Author's Notes: I am truly floored by the amount of response to the previous chapter. I also received a few PM's encouraging me to ignore the trolls and keep on writing - thank you very much for your support. I'm following your advice. I'm happy to report that I may have a Beta soon to help clean things up a bit as well. Still working that relationship out, but in the mean time I didn't want to keep you all waiting for the next chapter.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter deals with the subject of violence - the acts are not described but the after math is to a degree. I believe this content falls under my initial rating and previous warnings, but if reviewers feel that the rating should be increased I will do so. Please let me know.

PS: I took some historical liberty by dropping the name Fielding Brothers when referencing the Bow Street Runners. When I did some research into Bow Street I read about the founding members and thought their story was so neat. They both would have been dead by the time this story takes place. They won't be important characters in the story. When I hopefully edit this story in the future I'll do further research to make it more period accurate. If you want an interesting read I suggest looking them up though.

Benito Forelli was an old man. Every day that he awoke, he felt that age laying more heavily on him than it had the day previously. Another day older, another day of weight. Tired hands lovingly caressed an easel where a sketch of Adelaide - no, Lizzy! - sat. His muse was reading a copy of Shakespeare in a simple day dress, wild curls escaping her coiffure and framing her face like a halo. The eyes that so arrested him were dedicated to the page, lost in another's story. This wasn't a drawing of Venus, Goddess of Love, but rather, a simple portrait of an English rose. He hoped that he did her justice, without the trappings of fantasy surrounding her. Her fame was only growing, and so few people realized that she was a simple country gentleman's daughter, surrounded as she was by such an air of mystery.

As if summoned by the turn of his thoughts, his muse appeared before him, dressed for a turn out of doors.

"Good morning, Padre." She said, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"And a very good morning to you my little dove," He replied in his lilting accent, "are you to the park?"

"Indeed I am. I must get out of doors while the weather remains fine, and before Lady Fitzwilliam has any opportunity to call. I am utterly spent."

She smiled at him in her teasing way, those eyes dancing with amusement. It warmed him to see his charge looking so happy. A copy of Romeo and Juliet peaked out from her reticule, and pencil smudged her gloves. "You do not go alone, I see."

She laughed, bright and sparkling. "No indeed, there is much work to be done before our next rehearsal. Thompson shall have my neck if I do not impress this week. And I can not achieve any work inside when the sun is shining so warmly."

Her usual companion was already waiting by the door to escort her. "Go then," the old man answered with laugh of his own, "I know better than to try and keep woodland sprites in the home. You would be much better cast in A Midsummer Night's Dream, I dare say."

She smiled and was off - little dove stretching her wings on the streets of London. How glorious it felt to leave the confines of the home and her endless parade of callers and appointments for the simple pleasure of an invigorating walk and a bit of studying her lines. In moment such as this, the actress Elizabeth Bennet could finally own that playing the role of Adelaide Bernard was beginning to wear thin.

Ever since she had confessed her true family name to Signore Forelli, she had felt a growing longing to be free of her disguise and to revisit hearth and home. It was an impossibility, of course. Her safety, and especially the safety of her sisters, compelled her to remain hidden. The place of her childhood was lost to her, and yet every day that passed it called to her in a way that it hadn't since those first months after she had left it behind.

In just a few short months, she would be one-and-twenty, and her majority would finally be achieved. Her official guardian, such as he was, would no longer have any power of her whatsoever. She had made a name for herself, had some money of her own, perhaps it was time to begin her plan of freeing her sisters from the same tyrant that sought control of her. As she dwelled on her enemy, she felt her heart begin to race with the same sort of fear that had consumed her as a young girl.

Elizabeth increased her pace, forcing herself to rise above her own mind's attempts to intimidate her. "There is no shame in my being afraid of him," she reminded herself, "the man is a murderer."

Finally, she had reached the park. Being significantly earlier than the fashionable hour, there was enough space for Elizabeth to be alone with her thoughts, a silent footman keeping pace with her for her protection. Her evidence of the murder was uncorroborated, and the memory of a thirteen year old girl who then ran away from home and became an actress was the stuff for scandal sheets, not a court room. Was it time to finally contact Bow Street? Her mind mulled over the options before her, forgetting Juliet entirely.

She had the letter. That much was true, and it must count for something. If the famous Fielding brothers could but track down this character Malvern who had written it, or the maid he had written of! It seemed a fantastic notion that she could bring justice to her father some eight years after his death, but she could not simply let the matter rest. He had no sons to avenge him, and so it must be a daughter who brought about the justice that was merited for a crime as heinous as this.

