Hidden in Plain Sight

by Ghostwriter85

REPOST OF OLD STORY. NOTE INSIDE. AU NON-Canon GENERAL Regency. Kitty Bennet accompanies the Foresters to Brighton, two and a half years after her sister Lydia's scandal and their mother's passing. While on their way home from Brighton, Kitty is taken. Unbeknownst to them, or the Foresters; there is much more going on. Mr. Hurst included.

Reposting old story due to ONE chapter being EDITED so that I could put rating to a K+ and that is where the couple is found dead. If you do not want to reread the whole thing just skip to chapter 32 as I am posting all at once; which I normally do NOT do. However, even that chapter's main events have not changed; simply changed how it reads, so, nothing really has changed other than the rating. I left quite a few of the notes just in case any new readers came along to read.

P & P AU NON-Canon GENERAL Regency

Hidden in Plain Sight

NOTE: PLEASE before you get the urge to start pounding away at the keyboard BEAR WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter-at least for awhile- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past.

Observations

Ch. 1

Things were quiet in the Bingley Parlor. Jane was working on an embroidery project, Charles was attempting to work out a problem in his ledger and James Hurst was sitting quietly in a chair next to one of the garden doors. His full head of dark hair neatly combed and side-burns neatly trimmed. Caroline was married and entrenched so deeply into London society nothing was going to get that lady out of it and Louisa was nowhere in sight. The poor lady had been killed by a bullet over two years ago; not excessively long before Charles and Jane had exchanged vows.

"Charles and I could postpone the wedding." Jane looked at Mr. Hurst who had walked through the door of Netherfield looking like something a wild animal had dragged in.

"No, life goes on and people need something to smile over."

And so, the wedding had gone on as planned. People had gathered at the church, watched Jane being walked down the aisle on Mr. Bennet's arm, thrown rice afterwards and a dinner had even been served at Netherfield. Now things were quiet once again and James hardly ever spoke two words.

"Some people dive into a bottle after their spouse dies and you would think Mr. Hurst would have." Whispered Jane to Kitty who had come to visit; her sister was now nineteen and the only sister not married. "But he tossed his into the trash. And people say he and Lousia were not even all that close."

"People grieve differently, you told me that yourself after mother passed away. As to Charles' brother? I would think quitting his drinking and refusing to sit down at games of chance would be a good thing."

"Drinking by itself yes. And him not sitting at a game of chance anymore is great. However, he is too quiet, even for him."

James still fished, hunted and went camping more than most; a fact Kitty pointed out but that was no crime and his time at the tracks was one of employment -not one as gambler. So, why was her sister so concerned? It seemed to her younger sister, whatever had changed was for the best.

James did not have to be within earshot, or ask the girls to speak louder, to figure out who the subject was; Jane had glanced his way more than once: Kitty had kept her eyes far more discreet. He kept back a hidden grin; it had been amazing to see the personal growth in that particular Bennet sister. How she had landed as much brains as she had was beyond anyone's comprehension consider her baby sister's lack there of; and he would not insult her departed mother by analyzing her. Doing so to Jane seemed rude as she was married to Charles, and he was not about to 'go there' with Elizabeth seeing as how there was no need, not to mention Mr. Darcy had been one of the few men on Jame's worst of days had always stood by him. And, when it came to Mr. Bennet, well, the gentleman may not have planned well for his family's future, and may have neglected his younger daughters and, yes, he had been quite insultive in his humor in the past but, from what he could tell, the gentleman had woken up after Lydia's stunt and had done wonders on making improvements. So, who was he to judge? It was not like he was a perfect saint. His mind turned back to Kitty and her level of intelligence and settling down.

'Helped to get that baby sister out of the picture, or at least that is what everyone is saying.' James mused as he stood up and walked out into the gardens even though it was late fall and there was a bite of cold air all around. 'I cannot help but think that Kitty Bennet would have snapped out of it on her own even if Lydia Bennet had stuck around; there is something different about her.' Leaving off thinking about someone he had no real business thinking of his mind turned to Louisa as he faced a newly constructed fountain.

'You had a mind of your own, far sharper than people gave you credit for. If they knew half the stuff I did, the deal we had, those around us would be knocked off their feet' Leaning his hands against the cement encasing the water, James half-way muttered low. "I am way too young to feel so old."

The gentleman was in his mid-thirties and had stayed on at Netherfield due to the coaxing of Charles. 'I really should have left. Talk about a some fast talking to a few other people Charles knows nothing about. But was I to say no to your brother, Louisa? I certainly could not, and will not go stay with sweet, dear Caro...that lady... a term I now use loosely...could not keep her mouth shut if you paid her to." The man looked up at Lousia's favorite tree and continued to talk silently in his head. "I suppose I should use her full name; however." The man slightly grinned. 'You have to admit there are worse names I could call her.'

"James, we are about to eat lunch. Do you want some?"

Jame shook his head no. 'Charles is amiable enough, but I cannot speak to him about certain things; he has no real backbone. And Jane? She is a sweetheart but, and I mean no insult, Louisa, but her powers of observation are not...they are not bad, but they are not exactly sharp either.'

James sighed. He knew what people were, basically, saying. Had he not after all only married Louisa for her money? The couple had not even been close. Yes, it was horrible that Louisa had been shot, but it was not as if Mr. Hurst had done it, or that he could have stopped it. Crumb, the gentleman had not even been anywhere near drinking, gambling, hunting or even fishing. He simply had been in one part of a town doing business and she in another.

'Do not blame yourself or feel guilty that a bullet found her instead of you? It was an accident; the man was drunk. He never should have had a weapon in the first place.' Those had been just one of the things which had been said. Some of others were things along the lines of what could Mr. Hurst possibly have seen that made him so moody. He had been nowhere around when Louisa was shot. Why did James, a man who drank, played games, fished and hunted even care at all? In fact, what he could ever have seen his whole life besides the back of his eyelids? Surely, two years was enough to get Mr. Hurst 'back into the game'.

"Ya, I wonder, what I could possibly have seen in my whole boring life." James muttered using a tone that- if some people had heard- would have raised serious eyebrows. He then turned back to the parlor only something caught his eye and he turned his head. Bending down he picked up a crumpled piece of paper. Opening it he began reading, the words in print about made him cuss. Jame shoved it into his pocket and went back inside.

Ignoring the invite by Charles to join the family, he went upstairs. Everyone went back to what they were doing having never seen what he had done, except for Kitty. She; however, kept her mouth shut as to that subject. Why should she when she felt that it was not up to her to mention seeing him pick up the paper, or the dark look on his face when he had read whatever was on it.

However, because of a comment made by Charles in regard to seeing if he could not get James to consent to come to a family dinner and what she'd just seen, Kitty suggested-politely- that, maybe, her brother should consider laying off.

"Perhaps it would be best to leave Mr. Hurst to his own devices if he does not wish to join us. I have observed that Father is much happier now that he is not being pressured to attend social gatherings. It makes me wonder if your brother might also find more joy if he were given the same consideration."

"You very well may be right." Jane replied softly. "It is simply..." Kitty's sister sighed. "We understand father not remarrying; he is older and you are nineteen, with no real need of a mother. However, Mr. Hurst is younger than father and has, shockingly, been holding down a job down at the tracks without any gambling involved, small as it may be. A wife could very well do him some good."

"Or be the worse thing for him if he feels pushed into it." Kitty stood up and gathered her things. "Besides, since when did you turn into the pushy one, I thought Charles younger sister fit that bill."

"I am not pushing him." Jane spoke softly. "I do not even bring it up to him; however, I must confess, with his changes, I do wonder about it."

"I would suggest you stop. The man's not blind. He had to have seen your glances while we were taking. Ten to one that he why he got up and left." Kitty then shrugged her shoulders. "But, then again, I am only nineteen, so, what do I know. And..." She gave her sister a hug. "I am not attempting to be rude either, I promise. May I have one of your footmen take me home in the carriage as it is looking as if it is threatening to rain?"

"Of course."

CHAPTER TWO

NOTE: PLEASE before you get the urge to start pounding away at the keyboard BEAR WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter -at least for a while- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past.

2nd Note: I know William Collins was an only child HOWEVER, for the sake of this chapter he has been given a brother.

3rd note. In this story the Hurst's own no estate.

Talk with Papa

Ch. 2

Rain had indeed begun to pour down in bucketfuls even before Kitty left Netherfield's property. Fortunately, she had already gotten into the carriage and was away from the house. People ran for cover, which was not odd. However, Kitty noticed a black carriage with drapes on the side. She could tell, despite the clothing that blended in with the mode of transportation he had chosen, a rider was doing their best to not be seen.

'Needs to be taught how to hide better,' Kitty thought but did not draw attention to the fact she had seen him. Yes, the young lady was curious as to why the stranger was parked so far from the main house, but she kept her face straight ahead, getting the oddest impression not to draw attention to the fact she, Miss Bennet, was fully aware of the gentleman. That act of ignorance got the coach back to Longbourn without incident and Kitty up the stairs of Longbourn with only getting slightly wet.

The smell of roast beef filled Longbourn's space as Kitty hung up her coat. Her mind turned not to the stranger in the coach but to her conversation with Jane as she walked into the parlor and saw her father sitting in an overstuffed chair reading the Morning Post.

The parlor did not look anywhere near as drab as it used to, for Mary's husband had bought new rugs, new furniture, and new drapes. They were all replicas of the old because her sister adored the style of her parents. A simple chair did indeed resemble the same as the one she had sat on when she was but five. And the chair her father sat in might as well have been the one he bought on his wedding day.

"What is so funny?" Mr. Bennet asked as he lowered the paper. "Did I put on socks that did not match? If so, maybe I should have you start dressing me."

"No thank you, you are not that old yet and your mind is as sharp as ever." Kitty sat down on a sofa which had been placed near the windows overlooking the front gardens and grinned. "I was just thinking about William's face when he found out Mary's husband was a closer relation than he, and that it was Kyle who would be inheriting Longbourn, not himself."

"I am sure the parson shall find some other piece of property to gloat over. " Mr. Bennet grinned wide as he thought of the documents Kyle had found. Ones that proved Mr. Bennet's grandfather had a legitimate first marriage and a son, Kyle's ancestor. The boy's birth had been kept quiet due to political reasons. However, the truth had recently come to light. And, since Kyle had that proof. William Collin's had no leg to stand on and Longbourn was now lost to him. Thomas then grew sober when Kitty's own mouth turned slightly down. "Why such a serious face?" He kept the paper down. "Has something happened I need to know about?"

"No, I…" Kitty sighed. "Jane and I were talking, and I was wondering if any of my sisters have been pressuring you to remarry."

"No, not unless they are telling you something I do not know." Mr. Bennet laughed but then grew sober. "Did Jane say something to you?"

"No, I…" Kitty let out another long sigh. "Charles and she appear to be overly concerned about Mr. Hurst, and I simply do not understand why people put pressure on others to do so. I mean, is that not up to them to decide such matters? And, besides, are people really that blind?"

Mr. Bennet smiled wide. "I think most people mean well; they simply get it into their heads men like Mr. Hurst and I need wives when often we do not or, at least, are not in a rush. However, I dare say there was one gentleman highly disappointed when one young lady sent him away with a resounding no." He played selective hearing to her question as to people's blindness; a fact she did not miss but saw no reason to point out either. He pretended to be stern and upset; however, his dancing eyes gave him away, a fact Kitty easily saw. Her mouth turned upward.

"There is no way on earth I am going to apologize for turning down Robert Collins; he is as clueless as his brother, William."

"I hope you do not ever get so desperate as to marry either one of those men. I would rather see you wed to a man like James Hurst, who has quit his drinking and sitting at games of chance, rather than to marry anyone such as the likes of the Collins boys."

Kitty left off talking about the Collins' for it was pointless. She turned to talking about Brighton and the fact Mrs. Forester, who supposedly had matured greatly since Lydia's stunt, had been begging her to go up to Brighton with her this season.

"You do not wish to go? You want me to play the bad guy?"

"It is not so much that." Kitty shrugged her shoulders. "Truth is I could care less either way. Big parties and military men were always Lydia's thing, not mine I just played along to keep her happy. I was beginning to break away from Lydia even before she left; people—most anyway—simply did not appear to be able to see that any more than they are willing to admit you are not in a rush to remarry. I would have no issues telling Mrs. Forester I have no shared interest in make a trip myself, nor would I need to hide behind anyone to have her told either. "Then what is it?" Mr. Bennet put his hand up to his chin, impressed with how his fourth daughter had matured over the past few years. He had been one of the few who had noticed. He simply had only spoken about it behind closed doors. It was a fact both he and Kitty knew; they simply did not discuss it outside their home.

"I cannot shake the feeling I am to go, but why?" Kitty looked at her father. "For what purpose would it serve? It is not as if I know anyone up there. Yes, Mrs. Forester and I are friends, but I would not say we are the best of friends for, at times I think she is still quite clueless.

"I have learned from life, the hard way, when one ignores those types of impressions one always ends up with the short end of the stick." Mr. Bennet paused. "I will not force you to go. I am leery of sending another daughter along with Mrs. Forester; her lack of proper supervision about ruined our family last time. However, you are not Lydia. So, if after time spent in solitude thinking, praying, and pondering about this trip, you still feel that strong pull to go…" Mr. Bennet took a deep breath. "I will not fight it."

Kitty stood up and walked over to her father. "I will do as you say." With that, she bent down and gave him a hug. She might have gone to get a book to read, only Mrs. Hill came in and told her and Mr. Bennet their meal was ready. Mary and her husband would have joined them, only the couple was away visiting Kyle's side of the family.

CHAPTER THREE

NOTE: PLEASE before you get the urge to start pounding away at the keyboard BEAR WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter-at least for awhile- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's Talk

Ch. 3

Cling, clang, bang could be heard from the kitchen as Colonel Fitzwilliam walked into King's Castle Hotel. He ignored the sound and looked around the spacious room, which was full of patrons sitting at tables, talking, laughing, and overall enjoying their meals. Richard, however, had little interest in eating. He was looking for one group, more like one man, and that was Lieutenant-Colonel Smith.

The Lieutenant-Colonel was simply called Frank, or General by those who knew him. It was only when things got formal that they tacked on any formal title. Finally, Richard's eyes spotted the gentleman sitting in the far back corner.

Ignoring the multiple chandeliers spreading their candlelight generously over the room, the fine Turkish rugs his feet walked over, and the expensive tables made out of the finest wood and glass the establishment could buy, Richard walked down the aisles of patrons. His mind was solely on talking to his superior. And they needed to talk… like yesterday.

Frank saw Richard coming and wanted to hide, not because the Colonel was a bad man—he was not. But the Lt. Colonel knew who had messed up, and it was not Richard. Therefore, he braced himself for what was to come when the gentleman, though not his superior, joined him at the table.

"Would you please tell me what you, or the others, were thinking when Mr…" Richard paused and groaned when a side door opened and he spotted a couple walking in. It caused him to drop what he was saying and lower his voice. "I thought those two were up north. Who let them this far south?" His sharp glare would have normally got him reprimanded but Franklin liked the Wickham's just as much as anyone else's.

"Do not look to me on that one." Frank kept his own voice low as George and Lydia sat too close to them. "What were you going to say?"

If Frank thought Richard was going to give him a reprieve just because of the Wickhams, he was sadly mistaken. A way to speak to Franklin was simply rerouted to code. That way, the colonel could still speak to the brigadier general, and the Wickhams would be none the wiser.

"What were you thinking? Putting that horse into a race it was not meant for. Not only do they get hurt racing, but people get hurt too. Plus, other horses get injured that way, and the handlers get upset. You know the gentleman whose mare was put down has every right to be furious with us."

The Lieutenant-colonel's expression remained composed, though his eyes betrayed more than a slight hint of concern. He spoke in a measured tone, careful to maintain their coded way of speaking.

"I understand your frustration, Richard. I feel it myself. It was a horrible miscalculation on my part at the very least, and I deeply regret the consequences just as much as anybody else, if not more. I think about it every time I walk by that track." Bawling up his fist, the man then let his fingers loose. "The safety of all involved in such things is always paramount, and I assure you, measures will be taken to prevent such an incident from occurring again. As for the gentleman, his anger is justified, and I will personally see to it that reparations are made."

He paused, lowering his voice, hoping it was low enough that the Wickhams, who were now busy talking to friends, would not bother paying attention to him or Richard. "We must tread carefully. The stakes are higher than they appear, and we cannot afford any more missteps. Let us focus on resolving this matter discreetly and ensuring the well-being of all parties involved."

"If you think I can talk that handler into coming to Brighton for another race, I am not convinced I will be able to."

"You are my only hope, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Franklin sat up straight. "The gentleman does not know me. I am new at my post. I barely gained my rank. He knows you. We need his skill. Do you know how many people underestimate that gentleman? I cannot believe how many men we have caught up here because of the disguises the man can come up with and, never mind, just say his skills are beyond compare. He is hidden in plain sight and no one sees him most of the time, very few times did he ever have to go under... so to speak. When he goes south, all that disappears, and no one makes the connection."

"And he would have kept it up had not the horse race been messed up."

Richard, switching back to talking about horses, alerted Franklin to the fact that the Wickhams' friends had left. Go figure, could they not have stuck around a little longer? Standing up, the brigadier picked up his items. "I am going to check about getting a stallion and a filly sent up north. I hear there is a good race up there." His eye remained fixed on Richard; however, for a split second, they moved towards the Wickhams. "While I do that, I beg of you—after you take care of business here, and take care of that little lady you have been seeing—go talk to our handler? We desperately need him for the upcoming race."

"I will do that; however…" Richard stood up and began walking away with Franklin. "No promises. He really has not been talking to men like me."

As they walked away, the voices of the crowd drowned out their conversation. Lydia grew excited over the talk of horses and begged her "Dear Wickham" to take her to the races. She wished to see Colonel Fitzwilliam's horses.

"My dear Lydia, I regret to inform you that we cannot attend the horse races. The event, being graced by Colonel Fitzwilliam and his superiors, makes it highly inappropriate for me to be seen in their company. The disparity in our ranks would make it an awkward situation for all involved. I assure you, there will be other opportunities for us to enjoy such outings together." George was not about to admit to not wanting her at the tracks at all, nor of some other activities had going on.

CHAPTER FOUR

NOTE: PLEASE before you get the urge to start pounding away at the keyboard BEAR WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter-at least for a while- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past.

NOTE: I messed with Anne's age; yes, I know her real age in the book

Coded Talk ...again

Ch. 4

Newly polished floors could be seen sparkling as a far healthier Ann than most would have thought possible walked the halls of the de Borough home outside of London. She, and her friend, Clare Johnson had met up at a party and Anne was now joining Clare in an upper room to discuss the colonel's upcoming meeting with them.

The room itself had been decorated with multi-colored wallpaper, Turkish rugs, furniture with dark, bold colors and a large chandelier that would have been lit had not the curtains been wide-open allowing multiple windows to see. They, in turn, had plenty of sunlight flooding its space with natural light.

"I hope you like these plain biscuits." Anne set down a tray of deserts.

"Your mother would be calling for salts, or someone's head, if she saw you lowering yourself to do mere servants work."

"What she does not know will not kill either you or me. Are you going to squeal on me?"

"Only if you tell my mother who I am seeing." Her friend chuckled.

"You are twenty-seven and I am twenty-five the last time I checked." Anne picked up her own biscuit and then sat down in her comfortable chair. "If you want to see the footman be my guest. He is hard worker and, from what I can tell exceptionally good at handling his money. I dare say he is better off than many rich men I have met." She asked when Clare was going to confess things.

"When we cross into Scotland to marry. If they disown me, well, I will have taken a large sum of money with me by then and, since I will also have plenty of jewels with me, we can make investments and go from there. I am not worried about having to turn to my parents for support."

"I wish you the best." Ann had her concerns; however, even she could tell Clare was happier than she had ever been. So, who was she to fight it. If things fell apart, her friend would have at least one place to come back to. Just then a servant came in ushering Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Jane Rollen in.

"I was hoping to see you two." Anne stood up and hurried over to her cousin and lady.

"Your cousin insisted on talking to you, and I just had to come see Clare before she leaves. Do you mind if I take her from you?" Jane begged. "The day is chilly, but not so bad a walk cannot be had in the gardens."

"I know when a hint for us to be out of private talk is given." Clare stood up and shot Richard a grin. "I will leave you to be."

"So..." Anne furrowed her brow towards her cousin when her friend, and Jane, made their departure for an unnecessary walk in the gardens. "What is going on? And do not tell me nothing; I can see this one a mile away."

"I need your help in persuading a certain...handler of horses...to come back into the races. We seriously need him here." He only talked in code because of some servants doing job Miss Anne had asked them to do.

"Are you insane?" Anne about fell backwards into her chair. "Your aunt does not know about my involvement with any kind of law up here unofficial as it may be. My mother would have a fit if she knew the truth. She thinks the air outside of London improves my health; she has no idea my sickness down there is all an act, nor do most of the people down there. And now you want me to try and get him back into the...race? We do not even get along. Do you not remember those multiple vases I threw at him last time. What makes you think he would listen to me?"

"I was hoping those vases were all part of an act. Something you two conjured up to keep people from knowing you were passing information onto him."

"No, they were not. And he is no imbecile. Our common associate did not have to reason things out to comprehend why I was hurling things at him. I am shocked you would even ask, though I am willing to go." She shrugged her shoulders. "Not that I think my being in his presence would do any good. Probably hurt your case more than anything else."

"M..." Richard went to speak the man's real name as the servants had gone, but then wanted to groan when Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were shown it. Now he would need to continue talk to Anne in code; just as he and Franklin had done in front of the Wickhams. "My friends had just hoped to have a female touch with the horse handler is all. However, if you two are not on friendly terms that is probably not going to help me anyway."

I am sorry, but the best I can do, if he chooses to come north and work with your team of horses again...is to apologize for my temper that day."

"I understand." Turning to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth the colonel grinned. "I give you my own apologies, I have to go get my Jane from the gardens; we need to do some business before she heads to Brighton; I will be following her later." He then turned to Anne. "Did you talk to her this morning? About the books she was asking about?" Again he was talking in code; Anne knew full well he meant ledgers in connection to gentleman she had thrown the vases at.

"Yes, I apologized and explained things are not always as they appear to be. And those books had in fact been mine, not yours. And that I was sorry for any confusion they had caused. She now knows which books belong to which people." Her answer let him know Miss Jane knew enough to keep her mouth shut and not to believe what her eyes saw, or what others may say, but only to trust what Anne, Richard, the Brigadier, and the handler- should he actually come north- said.

"I will see you later, cousin." Richard turned to Fitzwilliam. "I hope you and Elizabeth enjoy your visit to London. I, unfortunately, as stated, must see my lady off to Brighton, keep an obligation and then head to Brighton."

CHAPTER FIVE

NOTE: PLEASE before you get the urge to start pounding away at the keyboard BEAR WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter-at least for awhile- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past.

