Dancing On Hedgerows

by mrnon

Regency AU. When Mr. Bingley leases Netherfield Hall, he and his friend Darcy are embroiled in a mystery involving a beautiful married woman, a beguiling actress, a timid reverend, a bluestocking, a blackhearted landowner, and a neighboring estate entailed away from the female line. HEA, but a suspenseful journey. Rated T for allusions to domestic violence & adult relations.

30. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Hello, Dear Readers...long time, no speak.

I want to begin to thank so many of you for your continued interest in my story. It is very humbling to have been working on something for nearly 10 years, giving sporadic updates and not meeting deadlines, and still have maintained any readership at all, let alone seeing new readers who read this story even seeing it was incomplete and possibly abandoned. There are many wonderful, prolific authors in this fandom that I admire and am awed by. I love to write, and I still avidly read JAF. However, I do not have the same ease/time/mental capacity for writing as others do, and if that turns you off from continuing with my tale, I wholly understand. I had convinced myself that I needed to completely finish this story before publishing any more, so as to not torment anyone interested in it further. Then after deciding that, there was a phase where I noticed a dreadful amount of bullying enter this space on other's stories, that made me lose a lot of interest in writing for a while. I had been bullied horribly in fandom spaces as a pre-teen and it was disheartening to see it happen in JAF. There was also my real life, which like anyone's else's, is full of complexities, difficulties, and busyness that slowed up my progress.

However, I have another 30k+ words written for this story to share with you, and I wanted to get over my hang ups, real and imagined, and post them here. The vast majority of feedback I have had for this story has been wonderfully warm and affirming, and has truly helped me grow in my skills as a writer. I am posting the first chapter now, and will publish the next one no later than next Sunday. I want to allow people a chance to reread what's been written, if they desire, and to give some space for feedback for each section for those kind enough to share their thoughts with me. This story is very near to completed, which is extremely thrilling for me. I hope to have it done by the end of this year, or early Spring of 2025. But I've shared similar hopes before, so I hope by now none of you will hold me to them, haha.

I have always had a very clear idea of how I wanted the story to end, but getting there has taking me on quite a journey. There were a few times I've felt I've written some plot points into corners, and should I ever get to a point of publishing this, a lot of revisions will be required. However, creating something imperfect does NOT mean you can't finish it, and I hope that I am able to wrap up every character arc satisfactorily for all of you who have been so kind and patient in the journey of this story. There were also many things that I wanted to say with my writing. When I began writing this story, there was a trend in JAF of stories of Elizabeth being forced to marry Collins. While some were wonderfully written and believable, others felt to me an improbable stretch of imagination. At the same time, it was an election year in the US (where I am from) and "Repeal the 19th", as in 19th amendment, which gave women the right to vote, was trending on Twitter. My mind really got to thinking just how new human rights are in the course of history, and how horrifying the Bennet sisters' situation truly was in a way younger me had never thought deeply about. I began to wonder what a worst case scenario truly would be, which is what lead me to conceiving of a story in which the eldest Miss Bennet is forced to marry her father's heir. My love of Agatha Christie helped turn it into a murder mystery.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for coming along on this journey with me. I hope you enjoy this latest edition, and I am eager to hear your thoughts.

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Richard Fitzwilliam was nothing if not charming, and although he more commonly applied his charms to the fairer sex, he was well versed in pacifying the wounded feelings of egotistical men. He was both an Earl's son and an officer, after all. Richard knew full well that this facet of his character was as useful a weapon as any the army had provided him with, and in the offices of Colonel Eugene Foster, recently promoted commander of Hertfordshire's militia, he brandied it with a flourish. He had been tasked with several errands to complete in the village by Constable Gantry, the Bow Street runner hired by Darcy to investigate the crimes in Meryton, the most important of which being the tete-a-tete he now found himself engaged in with his fellow officer.

As requested by the Runner, Colonel Fitzwilliam had ridden to Meryton in order to send some letters on behalf of the Constable to London – Gantry wanted to hire discrete tails to follow the activities of three members of the militia who were quartering in Meryton, after they had become suspects in Reverend Collins' assault. Miss Mary Bennet had witnessed three men on Longborn grounds and had overheard a conversation which implicated all of them in the vicious attack. After the missives had been delivered, he had been obliged to call upon Colonel Foster, to convince that gentleman of the merit in discretely supporting them in their investigation, rather than closing rank and creating difficulties for Bow Street in dealing with the officers under his command.

Richard had done his duty, and once presented to the older man, had found him an affable, modestly intelligent fellow. He had heard of Reverend Collins' assault, of course (for who in Meryton was not talking of it?) and had been vexed to know that some of the villagers looked toward his soldiers with suspicious eyes. It was a despicable act, attacking a man of God, and such doubts on the characters of his militia would not reflect well on Foster's command should his superiors learn of it. It had been the work of some ruffians of course, and if anything, Foster had argued, this violent act showed a need for more militia in Hertfordshire, not less. At first, he had blustered when Fitzwilliam told him that Bow Street's prime suspects in such an act were members of his corps – but Richard's own disappointment that the pride of his majesty's army was being besmirched by such bad actors did much to waylay his ire. Rather than demand that Foster act, he flattered the leader so well that the good Colonel began to think making an example of the blackguards might serve him very well indeed.

Soon enough, Foster had been brought around to Richard's way of thinking and was adamant that the three men would be watched carefully and put on special assignments to keep them close to the headquarters while Bow Street looked further into the matter. It would not due for the townspeople to catch wind of what had happened and hold Colonel Foster culpable for a part in the crime. Tensions were high enough in the village of Meryton already with such a grave crime yet unsolved. Foster enjoyed the hospitality the gentry of Hertfordshire had shown him, and was as loathed to have his entertainments curtailed, as he was his honor questioned. Once the man had been convinced of what needed to be done, Richard had given him Gantry's letter, which Foster had opened immediately.

His eyes scanned over it quickly before exclaiming aloud, "Wickham, Denny, and Chamberlain! I cannot believe it of them!"

Richard had felt air rip through his lungs. "I assure you sir, the names were overheard in conversation between the gentlemen as they addressed one another, by an impeccably credible witness. But tell me, did I hear you correctly just now…did you state one of the names provided in that list as Wickham?"

"I did." Came the grave reply. "This is a most troublesome report. Lieutenant Wickham is one of our newest recruits and has become quite popular amongst his fellow officers already. He has given me the impression as being a most earnest young man, and the fellow who referred him to join our troop was none other than Lieutenant Denny, another suspect on this list. I am quite aggrieved; he has been a fine addition to our company, and I hate to think we should be so mistaken in both their characters. Why Wickham has been telling everyone a very pretty story of a lost inheritance, making all his friends pity his luck, and all the while he is a ruffian of the worst sort! It is hard to believe that any man would attack a parson at all, let alone one who was supposed to have made his living in the church as well! But sir, is he known to you? Why do you inquire of this name, and not the others?"

Wickham. Of course, somehow, some way, Wickham was involved in this sorry affair. Wherever his cousin Darcy had encountered some trouble in the past, Wickham had inevitably been behind it in some manner. But that they would discover Wickham mixed in some scheme in the wilds of Hertfordshire, of all places – a place Darcy had never visited once before in his life, until this sojourn to the countryside! It seemed too impossible to have happened by chance!

"I am afraid so," Richard had replied evenly. "Your recounting of his character does align with the first impression of the gentleman I know with that name. His alleged story of woe is familiar to me as well. If this soldiers Christian name is George, is about thirty, and hails from the north – then I believe we are referring to the same man. I am sorry to say that though Wickham has the happy ability to make friends wherever he goes, he is much less adept at keeping them."

When Foster affirmed those particulars as being correct, Richard had to bite his tongue to stop from swearing aloud. He explained to his host that Wickham was the son of his cousin Darcy's steward, and that the three of them had been very close as boys. Unfortunately, Wickham had taken a turn for licentiousness and debauchery in early adulthood that had made the trio lose their camaraderie. He had assured Foster that a family living had been intended for the man should he take orders, but that he had decided to study the law instead, or so he said, and had been granted three thousand pounds in lieu of that inheritance. He had recommended that Foster inquire with the tradespeople of Meryton regarding the purchases of the militia quartered there, and see how many officers had been extended credit, especially Wickham. He had ridden up many debts he could not pay over the years, and Colonel Fitzwilliam had assured his fellow officer that he alone possessed enough of those debts to see Wickham sent to Marshalsea, should he wish it – he had no idea how many vowels were in the possession of his wealthier cousin, Darcy.

"I am grieved, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Truly grieved to learn of the duplicitous character of this so-called gentleman who has been representing my company in this county." Foster's face wore a heavy frown. He turned his gaze toward the bustling courtyard of the barracks outside his window. "And there goes the lad now – making his way toward the mess hall with quite the scowl!"

