and Charles Bingley was one of them. When the library door opened and Bingley walked in, Darcy was surprised and sorely disappointed at the late arrival of his good friend but masked it as best he could. "Charles! What on earth are you doing out on a night like this?"

"Dinner at the Hursts. Then on the way back home I saw the lights on and thought I'd stop in for a nightcap."

Darcy waved him towards the liquor cabinet, "help yourself." He eyed his old friend uneasily. That Charles would choose this particular night to drop in unexpectedly and after midnight was extraordinary.

Bingley dropped into his favorite chair, "so, what brings you back from Kent so early?"

"My aunt and her daughter, Anne, have decided to open their townhouse and Richard and I were bored with the talk of paint and wallpaper. How about yourself? I thought you'd be down in Hertfordshire by now."

Bingley grinned, "the first of June I will take possession of my first estate. Surely I made mention of the date in my letter."

"Perhaps that information was hidden under one your blots. How you managed to graduate from Cambridge with honors is truly a riddle. Your missives are undecipherable"

"Ah yes, but never boring."

The library door opened and Richard stepped in. He hesitated for a split second when he saw Bingley, then advanced upon him with his usual jovial grin, "have you two been partying all night? And to think I've been suffering the company of my brother Edmund and the shrew he married." He helped himself to a large drink then dropped into a a chair with a sigh. "So, Bingley, did you find the shire that starts with an 'H' or did you get distracted and end up in Northumberland?"

"Never mind that, Colonel. I want to know how you managed to grow a beard in the last month. It would take me two years to grow a beard that thick."

"Because I'm a manly studmuffin, Bingley, and you're still a child."

"What the hell is a studmuffin?"

"It's what my many female admirers call me. Surely you've seen how I look in my regimentals? God's gift to the fairer sex, old man."

Bingley laughed out loud and drained his drink. "I'll let that pass and say a prayer for your long suffering cousin." He stood up and stretched his narrow frame. I'm exhausted. Lunch tomorrow? I must tell you both about Hertfordshire and the angel I met there. He opened the door then turned back for a moment. "Her name is Jane Bennet and I think I'm in love."

When the door closed behind him Darcy and Richard exchanged an incredulous look. "What did he say?"

Darcy shook his head, "I think he said that he met an angel by the name of Jane Bennet. Is that possible?"

"Jane Bennet from Hertfordshire? My head is spinning.