As usual, the twists and turns of her conscious always lead her back to Jane. Jane who had been unwittingly forced into marriage with her father's murderer. Jane who was so gentle and kind that she may have learned to love him, Jane who may have borne him children at this point. Would making moves against her husband free Jane from his tyranny or would it dishearten her and attach her to shame? Would Jane's kind heart even allow her to believe in the possibility of so dark a truth?

Elizabeth shook her head in attempt to dispel the gloom of her own thoughts. It was one of many possibilities that Jane may never forgive her, but could God and the ghost of dear Papa ever forgive her for simply allowing a murderer to go free? She had to at least try to achieve justice for him and for his family, and if she truly lost Jane because of it….well, she had been living this long with only memories of her as it was, had she not? It was a true and unwavering love for all her sisters that had pushed Elizabeth to become Adelaide and make her own way in the world. Her ambition being that she she could one day provide for the Bennet orphans as their parents ought to have done. There was such little employment offered to women, and none of them promised that she would ever acquire the kind of wealth needed to support a family. Cunning had brought her to Forelli's door, when she had no other options of where to go. Luck had treated her kindly when he pitied her and invited to stay. Opportunity had then presented itself in a year or two, as she had been permitted to mix with company, and that company was the world of art.

But if love of her sisters had driven Elizabeth toward her career, it was for the love of Jane alone that she had run away, and for that same love that she stayed away still.

It had not been long after Mr. Collins had arrived at Longbourn to claim his inheritance before Elizabeth had began to grow a deep distrust for the man. He was cold, almost emotionless, and large and imposing enough of a figure that he must be naturally intimidating to any young lady. His ink-like black eyes were shrewd and hawkish, constantly assessing the girls now under his care. Elizabeth was only just past thirteen, and not yet out in society, but instinctively she had known something was very wrong with the way his cold, black pools would linger on Jane.

During the first six months of mourning, their Aunt Gardiner had stayed at Longbourn to properly chaperone the girls, and to help mind the younger children. Her husband, had frequently traveled between London and Hertfordshire, attempting to run a business and care for his family. There had been talk of affiancing Jane to Mr. Collins' son William, at the time only seventeen to Jane's fifteen. It had seemed to make sense to all parties, and Jane was reconciled to the match. Master Collins was about to enter university with the goal of eventually receiving his ordination, and so it was determined that they would be married once that goal had been accomplished. What to do with the other girl had required much more debate, ultimately ending in a division of the family. They were to be separated, with the youngest pair being sent away to school with the combined funds of London and Longbourn. Jane and Mary would stay with their Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Meryton until Jane was married. Elizabeth had been meant to stay with the Gardiner family, and when Mrs. Gardiner had been obliged to return to London, Elizabeth went with her. It was during that time that she had first been sketched by Signore Forelli, and in her absence at Longbourn, a terrible scheme had been created.

Elizabeth had stayed only two months entirely when a letter came to Gracechurch St, a letter saying that the first of the banns had been announced for Jane's marriage to Mr. Collins Sr. The whole family had been in an uproar. There must be some kind of mistake! Whatever could this mean? Letters sent by express went unanswered. Finally a letter came from Mr. Collins solicitor, advising Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Phillips review the marriage contract they had signed. What they found had shocked them all. Everything was perfectly legal about the match, for the guardians had signed the contract themselves, not realizing which Collins man they had promised their sweet niece to. Father and son shared the same name. They had no way of proving in the courts that it was to the latter of the pair that they had affianced their niece. The marriage must continue.

Elizabeth had been terrified for Jane. She begged to go to the wedding, and then when back at Longbourn, she begged to stay with her sister. The sisters were so glad to be reunited, and so loathed to be parted, that the group of guardians founds themselves acquiescing to the scheme. Jane was married now, and as such was qualified to chaperone her sisters. However Elizabeth had ulterior motives. She did not trust Jane's husband and feared for Jane's well being in his care.

She had been correct to think so. He was not a man to be trusted.

The first few months had been very hard indeed. Collins resented that he could not be rid of all the Bennet sisters and keep Jane to himself. He had married her for one reason, and that was to enjoy the pleasures of a beautiful young woman's flesh whenever he so desired. In his mind it was his due as master of a fine estate to have a pretty young thing for a bride.