Richard quickly hastened to the side of the older man, eyes following the direction of his gaze. Though he had felt sure, quite sure in his bones, that he and Foster had been speaking of the same man – no two men would have such a sorry tale to tell! – taking in the image of his childhood companion as a grown man of some seven-and-twenty years was more affecting than he had anticipated. Richard hadn't laid eyes on Wickham since they had put Uncle Darcy to rest, some six years prior. Wickham was in his third year at Cambridge then and had still appeared quite the baby-faced adolescent to Richard's war hardened twenty-six years. But there was no mistaking the matter, it was the same George Wickham of his boyhood who hastened his way across the expanse of the courtyard with fire in his eyes and the devil on his heels.

"Have him summoned here, immediately." Came Richard's sharp command. "say nothing of what I have disclosed to you, for it could jeopardize the delicate nature of the investigation. But I will speak to my old friend, now."

"Certainly." The older man replied as he summoned an officer to do his bidding. "Shall you sit once more? I will allow you to direct the conversation, as much as I am able."

Seeing the sense in Foster's suggestion, Richard sat, though neither man relaxed as they waited for the villain's arrival. He did not keep them waiting long.

Less than ten minutes had passed before a voice sickeningly familiar to Richard's ear was greeting his superior officer. Turning toward him as he rose, Richard was gratified to see the practiced smile slip from Wickham's face at the site of his old friend.

"Thank you for joining us, Lieutenant," he spoke, unable to mask the contempt from his tone, "I have only recently arrived in Hertfordshire on leave and wanted to pay my respects to my brothers-in-arms. Imagine my surprise to have heard your name mentioned amongst their number! I asked Colonel Foster to summon you to be sure we were speaking of the same man."

"Ric-Colonel Fitzwilliam, I hope you are well." Wickham answered, sputtering slightly from his surprise to be meeting him there. Regaining some of his usual address he continued, adding, "It is as you see. I had not envisioned a military life for myself in our youths, but your sacrifice for King and country did leave a lasting example. I enlisted only a few weeks ago."

The earl's son released an affected laugh. "You flatter me Wickham, that you should choose such a path thanks to my example – I never knew that you valued soldiery so highly. In fact, I believe you once demeaned that work as beneath you, but you were little more than a boy then."

Wickham flushed, his eyes darting toward Foster's impassive mien. "Never beneath me." He replied, trying to hide his nerves with a winning smile. "Certainly not. If anything, it was my own efforts that would have been unworthy then of serving my country. Few things held my interest at that age, save for the company of the fairer sex. I held regrettably few thoughts to my future – the lament of many a man's squandered youth, I'm afraid."

"Yes, we all make regrettable choices in our youths." Richard replied, his voice laden with a threat despite his congenial air, "Luckily, not all of them follow us into our adult lives."

"A blessing indeed." Came a nervous laugh.

"I suppose that you did not find the law a fruitful study?"

Eyes rounded, and then took on a wounded look. "Indeed, I did not. I found I did not have a talent for the subject."

"Just as you would have no talent for giving sermons?"

Wickham blanched. "I beg your pardon, Colonel." He stridently replied. "I confess, I did not think of a Church Living with much affection when it was presented to me then. The mistake of a foolish youth to dismiss such an opportunity for a respectable future. You will find that I am not nearly so callous as a man grown. I am well satisfied with my place in this company, as I hope Colonel Foster has been with my service so far."

"Indeed," Foster cut in smoothly, "You have served quite well since joining us, Lieutenant. I said exactly that to Colonel Fitzwilliam once we realized we shared your acquaintance. However, I believe there are some unsavory rumors spreading about your past amongst the camp that must be addressed."

"Rumors, sir?" Wickham asked, his voice rising slightly.

"Indeed, Lieutenant Wickham. I believe there has been some confusion about your past professions amongst your fellow soldiers. That you were meant to take orders but then denied a church living that had been promised to you in your benefactor's will by his heir seems to be the common consensus. Yet Colonel Fitzwilliam and you yourself have now informed me that you denied this living yourself, and that you instead chose to study the law. I would have you correct these assumptions among the corps, for I cannot have shame and scandal brought to the company should the Darcy family seek redress for slander originating from amongst my officers. I expect this conversation to be the end of such talk, am I understood?"

"Yes sir." Wickham replied, eyes flashing.

"Thank you, Wickham. You are dismissed."

"Very good, sir." He replied, bowing to his commanding officer. "Colonel Fitzwilliam. I hope you enjoy your stay in Hertfordshire."

Richard's lips unfurled a feral smile. "Thank you, Wickham, I am finding this country suits me perfectly. I had been sent on an errand that should have kept me in the country but a few days, but now that I am here and settled, I may yet decide to winter in Hertfordshire with Colonel Foster's regiment."

In truth, Richard had no idea how long he may stay in the county…his time was hardly his own, but the way Wickham's faced had paled with the thought of his encampment in Meryton being shadowed by Richard's presence had been a satisfying sight, indeed.

On top his horse, the Colonel's shoulders heaved deeply as a great sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips as Netherfield came into view at last. He was in no rush to attend Miss Bingley's conversation or her chef's many ragouts, but it would not do to arrive back without time to change for dinner. He had remained in Meryton that afternoon much longer than he had anticipated, for information learned in Colonel Foster's office had quite changed his plans. He had come to Hertfordshire with the specific task of being of aid to Darcy – his mother had been adamant on his "making himself useful on this little sojourn" and her edict had been well understood by him. Constable Gantry had made it plain that at this juncture, he only wished to watch Wickham and the others – a confrontation done too soon, accusations made too hastily, could have dire consequences for more than one party involved.

The tasks Constable Gantry had entrusted him with earlier in the day had been carried out with alacrity, but his meeting with Wickham had left him much to think on, he only hoped that Darcy and the Constable would approve. He was hoping for time to engage with the Bow Street Runner, as well as his cousin, before they were all forced around a richly laid table to playact the part of common house guests rather than investigators. If only Gantry had spoken to them of the names of the militia involved in Reverend Collins' assault before the Colonel had left on his errand – what time could have been saved, and what other strategies might they have deployed! Alas, even that clever fellow could not know everything, and what cause would he or his cousin have had to disclose their history with the son of Pemberley's former steward to him?

The Colonel dug in his heels, spurring the steed forward. He was not Richard's normal mount and did not have his horses' experience in dealing with such uneven conditions. No matter how much he could wish himself back at Netherfield already, the gentleman had to accept it would be a long ride. If there was one benefit to their slow-going trek, it was the time the beast gave him to reflect on all that he had learned in Meryton before he would need to recite the events of the day to the other men. He was sure that Darcy would hardly believe the news he had to relay – the story just seemed so incredulous. Richard still could scarcely believe it himself, and he had seen the scoundrel with his own eyes.

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Darcy bounded up the stairs two at a time, buzzing with the need to speak with his beloved. The evening had drug on for a seemingly endless stretch. Already known among present company for his quiet, serious nature, Darcy was granted more allowance than others to refrain from conversation, but his mind felt far too full to even attempt at sitting with the ladies after the other gentlemen rejoined them. So much had happened over the day! His mind was far too occupied to make pleasant conversation. He poured over every detail of what he had learnt, beginning in the morning until the utter astonishment of the afternoon's revelation. He worked each fact over methodically, placing them in chronological order to soothe his agitated mind.

Reverend Collins claimed to have been assaulted by three militia men. Mary Bennet had witnessed soldiers near the boundaries of her estate discussing this assault, they were named Denny, Chamberlain, and Wickham. Revered Collins claimed his assailants were hired by his father, the master of Longborn estate, because his father wanted to murder him. By the Vicar's testimony, the reason Collins Sr wished to kill his heir was because Collins Sr was not his father at all – he was an imposter who had assumed the identity of the William Collins Sr several years prior. He had assumed the guardianship of the true heir of the estate at the tender age of 12 and largely kept the boy away to school and moved from town to town, beat the child into "accepting" the man as his father whenever he was home for the holidays. However, Collins had grown too independent having left Sr's control at Longborn for the living at Hunsford Rectory. The imposter had decided to kill the true heir before the parson gained his courage and decided to act out against him. William Collins' visit to Longborn and the dreary November weather had provided a perfect opportunity for the imposter to strike.