NOTE: Anyone who is thinking Hurst is a spy is on the right track but...I really have a hard time using that word because it really does NOT fit the situation in my book...when things come out, I think you will see why. (Though I confess I can see that being an aspect of it, that is a clue as to finding a better word to describe what his involvement was and will be.)

Packing for Brighton

Ch. 5

Music could be heard drifting softly from the main floor of Longbourn as Kitty was meticulously packing. Her room remained as plain and unadorned as it had been during her childhood. It did not need to be this way. When Kyle and Mary had wed, Kyle had generously offered to refurnish the space. However, Kitty had found herself wishing to keep parts of her life hidden from others, not because she was doing anything illegal or immoral, but simply because it gave her time to think. Through simple power of observation, she had noticed that people tended to gravitate to rooms decorated with brighter colors, expensive items, and other lavish details. So, she had put up plain curtains, kept her pillows and sheets off-white, and her drawers a dull gray.

"It is amazing how much time in the evening…" Kitty spoke to her family's loyal pet dog that had come in and jumped onto the bed. "…I need a place to come and think about conversations I have heard, and things I have seen simply because no one wishes to be in a room with no color. Besides, it gives me a place to relax without interruption."

The young lady heard footsteps approaching and turned to her chest of drawers to retrieve her final belongings. The door creaked open as Kitty began rummaging through her things.

"I am almost ready, Kyle," Kitty spoke with her back turned to the door as she took out her final items from the drawer. "Mary, have you seen my brush?"

"How did you know it was us?" Mary asked, shocked, as her sister had not once lifted her head.

Kitty was not about to give away her secret; that ammunition was going to stay in her hands. So, she simply said, "Who else would it be? I am sure Father is in the study working on the ledgers for Longbourn, or waiting in the parlor for me to come down." The truth was her brother walked with accented steps, almost as if beating drums with an uneven rhythm. The lighter footsteps were Mary's. Her older sister may have liked to think she had trained herself to behave like a lady, but whether or not Mary liked it, big sister dragged her feet when she walked.

"He is in the parlor talking to the Foresters."

'Ouch,' Kitty thought as she found her brush, took it and a few other things, before turning around and placing them in her bag. "I just need my coat, and I shall be ready to go."

While Kitty was grabbing her coat, Mr. Bennet was wrapping up his conversation with the Foresters. "I will acknowledge reports say you vastly changed from the time Lydia went to Brighton with you." Mr. Bennet looked at Mrs. Forester and then to her husband. "However, I am still not extremely thrilled with the idea of Kitty going with you."

"Then, and I hope you do not mind me asking, how come you consented for your daughter to come with us, especially since part of the time I will have obligations elsewhere?" Mr. Forester asked.

"Because I told her if she gave it honest thought, consideration, and prayer, I would not fight it, and she did all three." Mr. Bennet then lifted his hands as he sat in a chair before placing them back down. "Plus, it helps that my fourth child has proven she is nothing like her youngest sister." He then set his jaw hard and looked at Mrs. Forester. "I am trusting the changes I heard about you are not false. If something happens to my daughter and if there was something you could have done to stop it…" He leaned forward. "I will do something about it." Mr. Bennet was not attempting to be mean, or out of line, but he did want them to know he was not going to be neglectful and that he did care about Kitty.

"I promise, Mr. Bennet." Mrs. Forester swallowed hard. "I am not the same lady who had Lydia go with her to Brighton; I felt horrible about that mess. Ask my husband, I have not been the same person since."

"My wife tells the truth. Her words, her actions, her daily routine, nothing is the same. She is far more conscious of her choices than before."

Mr. Bennet may have made a reply to him only Kyle, Mary, and Kitty came into the elegant parlor. He saw Kitty had her bags. So, standing up, he took the items and followed the Foresters and Kitty out the door. The warm sunlight bathed the front steps as he handed the footman the baggage; Mr. Bennet turned to his daughter.

"Be careful. If you need me, send a post at my expense. I will pay gladly."

"Yes, Father." Kitty hugged her father. "I promise I am not Lydia. I will not flirt with men, not even those in uniform."

"I know you are not; however, you are my last one home. Therefore, I cannot help but have my concerns."

Kitty climbed into the Foresters' luxurious coach and Mr. Bennet watched it drive away, the wheels crunching on the gravel path, but turned around before it got out of sight. Going back inside, he went into the parlor and stood in front of the crackling fire. His mind was on Kitty. She was not Lydia, that was true. No man turned her head simply because of rank or title. Her intelligence had proven just as high as Elizabeth's. She had just as good a heart as Jane's— and though Kitty could be as quiet as Jane; when she wished to be, unlike Jane... that little lady sure could pack a punch when needed.

"Do not expect me to apologize." Kitty tilted her head as she walked past her father and up the winding stairs of Longbourn. "William's brother threw the first punch. And if he thinks I am just going to stand by and take it just because I am a woman, he has another thing coming."

It was another reason Mr. Bennet had been thrilled when Kitty had told the younger Mr. Collins where to go when he had the audacity to ask for her hand in marriage. Yes, he had asked Mr. Bennet first; Thomas had not approved but, since he had promised his late wife not to interfere with any marriage offers. Therefore, he had given his opinion and then told Kitty it really was up to her.

"Please, watch over her," he spoke softly in prayer. "I did not like letting her go. On one hand, it feels perfectly right. And yet, something is horribly off. And I do not know what."

CHAPTER SIX

NOTE: WITH ME on this story. I will admit this muse REALLY went on strange course RIGHT OFF THE BAT. And, for those not needing reminding, sorry, but -for now this will remain at the top of every chapter -at least for a while- due to the type of guests reviews I have gotten in the past. This will be the last chapter this is on UNLESS, I start getting extremely nasty guest reviews; then those will be deleted, and this put back up.

Masks and continued Code

Ch. 6

Chandelier lights shone brightly and danced with great energy across marbled floors and could be seen by people passing by King's Castle Hotel. People could also be seen talking, laughing and eating inside. "Lieutenant-Colonel Smith is in the corner waiting for you." A man wearing a dark hat spoke from the side of an alley spoke to Colonel Fitzwilliam who was standing on the sidewalk across the street from the establishment. "I doubt he will want to see me."

"Did you ever have any luck with M..." Richard quickly switched gears when he saw Mr. Gardiner walk down the street and, rather to risk that man's good hearing, the colonel switched to talking in code. "With our horse trainer."

"No, unfortunately, the only thing I got told was to go burn and rot." The man Richard was speaking to stepped back into the shadows until after Mr. Gardiner had said hello to Richard and then left. The man then stepped back into view. "I dared not push things as my own wife cannot keep her mouth shut; if she knew what I was up to in this situation it would be all over town."

"Yes, your wife does have very loose trap." With that Richard crossed the road and entered the place of business.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's entrance drew no unwanted attention. There was more than one colonel already eating and another mattered little to these people. Hence Richard ability to locate Frank, no one called him Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, if they were close friends to him, sitting in a far corner of the room; one with, shockingly, little light.

"I take it you saw our friend?"

"Yes, and- as much as I like the gentleman, we really do need a new contact." Richard sat down and gave his honest, blunt opinion.

"Why? The man has a title; therefore, he has obligations to keep. And he was in the same vicinity as..." Both men bit their tongues, almost literally, when they saw who walked in -and sat down- far too close to talk openly. Their eyes shouted 'Seriously, who let the Wickhams in here and what are they doing this far south?" It was for that case Frank, like Richard, had to start talking in code.

"Our horse trainer. We are now involved in a very serious race. We need the best trainers involved. And Mr. MacDonald is the best there is."

Richard knew full well there was no Mr. MacDonald, but the Wickhams did not. Therefore, he followed Frank's lead; slipping on his own 'mask' and replied back in code. "It would have been easy enough to get him involved had you not taken down his prized mare."

"That was not my fault, and you know it." Snapped the Lieutenant-Colonel. "My men were given clear orders; I had no idea one of those men got it into their heads to do his own thing. And he was sorely reprimanded, so much so I dare say the man is still shoveling out manure for a living."

"Well as that may be, our common friend as unable to convince Mr. MacDonald to help any, how shall we say...any rotten Englishman?"

"There has got to be a way to get the gentleman to involved." Frank drummed his finger on the table. "I will have to think on it, for now -perhaps- Miss Janet would not mind you looking at a filly of mine and telling me what you think?"

"I think you ought to be grateful Miss Janet loves horses." Richard knew full-well who Franklin was referring to and what the gentleman was hoping. "I will get back to you, but I doubt that horse is able to run in any of your races."

Getting Miss Janet Rollen's agreement to go visit outside of London was easy enough. Fresh air and a large estate was very inviting. Seeing horses was a great attraction for the lady who had been raised with them all her life. So, knocking on the home of Anne de Borough was a delight to Janet.

"Miss Anne will be here shortly." The butler showed the couple into a small drawing room with plenty of windows, red and black velvet curtains and furniture that gave Richard the urge to look around for theater stage. His words, when spoken, upon Anne's entrance only made the twenty-five-year-old laugh.

"Then my goal was accomplished, this room is where all our entertainment is done. Now, what is it that you wish to talk about?"

"First, Miss Janet was hoping -in spite of the cooler weather- to see your horses."

"You are more than welcome to go look at them." Anne called a servant and had them take Richard's lady down to the stables. Turning back to Richard she dropped the act of hostess and got did not beat around the bush as she sat down in a chair. "So, what Franklin send you over here for?"

"You sound like your mother now." Richard laughed.

"She may have her faults, mainly too stuck on old money and status." Anne grinned and chuckled but then grew serious, "But I will give my mother credit where it is due; the lady does know how to get her information. So, what is really up?"

"I know we already talked, but I was asked to come again. He was hoping you could help us get M..." Crumb-was it his lot to wear a mask and talk in code today? Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were ushered into the room just as he had gone to answer his cousin.

"Please, do not let us stop your conversation." Elizabeth spoke feeling as if she had rudely stopped her husband's relations conversation.

"I was just telling Anne a common friend wished her to use her influence with a talented horse handler to join back on our team. We...our military unit...have been pulled into a race where are needed the most skilled men possible on our team. This particular trainer has had very few of his horses beat since he started training as a youth."

"Wow, that is great skill."

"Dear cousin..." Anne was in shock. "I already told you last time what our relation was. Do you really think things have changed? And have you forgotten it was his prize mare that was shot by one of the Lieutenant-Colonel Smith's own riders? And, well, like I told you before and have reiterated... it is not like Mr. MacDonald and I even get along. You saw me throw vases at him last time he was in this house."

"You threw a vase at him?" Elizabeth giggled. "This London countryside air really must be better for you than that of Rosings Park. You look so much healthier up here than down in Kent."

"Yes, it does appear that way, does it not?" Anne smiled and- hid her delight-when Miss Janet came in and saw Mr. Darcy and his wife in the room. The lady insisted, to the point of not being ignored, that they just 'had' to go and see the horses with her Praise be, they did.

"I know what you told me." Richard spoke once their shared relations were gone. "But you know the type of men I work with. I had to come in order for them to be quiet."

"I do at that. Did you not tell them the best I could do is to apologize when I go back down?"

"Yes." Richard. "And, for the record, I am annoyed they insisted I come again." He then asked. "How long as it been since you have been truly sick anyway?"

'I have not been honestly ill since I was sixteen. But, hey, staying down got me out of annoying parties and when we came to London, and I 'conveniently' got better up here -after meeting the Lieutenant-Colonel and his friends- Mother was more than willing to let me come up here more often. And now? I am twenty-five, have a serious suitor who has no problems with my connections to the military and is more than happy to continue living in his own home. We are perfectly happy the way we are."

"What would your mother, or his family, do if they knew the truth."

"As to my mother? Have a major fit. As to his? Actually, I believe a member of his relations does know. However; if I am correct; that particular kin is willingly turning a blind eye. Figuring it is up to us decide when, or if, to take things further."

"I suppose that leaves it up to me to go have that talk."

"I am sorry, dear cousin, I honestly do believe you are correct. Though, I will travel down and give my apology for tossing the vases at his person. That way, at least, there will be one minor strike against your team taken away."

"I do appreciate that. " Richard doubted it would help; however, at this point, anything was better than nothing and he left. "I will not be visiting you over this matter again." He figured he needed to go pack, Lord Ashford was sure to send him an update soon.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lord Chancelor

Ch. 7

Lord Lionel Ashford was, at six-foot four, not a short man with a full head of dark hair. He wore a new, dark-crisp suit, and his steps echoed off the marbled floors of his mansion as he walked the upper floors. The Lieutenant-Colonel waited below in the foyer. Lionel had become England's Chancellor the previous year and was now the reason Franklin was gathering men; some who were as they appeared to be, others not so much.

The Chancellor's home was a very large, and grand, estate. It sported high ceilings adorned with detailed moldings and chandeliers that sparkled and danced in the light. The entrance hall was expansive, with a long and sweeping staircase that curved gracefully to the upper floors. The banisters were made of polished rosewood, and the steps were covered with a dark blue carpet that muffled the sound of footsteps. The walls were lined with portraits of ancestors, their bright faces watching over the proceedings. Large windows allowed sunlight to flood the rooms, allowing any guest to see whatever it is they wished to see.

The drawing rooms were adorned with beautiful wallpaper in soft, pastel hues, and the ceilings were decorated with intricate plasterwork. Crystal chandeliers hung from the center of each room. The furniture was a mix of delicate, carved wood and plush upholstery, easily showing Lionel's personal taste. Large mirrors with gilded frames gave the illusion the room was far more spacious than it really was.

Lord Ashford's library was one of the more impressive rooms in the mansion. It featured floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with multiple leather-bound tomes of books. A large, ornate desk had been placed in the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable chairs and fireplace which roared with life when its owner spent time studying in private.

The gardens surrounding the mansion were well maintained, with neatly trimmed hedges, colorful flowerbeds that came to life in the spring, and graveled paths. A large fountain stood at the center of the garden, its gentle trickle in the summer added to is welcoming mood. Any scene of the home was ignored as the chancellor came down the stairs.

"My grandson has gone missing. It makes no sense. It reads like some madman has written it. Says I will never see him again. Says my son and I earned this punishment, but then demands I pay to get him back?" He spoke from the top of the stairs. "There is more to this note, but none of it makes sense."

The Chancellor had, however, gone to great lengths to gather the most skilled men he was aware of to begin a search for his grandson. "Whoever took him was, thankfully, at least careless enough to give us a crumb of a clue."

It really had not been much, a simple church symbol that connected itself to a cluster of groups famous for being in only one section of England. That pointed the men to Brighton, or at least the area around Brighton. However, it would save the group from running all over England.

Frank looked up as Lord Ashford made his descent down the stairs. His long, lanky frame was quickly becoming known all-around London, as was his personality. The gentleman was not afraid to stand and fight for his principles and what he believed was right.

"Is your team put together?"

"All but one; and so far, we have been unable to get him to budge."

"Everything considered…" Lord Ashford sighed. "I cannot fault the gentleman, though I should be furious. And I could force him; I do have the legal authority to do so."

"Why do you not?"

"Because when one forces someone into service, the one giving service has no real heart. Worse yet, I have often seen troubles grow in numbers I care not to count." Lionel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "However, I really do need him in on this." How that could be done, short of ordering the man back into that line of work, the chancellor was clueless.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam will go to his home. He is bound to have more luck than the rest of us. I heard Lady Anne is willing to go and give her apologies to him."

"That might help, if her mother knew Miss Anne capable of throwing such heavy vases, we might have our own civil war breaking out ...starting at Rosings Park." Both men laughed over the thought.

England's chancellor dropped his hand brushed off the thought of Lady Catherine knowing already how to handle that lady should she, for some odd reason, become a problem. "Order the colonel to..." The gentleman looked up and wanted to throw a few of his own vases when a maid known for her own loose trap came into sight. " Mr. MacDonald's place. I will give you a letter from myself begging him back into his old line of work and you and your men..." Lord Ashford narrowed his eyes towards the Lieutenant-Colonel's way. "Had better watch your steps around the man; because with the letter I will be sending with Colonel Fitzwilliam will be telling him that he will be a special agent this time around and not an ordinary private investigator working with local magistrates. He will answer to no man, but me or the crown. And give him these notes to give to the handler."

'Yes, Lord Ashford." The colonel was not stupid, nor did he have to ask why. It was only after he had the items from the chancellor did he find his way back to Colonel Fitzwilliam's hotel rom.

Richard's hotel room was a blend of practicality and subdued elegance, a standard for a man of his rank. Looking around he saw that the walls were covered with a patterned wallpaper in shades of deep burgundy and gold. Giving person feeling of being wrapped in an atmosphere of friendliness and warmth. Heavy velvet drapes framed the large windows, which allowed ample light to filter in during the day. A well-built mahogany writing desk had been placed against one wall, its surface neatly organized with various papers, an inkwell, and a quill. The bed, positioned in the center of the room, was draped with a soft quilt and flanked by matching bedside tables, each held a brass oil lamp. A large wardrobe occupied one corner. Its doors were closed and hid immaculately pressed uniforms. A knock on the door got Richard's eyes off his room and his feet to the door.

"Lord Ashford says for you to take these with you. Make sure no one reads it but our horse expert." Lieutenant-Colonel Smith handed the folded papers to Richard. Neither one spoke about the real reason for Colonel Fitzwilliam's trip for there were too many people coming in, and out, of their rooms. "I know you are taking some items down to the Sir Willam's place first, and Lord Chancelor ordered you to have a discussion with the man. But make sure you do not spend much time there. We have not time to waste unnecessarily."

"Please, do not insult my intelligence. I would think that is a given."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Visit to Sir Williiam

Ch.8

The air was frigid and bit through the coach Richard was riding in. He was taking no one with him and hoped what he had heard was true—Lady Lucas and her children would be gone. The informant had told them her cousin had asked the lady to come and give his wife some help, and also requested she bring the children. If that were the case, the colonel could stop all his coded talk. If not, it would need to be continued. Richard lifted the curtains of the carriage ever so slightly as he wished to keep an eye on what was outside, but did not wish to alert anyone in Meryton he was in the area until he arrived at the Lucas'.

The carriage rolled out of London, leaving behind the bustling streets of high activity and entering the quieter countryside. The landscape gradually transitioned from the crowded cityscape to open fields, rolling hills, winding streams and a few animals brave enough to venture out on such a cold day. The trees, now mostly bare, silent along the roadside, their skeletal branches swaying gently in the breeze waved to anyone passing by. Richard observed the changing scenery with a keen eye, hoping nothing would interrupt his urgent need to get down to talk to Sir William before heading to his final destination. Fortunately, for him, it did not.

As the colonel's journey continued, the countryside dropped its curtain revealing its simple, but basic, charm. The fields stretched out in a patchwork of silent greens and browns, dotted with the occasional farmhouse, shed, or manger. Smoke curled quietly from the chimneys, shouting to Richard there was warmth within their walls.

The carriage passed through several small villages, each with its own special character. The homes, with their thatched roofs and ivy-covered walls, looked picturesque against the backdrop of the rolling hills. Still other homes had tiled, or slated roofs. It shouted which status in society each household held, Richard could see the spires of ancient churches rising above the rooftops, their bells tolling softly in the cold air. He pulled the curtain back slightly, ensuring he remained unseen, yet eager to take in the sights of the English countryside.

As the weather began to change, dark clouds gathered overhead, casting a somewhat gloomy shadow over the terrain. The wind picked up, rustling the remaining leaves and sending a cold chill through the carriage. Richard wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The road itself became rougher, the horses, sensing the change in weather, quickened their pace, eager to reach their destination before the storm set in.

The final stretch of his trip took the colonel through an all too familiar forest; he had played in it as a younger man when visiting family, or friend. However, Richard's mind had no time to dwell on those days. His eyes remained fixes on the trees forming a natural canopy overhead, the light woods they had entered and the shadows merging one into another.

"I hope this is not a bad omen." Richard muttered to himself. "We really need this mission to be a success." The wind began to sound as if it were attempting to howl as loud as a thousand dogs only to be muffled by the thick foliage. Thus, creating an eerie silence. As if a larger hand had reached down and choked the wind into submission.

Richard glanced out once more, his eyes scanning the darkened path ahead. The forest, though beautiful, still held an air of foreboding to him, and the gentleman was relieved when the trees thinned out, signaling the end of the wooded passage. As his carriage emerged from the forest, he recognized familiar landmarks which let Richard know he was nearing the Lucas estate.

Sadly, the closer the colonel's coach drew, the realization came his informant had either been wrong, or Lady Lucas' cousin had not needed the help as long. It was a fact easily deduced, her children could be seen outside, and her carriage was parked outside the carriage house. It was only when his was own, and he had stepped out, that the colonel was instantly surrounded by most of the Lucas's children.

"We had no idea you were coming." A young son spoke with a wide grin and high energy.

"Do you wish to speak to Father?" An older child spoke with far less physical energy, but his eyes still danced.

"Yes, I do."

"I will get him." Maria spoke with a maturity not in her tone before Charlotte married. "You two need to finish your chores." She then politely invited the colonel in.

"She has gotten so bossy lately." One of the boys muttered, but Richard noticed both the boys did as Maria had said.

Richard smiled and said nothing as he followed young Miss Lucas into Sir William's home. The parlor was a cozy space. Bookshelves were packed full of various types of books, ranging from books teaching a child to read to political ones which aided Maria's father in keeping his obligations. The colonel was not surprised to see William sitting in an overstuffed chair and his wife on a flowered sofa.

A low table had children's drawings spread all over the top and their dining room could be seen off to the side. None of that mattered little to Richard as he sat down. The colonel really had wished it had just been he and Sir William.

"Lord Ashford sent me." Colonel Fitzwilliam was not surprised at the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, over-large teeth look that popped onto Lady Lucas's face. It was ignored as Sir William looked far more reserved. "He was hoping Mr. MacDonald, the horse trainer you spoke to, was available to look at his young stallion."

"He sent you all this way for that?" Lady Lucas switched from an eager beaver to looking like a deflated balloon. And, shockingly to Richard, her face turned dark red. "That man is the rudest man alive."

"Yes, Lord Ashford did. You have met Mr. MacDonald then?"

"Seen him from his backside, went to say hi and the man rudely ran off." Lady Lucas huffed.

"I would have to." Sir William tried not to laugh. "If I thought a woman had gone mad and was running with two gentlemen squealing my name as if she were a male pig being forced through a narrow gate about to be castrated."

"Sir William!" Lady Lucas huffed and crossed her arms.

"Thing is, Colonel," Sir William explained in a nutshell. "My wife was behind two men she did not recognize at the track. A gentleman had his back turned to them and they happened to remark they thought it was Mr. MacDonald and called his name; he did not respond; Lady Lucas started squealing his name thinking to help. I knew full well it was not who the men needed to be talking to. He ran, in my opinion, to get…" The man glared at his wife. "away from Lady Lucas. By the time the three rounded the corner, the group of men did not include any Mr. MacDonald. Sadly, for those men..." again Sir William shook his head at his wife and then Richard, "admitted they had been far too busy talking about the horse race to notice what had been happening around them. And that if anyone had ran by them -in any direction, they would be the last ones to ask."