Oh he might had gone to London to search for Mistress of Longbourn with a dowry, but he was no fool. A season in town was a costly affair, and he had no desire to spend any more of his income chasing debutantes after he had been forced to provide for a bevy of penniless girls already. Here was perhaps one of the most lush English roses the whole country could offer him, and she was already tied to his family name. Why should his fool of a son get to enjoy such delectable flesh while the master of the estate went to a cold bed every night? After all, an estate needed a mistress to attend to household matters, and a master would benefit by the other domestic comforts a woman could provide. A future parson would do very well as a bachelor for a few years. Indeed, he may not even be able to afford to marry if he could not secure a position straight away. In the father's eyes, Jane belonged to him and to Longbourn. He would have her. He went to the church and asked the banns to be called. He did not consult with his future wife or her family. He had decided it was time to have Jane, and he would not be deterred by any of them. He had no mind to consider her age, temperament, or the trauma of loss she had experienced when he took Jane as his wife, only his own desires in how he wished to have his bed and his household attended to.

The Collins family had always been a cold one. Spare the rod, spoil the child, an edict. He had little patience for sixteen year old Jane's discomfort or unhappiness, and his way of guiding his wife to better behavior was a philosophy based in the principal of punishment. However, he could not mold his young wife precisely to his bidding. His treatment of Jane had to be curtailed by the watchful, resentful, eyes of her clever little sister. Though there was little the family or the law could do to part a couple who's marriage had been sanctioned by the church, being new in the community meant that was a strong need for Collins to put his best face forward. By having Elizabeth witness to their domestic scenes, she created just enough of a barrier to his most base behavior, knowing that she could ruin his reputation in the community with any talk of Jane's ill treatment by his hand. For his own part, he believed in the righteousness of his own path, however he was clever enough to realize just how tenuous his place in society was, how fondly and sympathetically the community viewed the Bennet orphans. He loathed Elizabeth, the impertinent chit, but new not how to be rid of her.

Providence had provided that opportunity, when Elizabeth had discovered his crime.

Elizabeth paused her walk, leaning underneath the shade of tall tree, it's leaves half turned yellow and glowing gold in the gentle morning light. She would never be able to forget the day she had learned her father was murdered. She would never shake that upsetting scene from her memory. She could lock it away for moments, she could smile, and laugh, and pretend she was another woman with another life, but that memory always lurked just below her surface.

If she closed her eyes for just a moment, she could call the whole scene forward.

The stables. A clear blue afternoon. Jane had taken her afternoons to continue Elizabeth's education, and finally relented in French conjugations when she saw how restlessly her sister stirred. With a laugh, she had set her off, telling her to take an hour's recess and return in a more studious frame of mind.

Elizabeth had always enjoyed learning, and read voraciously, but she truly detested the tedium of her more lady-like studies with Jane. At first she had protested, but soon she and realized that these times were a refuge for Jane. She was a wife now, and no longer permitted to sit with her sister and play like a girl. However, she may have a few hours uninterrupted with her, if they could be shown to have spent it in a productive fashion. So lessons continued, but Jane did not have enough of a selfish heart to keep her sister engaged indoors when it was a day as fine as that one.

So Elizabeth had been freed from her studies. She was not permitted to wander the paths past the grounds of Longbourn. It had rankled her to have her rambling feet so contained, but for Jane's sake, she endured the restrictions in order to maintain harmony within the household. The park at Longbourn was not excessively large, a young girl with Elizabeth's boundless energy could make quick work of encircling the areas she was allowed to traverse. She had taken to visiting the stables when her other paths grew tiresome. The horses were typically at work on the home farm, and sometimes one of the barn cats would feel friendly enough to permit her a pat or two. Very occasionally she would encounter a stable hand, but never before that day had she heard hushed and angry voices near the back of the barn.

Imp that she was, her natural inclination was to eavesdrop. A child of thirteen may commit much worse sins than that, and so unusual a scene in a life so confined and unvarying could not help but to pique a child's curiosity. From behind a hale bale, she heard the words.

"Yer living mighty fine now, Collins, mighty fine indeed. A fellow can not help but be envious."

"That you have the gall to approach me in my own home astounds me. I am the master here, and I shall have you removed for trespassing!"

"Do as ya please, Master of the House, but I wonder at ya being so eager to hand me over to yer magistrate. A good magistrate has his ways of making a man get to talking, ya know."

"I am sure you can have nothing to say to him, unless you are eager to meet a noose yourself."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that, my old friend. Ya see, a guilty man would be very eager to point his wagging finger any which way that may save him from the hang man. Only you have profited from old man Bennet's death. He was nothing to me at all, not even an acquaintance."