They could not know what Collins' final plan was after having hired thugs to beat the innocent parson on the side of the road. However, Constable Gantry had told him a theory which Darcy could only see truth in. The circumstance of the heavy rain was purely coincidental – the Bow Street sleuth believed that Collins had arranged for the three men to be waiting at a particular spot on the road and would have expelled his son from the carriage that day no matter the weather. In fact, he believed the Collins' family social call to Netherfield had been orchestrated by the imposter for the express purpose of abandoning his heir in the woods which separated the estates. The heavy storm must have felt providential to the villain at the time, for the victim was already feeling poorly after his recent travels in an open carriage, and the cover of the dark clouds and rain would make it more difficult for him to identify his attackers. However, it also had changed the act of forcing his son to walk home to Longborn from a stern act to a barbarous one, a cruel one, even a suspicious one. Gantry theorized that Collins' plan had been to have the parson beaten, returned to Longborn injured and in need of medical care, and then poisoned with laudanum during his treatment, or even possibly smothered in a weakened state.

It was a dark plot by any estimation, but Darcy could not deny that it was a sensible plan if one wished to dispatch their relative and while placing the blame on others. If Darcy's taciturn habits hadn't had him staring out the window rather than engaging with his companions on the day of the assault, or if Collins Sr had waited until his carriage was further into the woods to order Jr to remove and continue on foot, it was likely that Collins' crime would have never been uncovered. Perhaps the torrential rains had been providential after all – for it was only Darcy's concern that Vicar Collins would have been caught in the deluge that prompted him to go after the man. Seeing the gentleman descend from the carriage at the edge of Netherfield's grounds had been puzzling, but not concerning. While being caught in the rain had sickened the younger Collins considerably, it had likely saved him as well.

Having learnt the names of Vicar Collins' attackers thanks to Miss Bennet's sojourn to Longborn that morning, Constable Gantry had sent Colonel Fitzwilliam into Meryton with multiple tasks to complete. Unfortunately, the names of the attackers had not been disclosed to Darcy or the Colonel before he had gone to the village on his mission. They had no way of knowing that one of the alleged assailants was known to them, as Mr. George Wickham had only recently enlisted in the militia, having failed in an attempt to elope with Darcy's younger sister, Georgina. His fist tightened as the image of Georgina's tear-stained face floated before his mind eye. She was more than ten years his junior, and having lost both parents at a young age, Darcy had acted as more a father to her than brother. Wickham, who had grown up with them as a playmate of Darcy's, preyed upon the ignorance of her youth and her own shy nature to convince the girl she was in love. Luckily, the love she felt for her brother far outweighed the burgeoning affection she had held for Wickham, and she had disclosed the whole of the affair to him when he arrived unexpected in the seaside town where she and her deceitful companion were summering.

That Wickham had joined the militia both alarmed and elated Darcy. His status as an officer would grant him a degree of respectability that many other careers would not, but offered a pittance as a salary. That he had taken up any work at all meant that he truly must be at the end of the inheritance he had received from the passing of Darcy's father, who had been Wickham's godfather. He must have been in a great need of ready cash to have enlisted, and Darcy knew that his old friend found that coin not in his wage, but in the access he had to hands of cards and gentlemen's well-dowered daughters. Attacking a clergyman seemed well beyond his usual feats of devilry – he was a cunning, self-interested man, not generally a violent one. Now he was involved in crime that could well prove a hanging offense, and Darcy could only believe that one must be either a very desperate man or an incredibly stupid one to take such risk. George Wickham was many things, but he was not a fool. For the first time in their long history, Darcy was realizing that George Wickham's involvement in something was actually a boon to him. Between himself and his cousin, they knew how to work on George, what promises would entice him to speak, and what lengths he would go to in order to protect his own neck.

He was bursting to speak with Elizabeth – who knew nothing yet of Georgina's brush with ruin, and precious little about George Wickham at all. It was a new, incredibly heady feeling that he might confide in her, that once they were wed, he would have a true help meet to share the trials of his life with. The responsibilities that came with his position in the world had been thrust on him at such a young age – he had been so very alone for the many years of his youth. Only in the company of Adelaide Bernard had he felt a true spark of life, only in conversation with her had he truly felt a real ease in the likeness of mind he shared with another. How different the years looked ahead, knowing that he would share his life with someone who not only truly cared for him, but understood his nature so well. That he had to be patient and wait to take her as his wife was a cruel torment… if Georgina was grown and happily situated, the banns would be called already. The world's censure meant nothing in the light of having finally gained her favor.

Yet – how much must he also conceal? Elizabeth could not learn of Bingley's duel on the morrow with her father's killer. The truth of her father's death had tormented Elizabeth's soul for seven long years. The oaths she had made to avenge him had not been taken lightly. When Darcy had first tried to renew his address, Elizabeth had warned him that she would see justice for her papa and for Jane even if the law would not. She had been through so much, and her feelings were so raw. He could not be sure how she would react should she learn of Bingley's plan to face Mr. Bennet's killer directly. Darcy knew he risked much in attempting to hide such news from her. There would be precious little way to spare her and her sisters from the unhappy truth if Bingley and Collins saw the thing through. Should something dreadful happen, she might very well learn to hate him for his concealment. And yet, even knowing that risk, he would spare her any bit of pain he could. For the moment, he still had hopes that this proposed duel might be stopped, though he did not know how.

These contradictory musings lead Darcy to his paramour's door. He knocked rapidly; his anxiety apparent in the sharp staccato notes. When her musical voice bid him enter, a wave of relief washed over him as warm and comforting as bath water. How had he gone nearly two years without her, he mused. Glancing the length of the hallway to be sure he was unobserved, Darcy stepped into the sanctuary of his beloved's presence.

Seated at a small writing desk, Elizabeth looked up from her correspondence and smiled at her fiancé with tenderness. However, her fine eyes were full of confusion at his presence at such an hour. "Good Evening, Darcy." She spoke, a laugh hiding behind the words.

Remembering himself, the Derbyshire gentleman bowed, low and reverent. "Good evening, Elizabeth." Not for the first time, Darcy wondered when the site of her would stop striking him mute. He had seen her in London finery many times but found that she had never looked so lovely to him as she did that evening, wearing a simple Lavender wrapper, her wild curls escaping a loosely tied chignon.

"I had not anticipated the pleasure of your company, Sir." She said, rising from the desk and brushing imaginary dust from her dress. "As you see, I had thought to catch up on my…well…Adelaide's correspondence...but I cannot bemoan such a welcome distraction from my tasks."

"Perhaps I should not have come, for I wish to take every care with your reputation, but this day has taken so many unexpected turns that I could not remain in company any longer with equanimity. I am always desirous of your company, but until I found myself at the threshold of your chambers tonight, I did not realize how very much I have needed you when I am distraught."

Hazel eyes widened. "Distraught?" She approached him, reaching to take his hands in her own. "My dear Darcy, what has happened? We cannot call the situation we find ourselves in idyllic, but it is not like you to be overcome when faced with hardship and difficulty. Will you not unburden yourself to me, my beloved?"

Another wave of warmth washed over him, seeing the sincerity of her concern. How many people had ever truly cared for him in such a way? "I will." He replied thickly, "I fear I must."

Elizabeth inclined her curls toward a small settee, and Darcy allowed himself to be lead. "Indeed, you must, Darcy." She said gently, "A burden shared is a burden halved, as I have so recently learned. If we are to marry, I expect to be your helpmeet in all things. I will not give up my independence to be cossetted against the ills of the world. I may not always be able to help you resolve your difficulties, but I hope by unveiling your feelings to a trusted confidant, you will always feel able to face them."

"That is my wish as well." Darcy replied with tenderness, squeezing her small hands lightly.

"Then come, speak to me Darcy. Tell me all that troubles you, and I shall do the same."

He paused, wanting desperately to tell her all, while protecting her from such knowledge at the same time. "What a convoluted tale this has become! I scarcely know where to begin."

"The beginning is the usual place, I wager." Came an arch reply. Then with a small frown, her playful attitude fell. "My sisters and I spoke before they had to dress for dinner. I know that the visit to Longborn today did not go as we may have wished it to."

Darcy released a biting laugh. "No indeed, it did not, though from all I have learned of Mr. Collins' character these weeks in Hertfordshire, I can hardly claim to be surprised. Immoveable resentment seems to be one of the defining traits of that man's character."

Beside him, Elizabeth shuddered. "I believe you have read him correctly. I was not all surprised to learn that Mr. Bingley's reluctant apology was not accepted by the rouge." She prevaricated for a moment, then continued, saying, "What did surprise me were the actions taken by your friend. I know very little of Mr. Bingley, of course, but he does not strike me as the dueling sort."

Darcy dropped her hands in surprise. "You know of the duel? How?"

A light blush tinged her cheeks. "I am afraid that Netherfield has rather drafty halls, and voices sometimes carry. I heard nothing myself, however my sister Mary did, and in her alarm, confided in me and Jane. We are all highly concerned at this news but could not agree how to act."