"If all you men are going to talk about is horses and tracks, I am out of here." Lady Lucas stood up and left the room.

"I suggest you go talk to Mr. Hurst. That gentleman is not behaving as he was upon moving here with his late wife." Sir William would have said something else and even more, but his sons had come in, so he simply reiterated that the colonel, if Lord Ashford needed to know about horse tracks and horses, Mr. Hurst really was the gentleman who spent plenty of time down at the tracks, and around horses. "If anyone can give you answers, it really is that gentleman for he works at the tracks."

NOTE: The invention of balloons can be traced back to the 18th century. The first documented balloon flight in Europe was by the Brazilian-Portuguese priest Bartolomeu de Gusmão in 1709

NOTE: Yes, they had undercover lawman, just not as official organized groups until 1824.

Detained and Richard Alarmed

Ch.9

Richard had every intention of going to Netherfield to talk to James about the two men at the horse track, about Mr. MacDonald and anything else the gentleman might have seen at while watching the races. However, unfortunately, Lady Catherine and his own mother had swung by the Lucas just as he was getting ready to leave. And Lady Lucas insisted on switching to the drawing room instead of the parlor.

Lady's Lucas' drawing room held a sense of warmth and comfort, perfectly suited to the needs of her large family. The room sported high ceilings with simple plasterwork and a modest chandelier that cast soft lighting over the space below. The walls were painted a soothing soft blue, providing a calming backdrop for the mix of furniture and decorations surrounding it.

A large bay window would have had sheer curtains allowing plenty of natural light. However, with the air turning colder, heavier ones had been put up and they were now closed. The centerpiece was a well-loved piano, its surface adorned with sheet music and a few scattered toys. Maria was the only one that played it now as her older brother had recently left home. Comfortable armchairs and a plush sofa, covered in durable, tapestry fabric, were arranged around a low, coffee table, which held various selections of books fitting the youngest child's ability to read up their father's and newly bought tea set purchased by Lady Lucas.

"Surely, you can spare your mother a moment of your time," Lady Catherine spoke stiffly once she and her sister sat down. Richard's aunt spoke somewhat with airs. "Bernice has been very ill and has finally gained enough health to travel down to my place to spend her final days; the least you can do is to stick around and see your mother."

"I hardly call myself near my death bed." Bernice rolled her eyes. "But if you are bound and determined I am that close, I could always hand you a shovel."

"Bernice!" Lady Catherine snapped. "That comment alone shows you must be ill."

"That or I have gotten old enough not to take life so seriously." Bernice bit back a laugh when told her sister would just leave Richard to take her somewhere if his mother did not watch her tongue.

"Take this how you will, but I have said nothing wrong," Bernice snapped back. "I am not as ill as you are making me out to be." The lady went to say more, but then bit her tongue. If Lady Catherine would not see the truth about her own daughter, who was she to spoil Anne's fun. "If that is not watching my mouth, then so be it." Turning to Richard, she sighed. "If you need to go somewhere, go. Do not let me detain you."

"What about Aunt Catherine?" Richard asked when Lady Catherine had stormed out the door over her sister's tone of voice.

"Our shared relation will be back soon enough." Bernice laughed. "With a face I dare say resembling thunder and a tongue which has been sharpened like a knife. She will then return to remind me of my ill health and impending death if I do not heed her doctor's advice."

"I take it you have been ignoring him?"

"That so-called doctor is nothing but a quack and a charlatan. Of course, I am ignoring him. I sent for my own doctor and Catherine is livid." Bernice grinned wide. "But it is my money, and dear sister will simply have to live with it."

Richard hated to leave his mother for, as much as his Aunt Catherine loved to get her way and -to him it seemed- exaggerate things, his mother did not seem all that well. However, Colonel Fitzwilliam really did need to talk to Mr. Hurst. Bidding his mother good-bye and promising to swing by Rosings Park as soon as this latest commitment to the military allowed it, Richard stepped outside the door.

"Richard." Sir William nodded towards the colonel and pulled him aside. "I know you need to go to Mr. Hurst and talk to him, but we need to talk first."

"What about?"

"The Bennets."

"Uh?"

Sir William looked around and suggested they, conveniently, take a walk. "I overheard Maria talking to Mr. Bennet as he was walking by."

"And?"

"Miss Kitty Bennet has headed to Brighton with the Foresters."

"What?!" Richard about had a heart attack. "After what happened last time, that is the last couple I expected Mr. Bennet to allow his only single daughter to go to Brighton with."

"First, Mrs. Forester is not the same lady she was when Mrs. Wickham married a little over two years ago. And second, Miss Kitty Bennet is nothing like her baby sister. Frankly, between you and me, that girl has turned out to be the sharpest tool in the shed, bag the shed; she has more brains than this whole town."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"I am suggesting no such thing." Sir William was truly taken aback. "A woman has no place in that line of work. What I am pointing out is, if trouble is brewing and, should I not be wrong in my opinion about Miss Bennet, she could be walking into a hornet's nest. I think that is something you need to keep in mind. If I had known beforehand, I would have spoken to Mr. Bennet. Now, I dared only speak to you."

"Great, just what I do not need. A damsel in distress." Richard had been away too much to really know what Kitty was or was not like. Nor did he know what she could, or could not handle if she did, accidentally, find herself in trouble. Hence his heightened concern. "I will go talk to Mr. Hurst. Hopefully that visit will be fruitful."

Just as Sir William stepped inside his house, Miss Lucas came around the corner and Richard-who had not been looking where he was going where he was going bumped into her. His face went bright red.

'I am sorry, Miss Lucas, please forgive me. I normally watch where I am going much better than I did just now."

"You are easily forgiven." Charlotte smiled. "I am thankful to have caught you before you left. I promised your mother I would return your books to you if you came this way." She held out a book called *Rokeby. "It was quite the interesting read. Thank- you for lending it to me."

Colonel Fitzwilliam took the book and promised to send another book her way before heading to Netherfield.

"Rokeby" by Sir Walter Scott (1813)

CHAPTER TEN

NOTE: Since the book never really says anything about Richard's mother I am having her alive in this story.

Richard Talks to James

Ch. 10

Clang, clang, clang. Thud, thud, thump. Jane could not believe the noise coming from the kitchen and went to check to see what in the world was going on. It was all she could do not to crack up laughing when she entered the room to see the head cook sitting on the floor with a pot on her head and a young apprentice looking very sheepish as she was surrounded by a mess of pots.

"Looks like you have had a slight mishap?"

"That we have." The head cook took the pot off her head and stood up, momentarily wishing to scowl at her help. However, she did not because Mrs. Bingley's twinkling eyes set everyone to laughing. "I suppose we will survive. However, I am afraid lunch will be a little late."

"We will survive," Mrs. Bingley replied. "That is, if you do not mind me taking out a bowl of fruit for Charles to eat on?"

"Yes, of course." The lady smiled and gave Jane a bowl of mixed fruit.

Jane walked out into the dining hall only to have Charles step in and tell her Colonel Fitzwilliam was in the parlor. "He is asking for James." Jane's husband looked confused. "What would he want with our brother?"

"I have no idea, but I…" Just then they heard a door shut and someone saying something akin to 'what the blazes are you doing here' and Mr. Hurst's tone was shouted; he was not pleased to see the colonel. The Bingleys hurried into the parlor hoping to play peacemakers if possible.

"Is something wrong?" Jane asked sweetly as she looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam. "None of us have been outside Meryton or even Hertfordshire."

"I believe you; however, I was told by Sir William that Mr. Hurst still frequents the horse tracks and Lady Lucas…" They all saw Mr. Hurst's face darken at the mere mention of the lady's name. "Mentioned an incident of a man you may have seen running past a group you were with?"

"I am sorry Charles and Jane, but this is a conversation Richard and I will need to talk about outside, or in the study; it is one that needs to be had in private."

"You can use the upstairs study. We can tell the servants to stay down here."

"Thank you." James led the colonel up the stairs and to a study that was full of bookshelves, desks, chairs, a few tables and plenty of windows. Fortunately, for them both, not only were the curtains closed, but all the servants were terrific at following instructions. Therefore, it was only the two men as James went and sat down in a chair against one of the windows now covered by the curtains did the colonel start speaking, he asked James if he knew how often Mr. MacDonald was at the track.

"Did that really just come out of your mouth?" Mr. Hurst lifted the muscle so of his forehead. "Everyone else who has come to me has already known that information. Surely, they have not kept you in the dark. And, even if they have, please, tell me you are not that stupid and cannot figure that out for yourself."

"No, but I did not wish to assume anything either when others were not talking." Holding his hat Richard kept his eyes on James Hurst and said what he had wanted to say in the first place. "So, tell me, who were those two men chasing you? And how on earth did you manage to shake them so quickly?"

"You tell me." James snapped. "I was fortunate to have bought a new hat and coat; one that Lady Lucas did not recognize. As to how I got them off my tail so quickly, that is for me to know and you not to find out. But…" James pulled out a piece of paper. "I heard rumblings you were in town, so earlier, not knowing exactly when you were going to show up, I pulled this out of where I put it and placed it in my pocket." Holding it up, he continued, "I only acted displeased to see you because I had no idea who my brother and sister may, or may not, have visiting. Come and get it, I know who sent them; so, it was not hard to figure out how they knew the name of MacDonald. There is a rat among you."

"Oh, my." Richard's eyes widened as he read what was on the paper. "Where did you find this?"

"Next to the fountain in the garden outside of this house. He had his buggy parked not too far from the house." Then, without even knowing it, James -basically- quoted Kitty's thoughts. "Someone needs to teach the man how to hide. Now you know why I refused to go simply by having Sir William talk to me."

"Yes, I do."

" And why should I even go now?" James glared at him. "I have risked my life ever since I got old enough to go into the king's service by putting on acts. I gathered information for men like you, and your superiors, which got more traitors hung than you, or anyone else, can shake a stick at. And what thanks do I get? Men who shoot my wife! Who, by the way, in spite of what some of those around me thought, was the one who garnered a large share of my information!"

"Are you serious?"

"No, I am bored and just making up facts as I go along because I am in such danger here at Netherfield." James rolled his eyes and spoke with such sarcasm that would have plastered a broad grin on Thomas Bennet's face. "Of course, I am serious. Plus, you and I both know I have never really drunk a day in my life; just acted the part of a drunk exceptionally well. It helped my unofficial law partner switched my drinks all the time. So, you see, you shoot my partner, you might as well have shot me. Go find yourself another trainer." James tossed the chancellor's note aside.

"Problem."

"What? Is Ashford legally ordering me to go?"

"No, but…" Richard hated using any kind of 'card'; however, they really did need James' ability to not only act, but he knew the Foresters well. And, Mrs. Forester may have matured overall, but the places the couple frequented. No, the establishments by themselves were not bad. Unfortunately, word was now coming in Dexter was using those same places for some of his more... profitable...business. "The Foresters took Kitty Bennet with them to Brighton."

"What?!" James sat up so fast he might as well have shot out of his chair. "Tell me this is some kind of sick joke." He had not talked to either Charles or Jane of late so this was all news to him.

"No, it is not. Go ask Mrs. Bingley if you think it is."

James felt as if he were rushing out the door though he managed only to walk at a controlled, fast, pace. His heart pounding as he hurried down more than one flight of stairs. But then forced himself to slow down his pace and speak in a controlled manner when he found the Bingleys sitting down to eat their lunch. "Please, tell me Colonel Fitzwilliam is wrong. That your sister did not just head to Brighton with the Foresters." When Jane replied that, as far as she knew Richard was correct, James fought not to curse.

"Why, what is wrong?" Jane tensed up when James turned and said probably nothing but went back upstairs without sitting down to join them for his mid-day meal.

James wrote a short letter and folded it in half, sealing it with wax. "You go straight to Lord Ashford's place, get him alone and show him that note. He better make sure Miss Bennet, and I are safe from any repeated history because one, if I go up there without that rat dead you might as well shoot me now, and maybe even shoot Miss Bennet. And…" James pointed a finger straight at Richard. "If Jane's sister gets shot because he is allowed to live and I am still breathing? I will come after men's blood, even if I hang afterwards."

Richard felt the icy-hot, razor-sharp tone of James' voice. And knew this was one special agent who was not joking; Mr. Hurst meant what he said.

James turned and went back downstairs and into the dining room, his face back to normal. "I am sorry, Charles and Jane, Colonel Fitzwilliam's discussion with me... well, let us just say my knee-jerk reaction, especially considering who your sister went up to Brighton with, was close to being sheer panic."

"I understand." Jane smiled sympathetically. "It came close to being nothing but an absolute nightmare with Lydia and it has not been all that long ago. Sometimes though, with Mary now wed, it seems a lifetime."

"It does." James then looked at Charles. "The colonel has also told me of a friend, it appears, who wished to give me work, temporary for now—maybe more permanent later. I do not know. And the details are a bit…complicated, I really do not care to go into it. However, the job at the tracks has come to a close. And I am determined the monthly income which I could draw from Louisa's will must not be touched only in cases of emergency, nor must I be a drain on others. So, I am taking his offer up."

"Is it close by?"

"No, the gentleman's office is north. He has multiple businesses; I will find out more when I go to talk to him." James stood. "I will go gather a few of my things and will leave with Richard while he eats with you. I am not hungry."

The colonel, who had been standing in the doorway, went and joined the Bingleys for lunch. Knowing he would be visiting Lord Ashford, there was one rat that needed to have a piece of steel snapped on his neck. It needed to be done as soon as possible, if not Mr. Hurst was right, he was in mortal danger going up there—maybe even Miss Kitty for—if James was correct—she would be picking up on things without having proper context in which to understand the information and may say something to the wrong person. That could put her in grave danger.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Death of a Rat and An Evening Party

Ch. 11

The prison cell in London was a stark, cold space, with rough stone walls that seemed to close in on the Lieutenant-Colonel as he sat in Sovereign's Military Prison. His only light came from a small, barred window high up on one wall, casting long shadows across a damp floor which was just as just as cold as the air around him.

Every time the man breathed it was as mildew and acrid scent of unwashed bodies filled his nose. Frank sat on a narrow, wooden cot with a thin, straw-filled mattress. It had been placed against one of the walls and gave him little comfort. Iron shackles worn around his ankles, were also bolted to the wall, a grim reminder to the military officer of the cell's purpose.

Frank looked up and could see the heavy, iron-bound door with a small, barred opening at eye level. He knew a guard would be peering soon to pass his last meal. He was convinced the oppressive atmosphere was designed to break the men's spirit, leaving people like him with little hope of escape or comfort.

Once again heels of boots could head echoing off floors going down hallways. Only this time they were they did not sound like the steps of his normal guard and Frank sat straight up. Had the law decided to bypass his last meal? Or had someone actually convinced the law to let him go? His hopes rose only to be dashed against the rocks when both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. MacDonald, he did not know James Hurst by any other name than MacDonald, stepped into his cell.

He would not have recognized Mr. MacDonald, who had hair, but the man was wearing a hat which covered most of it, and those glaring eyes? No one in his position forgot those eyes.

"So, you thought to send men after me while I was on vacation." Mr. MacDonald's voice was so cold it cut through Frank's skin without touching it. "Instead, the men you sent are now dead."

"You have it things all wrong." Frank attempted to defend himself giving reasons he could not possibly be behind the two men who had chased Mr. MacDonald at the race tracks; that was his big mistake.

"No one told you about those tracks." The colonel spoke before the newly appointed special agent could. "You have a chance to be sent to Australia instead of hanging, if you tell us who gave you orders to pass on governmental information."

"I am a dead man either way, especially if what Mr. MacDonald just said is true." Frank scowled. "Hang me, I am not handing out that name, I am better off dead than trying to get to Australia."

"Have it your way."

James stepped out of the cell after watching the lieutenant-colonel being hauled off. He had hoped for a name. If he was to be the newest member of a group of unofficial lawmen attempting to find the chancellor's grandson, it would have been great to know just how big of a show was being run.

"Now to go talk to Ashford." Richard walked up to James. "Do you think we should tell him your real name?" The look of 'You really think he has not found it out by now? Just how stupid are you' got the colonel to quickly change his tune. "Guess that was not the smartest thing to come out of my mouth."

"You think?"

"Sometimes?"

That set both men to laughing and they headed down the streets of London towards Parliament. "I really am sorry, Mr. MacDonald." Richard figured he might as well call James Hurst by his fake name since he was now working for the chancellor, and they were heading that way. "Do we need to stop anywhere before we see Lord Ashford?"

"In other words, we need to find a room and shave most of my hair off, to look like I did before I arrived at Netherfield."

The men found a private room and changed James' looks. Going back into public it was amazing how many people who had seen him an hour ago, did not recognize him. That was clear by them asking Richard to introduce them to his new friend. 'Mr. MacDonald's' voice did not give him away as James had not lost his ability to sound as if he were born in the Highlands and, while speaking clear English, spoke with a heavy Scottish accent with only a trace of an English one left behind.

"How you do that is beyond me." Richard whispered after a couple left and they turned and began walking up a stoneway towards the fountain of Lord Ashford's home.

"Speaking with a Scottish accent is not as hard as ye might think."

The men had intended to talk to Lord Chancelor only he was not home, so they opted to go to a restaurant known for its superb dinners, parties and other such gatherings. Richard and Miss Jane had meet up and Mr. MacDonald -as expected- went solo. It had not made the colonel happy. He had hoped the newest member could at least come up with some sort of cover this time around.

The trio stepped into the bustling restaurant in Bath, where the air was filled with the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meats. The establishment was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses, lively conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter. Patrons sat at elegantly set tables, enjoying their meals and engaging in animated discussions.

In one corner, a small group of musicians played a cheerful tune, prompting a few couples to rise and dance gracefully across the polished wooden floor. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Jane, and Mr. MacDonald found a cozy table near the large windows, which offered a splendid view of the bustling street outside. As they settled into their seats, they were greeted by the warm smiles of the staff, who promptly brought them menus and took their orders. The atmosphere was one of conviviality and joy, with friends and strangers alike sharing in the evening's merriment.

James had chosen his seat on the outside isle. He had done so as to make it easier to get out of the room if necessary. There was no nothing coming in which had caused him to think that would be the case. However; it did not take long for the hair on the back of his neck to rise.

It was not the sight of Colonel and Mrs. Forester, or even Miss Bennet with them, that raised his alarm. It was not the trio talking that caused him unease. They were simply standing near window talking. So, no, seeing the three talking set no bells off. It was seeing a gentleman who was unfortunate to have pockmarks left by past blemishes marred by what would have been an otherwise smooth complexion heading their way. The man was looking straight at Kitty.

Wasting no time, Mr. MacDonald got up and walked over to Miss Bennet just as the Foresters had stepped away, and just before the one he knew as Mr. Greenstead could opened his mouth. Jame hoped the lady was as wise as she was observant. There was no way anyone could convince him that she missed what others had at Netherfield. He just hoped Miss Bennet would not miss things now; even if he could not explain his actions.

"Miss Bennet. I do apologize fer being late. My work took longer to wrap up than I thought it would. I hope our dinner date is still on?" His Scottish accent, not to mention haircut, had drastically altered his appearance and sound; if it had been Lydia in front of him there would have been manure flying everywhere. However, even though Kitty was absolutely confused; she showed no signs of it.

"I believe it still can be kept." Kitty smiled for one good reason; the other gentleman made her skin crawl and, clearly, this other gentleman was offering her a way out. Plus, there was something oddly familiar about the one offering her a reason to stay away from the creepy looking fellow. The other man hid his scowl and turned away- but not before Kitty caught sight of the change in his face. It gave her the shivers and at the same time it dawned on her who was standing next to her.

"Mr. Hurst?" She whispered low. "Why are you talking with a Scottish accent and why no hair?"

"The name's MacDonald and for both our sakes, do not mention the other." James grew alarmed, he knew Kitty Bennet was more observant than her sisters, but even he had not thought she would pick up on who he was so quickly. "We need to talk." He spoke just as the Forester's returned and persuaded the couple to join his table for dinner. Thankfully, they agreed as the other gentleman had never really quit watching Miss Bennet. As if doubting she was with 'that' old man. An illusion created by James' new hair cut.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Passing on Information

Ch. 12

Mrs. Forester did not hide her fidgeting very well. Her hands twitched as they joined Mr. MacDonald's table. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the polished mahogany surfaces, highlighting the intricate carvings on the chairs and the delicate lace tablecloths. The scent of Lavendar and beeswax polish mingled with the rich aromas of the evening's fare. Her twitching would have been worse if it were not for Colonel Fitzwilliam's presence. He was Mr. Darcy's cousin; therefore, the colonel was now Elizabeth's cousin by marriage. That connection, she supposed, was how this MacDonald fellow knew Kitty. It was an assumption by Mrs. Forester that the men let stand.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Forester," Mr. MacDonald spoke apologetically. "Tis my fault that Miss Bennet said nothing to you. My line of work takes me many places, and I was not certain I would even make it here today. I asked her, the colonel, and his lady, if I did, if we could share a meal, but asked them not to say a word, just in case I could not make it. And, please, say nothing to anyone else. We are just friends, nothing' more. It would be bad to give people the wrong idea. Please forgive me?"

"Yes, of course." Mrs. Forester relaxed greatly, as did her husband. The soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversations created a comforting backdrop as the restaurant's staff moved with ease between tables, refilling glasses of water, ale or whatever drink one had ordered and delivering steaming plates of food.

"Now, I suggest we enjoy our meal." Mr. MacDonald and the rest ate in peace, keeping their talk light. The flicker of the fireplace added a cozy warmth to the room, and the gentle hum of the musicians' strings filled the air. When the musicians started playing again, the gentleman asked, "Could I, without giving anyone the wrong idea, have this dance, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, you may." Kitty was not stupid; James wanted to talk without Mrs. Forester hearing them. "Do not worry, Mrs. Forester." Mr. Bennet's daughter spoke reassuringly as the lady's hand began to twitch again. "As he said, we are just friends."

"I have heard people say that before," Mrs. Forester replied once the couple went onto the dance floor; those at the table with her said nothing. The dance floor was a swirl of color and movement, with ladies' gowns rustling and gentlemen's boots tapping in time with the lively music.

"So, who was that man coming towards me? His eyes held a dark look to them." Kitty asked. "And does his passing a note to a gentleman earlier today at lunch have something to do with your fake name and interrupting his beeline walk towards me?"

James about froze when she spoke. "He did what at lunch?"

"He and another gentleman came into where Mrs. Forester and I were eating. They sat down, and one slipped a piece of paper under a menu. The pockmarked fellow then slid it across to his shorter, smooth-skinned, red-headed partner as if they were doing nothing more than ordering a meal."

"They had to have known you saw them. I mean for him to be here, striding towards you like he did."

"I do not see how." Kitty shook her head. "I saw it all through the corner of my eye. I did not once turn my head towards them any more than when you picked up that piece of paper by Jane's fountain."