"You mistake me for a fool. I have saved all your letters, kept them locked away in their own private box. A court would quickly determine that you have been extorting me, Malvern."

Elizabeth heard the unknown man make a throaty laugh, thoroughly amused.

"Ya mistake yerself for Clever Collins. My letters would seal yer fate. Very admissible in the court to prove yer own guilt."

A pause.

"What more can you want from me?"

"Ya should have been honest with me from the start. An estate of yer own is no trifling inheritance. This land was worth killing for, and that ripe piece of fruit yer tuppin' worth dying for, I wager."

Behind her hale bale, Elizabeth's ears rang, her heart raced. Could she possibly be hearing these words? Her hands gripped deeply into the hay, rooting her to the spot.

"I have been more than generous in order to silence your tongue."

"More than generous, ya say? More than generous with a one time payment of a few hundred pounds, when ya sit quite comfortable with a pretty little income for the rest of yer days? Yer greed will be yer downfall my fair weather friend. I helped ya kill a man, I confess it. I put that laudanum into yer hands knowing full well what ya intended to do with it. Is the price of my immortal soul so low?"

"Low indeed! You agreed to it then, and now only have to be bitter at my own good fortune! You dare to lecture me on greed while seeking to satisfy your own. I will not be intimidated by the likes of you."

Bile rose in Elizabeth's throat. The ringing increased. Here was her sister's husband, her own guardian, admitting that he had murdered her father. He was being blackmailed for the crime! What could she do? What should she do?

"I'm not so simple to not know when the master gets his due. Ya shall hear from me every autumn to perpetuity. Yer a big fellow, but a stupid one. If ya think you can scare a man like myself, a man willing to a do a dirty deed like murder for so small a fee, you are very mistaken. I am not afraid of you, and yer idle threats. Ya needed an unsavory sort like me to complete the deed, and whereas you knew one very bad sort of man, a bad sort such as myself knows scores more, willing to work for less."

Another pause. Collins voice lost some of its self assurance.

"You will hang if I expose you."

Another laugh. "Indeed I will, and so will you, my friend. My neck has been bound for the noose for a long time. It is only a matter of chance I've managed to evade it so far. No man wishes to die, but I've lived the sort of life where I've had to make friends with that old bitch death. Have you?"

Another pause. The unknown man continued his speech, his voice taking on a gentle, persuasive note.

"Come now, you and I both know you have not. Yer finally reaching a point in life where ya can be comfortable. Look at this finery yer living in, after spending most of yer life in hard labor. Look at that pretty little thing you have to keep yer pecker warm in the cold nights. Will yer mistaken pride really throw this all away so that ya can save yerself a bit of money ya won't even miss? No, ya aren't that foolish, Collins. Ya know I can't be scared, but I can be bought, and I don't aim for higher than what I know ya can afford. Just consider me an expense of running yer estate."

A sigh of resignation. "How much do you require?"

"200lbs per annum."

"Two hundred pounds! Are you mad sir?"

"I have it on good authority that yer estate pulls in about two-thousand in income, I think my number is very fair."

"My income is hardly sufficient to provide for the bevy of children that bastard left behind. I am expected to provide for the insolent brats Bennet sired. I do not care for them, but my respectability must be maintained in this part of the world."

"So take it from yer wife's pocket allowance for all I care. Dismiss a servant and put her soft little hands to work as your own did for so long. It is no business of mine how you must economize to provide me what I'm owed. Two hundred is my price to save yer neck from the hangman's noose. Will you pay it?"

A pause that seemed to extend into infinity. Elizabeth's head pounded fiercely, her breath caught in her throat.

"Very well."

Footsteps. They were moving back toward the house. They approached. They approached! She would be discovered. The beating of her heart pounded in her ears, her vision became clustered with spots. She must move, she must hide. These terrible men could not know what she had heard! They could not know. She scanned the grounds around her, there was no where she could run that would not expose she had been hiding close by. The foot steps moved closer. What to do? What to do! They were coming closer every moment. The ringing in her ears intensified, suddenly she could hear nothing else. The clusters of spots in her vision were rapidly blocking out the light. Her vision narrowed. They were coming. They were coming!

Her world went black.