"His nature has always been somewhat impetuous, but I cannot understand this reckless notion! He has not even confided in me himself; I had to learn of this duel from Mr. Gantry, who will serve as Bingley's second! Charles has been my closest friend for many years, I had thought our bond stronger than some brothers'...that he has not confided in me at this time…it rankles…how am I to support my friend if he conceals the truth from me?"

Elizabeth laid a soothing hand on his arm, stilling the tirade of her typically staid lover. "Perhaps your closeness is the very reason he has not come to you, Darcy. He must know that he has committed himself to a foolhardy endeavor that will greatly distress any who care about him. I am sure that he needs your counsel now more than ever but is keeping his silence to protect you and all those he loves."

"Foolhardy indeed! He has seen enough of Collins to know the man lacks any honor as a gentleman, even without the black accusations you have made against him. He was to go to Longborn on the pretext of an apology to buy Miss Mary time to retrieve the slippers that would lead credence to your claims and nothing more. Collins has behaved with rudeness and vulgarity many times during our acquaintance, I cannot fathom what he possibly could have said today that would overset Charles so."

With this, Elizabeth blushed again, this time more brightly. "I believe I can…" she said, hesitantly. "You see, after my sisters and I separated this afternoon, I decided to peruse the library and find a volume to distract my restless thoughts with." She paused, searching his face for she knew not what. Darcy's expression was impassive, though his dark eyes were brightened with interest. He nodded encouragingly, and she continued, "I had sat for a moment in order to skim the contents of my selections to decide which I would bring back to my chambers with me. Truly Darcy, I had meant only to sit for a few minutes, but the next thing I knew, I was being awoken by the sounds of a conversation taking place in the dark library."

Dark eyes flashed. "A conversation?" he asked, straightening himself in his seat.

"Mary is not the only eavesdropper in the Bennet family, that much I've already confessed to." She smiled wryly, before continuing in a more serious manner. "I should have made my presence known, but the contents of the conversation were so shocking that I could not do so while also maintaining my role as Miss Bernard, rather than Miss Bennet."

"Please, Elizabeth. What is it that you have overheard?"

She frowned slightly, "It feels wrong to speak to you of conversations overheard in such a way, and yet, I must. I overheard Miss Bingley and Mr. Bingley in a heated tete-a-tete. Mr. Bingley confessed to his sister that he and Mrs. Collins have been conducting an affair at Netherfield while my cousin recuperates. They are in love, Darcy. That is why Bingley must defend Jane's honor."

"In love?" Darcy sputtered in response. "I have long noticed my friend's attraction to your sister, he called her angelic the very first night he made her acquaintance. I had thought it a good thing that he was so enraptured with a married woman, for it would prevent his paying too much attention to any one of the ineligible single girls in the area. I have seen Bingley fall in and out of love many times, and I would not have him raise expectations he was unlikely to fulfill on my watch. I had no notion that his interest was returned, or I would have cautioned him against your sister. In fact, prior to Reverend Collins' assault, I had felt certain that Mrs. Collins was pushing for Bingley to make a match with Miss Mary, if anything."

"Perhaps, at first, she was." Lizzy mused. "Is it so unreasonable that the guardian of a marriageable young woman might consider a single man of means joining the neighborhood as a potential match for their ward? And with all the knowledge you now have of my sister's husband, can you truly blame Jane for wishing for a match for Mary that might remove our sister from Collins' sphere of influence?"

"I will not hold Mrs. Collins' match-making against her, for I have seen meaner arts applied by matrons to catch a husband for their daughters, performed by women in much less desperate straits than her own. However, I cannot approve of adultery, no matter how underserving her husband may be. I especially can not approve when such an affair puts my friend in peril."

"Jane was distraught to learn of the duel. I did not quite understand the depth of her emotion at the time, but what I had heard between the Bingleys helped to clarify my sister's feelings quite nicely. She is no more approving of Bingley fighting for her honor than you are, Darcy. None of the Bennet sisters wish to see Mr. Bingley harmed on our behalf. In fact, I was rather angry to learn of his high-handedness in addressing Collins at all, until I discovered the great regard in which he holds my sister." She paused her speech, her chin rising defiantly. "Censure them if you must, Darcy – but I shall not, for I cannot begrudge Jane any moments' happiness she has managed to find in life, shackled to a villain as she is, through no choice of her own. You may despise me for it, but I will not give up Jane, nor any of my sisters, no matter what they may do."

She stood suddenly, her anxiety mounting. "I told you in London that I could not accept your suit because of the scandal that surrounds Elizabeth Bennet, yet you have remained undaunted in your desire to have me as a bride, even as you learned the whole awful truth of my past. I know that Jane and Bingley have acted badly, Darcy…and should word of this affair ever reach Town, any connection you have to those persons may hurt your sister's introduction to society. But just as you would do nothing to harm your sister, neither shall I, I will never abandon Jane again. If I must forsake your love to keep her," she took a shuddering breath, her famed eyes glistening with tears, "I would do it, Fitzwilliam. I love you so very much, to leave you…to deny you again…it would destroy a part of me…. but to leave my sisters behind once more….it would be the final death of Elizabeth Bennet, and in time, I would resent you, and the love between us would die as well."

"Despise you? Oh Lizzy…" Darcy had risen to meet her, and without reservation pulled her smaller frame against his chest in a warm embrace. "Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth, I would not dream of despising you – even when I wished to, it proved an impossible feat. It may have been Adelaide Bernard who initially attracted my interest, but it is Elizabeth Bennet to whom I shall pledge my troth. If anything, the more you have revealed your past to me, the more my attachment to you has strengthened. I had thought you clever, kind, and beautiful, but now I see beyond these qualities to the true strength and determination of your character. Your love for your sisters is not a hinderance, it only shows me how perfectly suited we are for one another, for we are fierce protectors of those we love. How can I despise you for loving your own sisters so well, when I hope you may come to love mine with similar strength?" Feeling her relax in his arms, he added with a slight smile, "As for the scandal well…I am quite rich, you know. There is precious little in this world that may not be hushed up with a few thousand pounds directed to the right parties."

Elizabeth released a watery laugh against her lover's chest. "Not to mention well-connected." Came her muffled reply.

"Indeed, I am at that. We have an alley in my aunt, Lady Matlock. Perhaps society might look to the Darcy family with derision for a time, but what of it? I am not the same green boy I was when I proposed two years ago, I assure you. We will do what we can to conceal the truth for Georgiana's sake as well as the comfort and privacy of your family, but whatever storms may arise we will weather them together, Elizabeth, always."

Lizzy pulled back so she could see her fiancé's eyes. "Thank you, Fitzwilliam." she said softly. "You can not know what these assurances mean to me. How fortunate I feel to have found love with such a truly good man."

With those words, Darcy could do nothing but kiss her. Perhaps a man who felt less would have had more to say in reply, but Darcy was so overwrought he could only convey the depth of his feelings in the language of lovers. One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, while the other hand cupped her cheek with reverence. Elizabeth's slim arms snaked around his neck and found her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as she returned his kiss with ardor. It was a passionate kiss, but it was of romance, not lust. It was a kiss of promise and belonging that only two people in love can share.

When they pulled away, each was slightly breathless. "Come Darcy," a rosy cheeked Elizabeth said with a nervous giggle. "We must not allow ourselves to become distracted. You wanted to speak to me of your feelings and I have been importuning you with my own." She led them back toward the recently vacated settee. "Is Bingley's duel all that has caused you such distress?"

With this reminder, Darcy frowned as he sat down. "The duel is my principal concern, but no, it is not the only thing that has distressed me today. Colonel Fitzwilliam informed me only just before dinner that one of Reverend Collins' attackers has a connection to my family. I am quite concerned to learn of his involvement in the affair."

With Elizabeth's gentle urging, Darcy continued on, telling her of George Wickham and his history with the Darcy family. As the story unfolded of the two boys of different stations growing up together side-by-side at Pemberley, Elizabeth found herself at times amused, but mostly grieved and shocked. She thought Darcy's father very unkind in how he had treated the two boys in his care – one had been held to impossibly high standards of behavior, while the other had been given no discipline and indulged at every instance. He had deprived Fitzwilliam of a parent's affection, while spoiling this boy Wickham with a lifestyle of idle opulence in his youth he could never aspire to in adulthood. Yet aspire, he did, if Darcy's stories were true – and he would certainly never fabricate slander against his own sister, nor had she ever known Darcy to lie to anyone, let alone his fiancé. It had only been a few months since Wickham had attempted to elope with fifteen-year-old Georgiana from Ramsgate, and that he was now enlisted in the militia corps of the very county in which Darcy had decided to spend his autumn, seemed too improbable to be anything but design on Wickham's part. Was he seeking revenge for the botched elopement and the loss of Miss Darcy's substantial fortune? Why was he here, and why had he involved himself with Collins evil scheme?