"So, you did see me. I wondered about that. And if he, like me, saw the same thing, then the gentleman could be wondering about what you did, or did not see."

"How? I did not turn my head."

"I noticed a ever slight pause in your actions. Plus I caught a glimpse of your eyes shifting -momentarily."

"Oh."

"However, I do commend you for controlling it and focusing back on your conversation with your sister; it was very much appreciated." James paused, for only a moment and then plowed ahead knowing what he was going to say would get him called mad by many. And would get his ears chewed out -most likely- by men like her father, Sir William and a few others. However, he had not been lying when he had told Lord Ashford the only way he had been able to pull off half the jobs in the past was with a rare partner by his side. No, Kitty did not have to be his wife to do that. However, surely, there was some -honorable- way for things to work.

"What is wrong, Mr. MacDonald?"

"We need to talk privately and what I have to say is... going to cause distress for the Foresters, which I do not relish; however, when you hear what I have to say- you will understand. For now...I suggest we go back to our friends. "

Mrs. Forester was relieved when Kitty came back and Mr. MacDonald said he had the colonel needed to step away for a bit. However; she was confused-as was her husband- though he did not admit it to his wife- when Mr. MacDonald begged him to promise not to allow any man to allow to dance with Kitty. That is until he explained his reasoning.

"No, we are not a couple, but I have explained to her about some men up here and, I am afraid, a few of them are here tonight. They are not shall we say...friendly towards me? They would use flattery with you all and then, just because she has danced with me, do her harm just to try and get to me."

"That is horrible." Gasped Mrs. Forester.

"I agree."

It was only when the two men were by themselves did James drop the accent and speak low. "Dexter was here in Brighton eating with that pockmarked fellow earlier, Kitty saw them. It was his name our rat refused to give out; I just know it. I highly suspect that second fellow is wondering the same thing I did upon leaving Netherfield about Miss Bennet; which, by the way, I was correct. She just told me what my gut instincts knew already."

"Dexter is back in town? Thought he was still down south."

"Yes, you heard me correctly."

James ignored what came out of the colonel's mouth. "She is not safe to go back to Meryton for he is sure to have been told of what she witnessed, but the Foresters have to." There was no way Mrs. Forester could handle the pressure, and no way Colonel Forester could afford to get dragged into the mess; his hands would have been tied anyway. Lord Ashford and he can not stand each other.

"That poor couple, especially the Colonel's wife cannot be blamed for another Bennet...mess? And Miss Bennet?"

"It is like this."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Another Kidnapping

Ch. 13

Dark clouds gathered and loud wind howled as Mrs. Forester came in to the room Kitty had been checked into. She wished to see how Kitty was doing on her packing her belongings. "I cannot believe the military has ordered my husband back to his post already. We have not been here but two days. We were supposed to be here a week."

The room Kitty had slept in had heavy, teal, curtains. a comfortable canopy bed, with a writing desk, and chair to go with it. A stuffed sofa and matching chair had been placed next a couple of the windows and a fire roared to life, keeping Kitty warm as she closed her traveling bag.

"You have to admit it has been a grand two days." Kitty smiled, hiding the guilt she felt over knowing what was coming. However, after being informed by Mr. MacDonald - she could not afford to think of him as Hurst- Miss Bennet acknowledged that man from the other night clearly had not recognized her dance partner.

"If that man recognizes me, or if his partner knows my name; believe me, my whereabouts are not secret at this point. I will be easily found. I will not hide until morning. If Colonel Fitzwilliam is not at your door by eight, I am safe enough. Things will go as planned. And, Miss Bennet, I really am sorry, if your father wants my skin after this, he will have every right. However, there will no scandal, there are connections to all of this. I will make sure there is no shame to your family's name."

"I suppose you are right." Mrs. Forester grinned. "And we did get to go to Han's Jewelry store last night." The lady patted her new necklace. "It is a good thing this was on sale, or I would have not ever have been able to buy this item. Is it not gorgeous?"

"Yes, it is." Kitty had an urge to, momentarily, look around for her sister Lydia and see if baby sister was patting a new hat or something. However, Kitty only smiled back, lifted her bags and said, "I suggest we get our things down to the lobby."

It was not long before their things were being loaded onto the coach. Mrs. Forester was helped up by her husband, the colonel then helped Miss Bennet up and then proceeded to step up into the carriage himself. The journey from Brighton began smoothly, the coach wheels turning rhythmically, almost as if they had just joined a band, and had begun playing against the cobblestones as they left the bustling city behind.

The countryside, now stark and bare in the early winter, stretched out before them under a dark, brooding sky. The air was crisp, and the smell of cold earth mingled with the vague promise of rain. Kitty kept quiet as she looked out of the window, her thoughts trying to dwell on the heartache, fear and any other emotion others would feel when she disappeared. However, with what not only Mr. MacDonald had told her, but Colonel Fitzwilliam as well; the look in that man's eye shouted he knew she had seen his transaction.

"For now, if we change your looks and have you working close to my side, I think we can keep you safe." Mr. MacDonald had whispered to her when telling her what had been decided. "However, if I send you home as planned; Dexter's man will follow you...every fiber in me say that will be the case."

"As it is." Richard spoke up. "We had no idea Dexter was back in London until you told James."

So, now, there would be a convenient kidnapping and her father's heart would break. Clenching her jaw the one thing that kept tears from falling was her determination to help Charle's brother bring down the scoundrel who had kidnapped Lord Ashford's grandson, or at least bring down the two men now making it impossible for her to go home.

As the afternoon wore on, the skies grew even darker, heavy clouds threatening to unleash their burden at any moment. The coach entered the same dense forest they had come through on their travels to Brighton. However, this time the skeletal branches of the trees appeared to be far creepier and felt as if they had the ability to reach out and grab you.

Mrs. Forester might as well have plastered herself to the colonel. The mood lightened up a bit as those trees disappeared and ones forming a canopy appeared, giving a far more peaceful feeling around them. Kitty noticed her poor companion relaxing only to stiffen back up as the coach lurched to a sudden halt. And, before the colonel could react, the door was wrenched open by a masked man. Two more figures appeared, their faces obscured, and chaos erupted. Mrs. Forester screamed as she was pulled from the carriage, her cries echoing through the trees.

The colonel fought valiantly, but the attackers outnumbered him, and the officer was struck down; therefore, he fell to ground unconscious. Mrs. Forester, too, was quickly subdued, her struggles ceasing as she was knocked out.

"Sorry, driver, but you will need to get down." Mr. MacDonald took off his mask, as did Colonel Fitzwilliam. "At least this way their reputation will stay intact, and no one can blame her for lack of supervision. Since we allowed Colonel Forester to have somewhat of a fight, his own military standing will not be tarnished." He turned to the driver who was climbing down; the gentleman had been in on the setup the whole time. "Can you make yourself look like you have been in a fight, or do you need help?"

"I can do that myself," laughed the driver. "Just make sure your searchers know what is going on."

"They do; the men are close behind us."

Kitty was lifted onto a waiting horse. She glanced back at the coach, which would soon be 'conveniently' found, and then turned to Mr. MacDonald. "I know what you told me, and I know what I saw in Mr. Dexter's partner's eyes…" Miss Bennet thought of her father again and then asked, "Would I really be in that much danger going home, and am I really needed that badly?"

"Yes, to both of those questions." Mr. MacDonald rode his horse up to, and between, Kitty, the Colonel, and the third man she did not recognize; one who chose to remain silent. "For now, Miss Bennet, you are Miss Iona Thayne, Mr. MacDonald's personal secretary and confidential assistant. I own a large estate not too far from Bath. However, for the time being, we need to change your looks, give you instructions, take you to Lord Ashford's home with us, and…" He sighed. "Arrange things so your family has help to search for your kidnappers."

"Yes, my father and others are not just going to sit still and do nothing."

"I truly am sorry," James sighed. "I had hoped to get up here before something like this happened."

"It is not your fault." Kitty paused and then spoke softly. "Louisa was a great actress with one very big heart if her actions brought men like that pockmarked man down."

"She was at that."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

News Reaches the Bennets

Ch. 14

Flames jumped and licked at the sides of the sides of the stone hearth. Tables covered with cloth had trays full of food set on them by Mary's servants. Kyle's parents came in with his sister, Julia and Mr. Bennet greeted them as he did the rest of his family. The celebration was on behalf of Kyle's sister getting engaged. Her husband-to-be would soon be arriving.

"I can remember when you were but in diapers." Mrs. Johnson dabbed the corner of her eye.

"Mother." Julia's face turned red. "I am twenty. Please, can we remember something besides diapers."

"Well, I could recall a few things if you want." Mr. Bennet started grinning only to crack up laughing when Julia turned beet red knowing full-well he as referring to the time Julia insisted she was going to marry him when she grew up; she was six.

"Let us not." Everyone else knew the same story without having to be told and cracked up laughing too.

However, all their laughter stopped when a knock came at the door, and Fredrick did not come in alone, but brought in Colonel Forester- and Captain DeGraw; Colonel Fitzwilliam's superior. Both of which looked very grave.

"What is wrong?" Mr. Bennet was instantly on his feet.

"I hate to be the one to have to bring you this news, but our coach was attacked on the way back from Brighton..." the Colonel rushed to finish his sentence as Mr. Darcy hurried to steady Mr. Bennet. "I tried to fight the men off, when I awoke Kitty was gone. I am so sorry. My wife feels horrible; she has taken to her bed. I told her you would not blame us. But the lady is afraid is to show herself to any of you. And I do apologize for the rotten timing of it all. However, I could not see waiting to tell you either."

"No, of course not." Mr. Bennet was in shock as Mr. Darcy helped him sit down.

Julia, while absolutely bummed over the celebration going south, but was not so selfish as not to shift her focus onto Kitty's disappearance. "Surely, there is something we can do?" She looked around the room. "Or at least the men?"

Captain DeGraw spoke evenly "I was hoping, Mr. Bennet, I could take some men into the study and use one of your maps to go over a couple areas we think are likely spots to search. While Colonel Forester was not able to give much descriptions, we know a gentleman associated with a Mr. Giles Dexter was eyeing Kitty at a restaurant and she chose to dance with a Mr. MacDonald over him. That really upset him big time. He was fuming the rest of the night. We discussed things with Mr. MacDonald; the man told us he had to escort your daughter back to her room out of concern for her safety from the man."

"Did you say Giles Dexter?" Mr. Darcy physically jerked without having to think about it.

"Yes, why, do you know him?"

"Not personally." Mr. Darcy grit his teeth, again without even consciously even being aware of it. "But he was with a Mr. Alan T. Johnston a man who has been attempting to buy a piece of property off me. It is not connected to Pemberly, but is still close my home."

"Johnston? That is not a name I have heard before." Turning back to Mr. Bennet who was gaining enough presence of mind as to be functionable. "May be go to your library?"

"Yes, of course." Turning to the ladies he begged the party go on. "I am sorry if this dampens things a bit. However, Julia..." Mr. Bennet tried to smile. "For Kitty's sake, if she were here...I know she would want you to enjoy yourself."

"I will do my best." Julia managed to smile as the men then headed down to the library.

Mr. Bennet's library had not been touched by Kyle simply because its sturdy oak desk was still in great shape. Its sofas and chairs were in good enough shape that Mr. Bennet saw no need to replace them, and it as not a fight Kyle thought worth messing with. Thomas's bookshelves were just as packed as when his wife was live, though a few more had been gifted to him by an unknown person.

Captain DeGraw, who could not have cared less as to who had given books to Longbourn's owner, simply loved the fact Mr. Bennet had a map up on his wall. He crossed his arms and studied the map. Placing his hand on his chin the gentleman turned to Mr. Darcy. "What does this Mr. Johnston look like?" He asked as a thought hit him hard.

"I know looks are not everything; however, that man's face is really scarred, and I mean bad."

"Like pockmarks?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because..." The colonel's face darkened. "That is the same man who was glaring at MacDonald for dancing with Miss Bennet and his name is not Johnston. Nonetheless, for all your men's safety, it is. And... if he has been done here before..." His mind turned; the man was only going by what he had been told by Lord Ashford. So, that being the case, he went with the information he had and what he as getting from Mr. Darcy. "I suggest we concentrate our search in Derbyshire."

"What is that man's motive for taking my daughter?" Mr. Bennet asked unsure what to think. "It is not as if I am a rich man."

"Do men like that need a good reason?" The captain replied and the sighed. "I do not have much information. However, with what Mr. Darcy has just said and with what I was told before coming here; I can only surmise Mr. Dexter's associate really does have a grudge against Mr. MacDonald. And, upon seeing that he had your daughter's eye, or at least assumed he did, decided grabbing your daughter would be a way to have leverage against him."

"For what?"

"That I must confess I am mostly in the dark on. And what I do know I have been ordered by royal officers not to repeat; I am sorry, but it is connected to men much higher than myself."

The captain went to give his apologies when a knock came at the library door, Colonel Forester, who was the closest, opened it. "Miss Anne?" He was surprised to see her looking so well. "I thought you were in London, that you did not do well down here."

"I have, shockingly, been doing much better due to newer medicine." Anne then turned to Mr. Bennet. "As I was preparing to leave London my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam swung by and told me what was going on." She would have simply said Richard only with two other military men in the room the lady figured -considering everything that as was going on- that it would wise to toss out the fact of how she had found out about Kitty. "I hoped you would not mind my coming by at a time like this; I can leave if you wish."

"No, please, stay, Mary and the others could use your aide." Mr. Bennet could hear his daughter and the others down the hall; it was clear the newly married daughter needed it. He then stood ready to go with the search party.

"Mr. Bennet." The captain cleared his throat. "I understand you wanting to go; I would be shocked, and nothing short of appalled if you had not voiced that desire. However..." The man began listing why he wanted Thomas to stay at Longbourn. "First, I have grave concerns for your family's need of emotional support at this time. I have heard you have been working hard these past few years not to neglect them."

"I have." Thomas slowly sat back easily following this gentleman's train of thought.

"Second, if Mr. Johnston has your daughter and, for any reason -logical or not- gets wind you are with us he may attempt to go after you. They, my men's attention would -naturally- have to become divided. And third. if -by chance- Kitty breaks away - and shows up here, I would think it best if you were here."

"I will stay." Mr. Bennet stood up. "Not so much for the sake of your team, though they do need to be considered, but more for the sake of my girls."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Becoming Iona Thayne

Ch. 15

The sky had cleared up and a few brave birds could be seen venturing out and about as the coach carrying Iona and Mr. MacDonald rode up to a grand five-story mansion. The poor lady could not help it; she let out a low whistle. The sound coming out of her mouth set a broad grin on James's face.

"This imposing place was not my idea," James replied as he opened the door, stepped out, and then helped her down. "My staff, most of them, have been given the day off. All know they will have a new boss upon coming back to work tomorrow. The rest are extremely good at using alcoves so as not to disturb our conversation."

"Will they even listen? I am but nineteen not quite twenty," Iona spoke softly.

"That will be up to you," James was blunt. "I did not tell them your age. I have seen enough of your actions around Longbourn, town, and other places to know you are far wiser than your years. People are selling you short if they say otherwise. So, as far as I am concerned, if they ask you your age, they can be told to mind their own business. Though, I would suggest you find a more polite way of saying it."

Mr. MacDonald pointed out he was thought to be a bit…odd? As to the fact that while his staff cleaned all five floors, he only used the bottom one. "The rest is all for show. I, myself, would have happily settled for a simple two-story cottage home. Lord Ashford insisted my cover needed something more." James waved his hand as they walked the halls of newly polished marbled floors.

Portraits of men, women, and children, both in English and Scottish clothing, hung on the wall. Various artifacts either sat encased in glass on tables or in cases hooked to the walls. Turning a corner, James pointed to a slightly open door. "This is the only library I allow anyone to use. It has plenty of comfortable chairs, a few sofas, and there is not a single available space on the bookshelf. So, if someone complains they cannot find any reading material, they have bigger problems than I; those books are extremely varied in subjects. From books on war to ones on peace to comedy and 'let me teach you how' type books."

The two heard footsteps, but as they turned, both grinned as the nearest alcove's curtains were slightly moving. "I dare say the staff will be most cooperative. If not, you know who to talk to if I am not here, as I gave you that information in the coach. Do you remember the name?"

"Yes, I do, very well." Iona figured Mr. MacDonald only asked his question for the sake of whoever was behind the curtain, not for her own. "I have been keeping track of what servants do for most of my life."

It was not a lie. It was not like her mother had ever structured her time. And so, part of her own style of education had been watching and listening to how Mrs. Hill had been running Longbourn. No one had realized it simply because they had not ever bothered asking the fourth Bennet sister about it.

"Let us talk in here." James opened the door and ushered Iona into a very spacious conservatory.

Iona could not help but widen her eyes; the young lady stood in awe at the sight of a room she had only heard about. The glazed roof allowed more light into the room than Miss Thayne could have ever imagined possible. In fact, to see so many windows on not just one floor, but two had her mind reeling. The stairs they had come down led them onto shiny, polished marbled flooring with a large, tannish rug with a round table placed on top of it. A porcelain clock sat encased in thick glass and sat on top of the table. Soft sofas and chairs had been placed strategically around the room, and artificial plants spread artistically in their places to invite warmth and comfort into the open space.

"I take it this room meets your approval?" James could not help but chuckle as Iona let out a squeal of delight.

"I am sorry, Mr. MacDonald, if I appear to be unprofessional right now. I promise I can handle what you ask of me. I just…" Kitty was not sure how to word things and had no desire to be taken wrong.

"No need to explain." Mr. MacDonald smiled. "And I hope you did not take my chuckling wrong. I meant no offense. I am thrilled you like the room so much; I confess this is one room I came to when working for the government before Louisa and I moved closer to her siblings."

"I thought you always lived close to Charles and Caroline."

"Good heavens no, I cannot stand Little Miss Caro..." James paused and then laughed. "Please, do not tell Charles I just said that."

"I will not. So, why were…never mind, it is none of my business."

James found himself wanting Kitty to know his background. After all, she was now going by Iona Thayne, and they had no way of knowing when this whole mess was going to clear up. So, he found himself finishing her train of thought. "Why were we living with them in England, and why did we travel with them to Netherfield, and why did Louisa act as she did?"

"It is not hard to figure out Louisa's end of things, no need to go there. And something tells me I already know the other. And yet, I really do not like assuming either. So, yes, why did you spend so much time with them? At least with Caroline?"

"Louisa never really wanted to be married. She thrived off the chase, but we had to keep up the appearance of keeping her near family. " He gave a lopsided grin. "Also, as you know, there is not much age difference between Charles and Caroline, but Louisa? There is enough that, well, towards the end, when it became clear Charles had no real backbone, that if we were nearby we could influence him to get a good wife. She could be there quite a bit for Charles when not with me and …we hoped to influence him in regard to a good wife. I…" James looked a bit sheepish. "Do apologize for misjudging Jane at first. She was so darn quiet and well, your mother…"

"No explanation needed. Mother meant well; however, I know she did us no favors in that department." The two continued to talk about not only their respective families, and his intriguing past, but what was expected from her, what kind of information was to be passed on to him, what was not, and what acts may, or may not, be her part to play.

"I will not demand anything of you that you are against. Nor would I dream of putting you in compromising situations. I am not that kind of man." James stood up. "I hope you believe me."

"You are not telling me anything I have not already figured out." Iona stood up. "And I hope that does not make me sound arrogant. If it does, I apologize. I simply think if we are to be in this together, it is best we start with open and honest communication right from the start. We might have to act for others, but let us not put on any act with each other. Is that fair enough?"

"Fair enough, except, I really do have to call you Iona. If I use your birth name in one place and then have to try to remember it at another, that would be extremely dangerous, everything considering."

"Not to mention downright annoying. Iona it shall remain." Iona nodded towards the step. "I believe we need to go see Lord Ashford?"

"That we do, but not before figuring out how to change your looks." He took her out of the conservatory and back to the foyer where they met Colonel Fitzwilliam. "You know what to do and, sorry, Richard, but -for a little while at least- I think it is best if we keep you away from your family. It is going to be hard enough on Anne to have to keep her mouth shut, but I cannot think of a believable reason for her to stay away. The only way you could go is under military orders."

"I totally understand."

James then turned to Iona and smiled. "Please, take tips from Anne how to dress, you must not look like Kitty Bennet. I will be in another room while you make the final preparations to go to Lord Ashford's."

Iona heard the reply, thanked Mr. Hurst, but could not help but wonder how her family was doing. The part of her that was Kitty, hoped the Bennet, Bingley, and Darcy families were holding up and not breaking down.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Search Party Meeting at Pemberly

Ch. 16

It was hard enough to keep spirits up as it was; nature was not aiding anyone's mood any. Dark, ominous clouds gathering outside, thunder rolling and lightning flashing in the distance were mocking the searchers' desire to continue their search, one which had not been going all that long.

The drawing room of Pemberley had been redone and was far lighter than before. Light, subdued-pink wallpaper had replaced dark, dreary red and black. Dark brown wainscoting had been replaced with off-white wainscoting and molding. Old, depressing, lifeless, dull rugs had been tossed out and lighter-colored ones had taken their place. The whole room held a new warmth to it. Alas, the feeling in the space right now was extremely tight as Fitzwilliam's wife was being extremely cantankerous in that she was being unusually pushy in wanting the men still out looking in spite of what she could see out the window.

"Elizabeth." Mr. Darcy spoke evenly, knowing his wife, who normally handled stress extremely well, understood this time around she was not doing so well. She was expecting, her mood swings had been unstable, and now her sister was missing. "It is not realistic for us men to go out right now."

"Why not? The storm is miles away."

"And traveling our way at an alarming rate." Colonel Forester did his best not to snap; he too understood where Mrs. Darcy was coming from. "We go out now and we sign all our death warrants, then what good would that do your sister?"

Jane, who had come with Charles and left her young son with Mary, gently pulled her sister out of the room and into a small parlor off to the side of the one the men were gathered in. "Elizabeth, this is not you, even under stress—as worried as you can get—I have not seen you nagging people so much, like you were doing just now. I could have sworn Mother had come back from the dead."

"I am sorry." Elizabeth sunk into a chair. "In between the mood swings of carrying this baby, Kitty mssing, and Father…" She caught her tongue.

"Oh, so that, other than Kitty missing, is the real issue." Jane sat down in a chair next to Elizabeth. "Did you really not expect for him to find a friend? It is not as if they are doing anything immoral; people might insist they were—if anyone outside realized how much they were actually seeing each other. However, we know they are not. And if the lady does not wish for people to know her true status, who are we to fault her?"

"Why not go public? Why her act? It makes it feel as if something is being done behind our backs."

"Because your father is not ready." Anne's voice caused both Elizabeth and Jane to whip around; they had not realized Fitzwilliam's cousin was even at Pemberley and said much. "That storm came up faster than expected, I am shocked I even beat it."

"You said Father was not ready." Elizabeth lifted her hands. "It has been two and a half years and he and Mother were not exactly close."