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open with a startle. Someone was calling her name. She was in Hyde Park on a lovely autumn morning, she was miles and years away from that dreadful day in Hertfordshire. Why it was Colonel Fitzwilliam! She must not give herself a way. A deep breath. Another. A forced smile. She squared her shoulders, the mask of Adelaide Bernard, consummate thespian, rising with his approach. Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn must be left in Hertfordshire another day.

vVvVvVvVv

Three horses pounded along rapidly softening grounds, rain falling in torrents. Fitzwilliam Darcy thought for not the first time what a fool he had been to propose this errand, if he lost his seat for this foolish parson Georgianna would never forgive him. There had been some merit to Caroline's reproach, it was a folly indeed to chase after a man lost in a storm.

Bingley grinned at him from his own horse. It was very wet and quite cold, but a hard ride was always exhilarating, and a hard ride with a purpose all the better. The pair had chosen to ride together down the main road to Longbourn. They had no idea how familiar Mr. Collins was with the lesser known pathways between the estates, but had been of a like mind that he did not seem to be a particularly athletic fellow. That he would stay along the well maintained roads seemed more likely than not. They did their best looking for foot prints and peering into closely grouped trees where a man might take shelter from a storm.

It was Bingley who spotted the parson's hat laying in the mud of the road. He dismounted swiftly, and lifted the article up, turning toward Darcy with the item in hand. His smile had vanished. "Darcy, let's dismount and see if we can make out any tracks. Hopefully the poor sod is close!"

Darcy did as he was bid, his keen eyes assessing the situation. They were near a junction in the road, marked by a large rock and a clearing of trees. They both began to bellow the man's name, hoping he was taking shelter near by and could hear them.

At first their efforts appeared fruitless. Just as they had remounted, boots quite thoroughly soaked, about to take off once more in the direction of Longbourn, they saw a hand feebly raise from behind the boulder.

"Good God!" Bingley cried, taking off toward it at a sprint. Darcy tied the horses and followed quickly on his heel.

They reached their target to find the object of their search in much worse shape than either of them could have anticipated. Collins' eyes were closed, and his raised arm dropped beside him limply. He was soaked to the bone, and completely caked with mud. It became clear he had fallen and dragged himself toward the nearest structure he could find for some degree of shelter.

"Reverend Collins, sir, can you hear me?" Darcy asked with urgency, peering hard into the face of the man.

Bingley was looking the man over for injuries, and fretfully turned to Darcy. "The poor devil must have hurt his ankle somehow. You can see that one of his boots is quite swollen. It will most likely have to be cut off."

Darcy lightly tapped the gentleman's face, hoping to rouse him. It appeared that his desperate hand wave had taken the very last reserves of his energy. "Mr. Collins, please, it is I, Mr. Darcy. You are injured sir, and you can not stay here. We must get you back to Netherfield."

This communication pulled a small groan from the gentleman, that sounded something close to "Longbourn," but neither of the conscious gentlemen could be sure.

Charles turned to his friend, his voice as serious as Darcy had ever heard it. "Clearly, he will not be capable of riding to either Netherfield or Longbourn. We will need to ride with him. Allow me to take him, as the smaller of the two of us, my horse could bare the weight with much more ease."

The Derbyshire gentleman frowned. "It will be a taxing experience for all parties, your horse included. Perhaps it would be better if we were to place him in a saddle and walk him back. We are only a mile and half from Netherfield."

"Time spent debating this issue will only leave us exposed to the elements for even longer. Come man, help me lift him. We both know that you are the more skilled rider of the two of us. You can reach Netherfield and warn them to prepare for a fully fledged invalid rather than three very damp gentlemen."

The pair of friends locked eyes, and Darcy bowed to the younger gentleman's resolve. Charles was right, Darcy was the more skilled of the two on horse back, and both he and his stallion were used to the rugged terrain of Derbyshire. The wet rolling hills of Herfordshire would not be nearly as treacherous for him as for Bingley. Bingley could ride slow with the invalid while Darcy prepared for their arrival. He nodded.

The gentlemen lifted the parson, which made him cry out in pain. His great coat dragged in the mud from the weight of the water it had absorbed. The friends looked at each other, both of the same mind. Each arm was pulled from the gentleman's jacket with as much as delicacy as they could manage the task, leaving the coat laying in the mud. They would send a servant to retrieve it after the storm and see if it was worth salvaging. In the interim the additional weight would only slow them down from reaching shelter. Soon enough they had him on Bingley's horse, and his eyes blearily lifted at the movements of his body, but he did not speak except to weakly murmur, "Sir, I do apologize." with fever glazed eyes.

Bingley saddled behind his charge, a grim expression on his normally cheerful face. Darcy remounted, took one last searching look at the pair, and was off with a gallop.