"Well, there is nothing for it, Darcy." Elizabeth said when his monologue had ended. "You must approach Wickham yourself and find out what he is about. What good will all this speculation do, when you can seek out the source and question them directly? You have told me that you have been buying up Wickham's debts in order to prevent his using Georgiana as any kind of leverage against your family. Can you not use those debts now to leverage Wickham into a confession? Surely when he realizes he has been found out, he will see that cooperating with you is a better alternative to debtor's prison, or risking trial for the assault he has committed against a parson."

"We are of one mind on this matter, Elizabeth. I have often cursed Wickham's involvement in my affairs, but for once, our connection may prove useful. I have a unique position of power over Wickham that I do not hold over any of Reverend Collins' other assailants. We may be able to work on him."

"And if you do so now, sir, this duel may yet be stopped!"

"Now?" he asked with incredulousness, knowing the sun had sunk more than two hours before.

"Of course, now!" Elizabeth replied with energy, "If Wickham confesses to the crime this evening, and owns Collins' role in the affair, that would be enough for the magistrate to press charges and take him into custody before he could ever meet Bingley on the field! But we must make haste, for many will have a part to play, and as it is far too dark and muddy for horses, we will have to traverse Hertfordshire on foot for all the calls that must be paid this evening!"

Darcy glanced at the clock resting on the small writing desk, and the ready ink and paper next to him, his clever mind filling in the gaps of Elizabeth's plan. It was well beyond calling hours, but many in Hertfordshire would still be awake. Alone, they could never walk out to everyone in time to return to Netherfield before Bingley's duel, but, with some help…

Elizabeth watched with admiration as Darcy's tall, commanding form crossed the expanse of her little suite toward the desk. Sitting down and taking up the pen he said warmly, "Clever, clever Elizabeth! We may stop them yet." She followed him to his seat, resting a hand on his shoulder as he jot down a note. As he wrote, she made a few suggestions of whom he may want to address with such a missive. When he was finished, he turned toward her and placed a gallant kiss on the hand which held him so tenderly. "I shall quit you now," he said with seriousness, "I must speak with Constable Gantry and others to set your plan in motion. Would I trouble you too much to ask you to make the copies with the additions you have suggested while I am gathering the others?"

"It is no trouble at all!" Elizabeth cried, urging him from the seat so she could begin. As she sat, she smiled at him with a brilliant, dazzling, smile, love shining in her eyes. "Make haste Darcy!" she said, melodical voice humming with excitement. "The sooner justice catches these criminals, the sooner we can be married!"

Her excitement was infectious, and grinning, he bowed to her and quit the room. He made his way back toward the company as quickly as he had initially quit it, now with vigor and purpose, rather than anxiety and worry. Elizabeth was right, a burden shared was a burden halved, indeed.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

Jane stared into the depths of her rapidly emptying wine glass, her mind whirling with the events of the day. Outwardly she smiled placidly, nodding along as Mrs. Hurst recounted what she had read most recently in the gossip rags from Town. She had never found her current hostess to be a particularly engaging woman, and she supposed Mrs. Hurst found her own company similarly dull. They shared few common interests, even fewer common acquaintances. But never before had these mindless conversations aggravated her so. How could they sit and speak of such insipid nonsense when the foundation of everything Jane knew to be true in her life had been completely torn asunder? What care did she have for fashion plates, when burdened with the knowledge that the man she had married was a fraud and a murderer? She didn't want to talk. She wanted to scream out all her rage and frustrations. Instead, she smiled, in her empty, pleasant manner, for it was all she had the power to do in such a moment.

There was much to think on – more than Jane could possibly hope to canvas in a single evening, especially while in company – and precious little time to spend thinking on it. She had consumed her dinner politely and methodically, hardly attending to which dishes she chose. The courses had passed by in a blur. Much of the company was affected for differing reasons, making the evening an unusually tedious affair. She had dully noticed that Miss Bingley's patience with her company seemed to be wearing thin and had not been surprised when she left her feminine companions to amuse themselves in the drawing room with some pretext of having business to discuss with Mrs. Nichols following the evening repast. Jane could not begrudge her hostess removing herself from such a miserable grouping of serious-minded, thoroughly distracted guests. Indeed, she was rather thankful her hostess had stepped away, allowing Mrs. Hurst to lead the evening's conversation. Miss Bingley was much sharper and more observant than her elder sister and conversing with her without exposing oneself to censure often required a full set of wits. Let Louisa prattle on as she wished to of long sleeves and lace, Jane could smile pleasantly while her mind dwelt on more important matters undetected.

And indeed, there was much that Jane needed to consider…she could hardly know how one was supposed to act or feel, after learning all that Jane had during these unhappy days at Netherfield. Feeling her body tense and her temperature begin to rise as her thoughts stormed in discontented harmony, she inhaled a steadying breath, releasing it slowly behind a gloved hand. There was too much to consider all in one evening, perhaps even too much for a single day, or week. If justice was served, Jane would have a lifetime to reflect on the horror of her fraudulent marriage to a gravely dangerous man. Though her own feelings had every right to take precedence, Jane was far too practical for that. There was no sense in looking so far ahead or across so broad a range of grievances. Jane would focus her attention on all matters in order of their urgency, and Jane knew what matter was in most urgent need of resolution…. Bingley's duel with her so-called husband, Collins.

Charles could not be allowed to fight for Jane's honor, no matter how much the girlish recesses of her heart swelled with his gallant gesture. She was deeply appreciative of the great respect Bingley must hold her in, to feel the need to defend her so – but though he made a brave, noble choice…it was also a prodigiously foolish one. Charles had called out a man to duel who has been accused of killing more than person in order to claim an inheritance not rightfully his – what good could come from dueling with a man who was known to have no honor? And what was more, the accusations which Charles felt he must defend them from…well they were true. She had taken Charles Bingley as a lover while nursing her stepson at Netherfield. She had done so out of spite.

Jane frowned and cleared the remainder of her glass. "Forgive me, madam." She said with practiced serenity, "The excitement of the day has quite exhausted me. I will check on Reverend Collins and retire for the evening." She stood, curtseyed prettily, and with a small turn of her head answered Mary's questioning eyes, wondering if she should follow.

"Not now, dear sister." Jane lovingly thought to herself as she made her way into the drafty hall, "I saw the way you watched Constable Gantry when he joined the gentlemen for cigars…I know you are eager to discuss your many thoughts on our sorry story with that handsome young man…. I shan't importune you with my woes this evening."

Now well accustomed to the route from the drawing room to the sick room, Jane's feet lead her on while her mind continued to dwell on the troublesome matter of the proposed duel. Collins – or whoever he was – would most certainly be out for Bingley's blood. The man was a miserable, avarice, jealous old fool, that believed the world at large coveted his position, his person, and his pretty wife. Perhaps gentlemen of the Ton were little pressed by the thoughts of being cuckolded when they were so pleasantly distracted by their own affairs, but simple country gentlemen were rarely so open minded. Collins had lived in fear of Jane having an affair since the very earliest days of their marriage and had often accused her of unfaithful thoughts or actions without any evidence of them. The note he had written to his dear wife upon her arrival to care for William had been perhaps the most outrageous of all the suggestions he had made over the years, but it was far from the first.

It had been more than Jane could bear. Her ire had already been raised to a point she had never experienced prior to the day of William's assault. Collins had dismissed the urgent note from Netherfield of his "son's" delicate condition. She had raised her voice to her husband, had contradicted him, accused him in a manner she had never had the strength to do before – and what had he done! Why his anger had boiled up so hot inside of him it had went to his head, striking him with a blinding headache. He had shrunk from her, weak, telling her to get out. Jane had known that he only meant for her to leave his study – but she was so very angry at William's treatment, so very fearful of the hurt that her husband had both knowingly and unknowingly inflicted on his son, that Jane had defied him once again, by complying with his order in a way he did not expect. She had indeed "gotten out" – both out of his room, and out of Longborn entirely, to nurse dear William. He had sent that note to chastise her rebellion, to make her feel meek and stupid. Instead, he had only emboldened her anger, stirred her to more reckless decision making.

Charles Bingley was everything a young man ought to be, really. Handsome, lively, but not overwhelmingly so – amiable, intelligent, sincerely interested in the conversations of those he attended, a consummate host…and so many other wonderful qualities Jane had uncovered in him during their tete-a-tetes around Netherfield. She was sure that had she remained Miss Bennet when the Bingleys came to Hertfordshire, she would have found herself quite in love with him…. but she was a married woman and that was a silly notion. Still, she had found herself watching him intently, interested in all he did and said despite herself.