"No, they were not." Anne lifted a hand. "But they did make peace before she passed away and, whether you believe it or not, there are things I am not at liberty to speak of that Mr. Bennet needs to come to peace with before he could even consider remarrying."

"And you are willing to wait?" Jane asked wide-eyed. "You are twenty-five and Father is not a young man. You are taking quite a chance."

"I have met many men; my mother has pushed more than one onto me. Your father has his share of faults, there is no denying it; nor is he attempting to." Anne spoke openly and honestly, seeing no need to hide anything, figuring Thomas' girls had enough on their plate without lies from her being added onto them. She would tell them everything—other than what her hands were tied on as to Kitty's whereabouts. Anne had told Mr. Bennet, in a roundabout way, not to worry that Kitty was safe. He had enough brains to realize Anne was not in a position to say more and had clung to the only hope Miss de Bourgh had been able to give him. "We have talked… a lot… when the time is right, when he is ready… people will be told. So, yes, I am willing to wait."

"Your mother?"

"I have plenty of strong-smelling salts stocked up." That set all three women to laughing. "I have already pre-apologized to your father for his future mother-in-law should my mother be alive at that time. Which, I highly suspect she will be. Now, do you think…" She gave Elizabeth a gentle, reassuring smile. "You can forgive us for living our lives in separate, distant houses for now and being only friends behind my mother's back? And, of course, come out and be sociable? I did travel all the way from London. Not to mention once my mother gets here, I have to put that act on that you all know is fake, clearly it was bothering you."

"I think we can manage. Please, though, no more acts… to us at least."

"I can only promise to tell you what I am able to. Is that fair enough? I mean, your father would have my hide if I broke my word to him, or if I have given my word to others and then broke it; that would not be good."

"I can live with that."

The three went back out, Elizabeth apologized to her husband, and company, for her behavior. "I am not usually this ill-behaved, I will do much better, I promise." She sat down on the small sofa where her husband had already sat.

"I am most certain you will." Fitzwilliam patted her hand. "If it helps anyone, Captain DeGraw found a woman's sash on a trail leading up to some hills he knows well. The sash, Colonel Forester thinks, is the same one as Kitty was wearing the morning of their departure."

"I must confess." Colonel spoke out of desire not to get Mrs. Darcy's hopes up. "I cannot be certain, but it is hard to believe otherwise for it is so remarkably similar."

"We can only hope it leads you to her." Elizabeth leaned her head against Fitzwilliam and sighed. "We can only pray and hope she is found."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Meeting Lord Ashford

Ch. 17

The London air was freezing cold as Mr. MacDonald stepped down from his coach wearing a heavy coat, thick gloves, and a warm hat. He took the hand of Miss Thayne, who had been ordered to wear black and put a veil over her face. It was a way to protect her reputation should anyone happen to recognize her, for they had a chance to get her hair dyed. She would begin wearing the clothes she had picked out the other day once they had talked to Lord Ashford.

Their feet took them through a black-iron gate, over smooth stones, past a lifeless fountain, and up a flight of stairs. Two large pillars framed Lord Ashford's main door, and two large gargoyles sat on either side of the portico.

"How may I help you?" Mr. Jansen, Lord Ashford's new butler, spoke in a deep monotone voice.

"We have come to speak to Lord Ashford. I am Mr. MacDonald, and this is Widow Thayne."

"Yes, of course, Lord Ashford said you would be coming. Please, follow me."

Lord Ashford was sitting at his desk with a small group of men when Mr. MacDonald was shown in with the widow. "If you will, please excuse us," Lionel spoke to the men gathered in his library. "It appears my friend has brought my distant cousin to see me after her husband's demise. We need to talk. We will finish this meeting later."

"Of course, Lord Ashford." More than one man spoke, shook his head, nodded towards the woman who was now in their presence, and made their departure. It was only when the chancellor's library door was shut did Iona take off her veil and sit down, as did Mr. MacDonald.

Lionel's library was extremely large and well-stocked. Multiple candlesticks holding tapered candles were placed in such a way as to allow plenty of light to be spread around the room. Various keepsakes had been placed on desks, tables, and shelves from the chancellor's trips around the world. Once the gentleman sat down, he looked straight at Miss Thayne, who he knew full well was not a widow but had willingly stayed in the dark as to her true identity.

His motivations for remaining ignorant had not been hard for Mr. MacDonald, or even Kitty, to figure out. First, it gave the man plausible deniability. If something went wrong and her real name was said, the chancellor could honestly say he had never heard the name. Second, Mr. MacDonald figured the chancellor thought to avoid complications by knowing her true identity. And third, the gentleman had already more or less admitted his main concern would be her skills and competence, not her family background.

Lord Ashford looked straight at Miss Iona. "What is motivating you to ask Mr. MacDonald to be his personal secretary?"

"I have always been driven by a desire to contribute meaningfully. Mrs. Hill, my parents' head housekeeper, had a great influence over my life. I watched and talked to her a lot while I was drawing at the dining room table. She instilled in me the importance of diligence and organization, which I believe are crucial for this role."

"Your parents did not mind?"

"We were allowed to learn whatever interested us."

"How do you handle stressful situations?"

"I have come to learn to remain calm and focused on things that matter, to prioritize tasks and address issues methodically. I learned from others what happens when you do not approach challenges with a clear mind and a steady hand. So, I determined to make sure I did."

"Can you tell us of a time when you were put into a position where you had to manage multiple tasks simultaneously, especially one you did not expect to be in charge of?"

"During a family event, Mrs. Hill and her assistant both fell ill. I stepped in and coordinated the entire affair, managing invitations, catering, and logistics. Mrs. Hill had guided me in the past, and I drew from that; everything went smoothly." She saw no need to say her mother had balked, but that the servants had backed her up.

Lord Ashford leaned back, softly thumbing his thumb on his desk. "How do you think is the best way for one to approach problem-solving?"

"I think one should analyze the situation, gather any relevant information, and use their brains to consider various solutions. After they have thought critically, then they must choose the most effective course of action to take. Which, in this case, I have already been instructed would be to either tell Mr. MacDonald, his one inside man at the mansion, or, should something happen and they are not available and it is urgent, come to you."

Lord Ashford was becoming more and more impressed. This Miss Thayne was far more intelligent than many women he had talked to of late. "What skills do you think you personally have that would set you apart enough to warrant me allowing you to help Mr. MacDonald in doing what he could to recover one very expensive package?"

"My strong organizational skills, attention to detail, and my ability to clearly communicate with those around me qualify me greatly for the position Mr. MacDonald is asking me to fill." She was not surprised when the chancellor wondered how she would handle her employer's staff criticizing her.

"They are bound to do it. Even if Mr. MacDonald manages to make you look five to ten years older, you will still look to be no older than thirty at most."

"First, I know how to stand my ground. Second, I view feedback as an opportunity to grow and learn. I clearly remember Mrs. Hill saying if one listens carefully, then reflects on that input, it will often enhance and improve one's performance."

Lord Ashford turned to Mr. MacDonald. "I like this one; my unasked-for advice? Keep her close to you. Women like her are rare; they do not come around often." He stood up. "I suggest you get her back to the estate and get her to work, and you get to your men; my grandson has to be out there somewhere."

"Have you received any more notes?"

"Yes, but they make no sense. If they really wanted money, you would think the least they would do was to send messages that read straight." Lionel handed Mr. MacDonald the latest note and walked to the main doors.

Mr. MacDonald, after they both climbed into the carriage, opened up the note. It read: "The clock strikes twelve, yet the pendulum does not stay still. Look beyond what others see."

James said nothing. However, he doubted money was the motive as others were telling the chancellor; a fact he had already told the gentleman. And, for now at least, the chancellor's boy was alive. A fact he meant to keep quiet on but found himself musing out loud over; he was pleasantly surprised, and yet not shocked, that Iona needed no explanation.

"Well, of course he is, with a note like that how could he be otherwise." Her words and tone shouted, "How could it be otherwise?"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Iona's First Day

Ch. 18

Miss Thayne had arrived to Mr. MacDonald in a separate carriage than her employer, as neither one of them were foolish enough to think it would look natural for them to arrive together. She had been shown her quarters, which were down the hall from Mr. MacDonald's study.

As the first light of daylight showed its face through the velvet drapes, Iona rose from her bed, put her now dark, auburn hair into a tight bun, and put on a dress that was styled to make her appear older than she was. Miss Thayne found her way to the kitchen. Thankfully, the head cook was a pleasant lady full of smiles and cheer. They exchanged pleasantries and, since everything was running smoothly, Iona gathered the morning correspondence and wasted no time in going to the study.

"Everyone knows I will be gone for at least a week. Feel free to use the study to go through any correspondence. Keep a sharp eye out for the smallest of things. You know how to get messages to me."

Iona sorted through letters and documents that had arrived overnight. She went carefully through them, and nothing indicated there was anything that warranted talking to her contact. If Mr. MacDonald had been home, Iona would have politely greeted him and gone over her schedule for the day. As it was, he had given her a list of things she was to do until he returned.

Throughout the morning, Iona kept focused on managing the estate's correspondence, writing necessary letters, and responding to inquiries that had come into the MacDonald estate as she sat behind a heavy oak desk in Mr. MacDonald's study with a warm fire going. She got together with the household staff to make sure that everything ran smoothly and to ensure time was not wasted. By midday, she took a brief respite to enjoy a light luncheon in the kitchen in a very informal setting, something all the MacDonald staff enjoyed doing.

"Mr. MacDonald is so laid back he even lets us eat in the dining room with him sometimes," giggled one servant.

"Yes, but only when guests are not around," the gardener grinned wide. "Even he is not crazy enough to do that."

The afternoon continued full of activity as Iona oversaw the preparations for an upcoming event at the estate. "The Hansens requested their children sleep in the room at the end of the hall, and away from the Smiths' children."

"Will do." The housekeeper did not have to be told why; everyone remembered the nightmare and did not want it repeated if those children got it into their heads to start another fight.

"Sir," Iona went and talked to the gardener. "Could you gather evergreen branches, holly, ivy, and other foliage? We are going to need them to create decorations for the party tomorrow night."

"Yes, Miss Thayne." The gardener, a man with a grizzled face, smiled and left to begin gathering the needed items.

Iona turned and began to walk away. However, she had not gone too far when her eye caught the sparkle of a small gold chain in the dirt along with a small gold ring, next to a bush right against one of the low rock walls around Mr. MacDonald's home. Glancing around, she saw no one. Picking the items up, she put them in her pocket and went back inside, her mind trying to come up with scenarios of how and why such simple, unmarked jewelry would be next to a bush in the first place.

Taking the chain and putting into a box in the office of, Iona then locked the box with the sole intention of bringing it up at a staff meeting to see who it belonged to. Dwelling on an unknown chain really was not an option after that as the butler had her attention as soon as she stepped outside of the office. He was holding the list of guests in his hand, and Iona was not foolish enough to think everything was in order, not with his furrowed brow very much in existence.

"Is something the matter?" Iona asked, keeping her expression inscrutable.

"I was just given this list by the head housekeeper, and there are a couple of names on it that are not on the one Mr. MacDonald gave both of us before he left."

"Let me see it." Miss Thayne acted with no trace of panic or concern in her voice as her hands took the list from him. Quickly enough, she saw the names. "Go ahead and prepare for the extra guests. I know who to talk to as to whether or not they are legitimate. For right now, let us be prepared just in case they are really to be here."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As soon as he was out of sight, Iona hurried, as fast as she dared, down the hallway and out the door. She followed a narrow, stone walkway and knocked on the gardener's workshop where she had been told he was finishing a project. The gentleman opened the door.

"May I help you?"

"Mr. MacDonald said I was to talk to you if the birds were flying too close to the coop."

The gardener practically yanked her into the workshop and might as well have slammed the door shut. He did not have to hear that sentence twice to ask any questions. The man also shut any windows.

"What is going on? Who is at the house?"

"The party we are to host tomorrow night got two more names added to it; ones that were not there on the list Mr. MacDonald gave the butler and me." When asked who they were, Iona replied, "A Mr. Paul Dexter and some man by the name Gene Johnston." Iona knew enough to know the Dexter fellow was not the same as the one who had been at the Brighton restaurant and asked Mr. MacDonald's employee who the other gentleman was.

"A scoundrel, just as bad as his cousin, and Gene is no better than his own kin. Who put them there?"

"The housekeeper."

Iona was not about to repeat the words the gardener let slip out of his mouth. He quickly stopped, told her to go inside and act as if nothing had happened, assuring her that those men would not be coming. She was also informed to be prepared for a new housekeeper before the next morning. Kitty did as she was told. Therefore, Kitty kept everything the gentleman had said to herself and went back inside.

The head housekeeper had not given off a that bad of feeling upon first meeting Iona as she had stood next to the butler. She had been friendly, at ease and quite lovable. And yet by mid-day her eyes had become too shifty, too dark, and her manners too stiff; unless you counted her left hand, which had seemed to twitch more than usual. Then it hit Iona so hard it took everything she had to keep her own mask in place as to what was going on, and she whirled around and went without delay to find the gardener. He, when told what Iona suspected, grew grave.

"You very well may be correct, especially since the lady is a widow. My contacts will take that into consideration when making their decision in regard to her actions. However, you will still have a new housekeeper; she cannot remain here. Now, you really need to get back to the main house."

"I agree."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Party

Ch. 19

Torches lit up the walkway of Mr. MacDonald's main home. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows of all shapes on the cobblestone path, creating an mythical atmosphere. There were rumors circling around that the man was either going to be given the title of marquess or even duke. No one knew for sure, few had even met the gentleman, but none wished to miss such a party if, by chance, the rumors were true.

Men handling security handled their job with skill. Their stern faces and sharp eyes scanned each guest meticulously. One by one, people were checked as they came to the door. Earls and their wives were allowed in, marquesses and their potential mates were ushered through the doors, barons and knights were permitted in, and even gentlemen with no titles were ushered in with sincere smiles. However, when Mr. Paul Dexter and Mr. Gene Johnston stepped up to the doors, they were met with a resounding no.

"But our names are on the list," protested Mr. Dexter, his eyes widening when told they were not.

"I am sorry, Sir," the security guard spoke firmly but politely. "I see neither one of them here."

"Is there a problem?" The butler stepped out the door and up to the small group. His presence was imposing, with a tall frame and a meticulously groomed appearance.

"Apparently, your guard cannot read." Mr. Dexter crossed his wrists and huffed. "He claims our names are not on the list." When asked what they were, it was all the butler could do not to give a smug grin.

"I am sorry, sir, but the lady who told you she could get you on the list lied to you and has been fired. Mr. MacDonald did not have you on his list." The butler spoke with no emotion and a straight face.

"Why, I… I… we were to meet a friend inside." The man clearly had not planned on having to say anything when his words were only met with a reiteration of what had already been told to him. Therefore, he stumbled on an apology and hurriedly left with his partner.

"Double down on all the entrances, just in case those two attempt to gain access."

"Yes, sir."

The butler went back and reported to Miss Thayne. The grand hall was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. She, in turn, went and began to mingle with the guests.

The chandeliers' light spread smoothly over the floor and mixed into the other chandeliers' as smoothly as melting butter. The crystal prisms sparkled, casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests. The marbled floors sparkled brightly and were so shiny one half thought one might slip and fall if their shoes had no traction. Comfortable chairs, and even a few sofas, had been placed against the walls, along with tables for those not wishing to dance. Iona walked into the well-lit room and began to mingle with the guests.

Her smile was genuine and her talk light. People drew to her like moths to torch lights at midnight. This lady was as harmless as a dove, and yet, if they knew just how much her ears were taking in, some might have kept their mouths clamped down tighter… especially the men.

"I have never seen this MacDonald, but with this kind of home, if he gets that title, I will make sure I work my way into his private circle and then grab it from him." He spoke low to a friend, with the friend chuckling and saying to count him in; Iona made sure to get their names in a way as not to raise their alarm.

There were men and women, unlike those who Iona was taking notes to warn her boss to steer clear of, who would be listed as strong allies. Words like "MacDonald knows his way around London extremely well. He knows where to draw the line. The man knows when to bend and when not to." And the one that really cemented his allies in were the words, "I would rather die by MacDonald than die by that Dexter fellow." Iona would have continued making her rounds only she spotted a man with broad shoulders and a portly build standing against a wall, wearing a three-piece dark suit. His attire sported gold chains… with one missing.

Making her way over to the gentleman, Miss Thayne spoke politely and sweetly. "Good evening. I hope you are enjoying the party and seeing Mr. MacDonald's home."

"I am. I took a walk around the garden earlier. The view near the old oak tree is quite serene."

Iona showed no emotion but knew full well none of the guests had any business being down that far. However, all she did was smile and say, "I could not help but notice your suit. It is quite unique. Is it a custom design?"

"Yes, in fact, it is." The man puffed out his chest. "It cost a fortune."

"I can believe that." Iona kept their talk light and short, then weaved her way naturally through and out of the room. She then made haste to the back door intending to track down Mr. Shein, the gardener. Fortunately for her, the gentleman was coming around the corner. "We have a problem."

"How serious of one?"

"A bird flew into the coop and I know who they were to meet, not why though." She explained about the suit and what about it had caught her eye.

"Who? And where?" When told, Mr. Shein wasted no time in entering MacDonald's home.

Iona followed without delay. Her footsteps followed Mr. Shein's with no problem. No other servants barred the two as it was clear from the gardener's grim face someone was in trouble. However, when he got to the ballroom, they were shocked to see a lawman talking to the over-pompous fellow.

"Mr. Austin claims Mr. MacDonald has stolen from him."

"What has he supposedly stolen?" Mr. Shein asked between gritted teeth.

"A chain to my suit for one." The man pointed to his vest. "And a gold ring I take with me at all times. I had it with me earlier, before we talked"

"You mean the ones dropped by the bush near our rock wall, they were yours? I picked them up last night… which, by the way, was after Mr. MacDonald had left, I saw him off myself. I thought they must have belonged to one of the other servants. I was going to bring them up at the next staff meeting." Turning to the lawman, she asked, "Do you wish for me to go get the items now?"

"If you would, ma'am."

Iona left the dance hall and retrieved the items. Upon Miss Thayne's return and handing the items over to the law, the accuser stiffened; he did not wish for his lie to be exposed. His face turned pale, and his hands trembled slightly. Why had his friends not hidden those things better? Come to think of it, where were they? They were supposed to have been here accusing Mr. MacDonald of a far more serious crime.

"I could have sworn they were on me: I had no idea they had been taken after he made his departure. I am so sorry." With that, he left, but not before complimenting them on their very old oak tree in the back of the gardens; something Mr. Austin assumed all the guests knew about.

Mr. Shein spoke low to the lawman to follow him to the garden. "None of our guests should know about that part of the garden; it is for the family only." He turned to Miss Thayne. "You keep the party going here."

So, it was twenty minutes later Mr. Shein and the lawman were looking at a child's toy and a small boy's ring. "Someone is trying to ruin Mr. MacDonald's good name and -I dare say- frame him for taking the Chancellor's grandson," growled the gardener as he picked up the items and handed them over to the law.

"We might have believed them too, had it not been for his assistant; I hope he gives her a raise."

CHAPTER TWENTY

NOTE: I am sorry for anyone that was confused in Ch. 19 and thought the men not let into the party were the same men who took Lord Ashford's son. BUT remember in Ch. 18 it says... {."The party we are to host tomorrow night got two more names added to it; ones that were not there on the list Mr. MacDonald gave the butler and me." When asked who they were, Iona replied, "A Mr. Paul Dexter and some man by the name Gene Johnston." Iona knew enough to know the Dexter fellow was not the same as the one who had been at the Brighton restaurant and asked Mr. MacDonald's employee who the other gentleman was.

"A scoundrel, just as bad as his cousin, and Gene is no better than his own kin. Who put them there?" (the two men are related to the Kidnappers but are NOT the ones who took the boy.}

CHAPTER TWENTY

Talk at Longbourn

Ch. 20

No noise could be heard in Longbourn as Mr. Bennet paced the parlor. He wanted to be out searching for Kitty. However, Thomas had -with mixed feelings- seen the other men's point of view. He really did need to be home in case his fourth daughter made her way home. Nonetheless, it did not make things easy on his heart.

"Mr. Bennet." Anne spoke softly as she, Mary and Charlotte walked into the room. "Charlotte and I came to see how you were holding up."

"As good as I can be everything considering." And, then not caring anymore who knew of his close friendship with Anne, he held both his arms; Anne went and gave him the hug he needed. "Kitty will be fine, Mr. Bennet; I know it."

"Please, the name is Thomas."

If he expected Charlotte to be surprised it was everyone else whose turn it was to be shocked when she sat down and grinned wide. "Well, it is about time you two opened up."

'You knew?" Anne turned, about dropping her jaw as she did so-along with Mary and Thomas.

"Yes, and I am surprised no one else in this town figured things out. Well, besides, perhaps Miss Bennet, but nothing gets by Kitty."

Bells began to ring off in Thomas's head and he could not help but stiffen. His actions drew the attention of Anne who was still in his arms. She said nothing but wondered if he had figured out what she had not been allowed to say.

"Father, are you alright?" Mary asked wondering why her father had fell so silent.

"Yes, I.." Mr. Bennet loosened up and turned to Charlotte. "Talking about missing nothing. I noticed Mr. Collins has been paying close attention to you." Clearly, Thomas was not wishing to discuss what had smacked him in the face and the women pretended not to have seen his actions.

"Ugh, do not remind me." Charlotte groaned. "He proposed to me, and I turned him down."

"Why?" Mary asked surprised and did not hide that fact. "You were just saying the last week you hated being a strain on your parents and brothers."

"I did at that." Charlotte began grinning wide. "But just after that we got word my uncle got told he was dying and he left me twenty-five thousand pounds. My father advised me to put some into low-risk investments that will give me a monthly income. The rest is for my dowry "

"What?!" Mary gasped.

"Yes, and..." Charlotte's smiled disappeared for a second. "I will not repeat what Mr. Collins said in his proposal. but I took a page out of your sister's book."

"You mean Elizabeth?"

"No, Lydia's because she is so intelligent." Charlotte rolled her eyes and Mr. Bennet roared with laughter, Miss Lucas had definitely been around the Bennet household. "Of course, I mean Elizabeth."

"What did you tell Mr. Collins?" Mr. Bennet sat down and gently pulled Anne down next to him.

"I told him while I appreciated his proposal, and I was sure he believed he was honoring me with it. I had to decline. I had no desire to marry a man who could so easily transfer his affections from one lady to another. I told him his attentions, while flattering, were sorely misplaced. I suggested he seek a wife more suite to his unique...charms. As far as for me. I had no intentions of marrying, unless he had rank and no qualms of being on the move and allowing me to go to all the social parties I wished; plain as I may be."

"Good for you!" Anne clapped.

"And here I thought you had a practical head on you, but to turn down such a fine young man as Mr. Collins gives me pause and makes me question your state of mind." Thomas pretended to be serious and more than annoyed, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

"If you take this man too serious." Anne rolled her eyes. "You will always be upset and in tears."