His ride back to Netherfield was mercifully short, and the storm seemed to be calming from it's initial intensity, although rain still came down steadily. A fretful Mrs. Nichols awaited him with warmed blankets, and was dismayed to see Mr. Bingley had not returned as well.

"We must make haste," Darcy said after thanking the housekeeper for the blanket, "We discovered Reverend Collins terribly indisposed. Mr. Bingley is carrying him back at this very moment. We will need the help of several able-bodied men to carry the fellow to a bedroom, clean and dry loose fitting clothes to change him into, and any provisions the household may have for injury and illness. He seems to be in a great deal of pain. Notes should also be prepared to send to Longbourn and to summon the apothecary at the earliest possible convenience."

The housekeeper grew very pale, but did not state her apprehension. "Of course sir," she answered, "it shall be done at once!'

Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were then before them, and Darcy had to give some credit to their sisterly feeling. He had never presumed them to be very affectionate toward Charles, but their worry was evident. "Where is my brother!" Caroline cried with feeling.

"Acting as a hero." Darcy replied, not unkindly. "He would not allow me to take up the office myself. We discovered Mr. Collins, and he is doing very poorly. Charles rides with him. I expect them at any moment."

It seemed like a life time, but Charles was finally viewed coming onto the grounds with Mr. Collins in tow. A bevy of manservants rushed out to meet him, Darcy at their helm, still in his very damp riding clothes. They made quick work of bringing the indisposed gentleman into the house and taking him upstairs. The two gentlemen's valets were directed to tend to Collins' clothes and leave their masters to fend for themselves.

Darcy was still immersed in his bath, mind whirling with the events of the day, when his valet gave his signature knock. Darcy bid him enter, rising for his robe.

The master was quick to come to the point of what troubled him the most. "How is the patient, Smyth?"

The valet shook his head regretfully. "He is not well Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Nichols keeps some laudanum on hand, so he rests for now, but the apothecary can not come quickly enough for my liking."

Darcy turned to face him. "Are the extent of his injuries so severe?"

"Indeed they are, sir." His man hesitated.

"I would have you be totally open in this matter, Smyth." Darcy said encouragingly, "You know that I will not make a man of the church the subject of gossip in his community."

"Sir! Of course I know you to be more honorable than that. I only hesitate because I wonder that the gentleman in question may not wish you, or any others, to realize how badly injured he is, and was."

"I will be open with you Smyth. I observed some bruising on the gentleman's neck this morning when the family came to call, which he had attempted to conceal under a cravat so extravagant it would have made you blush. I am concerned that he was injured prior to his experience stuck in the storm."

"Sir, you know I began my career as batman, so what I say next will come with some credibility." The master nodded in affirmation of his words. The valet continued, "The gentleman looked like he had been flogged, and quite severely."

Darcy felt his heart sink to his stomach. Had his family known he was weak and wounded when they made him exit the carriage to walk home? His mind turned toward the patriarch, and thought of his arrogant familial pride so frequently on display. The sharp displays of temper and caustic wit he had witnessed in their limited acquaintance. The strange look in Mrs. Collins' eyes that afternoon as she attempted to keep conversation light - the hard rage in Miss Bennet's. Of course they had known. To further torture the young man had clearly been the reason to evict him from the carriage. He paused, attempting to compose his feelings.

"Do you suppose there is any chance the injuries are self inflicted Smyth? Overly pious men of the cloth have done worse, you know."

The valet shook his head. "From the placement of his injuries, I would say that poor boy was strung up and beat sir. Especially considering the other injuries to his neck and wrists." His voice wavered with emotion.

"Do you think his injuries merit a visit from my physician in London?"

"Sir, I am not a medical man, my eye may see things worse than what they truly are. However, I think any attentions the man receives can only be to his benefit. It certainly can not hurt him."

"Please see to it that he is summoned, Smyth. I would not have any man suffer when it is in my power to offer him some relief. I find it shocking that he could have called on us only this morning without giving away any discomfort whatsoever."

Smyth would not meet Darcy's eye. Darcy took in his countenance, and found himself saying aloud, "I take it that you find it less surprising than I do."

The servant sighed heavily. "Sir, in my time I have found that the more we endure in life, the more we can withstand."

"I see." Darcy replied, losing himself in distant contemplation.

Author's Notes: Well those who guessed that Collins will be the sick guest at Netherfiled are correct. But who will come to care for him and what may happen there may surprise you. I love hearing your thoughts! Keep them coming, and thanks for reading.