After the passage of several long, harrowing days and bitter rains, Collins finally came to Netherfield, with every intent of bringing her sister Mary back to Longborn with him. He had spoken to the doctor, but never looked in on his son, and then brought his wife out to the ornamental groves, away from the many curious ears of Netherfield. He had taken her into that charming arbor, and had ranted at her with language so blue, so angry, that she could scarcely bring herself to repeat them in her own mind, let alone speak them aloud to others. He accused her of using William's illness as an excuse to stay in the home of her lover – and warned her that the only thing that would save her when she returned to Longborn was if she could arrange a compromise of either Mr. or Miss Bingley, connecting the Bingley wealth to Longborn estate in some manner during her stay. His suggestions had wounded her, but they had incensed, rather than censured, his pretty young wife. So, when handsome, gallant, Mr. Bingley had interrupted her husband's barrage of scorn and summarily removed him from their presence…well, Jane had thrown herself at him.

She had kissed him with all the unspent passion of a vibrant young woman trapped in a loveless marriage, as well as her rage and fear of the present situation she found herself in. She had kissed him senselessly, breathlessly, clinging to him as he responded to her outburst with his own violent fervor. She had begged him to come to her bed, and vehemently denied that she would feel any remorse or regret for her actions. In Collins' mind, Jane had already done all that they spoke of. Even if she succeeded somehow in aligning the Collins family with Bingley's, there was no guarantee that access to their wealth would soothe his ire enough to prevent any punishment to this perceived slight. If Jane was to be punished for misbehaving…. why could she not misbehave…oh, just this once, why could she not be a little bad, a little selfish? Bingley was so handsome, so understanding of her troubled heart…

Oh. This would never do. She hastened her pace to the sick room, teeth pulling on her lips as she mulled over the problem. She had seduced Bingley for her own selfish purposes, and now he was risking his life to defend her honor. What honor? Jane had been innocent of most accusations Collins lobbied against her through the years of their marriage, but he was finally justified, though he would never comprehend his own hand in creating this situation. Even still, for all her husband had put the idea of an affair into her mind, it was Jane who had taken the action. It was she that had approached Charles, she who had begged him to bed her, and sought him out when he did not make his way to her rooms at the appointed hour. She could not let this dear, sensitive, young man put his life at stake for her. This duel must not take place. She was not worth it.

An unusual sight met Jane outside the sick room door. Caroline Bingley stood in the hall, still bedecked in her evening finery, a pinched look on her face. Jane dipped into a respectful curtesy and tried to school her look of surprise. Miss Bingley returned a shallow one of her own, scarcely waiting to unbend her knee before saying, "Mrs. Collins. I would speak to you."

Without ceremony, her hostess opened the door to sick room, and strutted in with a confident lift of her chin. A maid sat in the corner of the room, quietly sewing while the Vicar slept. "Leave us." She said sharply, "You or your replacement may return in a quarter hour. Mrs. Collins and I will sit with the patient."

The startled maid dipped in a curtesy to her mistress and quit the room with haste. Caroline gave the resting parson a curious look before shutting the door to his bedchamber, while a bewildered Jane stood in the center of the seating area, worrying her gloves.

"You can be at no loss to understand why I have met you here, Mrs. Collins." Caroline spoke with haughty tones.

"You are quite mistaken, Miss Bingley, I assure you. I am honored to have the pleasure of your company while I keep vigil with William, but I am not sure what has driven you to sit with us this evening."

"Several days ago, a report reached me of a most alarming nature. I confronted my brother this evening, and his testimony confirmed the tale. I am told that while your stepson uses my home to convalesce from his injuries, you madam, have been cavorting with my brother." Miss Bingley's pretty face was set with hard lines.

Tears pricked at Jane's eyes, while blood rushed to her ears. The censure in Miss Bingley's tone was not unsurprising, yet it stung all the same. Jane had wanted to behave badly, and now she was facing the first of the consequences for being so wanton. "I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley, but I will say nothing until I understand the precise nature of what Mr. Bingley has disclosed to you himself. We have had many private conversations and I will not betray any confidences of his, even to his nearest relations."

"Very well." Replied the hostess with a cold drawl. "He claims he is in love with you. He says he's taken you for a lover, and now he must face your husband in a duel in order to defend the honor of an adulterous wife."

Jane stared at the young woman mouth slightly agape. Why would Charles have told his maiden sister all of that!? Oh, what Miss Bingley must think of her! She burned with the shame of it. It was one thing to carry out an affair…whatever judgement or punishment she must face for her adultery was between herself and the Lord. It was another thing entirely to be confronted on the matter by someone so wholly unconnected to her – an acquaintance who had no understanding of the nature of Jane's marriage nor any sympathy for her. But this was still worse, for whatever actions taken by Charles affected the lives of his family, especially his single sister. Oh, how she must hate her! Her mind raced to find some response, but Miss Bingley lifted an elegant hand to silence whatever Jane might wish to say.

"The truth is written plainly on your face, Mrs. Collins, so I beg you to not do my intelligence the insult of dissembling. I have spent too much time in Town to be swayed by any of your country guile. Charles had enough pretty and apologetic words for the both of you. I did not request a private audience to hear your pitiful story of unhappiness or of the supposed great love you have found with my brother. I neither care, nor have time for, such vulgar displays of feeling. You have given me the impression of being a reasonably practical woman – so lets us forgo the unpleasant scenes we might feel obligated to attend and get around to the business I wish to discuss."

"Business?" Jane asked with meek tones.

"Yes," replied her hostess with a snap "you and I must come to an agreement in order to keep Charles out of trouble. He would not be dissuaded from his purpose by reason, logic, or the bonds of sisterly affection. He has forbidden me to speak to anyone of this predicament, or he will reduce my pin money dramatically. I value my brother's life more than my wardrobe and baubles, Mrs. Collins, but as I am still rather fond of living well, I would like to conduct my interference in his affairs with as much discretion as I can. That is why I am approaching you directly, rather than bringing my concerns to Mr. Darcy."

"I see." Jane replied, her voice wavering with emotion. "Miss Bingley, you must understand that Mr. Bingley has not confided anything to me regarding a duel with my husband. If I was to approach him and try to convince him to give up the scheme, he would know that I did so at your request, even if I denied it."

"I have considered that." Caroline replied with a haughty drawl. "You cannot tell Charles of my involvement. You must carve out a time to be alone with him and question him on his reticence this evening at dinner, until he tells you all. If you cannot press him into confessing everything to you…well…there is simply nothing for it. You will have to seduce him."

"Seduce him!?" Jane's gaped jaw had positively slackened with shock at such a forward remark from her hostess. "Miss Bingley, do be serious!"

"Is there anything in my manner to suggest that I am anything but, Mrs. Collins? If Charles cannot be talked out of this duel by his sister, nor by the purported love of his life, then more drastic measures must be taken to secure his safety. If he will not withdraw of his own volition, then you will ensure that he is unable to attend the duel at the hour of meeting. He must miss this appointment – and what better way to distract a man than with a seduction? You have selfishly used your arts and allurements to draw my brother in for your own amusement, now you have an opportunity to use them to keep him safe from harm. If you care for him at all, you will protect him, as he has protected you and your family these past weeks."

Jane stammered; her face fully flushed. She had never heard anyone speak so openly of matters between men and women before. "I do care for him, Miss Bingley. Charles has been so very kind and gracious to my family, and the last thing I want is for any harm to befall him on my account. I will not burden you with details you have already said you do not care to hear, but you have the right of it to try and prevent Charles from attending this meeting. If Mr. Collins has agreed to meet your brother, then I believe he intends to kill him. He is not a man who will accept a slight with grace." She paused, twisting her hands together nervously. "I would do everything in my power to prevent such a meeting but…." She paused again, blushing even more furiously than before, "the act of seduction…does not…it cannot guarantee that Mr. Bingley would miss the duel. It does not last through the evening." She looked away, mortified.

Caroline still had enough maidenly sensibilities to blush, though Jane was surprised to see it after all the Londoner had said. "I do not know all the particulars, of course," she primly answered, "but I know enough to know that the exertion of such activities is…tiring." She glanced meaningfully toward the door of the chambers where William rested. "I also know that there is plenty of laudanum on hand in the household, and that you are now quite adept at administering dosages of it."

Jane gasped as the meaning of Miss Bingley's words sunk in. "You would not only have me seduce your brother, but to drug him as well?"

Miss Bingley's eyes flashed. "I would have you give him an enjoyable evening and a pleasant night's rest."

"I cannot, in good conscience, do such a thing Miss Bingley. You may think poorly of my character now, but I should think much more poorly of it after. Such behavior would be the worst sort of duplicity."