"Oh, I have not the time, someone has offered to let me go to London with her." Charlotte grinned and looked straight at Anne.

"You are taking her to London?" Thomas' eyes widened.

"Someone has to." Anne kissed Thomas on the forehead. "And I believe we have an agreement, my coachman and footman take me there to my hearts content; and I do not pressure you out of Longbourn." She then grew somber. "You need to relax, Thomas. You being here is the right thing. You made the right choice." Her hand laid itself over his.

"When we are alone, we need to talk." There was something in his eyes that was not there before. Had he figured things out? If so, what was Anne to tell him? Other than what she had vaguely said before. She could not lie to Thomas and yet...sigh, there were certain things which simply could not be repeated.

"Mary." Anne turned to Thomas's daughter. "Your father and I really do need to talk, privately, do you prefer we do it in the library or in the small drawing room?"

"Might as well go to the library." Mary nodded towards the door; therefore, it was not long before Mr. Bennet was behind his desk and Ann was sitting in a overstuff chair in front of his desk.

"Anne, Charlotte said something out there that rang off a bell to me."

"What bell?"

"That Kitty did not miss anything." Thomas leaned forward. "You have been over to Netherfield and have been up to London quite a bit. My daughter and I have talked more than some people would think and, in changing my ways, she mentioned to me Mr. Hurst was no drunk and no gambler. Please, if you and I, are to be a couple. What do you know. You are not stupid woman. Surely, you know something."

Anne gave a soft smile. "If you are asking if Mr. Hurst has faked a kidnapping to cover up running off with your daughter than I can honestly say I highly doubt it; he is not that kind of man. I would be shocked if a stunt like that were ever pulled by the one you know as James Hurst."

"How do you know that and what else do you know. I mean besides that vague hint you gave me awhile back...suggesting Kitty was safe."

"Thomas." Anne sighed. "I work with the law and that is not something I should be admitting to you; I definitely slipped in giving you that hint. However, like you said; if we are to be a couple I cannot lie to you-least not on what I can possibly open up on. If it bothers you -the law bit- then this is as far as we go."

Mr. Bennet gave a lopsided grin and leaned forward. "I am not letting you go if you are going to be honest about that." He sobered up. "Can you at least tell me if Kitty was really kidnapped?"

"Thomas." Anne shrugged her shoulders. "What I could tell you would only be educated guesses and what good would that do either one of us? I did not ask and they did not tell me. I do know there is a case going on. They tried to get Mr. Hurst involved and, at first he refused, would not budge an inch."

"What changed his mind?"

"You are an intelligent man; you figure out whose safety he was concerned about because I am risking even talking to you as I am."

"Kitty." Mr. Bennet bolted right back up onto his feet as if to leave the room but did not. "He went up to try and protect my daughter." Which, to Thomas, meant only one thing, but that he did not speak of to Anne for he was no mind reader and did not know James' position on the subject.

Mr. Bennet then sighed and hoped the two were safe and wondered how they were doing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Hurst returns

Ch. 21

Chattering of voices passed the carriage as it rolled down cobblestone. Mr. Hurst, and his men, had been following leads all week with very little headway. It had all been very discouraging. Lord Ashford was getting very few notes and, when he did get them, it felt as if it was more of taunts than actual any real threats to his grandson's life. The only thing he had honestly been able to tell the Chancelor was it felt like a mind game.

"I think they hope to wear you down mentally. Is there some law that an opponent wants passed you are refusing to bend on? Or is there someone from your past you can think of trying to get revenge?"

"If it is politically motivated, they can go hang." The man growled. "I love my grandson, but I will not bend on what I believe. Though, clearly, I am not sparing any manpower on locating him. As to revenge?" The man let his shoulders slump. "That could be a very long list my good man."

The Chancelor then grinned. "People are saying you will become a titled man soon."

"That is not on my list of desires. Never has been and you know it."

The carriage stopped at his estate and the special agent alighted his mode of transportation. Mr. Hurst had not expected to be met by anyone. No, he planned on going inside and to relax in his study and try to dwell on what little he had been able to find out only to see the butler and Mr. Shein standing on the stairs with very grave faces.

"What is going on?"

"Mr. Dexter and Johnston's relations tried to frame you for taking Lord Ashford's son with the help of one very pompous fool that is what." Mr. Shein told James about the party and then handed him a folded piece of paper. "That was found underneath one of the windows, in an empty flower bed this morning. We apprehended the carrier near the side gate as it was trying to fly away and called the law on their inside contact. Fact is most of the kitchen staff have now been arrested. I cannot believe how many rats we had on board."

"Good work, Mr. Shein." Mr. MacDonald said as he read the note it stunned him. "I had no idea we were in middle of that kind of hornet's nest. I need to give you both a pay raise."

"It is not us that set the trap and sprung it." The butler was not about to take credit for something he had not done.

"Well, who did? I need to thank him."

"Her...you need to thank her." Mr. Shein spoke with a twitch of the mouth. "I do not now how Miss Thayne figured it out all, but it was she who told me the coop was too full of birds and rats; showed me how to get all the ample proof too. Oh, and that note sent to Lord Ashford, she said was not meant for him, but aimed at you."

"Forgive me for saying sir, but..." The butler could not help but grin. "I think, at times, that lady makes us look like cultivated cretins."

Mr. Hurst said nothing but walked on by and walked into the foyer and down the hallway towards the study. If anyone was going to have set a trap for so many rats and succeed, besides him, it did not surprise him it had been Kitty -he could not think of her as Iona at the moment. Opening the door, he was not surprised to see her standing at the desk going through the mail.

"I hear we had an infestation of over-sized rats and that note was meant for me."

"We did and it was, as to the rats, they were all in the kitchen."

"What gave them away?"

"Let us just say lousy cooking and I might as well have needed to draw them a map for the kitchen and leave it at that." She looked up when Mr. MacDonald grew quiet longer than normal. "Is something the matter?" She thought he was thinking of the note, but he brushed it off.

"If they want to try to kill me, let them. I am thinking more of the word sent of your relations being almost done covering Derbyshire." James let out a long sigh. "You have done wonders up here, stopped me from being framed, cleaned up this whole house..." The gentleman bawled his fist up. "If I could get my hands on Mr. Dexter and his partner, I came up here to get you back to safety, to get you back to Longbourn , to your family."

"Life does not always go the way we plan." Iona was surprised when James walked to the window and cross his arms behind his back.

"Maybe, I over-reacted when I saw Mr. Dexter walking towards you. Maybe, it would not be so dangerous to send you back to Longbourn as I originally thought."

The two had been so busy talking they had not heard the door opening, nor had they seen Colonel Fitzwilliam walk into the room. The gentleman had heard the last of Mr. MacDonald's comment and Richard, knowing James well, cleared his throat.

"Colonel." Mr. MacDonald turned around, kicking himself for having been so wrapped up in though as to have missed such a simple thing as a door opening. "May I help you?"

"You may, on a few things, but first..." He smiled at Miss Thayne. "I think it is best if Miss Thayne goes and sees to her afternoon duties?"

Iona left knowing it was his polite way of saying no woman needed to be around for their talk. Once Miss Thayne was gone the colonel spoke freely. "First, we found where Lord Ashford's grandson was being kept. And you were on the right track; almost got a hold him the other night too."

"Almost, what happened?"

"They were a tad faster than us, that is what." Richard sighed. "You were right about the two locations though. With what you found at the location you went to and, clearly, with us almost catching sight of the small group. It was obvious they had been staying there." Richard sat down and leaned back and looked straight at James. "I will tell you what I told Lord Ashford. I overheard a conversation in a tavern not meant for my ears." The colonel shook his head. "This is not about him; it is all about making sure you do not get a title."

"Are you jesting. You heard such a conversation?" James asked as he sat in his chair. "That was just spread for the sake of an excuse on this house, nothing more. And it has not been in use for quite some time. We only started that talk back up because we were looking for that boy."

"Actually, no it was not." Richard confessed it had been tossed around for some time. "The past couple of cases you worked on were pretty major. Lord Ashford has been pushing for you to get a title for some time. He has been meeting with resistance though."

"I have told him more than once I do not want one, probably why the push back." Growled James. "Man's too bullheaded for his own good."

"And James..." Richard dropped any formality and spoke to the gentleman as a friend. "Chances are high you would have found him weeks ago only you have been distracted because you are choosing to ignore what you need to face; what I now can clearly see. It also means Lord Ashford was right in what he suggested."

"What are you saying?" James did not snap, but his tone was, nonetheless, still very much guarded.

"Your heart, and eyes, are on Miss Kitty Bennet. You really do need to keep her by your side as a wife, and not just as some secretary assistant."

"Seems to me you are not the one to be talking to me about whose eyes are on whom." James was tossing Richard's game right back at him.

"I will be taking care of that as soon as I get back to Meryton. Now back to your own eyes, you know they have been on Miss Bennet for quite some time."

James had the urge to stride over to the colonel and slap the man upside his head. "What makes you say such a thing?"

"Please, James, I understand while you are in the role of James MacDonald there are many things you have to push down. But seriously? Even I can figure that one out. Look how many men we sent down to you attempting to get you up here when we thought this was all aimed at Lord Ashford. Not a one of them, not even Sir William or I could get you to budge. That is until I mentioned Miss Bennet had come to Brighton. Then someone might as well have poked you with a steaming-hot iron rod."

"You are right and wrong." James finally admitted.

"Explain that one."

"I do have feelings for Miss Bennet; however, she is Jane's sister. As far as that family is concerned...I am a no-good drunk, gambler, and right down bum."

"Ex." Richard pointed out. "Now they think you reformed and extremely quiet."

"Point is I am still not high on any society rung. And why should I make a move...that would just make her more of an open target. Not just for those men but to certain friendly fire with men who do not know when to hold back their bullets. I highly doubt her father would consent to such a thing."

"Will you ever forgive those men? The main one got hung."

"I thought I had." Sighed James. "But..." Richard's associate choked up. "When I think of holding Kitty close to me, my mind -on its own- sees her in a pool of blood caused by others failing to admit what was right in front of their own eyes." He shook the picture out of his head. "And as to the other group's motive..." James looked at Richard. "What you heard was to mislead us. I have overheard my own share of conversations. This is about more than me, or one man's child. Lord Ashford's just happens to be the most famous and my title among thousands. We have snakes to take down." Standing up he strode over and handed the colonel a piece of paper he had found. "I was going to show that to you tomorrow; However, since you are here, sir, you might as well read it now, before you head back for Meryton- a trip I know you are due to take."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Visit to the Lucas'

Ch. 22

Ignoring the note had been easy enough; it had turned out to be a dead-end tip. Now he traveled with a fair amount of comfort for no cold air ripped through the air or slid through the carriage Richard had chosen to take. The reason was simple: the winter day was one of the warmest ones England had seen in weeks. Hence, the colonel's mind was not on the weather but on the conversation between himself and James.

"Seems to me you should not be talking to me about whose eyes are on whom." James's words rang loud and clear in his ears, as did other ones spoken before his departure not only from Brighton but from his own mother. They both, basically, had said the same thing.

"Just admit, money is not your top priority nor are physical looks. You want someone who will not feel threatened by you being in the military and can share your love of books and poetry. Money comes second. If it came first, Jane with her fifty thousand pounds a year, and stunning looks, would have easily been wearing your ring by now, admit it. "

His Aunt Catherine had been appalled by what her sister, Bernice, had spoken. She had quickly chimed in or attempted to. Her intention was to stop the damage—as it was perceived. However, she was told to put a cork in it.

Richard's mind left off thinking of James, his mother, and definitely his aunt as the wheels, which had been turning as rhythmically as one of his mother's servants churning butter from years of experience, stopped in front of the Lucas' front door. Squaring his jaw, Richard tossed care aside and stepped down from the carriage. His footsteps took him straight to the doorstep of Sir William's home. Charlotte had not been home during his first visit; the colonel hoped the lady was home now.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam." Sir William was surprised to see the young man at his door. "I was not expecting to see you. Is there something Lord Ashford needs?"

"No, I actually came to…" Richard found himself extremely nervous and he had to take off his hat and hold it tight in order to have his hands not twitch.

Sir William quickly caught on and bit back a chuckle. "Come on in, Colonel, I will go get Charlotte." He knew there was no way Richard knew about the inheritance, for the young man had been gone too much to have heard of it, and, last William had heard, Lady Catherine was still mad at him for refusing to budge on a political issue she felt strongly about. So, it was not likely that woman would have brought the subject up.

Charlotte came into the room just as surprised as her father. She had not thought Richard due back for at least another month. "What a pleasant surprise." The eldest Lucas daughter smiled. "How might I be of service to you?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

"You can use my study," Sir William spoke up. If the two had been younger, he would have had them leave the door wide open, but at their ages, he was not going to insist on it.

The study was nothing unusual. Typical bookshelves packed full of political, history, and other such books which held Sir William's attention or were needed in his line of work. A sturdy desk made from mahogany had been placed in the room, along with chairs and tables made of matching wood. An oversized, multi-colored rug had been placed in the center of the room, along with candle holders strategically placed around the room to allow plenty of light on the days the heavy, velvet curtains were closed. Today, no fire was roaring in the fireplace, attesting to the day being warmer than usual.

"As a second son and a military man, I cannot offer you much, Miss Lucas." Richard fought from rubbing his palms together and began speaking as he made his best effort to give Charlotte not only a proper proposal but an honest one too. "We would not be able to travel as I would have liked to. However, you would have a home of your own. And I would make sure there was food on the table and clothes on your back. I would do my best to treat you as a lady ought to be." The colonel continued on a little and then looked at her in all earnestness, hoping for the best; it was hard for him to stand still.

"What about Miss Jane? The lady from London? Word was circulating around that an announcement was surely to be made soon."

"Let us just say we came to a parting of ways. I will not bad mouth her but simply say it was not meant to be." He reached out and took hold of her hand. "I found myself looking back to Meryton and called things off. Did I do the right thing?"

"Yes, but I think you can put those plans to travel back into place." Charlotte grinned wide, delighted Richard was proposing to her with no prior knowledge of her surprise inheritance.

"How? I am but a colonel in the army and am no eldest son. I can afford no estate, servants and definitely no trips that a firstborn son could give you." His words proved he had been away too much, and involved in the case up north far too much to have heard the news. Plus, it helped that others who could have told the gentleman assumed he already knew.

"I received news I have inherited twenty-five thousand pounds from an uncle of mine. Some of it has been put into a dowry and the rest of it...I am most certain if we are not wasteful, we can manage just fine."

"What?" Richard was floored. "Where did he get that kind of money? And what about your other siblings?"

"I have no idea where he got it from, nor do my parents." Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. "Father checked into things. It is legitimate. As to my siblings, trust funds have been set up for those under twenty-five. Honestly, Father had no clue, says that brother never did speak about his finances, lived as if he were a poor church mouse. No one had any idea he had that much money." The lady grinned wide. "Father drew up a marriage will for me and, so, you see…" Charlotte continued beaming. "Traveling is very much an option for us if you wish it to be."

"I would." Richard beamed but then his mouth went flat. "Charlotte, I want you to know, I really did not know about that money when I came here. I made this proposal thinking we would be living in very modest housing with very little, if any, land."

"I know that." Charlotte kept his hand covered. "But, even if you had, the answer would still be yes. You are far more suited to me than the reverend ever could be." She then suggested they go tell her parents who were in the parlor.

Sir William, his wife, and other children were all in the room. They all knew what was going on. And all knew Charlotte's answer as soon as they saw the looks on the couple's faces when they appeared in the parlor. Richard's, along with Charlotte's, might as well have held the ability to light up the whole room—without the aid of candles.

"Congratulations!" was heard out of more than one mouth when the news was officially spoken

"Now…" Richard looked at Charlotte. "I must apologize, but I have to make my departure. I was allowed to make a detour to your home; however, duty calls."

"Might as well get used to it, Charlotte. He is military." Her mother smiled when she thought it was Richard's quick departure which was the cause of her daughter's smile falling just a little

"Oh, I understand." Charlotte assured her mother. "And, I promise, Richard, I can handle you being military. I did not mean to convey otherwise. I was simply reminding myself not to complain, that there were plenty of other women in the same boat as I am now in. And..." She grinned wide. "I like the view... a lot."

Richard shot his own grin back and then gave his farewells, headed out the door, and climbed into the carriage. His mind now on Mr. MacDonald, Miss Thayne; he could not—even at this moment—risk thinking of them in connection with their true names. That would be done only in front of one man, and under certain conditions.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Visit to Longbourn

Ch. 23

Mr. Bennet's footsteps could be heard coming down the hall from his library, and the cooks were busy in the kitchen. Mary was busy writing letters at the dining room table, and her baby bump was barely beginning to show; her husband was answering the door as a knock had come.

It was a post from Elizabeth. There had been no luck in finding Kitty. A few signs of a lady's clothing, but none that were a definite sign of being their sister's. Mr. Bennet's face could not be read when he was handed the note.

"Do you think she will ever be found?" Mary asked softly.

Has she been allowed to be found? was a question Mr. Bennet kept to himself and was only asked because of the conversation which had occurred between himself and Anne. And if that was the case, why had she not been returned? Hearing wheels crunching gravel with every turn, Mr. Bennet and the others looked out the dining room window.

"I do not recognize the carriage, do you?" Mary asked from where she sat at the table.

"It is military." Mr. Bennet instantly recognized that fact. "And that is a colonel's insignia on the door." Sure enough, when the carriage stopped, Colonel Fitzwilliam could be seen stepping down onto the gravel and coming up the steps. "I wonder what he wants."

"Looks to be on a mission," Kyle spoke just as Richard knocked on the door.

"Hello, Colonel Fitzwilliam, come on in."

"Hello, Mr. Johnston. Thank you, but no thanks. I need to talk to Mr. Bennet, outside."

Mr. Bennet went, and his daughter's husband, along with Mary, shot each other quizzical looks. They watched the two men climb back into the carriage and drive off. It made them extremely curious, but knowing it would do them no good to stare out any window, they went back to their tasks.

Mr. Bennet, unconcerned about any tasks back at Longbourn, turned to Richard. "What is going on? Why could we not simply talk in my library?" It just seemed a bit odd to be talking in a carriage. "Is it really that imperative we take a ride while having our talk?"

"Maybe not," Richard sighed. "However, I could not risk what I have to say being overheard by anyone, and I mean no one." The colonel had been told by Anne what had transpired between her and Thomas in his library and spoke slowly. "I do not think you realize just how many mixed feelings that caused among our group."

"Why would it cause mixed feelings?" Thomas was not sure whether to be upset or not, and his contorted face showed it. "She is Jane's sister; personally, I want to thank the man for going up to try and save Kitty from harm. It is not like he kidnapped her."

"This thing has gotten crazy, fast!" James hollered at Richard as he got Iona onto a horse, along with other servants jumping onto theirs. "Iona and I will talk later; please, go and do what I cannot, speak on my behalf. I know where those men are going thanks The rest of us are going after those bastards and we will get Lord Ashford's grandson back too. You know how to get word to me!" The man shouted with flames licking the sky behind them as the group then raced away from the burning mansion. "Thank heavens no knew just how little that place was really used!"

The colonel shook the picture from his mind as he took a deep breath. "There are some things you have not been told, and Anne could not tell you, for your lady was not told all the details; though she figured things out and told me off. Please, do not get mad at her for not voicing those speculations to you at the time she was talking to you, and hear me out before deciding what you think."

"Fine, what is going on?"

Richard explained who, or what, Mr. Hurst really was, that alone almost dropped Mr. Bennet's jaw even- he had guessed law, but not that high of connections. "You must not admit what I just told you to anyone; I would not be telling it to you except the Chancellor gave me permission given the situation and, well, let me finish with the first part and then we will get to the other." The colonel explained what had happened at the restaurant with Kitty and the Foresters, of Mr. Dexter and his man. And what danger Kitty had, unwittingly, been put into simply because she had an exceptionally sharp eye and mind.

"So, Mr. Hurst had no choice but to stage a kidnapping?"

"We had no choice. Yes, he threw out the idea; however, if I am to be honest…it was one the whole group already had; James simply was the one to speak it first. And now? We are relieved we did."

"Why?" Again—when told—Mr. Bennet's jaw almost hit the carriage's floor. "I knew Kitty had a brain, realized she could pick things up fast; however, I must admit I did not realize just how quickly it could be done." He did not fail to notice Richard rubbing the reins more than usual. "What are you needing to tell me that you are dragging your feet on? What is so bad? Is she now dead?"

"Kitty was very much alive last time I saw her. However," The colonel sighed. "Apparently, those who have the Chancellor's grandson have gotten it into their heads to gun for not only Mr. Hurst; I cannot say the name he is going by, but your daughter as well. She cannot come home at this time any more than she could when Mr. Hurst got to Brighton. He really had hoped to get there sooner. He is worried you will not believe that."

"Considering everything you have just told me; I believe him. And, even if you had not told me of his true profession…" Thomas lifted a hand. "Seeing the fact he dropped his act, now that I know it was an act, and knowing my own past, I see no reason not to give him credit for going up to try and save Kitty." He then asked what else needed to be said.

"He well…" Richard sat up straight, figuring he might as well spit it out. If Thomas was going to be upset, well, there was nothing he could do about it. "He has finally admitted to himself his true feelings towards Kitty. He is going to talk to her about them. And he would like your permission to marry her. Unfortunately, considering the circumstances, he cannot ask you himself. Also, due to the way things are going—and seeing as to where James has figured out where Lord Ashford's grandson has been taken—would you still speak to them if they wed in Scotland?"

"They would have to be wed by irregular laws." Mr. Bennet stiffened and then loosened up. "I mean, after what you just told me- I cannot see banns being read."

"Most likely." Richard sighed. "He would prefer to have banns read, a regular church wedding, and a preacher. However, as stated, given the situation…it simply is not safe to do so. It would put a larger target on their backs then what is already there."

"He has my blessing as long as they have a regular marriage as soon as it is possible for them to do so if my daughter says yes," sighed Mr. Bennet. "I will keep quiet. However," Mr. Bennet laid a hand on the colonel's arm. "I beg of you, if I have to put on the act of a lifetime, promise me—if at all possible—have them send me something, anything, to let me know Kitty is really safe?"

"Fair enough. And, yes, you will have to continue acting as if you are in the same position as the rest of the family...I would tell you not to tell Anne but, like I just told you, she has already filled my ear. When asked about this visit, put on the gravest face and say Kitty's body has been badly burned up north. Tell them I was ordered to take you for a drive and tell you alone."

"I hope the ones causing all this headache burn and rot." Thomas could not help but snap and then sighed. "I just want to see Kitty." He did not fake the tears which began to slide down as the carriage turned around. "Here…" Taking his chain and pocket watch out of his vest, Mr. Bennet handed it to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Give that to Kitty."

Mr. Bennet, when he was let out at Longbourn, did not stop his tears as he entered the front door. Mary, upon seeing her father's wet cheeks, hurried over to him. "The colonel was told to take me on a ride alone and inform me that Kitty's body was found badly burned up north."

Mary screamed and fainted, something Mr. Bennet was prepared for. Mr. Johnston hurried down the hallway and took over Mary's care and watched as her father walked silently down to his library, entered it, and shut the door.

NOTE: First time readers...do NOT worry, Mary does NOT lose her baby and Mr. Bennet kicks himself for not preparing her for the news. The next chapter shows that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Funeral

Ch. 24

Cold air nipped at Bennet's skin and the men with him or attempted to. He, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Johnston, and others wore heavy coats, hats, and gloves as a closed pine box was lowered into the ground. The sky was overcast, casting a slight gray pallor over the somber gathering. The bare branches of the surrounding trees swayed gently in the cold breeze, their skeletal forms creating a mournful -eerie- atmosphere. Colonel Fitzwilliam had made sure the casket had been closed the whole time, even when Mr. Collins had tactlessly suggested her father had every right to see her one last time.

"Mr. Bennet, why are you not insisting that the casket stay open before the burial? It is right and proper that you, as her father, have the opportunity to see your dear departed daughter one last time, regardless of the state of her remains."

"Kitty was burnt. Why on earth would I wish to see my lovely daughter in such a condition?" Thomas did not have to act appalled at such a suggestion; he honestly was.

"I understand that Kitty's body was reportedly burnt, but it was just a report. And even if it is true, it is still a father's right and duty to bid a final farewell. It is most unbecoming to deny you this somber moment, and it is essential for closure and the proper observance of our Christian rites."

"You, sir, give my faith a bad name." Thomas managed not to snap, though his eyes narrowed. "No father in his right mind wishes to have the last memory of their child being one of black ashes."

Mr. Bennet, looking around the circle of men, kept his eyes held the look of profound sorrow. The ground was covered in a thick layer of frost, crunching loudly underfoot as the men shifted uncomfortably. They all knew how close he and Kitty had grown since her mother's death. They all kept quiet as the parson, not Collins, spoke. The parson's voice was a low murmur, blending with the rustling leaves and the distant cawing of crows. Thomas heard not the words as he had been dwelling on what Richard had said and now he was talking to Kitty in his head as if she were standing next to him.

'How I wish I could tell your sisters you yet live. And I was not thinking straight myself. What was I doing, breaking the news like I did. I should have prepared Mary better. Thank heavens, she still carries her baby. I so do wish Mr. Hurst could have gotten to Brighton in time to send you home before you had witnessed that note passing between the one called Mr. Dexter and his associate. Why did I not see just how sharp you were? Yes, I saw more than I would have with your older sisters; I told the colonel how much I knew. And yet, from what he told me, I feel as if it was not as much as I thought. Did I let you down again?'

"This is not your fault." Mr. Darcy, who, like anyone else around him, did not hold the ability to read minds, laid a hand on Elizabeth's father's hand as the wind picked up and made the leaves wave back and forth as if Kitty were there waving goodbye. Well, that is what Charles thought; it was not something he spoke out loud as he simply gave a sympathetic smile as he walked by Fitzwilliam and Jane's wind carried a heavy chill, causing the men to pull their coats tighter around themselves.

"My head knows that." Mr. Bennet replied and walked to his coach, laid his fingers on the door's handle, and turned to Elizabeth's husband. "But my heart still hurts over this whole mess."

Mr. Darcy had no words to speak, so he simply kept quiet as he watched Mr. Bennet climb into the carriage and shut the door. The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel path as it began to move away, the sound echoing in the stillness of the cemetery which now stood empty.

No one had wanted things to end like this. His own fist wanted to hit something… hard. Two years ago, seven Bennets lived at Longbourn, things looking fine. Now, Lydia was married to Wickham, that was barely respectable, Mrs. Bennet had been buried shortly thereafter, and now Kitty, left perfectly healthy, was buried closed casket, no last views. Looking up, Mr. Bennet's carriage, barely visible, Fitzwilliam -who stood by his own coach outside the cemetery fence- turned away. He looked back at the grave, something felt off and had said as much to his cousin, but had gotten no backing.

"Fitzwilliam, I hate this mess as much as you." A controlled snap could be heard in Richard's voice. "But we simply have to deal with things. The Bennet sisters do not need us losing control of ourselves and you are not known for being a loose cannon. Do not begin now."

His cousin was right; Mr. Darcy could not start now. Elizabeth needed him to be stable. Her moods with carrying their first child had been crazy enough, but with the news of Kitty… she and Mary might as well have been racing neck to neck with the tears falling. And even quiet Jane was not far behind in that department. Probably, the only reason Mary had kept her baby was because of the strong support she had from her sisters.

Tears falling may have come to an end with Thomas upon his return home from the cemetery, but swinging an axe had not. SWOOSH! WHACK! KER-CHUNK! Mr. Bennet's axe swung and hit more than one thick piece of wood as he took out his anger and frustration over men he had never met, but now had James Hurst and his daughter running into Scotland not only after Lord Ashford's grandson, but for the safety of their own lives as well. The forest around him was silent except for the rhythmic sound of the axe, the scent of fresh pine filling the air.

"I think I am glad it is not me on the other end of that axe." Anne spoke from a safe distance.

"You are definitely safe from the chopping block." Thomas quit swinging the sharp tool and propped it up on the tree stump but did not let go. The stump was rough and weathered, a sign of many years of it being in use. "How did your mother take the news of our engagement?"

"You might not want to go near Rosings Park for a while." Smiled Anne as she walked lovingly up to Thomas and laid a hand onto Thomas' arm. Her touch was gentle, a definite contrast to the harshness of the axe. "I think if I was younger it is your head that might be a candidate for that stump."

"Might be?" Thomas laughed. "It would be." He let go of the axe that was now stuck in the stump. "How long did you know? I mean about Kitty?"

"For certain?" Anne shook her head. "Not very long." She laid her head against his shoulder. The warmth of her presence was a great comfort to Thomas in the cold air. "And when I did figure things out, I still could not say a word and I hated it. I finally told Richard he better tell you. I did not care what they did to me; I was going to spill the beans no matter what." She tilted her head and gave a not-so-innocent grin. "And I may have, sort of, done it in front of Lord Ashford."

"I think I love you all over again." Thomas, for the first time since feeling as if he wished to punch someone into next year, laughed and hugged Anne. The embrace was warm and reassuring, a great relief from the self-inflicted torture he had been feeling all day. "Mary said her sisters, and their husbands, are joining us for dinner. Also, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth are spending the night. What do you say about joining us for our meal? Our first banns will be read this Sunday as it is."

"I would be more than happy to; London has gotten extremely boring of late."

"I do..." Thomas thought back -yet again- how he had broken then news to Mary. "Why was I not thinking... She could have lost that child, still might."

"Thomas, this whole situation is a mess. Mary said herself she does not blame you. You need to drop the subject and move on. However," Anne grinned wide. "I suggest you keep that axe out of her hands if Dexter has the audacity to show his face around here."

"Forget her hands, keep it out of mine."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

New Union

Ch. 25

Time had not been kept track of as James' group had raced under the cover of night away from the fire. They had slowed down and camped for the night around two campfires. Blankets some maids had been able to grab, along with ones the butler and gardener had hauled out from outer buildings, were now wrapped around couples, brothers, sisters, and friends, some of whom who were married.

"Who started the fire?" James asked low to Mr. Shein as they talked away from the group. "Were you able to catch sight of anyone?"

"Yes, it was that pompous fellow we kicked out of the party, only I could not go after him. I was too busy trying to get people out of the building."

"Was he aware of being seen?"

"I do not think so; he never looked back or, if he did, I was too busy at that point to have seen that… male… take that particular action." Mr. Shein admitted not to having paid attention to where they were going. "I was too busy talking to one of the maids; she was struggling to breathe for quite some time. So, I kept focused on keeping her calm, and not on our surroundings. It is only recently I was able to turn her over to someone else."

"We crossed into Scotland quite some time ago. Have you seen any signs of Colonel Fitzwilliam's men? I mean once you turned the lady over to another's care."

"No, but we should be seeing at least one of them soon. If what you saw on your trip connects to what Miss Thayne told you, how did we miss him being so close? Even you were not that distracted." He was referring to a boy being seen by the edge of the neighboring estate just hours before the fire started.

"We cannot say for sure that was Lord Ashford's son. However," James shook his head. "If it was, I have not a clue how I missed it. I would not have gone as far out as I did. Thank heavens, Miss Thayne caught onto the fact the young man was hanging closer to our property line than was typical for one's neighbor to do so; he was also doing other odd things. Now, thinking back on it, I think he was trying to get someone's attention. That alone made it so our men discovered other children being hidden there. They are now back with their parents, including a Duke and Duchess from York." He then went off by himself, his thoughts turning to the conversation he and Iona had privately; one where he had not used her fake name.

"I sent Colonel Fitzwilliam down to your father's place, or I should say Lord Ashford and I did. He will be told everything, but a funeral will be held for you for people must believe you are dead until we can get the chancellor's grandson back. I, however, have requested him to ask for your father's permission to marry you. That is, if you will have me."

Kitty had looked torn. "I want to say yes, but to have banns read under a different name?" Tears threatened to fill her eyes.

"Kitty, I am sorry." James, for the first time since she had stood in the restaurant with him by her side, used her legal name first name showing how much she meant to him. "I told him to tell your father our vows would most likely be by irregular Scottish laws; there would be no banns read."

"You mean we are to marry by handfasting?"

"It is not safe to have banns read, whether by our legal names, or the ones we now use. Too many people know both." He sighed. "I understand if you need time to think about it, or if you say no right away. I will not attempt to force you into a marriage you do not want."

"I do not need to mull it over; I have been doing that for some time. I will be more than happy to be your wife." She wiped her tears. "Forgive me for crying, there has been so much stress, and I simply always thought I would be wearing white when I exchanged vows."

Looking over at Kitty, James simply could not think of her as Iona at the moment and saw her helping a young maid fix a meal. He had told her if she said yes, the servants would only hear him say the words 'she is my wife' around the campfire. He knew they ones which had fled with them would consider it valid and had said as much. The meal she was helping fix, and the way the servants were interacting with her, let James know they would have Mr. Hurst and Kitty's backs, even if they knew them as Mr. MacDonald and Miss Thayne.

"Mr. MacDonald." Mr. Shein walked over and pointed a rider coming close. "I believe that rider is Sargent Horatio."

"I do." James nodded. "Most likely being sent from Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Mr. MacDonald, Colonel Fitzwilliam sent this message with us for you. Plus, there is one from an old friend." The sergeant stopped his horse, took a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket. "

James walked past the two small campfires and up to the gentleman's side. Taking the paper, he unfolded the first. It was from Lord Ashford and the colonel. They both had received another note, more serious this time. It not only insisted they receive the money but, this time, said the boy would not ever be returned if their demands were not met. Lord Ashford's note read longer, but James saw no need to dwell on it as it was information useful only to him. He put it into his pocket the special agent opened the next one and read it.

"Take care of my daughter, please- if at all possible, bring her home. Let the rouse I just played be not in vain. Until then, declare her to be your wife, have a handfasting ceremony if you must, but- please- get to preacher as soon as possible."

Waving Iona over to him, without actually saying her name, Mr. MacDonald allowed her to silently read the letter and then took the note and tossed it into the fire. The flames crackled and danced, casting a warm glow on their faces as the paper turned to ash. Everyone else assumed it had to do with the case; James let it stand, for to keep Kitty safe, people around her had to keep thinking her name was Iona.

"Sir," speaking to the Sergeant, "why do you not join our party? We were just about to have a handfasting ceremony, or you can turn around and ride back the way you came. Nonetheless, I would urge you to stay as it is already early evening."

The sky now held hues of deep blue and purple as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The air was crisp and cold, with a gentle breeze blowing over the field where they had camped. The ground would have crunched underfoot only the snow, which had been in existence, had been so little it had already melted. The campfires flickered, their light reflecting off what little moisture was left on the grass, creating the perfect scene for two people to exchange vows, so the sergeant thought.

Sergeant Horatio, a tall man with a solemn yet kind face, nodded and dismounted his horse. "I will stay. You are correct in saying it is too late to travel safely."

Mr. MacDonald took Iona's hand and led her back to the nearest campfire. The group surrounded them and acted as natural barrier, providing the only a sense of intimacy and seclusion they had to offer from the outside world. The stars began to twinkle in the clear night sky, adding to the ethereal beauty of the scene.

Mr. Shein stood nearby, holding a length of ribbon that had been given to him by one of the younger maids. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air as he watched the couple with a gentle smile. The other servants, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the campfires, had seen this one coming a mile away. Hence, they had talked among themselves.

"Mr. MacDonald." An elderly gentleman stood up and brought forth three items. "They are not much, nor are they fancy, but we got together, and these rings were found among us, along with this plain white dress. It is up to you if you wish to use the items."

"I do not know what to say." Mr. MacDonald looked at the plain silver bands and dress. "Are you sure? I know one of them is your own wedding band."

"No need to fuss over that." The old man's smiled stayed in place. "My wife has passed on. I have no need for it."

"No need to fret over the lady's ring." A voice spoke from off to Mr. MacDonald's side. "It was my mother's. True blue Scotswoman, wed by handfasting herself before a preacher could get to where she lived. I doubt she would be upset I gave it to you to put on Miss Thayne's hand. And none of us can fit into the dress." The lady had in fact overheard back at the estate talk that let her know Iona's real name but loved the woman too much to reveal it. So, everyone waited until Kitty, gladly, changed into the simple, white, dress and was soon back by Mr. Hurst's side.

James took the rings and then spoke. "We gather here tonight to witness the union of two souls. Though the circumstances are far from ideal, we have decided the love and commitment between us is real and unwavering."

Iona, though a bit nervous, smiled wide and made attempt to move away from Mr. Hurst. This James was not the one everyone had first seen upon coming to Netherfield. No, this one touched no drop of alcohol, played no card games of any kind, spent no time at the tracks risking hard-earned money and so on. If he did those things; it was all an act to catch horrible men who needed bringing down.

James looked at his soon-to-bride. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her breath mingled with the frosty air. The flickering firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting depth that few held. He now knew firsthand there was such a thing as a soulmate, and not simply a partner in life.

Mr. Shein stepped forward and handed the ribbon to James who now focused solely on his present, and not on any past for this was indeed his soul mate in front of him. "This ribbon symbolizes the bond you are about to create. May it be as strong and enduring as the love that can and will grow as long as you hold on tight and continue to work as hard at your marriage as you do the cases you have worked and the one you now seek to finish."

James took the ribbon and gently wrapped it around their joined hands. "With this ribbon, I now bind my life to yours. In times of both joy and sorrow, in sickness and in health, I will stand by your side and not leave you to be with another."

Iona's voice was steady as she replied, "With this ribbon, I bind my life to yours. Together, we will face whatever hardships come our way, and our love will be our strength. Though I am not a submissive woman, I vow to give submission to you."

James had to smile. He knew enough to know the difference between submissive and submission. Mr. MacDonald's bride was loudly, and clearly, stating, he may have the final say, but his wife would not just be quiet about her opinions either.

Sergeant Horatio, standing as a witness, nodded approvingly. "May your union be blessed and your love everlasting."

The cold air seemed to hold its breath as the couple exchanged their vows. The quiet of the winter night enveloped them, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind.

James and Ioan lifted their hand and the small group of servants, including Mr. Shein, clapped softly. Every face filled with warmth and happiness despite the chill in the air. As the ceremony concluded, Mr. MacDonald lowered their hands and apologized, and thanked, the group at the same time.

"I am sorry, we did not see the intruder sooner and had to flee so quickly. However, thank-you for following me into Scotland. It is grand to have your support; it means more to us than words can express."

The night deepened, and the stars shone brighter, casting a silvery light over the snowy landscape. The campfires continued to burn, providing warmth and light as James turned to Mr. Shein and told him plans would be made in the morning as to places the boy most likely would have been taken to.

"If that boy was the Chancellor's grandson, I doubt he was kept at the property next to 'my' old place, not after Lord Ashford's carriage was spotted headed that way."

"I agree. Now..." Mr. Shein pointed to a small building off in the distance. "I happened to have checked out that small shack. It is empty. I think a pair of newlyweds deserve at least one night alone. And Mrs. MacDonald..." He turned to a blushing bride. "Do not worry, there are plenty of people who will help make this irregular marriage a regular one when things settle down."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Temporarily Parting Ways

Ch. 26

Torn feelings, mixed with high anxiety, filled the air. These were feelings foreign to James. He had always been able to keep his emotions in check. Anger, sadness, happiness, and so forth all belonged in their own compartments, and his eye was solely on the man, woman, or group needing to be brought down. Crumb, even when Louisa was alive, there had not been a problem. Take that back, he had opened his mouth… once… and suggested she stay behind on a case; clearly, the word was once.

"Are you insane?" Louisa had rolled her eyes. "And who is going to make you look like a drunk? Your men are idiots on that one."

Sighing, James knew Iona was very capable, but now he was finding himself far more protective of his new wife than he had been of Louisa; and that was no insult to the late Mrs. Hurst. It was due to words out of their own mouths.

"I have no desire to be a mother. Yes, if I end up with a child, I will do my best by him or her, but we will have a governess. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." Louisa had not backed down from her opinion. And no children had come… until she had figured one was going to have one just before they headed towards Netherfield. Of course, his cohort's bullet put an end to that.

Sighing, his bride's words on the morning after their wedding night floated into his ear. "I have no desire to stop you from your work. I would love to help you in any way I am capable of. However, I was serious when I told you that I have no desire to have a permanent governess raise our children, a part-time one; maybe." His new wife had bit her lip. "My mother had her faults, and many things I disagreed with, but a lack of having a governess was not one of them."

James had no problem with it; however, he sighed again as he overlooked the rolling hills and distant mountains. He knew for a fact there was a town over the next ridge; that meant there was a preacher. Also, with what had been discovered on the way into Scotland, it meant there was a high chance Lord Ashford's son would be found. However… ugh… how did he keep his promise to Mr. Bennet, which was made through the colonel, get Lord Ashford's son, and still keep his wife safe? James had, at one point, thought he could focus on the job as he had with Louisa. But now? The man was finding himself far more protective even though Kitty was just as sharp and capable had his attention torn in half.

"I wonder if Kitty would be insulted if I told her that?" Not realizing he had spoken it out loud, or that he had slipped and used her birth name, until his wife spoke up from behind.

"No, I am not, but it does present a problem- does it not? And I suggest you stick with saying Iona." Slipping her hand into his. "Are you sure the boy is here, or at least in this area?" Iona then softly asked.

"I was looking for signs along the way without telling anyone, as I know you most likely were." James let his shoulders drop while keeping his voice low. "Lord Ashford's grandson is not stupid. Look what he dropped along one of the dirt roads they had him on. I am sure you would have seen it had I not picked it up while you were helping one of the other women." Iona's husband held his hand close to his body and opened his palm; a small, round, gold button was in his hand. The initials BA were inscribed on the accessory of what most likely was the boy's jacket.

"Oh." Iona mouthed as James proceeded to put the item back into his own pocket.

"I will keep my promise to your father, honest, but I cannot do it in that town, nor can I take you to Havens Hollow myself thanks to time constraints and yet...I really am a man of my word." James gave a weak smile when Iona leaned her head against his arm and whispered, she understood even if she was disappointed. James went on to say she had played the part of a secretary assistant extremely well. Looking at his wife, the gentleman struggled to go on.

"You do not wish for me to continue on? Where would I go?" She asked the question just as Mr. Shein rode up.

"No, but not because I no longer want, or need, your help." He explained that not only would she have protection from the Caldwells, but that other town could be used just as well as the one he needed to go to. "Do you think you can play the part of a mute?" In other words, Iona had her skills, but picking up a Scottish accent right off the bat was not one of them.

"No, but how do I call for help if I need it?" Iona, the name now came as easily as her birth one had before the lady had left Longbourn. "I do not relish the idea of being left at the mercy of some madman because of having to keep that cover."

"Why not simply have her speak while dropping the t at the beginning of each word? That way she will not sound as if she comes from her father's home?" Mr. Shein suggested. "Maybe even drop her r's? If nothing else, it will simply make it sound as if she cannot talk right."

"That would work." James turned to Iona. "What do you think? You could keep an eye out for things, be protected and I would still be able to concentrate on what I needed to do."

"I hink you both ae cazy. And I am vey hungy."

"And I think I am in love." James put an arm around her shoulders and then looked at Mr. Shein. "Do you remember the Caldwells in Haven Hollow?" When he nodded yes, James continued, "Take Iona there; it is not far from here. Mr. Dexter and his men are not likely to go there; too many lawmen travel those roads, and, as much as I hate this part; come up- yet again- with another name for yourself..." He turned to Iona as he said it, his eyes saying more than his mouth. "Our names must not be connected to each other in anyway. I will not risk. Mr. Dexter may not be in the area, but there is a high chance his men are. If they hear the name Iona Thayne one of them is likely to be sharp enough to see past your act. If anything odd pops up, the Caldwells' steward is one of us. Send word to me through him."

"When do I have to leave?" She asked as they returned to the campfire where the larger group sat dishing out the freshly cooked food. And though the air was not nearly as cold as it was before, Iona still remained close to James. Some laughed and said it was because they were newlyweds. Others made her face turn red from far more suggestive remarks. However, the truth was, the newest married lady was honestly cold.

"As soon as we pack up." He then walked back to his staff. "I am sending my wife elsewhere for her own safety. It matters not to you where Mrs. MacDonald is going, . I am sure you all understand what I am saying."

"We do, Sir. Better for all of us, and your new missus, if we are left in the dark on that one."

"Good. Now, when I have a home, no one, and I mean no one, is allowed in when I am not home. I am not interested in gaining a title; that is something you all know by now."

"Plus, after that last fire and the fact I have a new bride, I do not want my home accessible to people trying to gather information on me. I have never been this far up here. Fortunately, for us, I have learned, Mr. Dexter's men have not ever heard the name of James Hurst. And I know for a fact Mr. Dexter himself, knows it not. However, it is my legal name, so now I will go by Jake" Thankfully, he had not ever worked under the name of Hurst, and he had been so busy his hair was growing back quite rapidly. And since Jake was not all that uncommon of a name, he doubted anyone would connect it to anyone down in England. "For all our safety, please refer to me as Jake Hurst, or Mr. Hurst, not Mr. MacDonald."

"Will do, Mr. Hurst."

James might have considered giving more instructions, but the servant, along with Eugene Landon, a tall man with light-red hair, came striding up to the group. Sticking out his hand, the two men shook hands, with Eugene pulling James close.

"Good to see you, Mr. MacDonald." Eugene slapped the gentleman on his back. "I did not believe you to be dead. Always thought that Mr. Dexter to be a liar when I was in England. So, I saddled my horse and raced up here like the wind. Figured if it was you, you would need the estate cleaned up and opened."