"I pity you, Mrs. Collins, truly." Miss Bingley replied, ire rising in her voice, "An unhappy alternative is before you. You may do nothing – and live with your guilt should my brother meet his maker tomorrow, or you may wrestle with your conscious to act, and prevent this calamity before it occurs and live with my brother's anger at your interference." She pursed her lips, and continued, glaring at her companion with fury in her eyes. "Whatever your choice – know this. Should anything happen to my brother, whether death by your husband's hand, or an arrest for participating in an illegal duel – I will make it my life's pursuit to destroy the Collins family. I may not be as well connected as some, but I do have influence in circles you could never possibly dream of. I believe you are supporting several younger sisters. It would be a shame for their family reputation to be destroyed before they have the opportunity to enter society. Choose wisely, Mrs. Collins."

With those cold words, the Mistress of Netherfield turned on her heel and walked out of the room, refusing to grant Jane any chance for further explanation or defense. In Caroline's mind the matter was simple. Jane Collins had caused this debacle, and Jane Collins would be responsible for remedying it. If she could not, and the Bingley family was harmed in some fashion by this wretched affair, Caroline would be sure to extract a pound of flesh. Jane would be lucky if she could marry off her younger sisters to tenants or shopkeepers, for the Bennet reputation would fall so spectacularly, even low society wouldn't want them. Caroline doubted she would rest easily that night, but at least she could take to her bed knowing she had done something. Whatever else occurred, it would be up to Jane and what she believed she could live with.

Staring at the spot where Miss Bingley had just stood, Jane's mind rushed with possibilities.

If she could, she would save him. She only hoped that in doing so, she could protect her own soul as well. When she had begged Charles to take her to bed, Jane had been honest with him – she had spoken freely of her own desires and fears in taking her handsome host as a lover. Defying the laws of the church and breaking free of her husband's tyranny were no easy thing for her generous heart and Christian beliefs. Yet those feats seemed easy when considering the monumental task of deceiving generous, kind, gentlemanly Charles Bingley.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Mary watched her sister's departure from the drawing room with a frown. She had wanted to follow and attend William with her, but a single look from Jane had stopped her in her tracks. She would remain seated and attend her hosts, as it was plain Jane wanted her to remain, though it gave her little pleasure. The day had been so full of excitement that an evening of Mrs. Hursts' companionship was the dullest form of torture in comparison. How could she sit idly and pretend to be interested in the vapid conversation after all that occurred? On a good day, Mary dreaded making polite conversation for conversation's sake, but after the monumental occurrences of the morning, her host's insipid observations were positively unbearable. Jane had clearly agreed – she had been withdrawn and preoccupied all evening, and then quit the company as soon as politeness would allow.

Her sister was not the only one who had been too preoccupied to participate in the evening's entertainments. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had not returned to the drawing room with the other men after enjoying their cigars and port, and Miss Bingley had found an excuse to leave her guests in the companionship of her sister almost immediately after dinner. Only Dr. Barringer, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Constable Gantry remained with her.

The foursome played cards, while Mary sat with a book, hardly attending the words in front of her. She had been invited to join them, but having observed previously that the Hurts played high, felt her pin money would be better served on necessities than wagers. Mr. Hurst had been baffled by her decision – "prefer reading to cards, do you? Rather singular." and Mrs. Hurst had teased her, saying, "Miss Bennet despises cards – she is a greater reader, and takes pleasure from nothing else."

Luckily, Mary's cold rejoinder had been enough to direct their attention elsewhere. "I deserve neither such praise, nor such censure." She had said with severity, "I am not a great reader, and I take pleasure in many things." With such a pointed rebuff, there was little else to be said on the subject.

She tried to concentrate on the words before her, but there was nothing for it. Her mind was too occupied in remembrance of her morning's adventure. The rush of panic as she had darted through the trees, sparse of leaves after the autumn storms – the cold mud seeping through her muslin dress as she laid belly down beneath the bushes, the way the blood had thundered in her ears as those boots moved closer. It was a wonder she had been able to understand any of the soldiers' conversation, the way she could hear her heart pounding. That the three had not discovered her, especially knowing that one of them – Chamberlain, she believed it was – had seen her some distance away, felt nothing short of miraculous. She had already gone to Netherfield's chapel and thanked the Lord for his intervention before dinner, but it was tempting to return, for no amount of thanks would feel sufficient to her. She had been mortified that they had gone all the way to Longborn and she had been unable to slip inside and retrieve the mended slippers that might corroborate part of Elizabeth's story. She felt she had failed Constable Gantry and her family. But Constable Gantry had been so thrilled with the information she had unwittingly gathered; had told her it was even more vital than the mended slippers. She could not help but think the Lord had played a hand in bringing those soldiers to Longborn at the same time as herself.

Despite all the intelligence and sensibility that she had been blessed with, Mary could not quite believe the circumstances in which she found herself embroiled. The Bennets were an inconsequential family, their family seat an estate of middling income, their limited connections tying them to trade. Exciting and tragic things were not supposed to happen to people so ordinary as themselves, and yet it seemed that they had been marked for more than their fair share of them. She had lost both her parents, had a sister run away from home and become an actress, had another sister married to an abominable tyrant and alleged fraud and murderer, and her cousin, clergyman and heir of Longborn, had been viciously attacked by soldiers who had been stationed in Meryton to protect their village from harm. It seemed the entire Bennet clan had to carry the burden of Job.

Eventually, Dr. Barringer announced his intention to check in on the patient and retire for the evening. Mrs. Hurst again invited Mary to join them at the card table, but when she instead stated her intention of visiting the chapel and praying for her cousin, the evening's entertainment was concluded. The Hursts retired earlier than their wont, but truly it had been such a dreadfully dull evening at Netherfield, sleep seemed the best possible option for amusement, at present.

Despite her tiredness, Mary made her way to the chapel, knowing there would be little rest for her mind after such a day. Before long, she heard foot steps in the hall, pacing themselves to meet her. "Miss Bennet." Gantry said with a small, anxious smile, "Would you be averse to my joining you in prayer this evening?"

"Of course not, Constable." She replied politely. "The chapel is for the use of all Netherfield's residents."

"It is at that," The Londoner said in easy tones, "but I would still not dream of invading your privacy, should you require it."

"I thank you for your consideration, however your company is very welcome." she answered, not daring to look at him while blush tinged her cheeks.

Though he said nothing to expose her, Gantry would hardly be a credible investigator if he failed to notice such an innocent, yet obvious, flirtation. His boundless energy sparkled under the blue-stocking's admiration. He had never met a young lady as intrepid, quick-witted, and calculated as she, and it pleased him immensely to know Miss Bennet enjoyed his company in return. With Bingley's duel on the horizon, there was far too much else to concern himself with to enjoy flirting back with Miss Bennet as he wished to. However, he made a mental note of her blush, should he return to Netherfield unscathed.

They were approaching the turn for the hall toward Netherfield's chapel, when they came face to face with Mr. Darcy who had been moving toward them with great purpose. Gantry could see immediately that something profound had occurred. "Mr. Darcy?" he asked searchingly, rising from his bow.

Darcy seemed to take a moment to consider what he might say to the pair. "Miss Bennet, Constable Gantry, I am glad to have found you both." He hesitated, dark eyes drifting toward the footman stationed outside the chapel at the end of the long hall. "If you will follow me to the sick room, there is much that must be discussed."

Mary's eyes rounded beneath her spectacles; her interest piqued. What more could have possibly occurred since this afternoon, to have Mr. Darcy in such a state? They followed Mr. Darcy through the halls, walking briskly to match the pace of the tall man's impatient strides to the guest wing. When they arrived, they found Elizabeth within the sitting room, pacing the length of the room.

"What has happened?" Asked Gantry as soon as the door shut behind the trio. The congenial tones he had directed toward Miss Mary were entirely absent, the constable had fully stepped into his role as investigator once more.

"Miss Bennet has thought of a way we might stop this dreadful duel from occurring on the morrow, but we can not accomplish all that we must on our own." Darcy turned toward Mary, addressing her with warmth and gravity. "Miss Mary, we have discovered that one of the lieutenants you encountered in Longborn's woods this morning has a connection with my family. I am troubled that the man – the one you heard addressed as Wickham, may have come to Hertfordshire by design have heard that I am here, for he has importuned me many times for assistance. However, what Lieutenant Wickham does not know is that after our last encounter, I had instructed my solicitors to buy up many of Wickham's debts, and I now hold enough vowels against him to see the man in debtor's prison. I mean to call in those vowels tonight, unless Wickham will confess to his involvement in Reverend Collins' assault."

"I can not like this." Gantry interjected hotly. "In seeking Wickham out tonight, you are acting most precipitously. Colonel Fitzwilliam has assured us that Colonel Foster will be keeping a close eye on the man, and I have already summoned more runners from Bow Street to watch over all the suspects of the assault. We cannot frighten them away before our evidence is iron clad."

"Constable, I recognize that in cases such as these, you are the expert. You have proven yourself an invaluable asset in unraveling Longborn's many secrets. However, I believe the time to observe has come to an end. We, knowing who Collins is – or rather what he is – must act. I can not simply await the man killing my friend and see him arrested for the act after it has occurred. Knowing what we do, we must move to prevent such a calamity." Darcy replied firmly.

"I agree Constable." Elizabeth added, turning toward them her pacing. "From all that you have been told of the man's character and all you have observed yourself through these weeks in Hertfordshire, you must know that Mr. Bingley has placed himself in grave danger, and you in turn, for standing as his second. If Wickham implicates Collins as the orchestrator of the assault, would it not be enough to place him under arrest this very evening?"

The Londoner frowned absent mindedly, reaching into his waist coat for his familiar pocket watch. His fingers ran methodically over the embossed gold as his mind worked rapidly, weighing the potential pros and cons of the many routes they could take. In the ideal scenario, he would have Bow Street observe the suspects for a fortnight or more, investigating their backgrounds and motivations for having taken up with such a cruel scheme. Such a delay would also allow his own investigators in London who had been looking into Collins background more time to dig into his sordid history. With a snap of clarity, Gantry lifted his head toward the grouping. After all, with the proposed duel, the scenario was no longer ideal for the methodical sort of investigation he preferred. Lives could very well hang in the balance of his actions, and had he not told Miss Bennet previously how very much saving a life meant to him?

Locking eyes with his current benefactor Gantry replied, "Approaching Wickham is not without risks. Are you sure that a persuasion such as this will work on him?" He asked.

Darcy grimaced slightly but held Gantry's gaze steadily. "I have been far too lenient with Wickham in the past, the memory of my father's regard for his godson had often tempered my hand, and Wickham knows this." He answered, a touch of shame in his tone, "He will try to work upon this softness, that I am sure of. However, the nature of his actions which caused me to begin purchasing his debts is such that I can never forgive, nor would my father have ever abided, should he have lived to see it. Now knowing his character has sunk low enough to attack an unarmed man without provocation, a parson at that…I believe he has squandered what very little charity I might yet have held for the man. It may take some time to convince Wickham of my sincerity in seeing this through, but once he has been convinced of the seriousness of his situation, I have no doubts he will move to protect his own interests, with no regard for others involved."

The men regarded one another for a long moment, and finally Gantry nodded. "Very well, Mr. Darcy. I shall trust in your knowledge of this man's character, for you have proven yourself to be a most keen observer during these tribulations. If a confession can be had before Collins meets Bingley on the dawn, then we may yet be able to prevent this duel, that much is true. Now, what would you have me do to aid you?"

Elizabeth stepped toward them, picking up a stack of parchment from the side table as she did so. "The hour grows later with each passing moment. We must move quickly in order to ensure all that needs to be done. I have made four copies of this note at Mr. Darcy's request, one for Sir William Lucas, the magistrate, another to Colonel Foster, one for Mrs. Hill, Longborn's housekeeper, and another which will be directed to Hatfield, in the hopes that it might intercept your colleagues on their journey to Hertfordshire."

Mary's sharp gaze fixed on her sister, "Mrs. Hill?" she asked incredulously, "Whatever for?"

"The note explains that Mr. Collins is being investigated for the assault against his "son", and that Bow Street requests immediate compliance with the instructions given to all parties involved. Mr. Darcy even added a postscript to assure Hill that should any repercussions arise from her cooperation in this matter, that Darcy house will supply Mr. and Mrs. Hill with a position or recommendation as they so require. However, I do not think Mr. or Mrs. Hill will need such reassurances, for their loyalty must lie with Jane, and not the usurper."

"There can be no question on that score, Lizzy." Mary replied with earnestness, "The Hills have no love for their master, I am convinced that they have only remained on so that they may look after Jane and the rest of us. But why is it necessary to inform Hill of these happenings this evening? That I do not understand."

"Because, my dear sister," Elizabeth said warmly, crossing the length of the room and pressing the aforementioned note into Mary's small hands, "when neither Mr. Collins or Jane are present, it is you who serves as Mistress of Longborn, and the final authority of that which happens in the house. If all goes according to our plans this evening, you will travel to Longborn once again in the morning, this time not to sneak about the servant's entrance...but through the front doors, as the lady of the manor. It is my hope that you will be there to greet Mr. Gantry's runners, who are being directed to travel to Longborn, in order to search for not only the mended slippers, but the documents and effects which Cousin William believes are located in Longborn that will reveal Collins' true identity. Between the note and your instructions, I believe all will comply with the Runners instructions, but your presence will be sorely needed to soothe the servants' feelings as well as expedite an efficient search of the estate. I believe you can manage it, but only if you are willing."

"I am willing." Mary said decisively. "Of course I am, what a notion that I may not be."

Beside her, Gantry couldn't help but grin at the slight annoyance in her tone. "And what is my role to be?"

"Here is the note for Sir William, Mr. Gantry." she said, stretching the missive toward him. "You and Darcy shall leave for Lucas Lodge at once – if the nature of the missive is not enough to rouse him into immediate action, I am sure that being of use to a person of so great importance as Darcy will be, from all that I remember of him." She turned toward Darcy with a playful smirk, "Darcy, you will use your noble bearing and the best of your haughty London attitude to impress on Sir William how important such an undertaking is. I doubt he should dare refuse you anything you condescended to ask, should you address him with enough seriousness."

He smiled at his fiancé in turn before saying, "We shall find Richard on our way, and press him into service to bring the other note to Colonel Foster, and we shall all reconvene at the barracks to interview with Wickham this very night. As it is already dark, and the roads are in such a sorry state, some of us may need to traverse these miles on foot. Once we have changed into our outerwear, we will head to the stables. I have a few guineas on hand to ensure the discretion and assistance of the grooms as we may need them."

"What of Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy?" Mary asked, her mind whirling. "Should he not be informed of these plans?"

Darcy nodded in recognition of her question, his mind pondering how best to respond in a delicate manner, but before he could do so, Gantry had responded on his behalf. "We must leave men some of their pride, Miss Bennet." He said with gentleness. "Mr. Bingley has called Collins out, and though I doubt he truly wants to meet the man on the field, he will not be dissuaded from the notion as his honor has been engaged. It is best to leave him to rest and contemplation this evening, for he would surely try to stop us from protecting him in this way, if he knew of it."

"I do not like deceit." Mary replied, somewhat primly, "I can not partake in it."

"I understand, Miss Bennet." Darcy replied solemnly, "If Bingley were to approach me this evening and ask me directly what I am about, I could not lie to my friend, especially under his roof, nor will I ask you to do the same. However, we are not asking you to engage in any deceit, only…. a bit of disguise."

"Acting, if you will, Mary." Elizabeth added. "We do not ask you to lie to Mr. Bingley, but only to avoid his notice for a few hours. We shall all be far too busy preparing to engage with him again this evening, shall we not?"

"I suppose you are correct." Mary replied hesitantly, still somewhat uncomfortable with the notion. "If I am to be at Longborn to receive Constable Gantry's colleagues on the morrow, then I really must retire to my chambers, for I am quite exhausted from the events of the day. If you no longer have need of me, I shall return to my chambers now."

"I will wake you when it is time," Elizabeth said with a gentle smile. "Thank you, Mary. You have grown into quite the remarkable young woman."

The normally stoic Bennet sister blushed lightly with praise, and dipping her curtesy bid the assembled company good evening. They watched her go, and then Darcy turned his beloved and said with fierceness, "Elizabeth, all will be well. I swear to you, we shall put this story to rights."

"I believe you, Darcy," she said, famed eyes welling with a luminescent tenderness, "I believe in you, in us. Together, we shall see justice prevail." She cupped his cheek. "Be safe, my beloved."

He took her hands and kissed them ardently, "I will take every precaution, my love."

And with that, the gentlemen were bowing, and making haste toward their own rooms. The hour grew late, and the autumn air would be damp and cold, but a certain warmth, one of righteous purpose, filled Gantry's chest. Miss Elizabeth was right – justice may yet prevail indeed.

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Well - there you have it, until next week! This is possibly the longest single evening to get through in the history of reading, and the night is not yet over. The chapter after the next, (which is currently being worked on), will finally bring the dawn. Thank you all again for reading, and for sharing your thoughts on the plot, my writing style, and everything else out under the sun. I appreciate hearing from you more than you can know. Sometimes sharing a creative work is the most terrifying feeling in the world, and the tenderness and appreciation shown to my efforts has been so deeply rewarding. Thank you 3