"Name is Jake Hurst." Everyone was surprised when the man did not even blink, but Kendall was not ... Eugene knew him from past cases.

"Does Mr. Dexter know of its existence, or our connection?"

"No, he was bragging of your death to a friend; I was standing with my back to them. I showed no sign of hearing them. I left as their talk turned to whisky and women. I think though..." Studying the man's head. "It is a good thing you have hair that grows faster than most. Might want to consider not letting a pair of scissors touch your hair, or a razor touch your face while you are here." He ignored the name change for the reason James knew he would and waved to the group.

"When did you plan on finding a place?" When told, he shook his head. "Best send your wife on now; those men in town will not be staying there long. Too high of a chance of them seeing you. Send her with Mr. Shein towards Haven Hollow now, and I can take your group to where we need to go."

"Jake…" Iona stood straight as her husband, a man she still thought of as James even if she had said the new name. "You be careful, you hear?" She straightened his collar and patted it down.

"You too. Keep your hair dyed." Kissing Iona's forehead as she only nodded yes, her husband turned her over to Mr. Shein and turned back to Eugene. "Follow me through the back roads. I have been seen walking that way many a time with visitors; your group with me will draw no undue attention."

As the men led the group, Mr. MacDonald asked questions about any newcomers. Did any of them act oddly? Look out of place? Keep to themselves more than usual and so forth.

"There are a few families that have moved in. I cannot say they seem out of place." Eugene smiled, admitting he could easily be mistaken. "I do not have the knack of spotting, or hearing, oddities as men such as yourself do. So, my opinion on the matter may not mean much."

Their feet took them down dirt paths, then over cobblestones, past rickety fences and stone houses built too closely together. Kendall focused on leaving the hills and passing through a part of town Mr. Dexter's men were not frequenting before heading up a hill.

A four-story home had been built at the top. Its four-stories could easily see the town, and the townspeople, had no problems viewing the estate's main house. Its brown bricks were worn down from the cold wind and rains. However, they were not in such bad shape that people were unsafe going in the structure.

'I put work into a few years ago intending to move in." Eugene told his friend, but then my wife passed away. Considered selling it but, quite frankly, when men like Mr. Dexter began making offers I got some very strong impressions not to do business with them." He lifted a hand and then lowered it. "Considered going against those feelings but, when I do, I always regret it, so I declined the offers."

"I am relieved you did. We really need the place."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Checking Things Out

Ch. 27

Dank was the first word that popped into James's mind as he entered the foyer of his temporary home. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, and the walls seemed to weep with moisture. Eugene had told him outside that the place had been empty for a couple of years. The once-grand entrance hall was now a shadow of its former self, with dust motes dancing in the weak sunlight that filtered through the grimy windows. The broom on the porch had to be used as soon as one stepped inside the place; it had. The head housekeeper was now knocking down cobwebs from the cold, damp house while the butler and a footman were gathering wood to start a fire.

"This place smells sour," a voice behind him spoke the obvious, the words echoing slightly in the empty space.

"So, go find a pail, fill it, and start cleaning." A gentleman spoke matter-of-factly as he walked by the complainer and went to work himself, finding what items were needed for his job.

Jake, as in the last home, told everyone to make the upper rooms look lived in, but that they were all to pick rooms on the first floor to stay in. He began speaking, knowing the only servants that had fled with him were employees of the law—in one way or another. The others had been clueless and had deserted them.

"Only go up to the other floors once a week, clean as quickly as possible, and get back downstairs. I do not plan on entertaining much, but when I do, people will naturally wander. We must make this place look lived in."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Hurst then told the butler to go find a few more gardeners in town but to leave them in the dark as to anyone's real identity. Turning to the housekeeper, he suggested she get some kitchen help but let the rest know they were not ever, and he meant ever, to ask those same hired help to go upstairs to help clean. He then exited the home and walked down the hill to check out the village, but not before grabbing a black cane—with a silver tip—as he walked out the front door.

His coat was kept buttoned as the air had turned cold once again, and his hat was pulled down low. The path down the hill was lined with overgrown hedges and wildflowers that had taken over the neglected garden. The thin beard on his face was clearly unshaven as a razor had not touched it in days. And, since James had been working undercover for years, the gentleman easily picked up walking with a measured gait, tapping the cane with a steady rhythm.

If sunglasses had been in existence, Mr. Hurst would have used them too. However, they were not, so he simply hoped the name change, facial hair, and style of walking would throw off any of Mr. Dexter's men; should they be in town. His eyes were constantly scanning the fields and road as he walked. As he drew closer to town, they also took in the villagers walking around, children playing, and others entering and exiting buildings. The village was quaint, with stone and rock cottages. The place also had narrow cobblestone streets. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the scent of baking bread drifted out from a nearby bakery. None of the villagers appeared out of place.

None, that is, until he noticed one tall, lean man leaning against a building, rolling up something to smoke. The building itself was old, with white-chipped paint peeling off its walls and windows covered in grime. Something felt off, and Mr. Hurst walked as if he had no care in the world towards the gentleman. Giving no clue as to his real motive for wishing to get close.

"Good day to ye, sir. My name's Mr. Jake Hurst." Mr. Hurst spoke in a very laid-back tone. "I just moved to your town. I thought I would walk around and introduce myself to the locals."

"Name's Mr. McKenzie. Enjoy yourself." The man said nothing more, and his eyes shouted for Mr. Hurst to go away, so he did.

'If your name is McKenzie, then I really was a MacDonald and my first name really is Jake. You are far too relaxed in your posture, too focused on your surroundings, and too eager for me to make a departure. I think I will go into one of these small stores and keep an eye on you, my friend.'

Mr. Hurst entered a bookstore not far down from where the man stood. Its shelves were packed full of books, tables were also piled high with books of all subjects. History, botanical, science, religious, and so forth. The smell of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, quite a contrast to the musty odor of his temporary home. Grabbing one, the gentleman sat down near the window—at an angle he could see through the window and opened the book.

Jales's angle was such that those in the store thought him to be scanning through the item. However, his eyes were looking at the gentleman. Another dark-headed fellow had come up to him, and that man was not smiling. Whatever the stranger was saying could not have been good, for the one leaning against the wall pushed away and pointed a finger at him.

"Not my fault," was what Mr. Hurst gathered the man had basically told his 'friend'.

Mr. Hurst shut the book and hurried out when it became apparent the other gentleman was not going anywhere.

"I could not help but notice you seem in distress from where I sat. Is there something I could do to help?"

"Thank you, but no thanks. My package was delivered to the wrong address, and that man refused to get it back for me. Nothing can be done about it now."

"I am sorry to hear that." Mr. Hurst walked out of town with a gut feeling that the package was not the typical package one would expect their neighbor to get.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Settling in and Winning Friends

Ch. 28

Mr. Shein helped Iona down from the carriage and then helped Kendall's wife down with her husband 'I hate yet another name change for you too, but it need to be done. People think Iona was killed in a fire'. Hence, Mr. Shein's words to the Scottish couple. "This is Mrs. Scott, she is a friend or yours by the name of Mr. James MacDonald, but was killed in England. His friend, Mr. Jake Hurst is the one who suggested I bring her here. Poor lady's husband has his hands full trying to move their things from England to Scotland and wishes a place for her to stay- if that is possible."

"Yes, of course." Mr. Caldwell had stopped asking James questions years ago as to any names he, or his associates went by. Nor did he believe the man to be dead. And he certainly did not bother trying to keep track of Mr. Hurst's own multiple alias'. If someone came his way sent by Mr. MacDonald via anyone else, that was enough for him.

Lorna now made no mention of her husband's new alias, nor of her own last one. No, she figured, if this gentleman knew the name of MacDonald, then there was no need say a word. So, sticking out her, Lorna simply thanked them for taking her in.

"No need to thank us." Mr. Caldwell grinned wide. "Let us show you around town and then you can dine with us at our country home. We are opening our home to a dinner for our tenants. You can meet them. One family has taken in some orphans who have been working in the poorhouses and are thrilled to be out on the farm, and with good families."

Lorna followed behind, having already studied the gentleman and his wife. Neither one of them had spoken too guardedly, or too relaxed. And, since there had been no other signs which her new husband had warned her to look for that would alert her the couple had switched sides, she felt at ease accompanying them around town.

The village of Haven's Hollow was a beautiful sight, nestled in a lush valley surrounded by rolling hill with no real mountains in sight. The cobblestone streets in the town were a familiar sigh to Lorna. She admired the well-kept gardens and vibrant flowers that lined the pathways, adding to the village's idyllic atmosphere.

"The decorative fountain, with mythical creatures, you walked by earlier has been here for generations," Mr. Caldwell explained, gesturing back towards the ornate structure. "It serves, as you know, both a decorative feature and a vital water source for my fellow villagers. I have heard many a tale around that spot when we come to stay in town."

Lorna smiled, it was not hard to imagine the history and the lives that had passed through this charming village throughout the past years. The Caldwells continued showing her around town. They pased by a local bakery where the smell of freshly baked bread floated out an open window, it smelled delicious -making her mouth water. Children played nearby, their laughter, for her, added to the village's charm.

Mrs. Caldwell pointed out various landmarks, including a small church and small graveyard. "We have a a son buried there." The lady gave a soft sigh. " It is one reason I insisted we buy town home." she explained. "I wished to be close enough to visit his grave in the winter, "but our main residence is an estate is outside the village. It is a perfect blend of convenience and tranquility."

As they strolled further, they came upon a park that would not be so quiet some summer. It had plenty of benches and a small gazebo. Lorna noticed a group of women chatting animatedly while keeping their coats wrapped tight against themselves. Their children were not far behind as they were hurrying home.

"Everyone here is so friendly'," Lorna remarked as people waved to them. "It feels like a close-knit comunity'."

"It is," Mr. Caldwell agreed. "Speaking of which, let us introduce you to one of our tenants."

They approached a modest cottage at the vey edge of the village, where a man had just begun chop some wood. He looked up and smiled as they drew near. "Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell," he greeted them warmly. "And who might this be?"

"This is Miss Lorna Scott," Mrs. Caldwell introduced. "Lorna, this is Mr. Thompson, one of our most honest, hard-working, tenants. He lives here with his three children."

As if on cue, the children appeared from behind the cottage. One boy's face beamed with curiosity, the other was far more reserved. Mr. Thompson's wife and daughter stepped out onto the porch; with the girl had stepped out onto the porch clutching a doll to her chest. Their eyes all on Lorna.

"Hello," Lorna said, smiling at the children. "It is lovely' to meet you all."

The children shyly returned her greeting, and Mr. Thompson nodded appreciatively. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Scott. Welcome to Haven's Hollow."

"Pleasu'e to meet you." Lorna replied hid her reaction to the second boy; could she have stumbled upon the chancellor's grandson without even trying. And if she had, what on earth was he doing in this home? Taking a second look at all the children, the lady realized none of the children looked like their parents. And that second boy had too many facial features matching Lord Ashford's not to be a relative.

"Our children are all adopted. They come from an orphanage; their parents all died of either illnesses or accidents." Mrs. Thompson laughed when Lorna decided it would be to her benefit to show her surprise. "I cannot have children."

'So, that is Dexter's game. I have to get word to my husband.' Out loud Lorna only said, ""I believe what Mr. Caldwell says about you. It is clea' 'hat noble qualities and 'he values of ha'd wo'k and honesty run deep in your bloodline simply by 'he way you' child'en look at you. I am sure 'hey will make 'heir ancesto's p'oud, passing fo'wa'd 'he legacy of integ'ity and diligence 'hat you embody so well."

"I sure hope so." Mr. Thompson grinned wide, along with his wife.

Lorna turned away with Mr. Caldwell, pretending not to have seen how the more reserved son had reacted to her words. She had to be right; that boy had to be Lord Ashford's grandson; she was sending word to Mr. Hurst as soon as possible. Plus, she had seen a shadow lurking in the background -one that deeply troubled her and made her grateful her hair was dyed and a second name change had occurred. It was yet another bit of information -as much as she hated to pass on- would need to be.

CHAPTER TWENY-NINE

Tour of Jakes's Home

Ch. 29

James, temporarily, let go of the name of Jake although it was necessary to mingle with the town's people in one way or another. Gambling and taverns were out. Those avenues tied into his past acts which meant Mr. Dexter, and his men, could easily connect the dots. He really had not wanted to open back up his home and yet, with his physical looks changing, it really was the best option as the town was so small. And, it helped the holidays were approaching. The reason he let the name slip for only a second was the thought that popped into his head.

'I have to find a way to send Mr. Bennet something to let him know his daughter is alive. I will be shocked if the Bennet family does not wish to roast me by the time this is all over.'

"Mr. Hurst." His steward walked up to him. "I believe your guests are coming."

The two gentlemen now stood at the grand entrance of Mr. Hurst's 'estate' , his eyes scanning the horizon as his guests approached. The estate seemed peaceful as it was- in spite of being on top of a hill, still nestled amidst other rolling hills and lush greenery. It was as if an artist had come along with their brush and created a masterpiece of peace and tranquility; hiding the high alert Mr. Hurst had been on ever since leaving Netherfield. The visitors, a group of curious neighbors and acquaintances, had expressed a keen interest in seeing the renowned property many of them had wished they had the funds in which to acquire.

The estate's stone façade had been repaired and now gleamed in the soft afternoon light. Ivy would, when spring came, creep up its walls. Some thought it would, it would a touch of timeless charm, others thought it would be better off staying away. Ancient oak trees lined the gravel driveway, their branches swaying gently in the breeze as if welcoming the visitors before the master of the house even had the chance.

"Welcome to my home," Mr. Hurst greeted them with a wide-open, smile; people could hear his voice carried the faintest hint of an English accent. He gestured for them to follow him inside. "Please, come in and enjoy yourselves."

The guests were amazed at the grandeur, and elegance, of the entrance hall, with its high ceilings decorated with minute, detailed plasterwork and polished marble floors that reflected the light from not only the crystal chandelier overhead, but plenty of windows whose curtains had been pulled back due to winter day having warmed up.

Mr. Hurst led them through the spacious rooms on the first floor, each one just as impressive as the last. The drawing room, with its comfortable furnishings upholstered in rich fabrics and large windows draped with heavy curtains, offered a gorgeous view of the multiple gardens outside, where manicured lawns and flower beds would burst with color come spring. They reached as far as the eye could see.

"This is quite the estate, Mr. Hurst," a woman visitor remarked from the back of the group he was leading around, as she admired a portrait on the wall. "It must have taken a great deal of effort, and money, to maintain such a place."

"Indeed, it has," Mr. Hurst replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I have a dedicated staff who work tirelessly to keep everything in order. It is not as if I have to do it by myself."

"That is true."

As they moved through the dining room, with its long mahogany table set for a feast, silver candelabras casting a warm glow, and portraits of ancestors gazing down from the walls, another guest paused, a puzzled expression on her face. "You know, Mr. Hurst, you remind me of someone I met in Hertfordshire, England. A Mr. Hurst from Netherfield."

Mr. Hurst maintained his composure. "I will openly admit I have been to England, and have heard of the place you speak of." He then grinned wide. "But if you dig a little deeper, I believe you would recall, there is no one has lived in Netherfield by the name of Jake."

The guest frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Perhaps, but the resemblance is uncanny."

"Well, I have been told we all have twins."

At that moment, Mr. Shein, the gardener, entered the room, carrying a tray of refreshments. "Ah, Mr. Shein," Mr. Hurst said, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. "Would you be so kind as to serve our guests?"

"Of course, sir," Mr. Shein replied, his demeanor calm and professional. He began to distribute the drinks, his presence a reassuring distraction.

The guests accepted the refreshments, their attention diverted. Mr. Hurst nodded his head. "Shall we continue the tour?" he suggested, leading them towards the library.

The library was a cozy room, filled with shelves of leather-bound books and comfortable chairs arranged around a crackling fireplace. The guest, who had asked the question about Mr. Jakes's identity, admired the collection, his earlier suspicion momentarily forgotten. Mr. Hurst engaged them in conversation about literature, his knowledge and charm winning them over.

As they moved on to the conservatory, with its exotic plants and glass walls that allowed the sunlight to pour in, one of the guests remarked, "You have quite the green thumb, Mr. Hurst. These plants are thriving."

"Thank you," Mr. Hurst replied, smiling. "Nonetheless, I must totally give credit to Mr. Shein. He is the true master of the gardens. I am pretty sure I would kill any plant alive."

Mr. Shein, who had followed them into the conservatory got the hint and backed his boss up. "It is a pleasure to work with such beautiful plants, I do not dare let my boss touch a single leaf even if he has never touched drop of alcohol in all his born days, he still would pull a plant instead of a weed." he said.

The guests continued to explore the first floor, their earlier doubts fading away. Mr. Hurst's easy manner and Mr. Shein's quiet competence -not to mention his remark about alcohol- had convinced the one particular guest that they were mistaken about his identity. That this was was a case of a man who just happen to have the same last name. Oh, and Mr. James was right, that other fellow had less hair and no beard.

As they stepped out onto the terrace, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow was beginning to be cast over the estate. The sky was beginning to change color and the distant mountains were now being silhouetted against the fading light.

"Thank you for the tour, Mr. Hurst," The last of the visitors said as they shook his hand before departing. "Your home is truly magnificent. It was a pleasure to come visiting"

"It was my pleasure," Mr. Hurst replied, his smile genuine. "I am glad you enjoyed it."

Just his last visitor left, a figure appeared at the edge of the terrace. It was the steward from the Caldwell's estate at Haven's Hollow. He approached Mr. Hurst with such sense of urgency it could be felt without needing to lift finger to do so..

"Mr. Jake Hurst," the steward said, bowing slightly. "I have an important matter to discuss with you."

"Come to my study." Mr. Hurst's mind led him to his study and made himself focus on the steward, and not on what he had decided to send to Mr. Bennet in a way of an update as to his and and the gentleman's daughter's situation.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Christmas at Longbourn

Ch. 30

The mood at Longbourn on Christmas morning ranged anywhere from reflective, nostalgic, courageous to right down bittersweet. Mary had found it in herself to put up decorations in spite of finding herself opening up her mouth to call for Kitty more than once. Jane, who had come over, had kept to her quiet ways but had brought over a small portrait Kitty had painted while at Netherfield and set it on her father's hearth. And Elizabeth, who had just arrived, was determined to carry on though she very much kept Kitty in her thoughts. Jane's small boy was fascinated by his Aunt Elizabeth's young baby girl and was not causing the adults any problems.

"Where do you want these pies?" Elizabeth asked Mrs. Hill. "My cook insisted on sending them over."

Mr. Bennet heard them talking and would have slid backwards as to hiding in his library for he knew not how to handle carrying on an act at this time of year. His heart was quite torn and turned his mind was not on the celebration going on in his house. It was on the part of him that wanted to shout the truth at the top of the rooftops about his fourth daughter still being alive and, yet, to do so would put Kitty in danger and how fair would it be to James Hurst?

James had rushed up to Brighton upon hearing Kitty had gone with the Foresters in hopes of getting to her in time and, when that had failed, was now doing what he could do not only to bring horrible men down but doing what he could to keep Kitty safe. Just before any side of him could win as to what he would do, stay by Anne's side or hide in his library, a loud knock came at the door. Anne reached it before Mr. Bennet made it all the way up the corridor.

"A package from a Mr. Jake Hurst for a Mr. Bennet and Miss Anne de Bourgh." The gentleman handed the package to Anne upon the lady identifying herself.

"Who is Jake Hurst?" Thomas, along with the others, asked. "We know a James Hurst, but no Jake Hurst."

"A friend of mine." Anne smiled. "I met him up in London, saved me from a cad at a party once. Kept in touch even though we decided we were not suited for each other." Turning to Thomas, she handed him the package. "It has your name on it first, I believe you should open it." The lady did not have to be told about any name change to figure things out; Thomas would have easily enough, if he had not been carrying such a heavy load.

Anne spoke the way she did because Thomas slowly unwrapped it and was shocked not by the silver music box with delicate swirls all over the outside, but when he lifted the top it not only played "The Minstrel Boy," a song about bravery and loyalty, but also had three very small initials in the bottom corner: JKH. It only took seconds for things to click. However, when they did, he closed the lid and smiled.

"I think I like your Mr. Jake Hurst." Thomas put an arm around Anne as she suggested they lighten up the mood. "But has your mother come around?"

"Yes, she is still livid, refuses to come for anything official but that is her problem, not ours." His question, and her twinkling eyes, and Anne's reply got everyone excited.

"Are you saying what we think you are?" Mary grinned wide.

"Yes." Thomas and Anne responded at once. "Only…" Their father paused and spoke slowly. "We were hoping you would understand if we waited 'til the end of March. Anne is hoping for a Spring wedding."

"Now, let us keep this lighter mood, shall we?" Anne looked at Thomas. "What do you think about taking my friend's present and going to enjoy it in your library and then come out and join us?"

"I thinkthat is a grand idea."

Thomas' heart was indeed lighter as he went back to his library, shut the door, and sat down. Looking at the music box, it felt good to know Kitty was still alive. Mr. Bennet had worried they had - maybe - in truth been killed. Getting something from James Hurst gave him hope his family would see his daughter, and their sister, again.

Anne had felt the same concern but had not dared show it. Now, her own heart felt lighter. Yes, there was still grave danger. However, there was no way on any green grass of England that the future Mrs. Bennet was going to speak those possibilities. If anyone wished to see those two back in Meryton as much as Thomas, it was she. James had saved her life multiple times since Anne had gotten involved in gathering information for the law. There was no way she wished to see him six feet under by saying things that, for now, needed to be kept under wraps.

Meanwhile, Charlotte Lucas, who had joined the Bennet family for the holiday, was now engaged in conversation with Jane. Charlotte's recent engagement to Richard had been the talk of the town. There were those who were criticial, but most were relieved Miss Lucas was marrying the colonel and not Mr. Collins; who had won few friends in Mertyon. The news had brought a sense of joy and relief to the gathering, adding to the festive spirit despite the underlying worries.

"Charlotte, I must say, we are all extremely excited for you," Jane said, her face shining. "Fitzwilliam's cousin is a wonderful, fun-loving, gentleman."

"Thank you, Jane," Charlotte replied, her eyes shining. "I am very fortunate. When I received the news about my relation leaving me the inheritance the only reason I cared..." She lowered her voice as not to disturb others conversations. "Was I really did want a home of my own, and I knew most men wanted financial security. When the colonel proposed not even knowing about the moeny..." The lady's smile grew even wider. "I thought it wisest not turn him down."

As the evening progressed, the family gathered around the hearth, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. The warmth of the fire and the presence of loved ones brought a sense of comfort and hope to Longbourn, even in the midst of uncertainty. However, Kitty was never far from anyone's mind and Thomas,who was walking back up from his library, hoped the whole mess would be over by spring.

"I have worked so hard these past few years to make up for the neglect I was guilty of, to curtail my mocking sarcasm. Please..." Mr. Bennet sent up a silent prayer. "Do not have it all been in vain. Let me see Kitty again. And, if possible, hold a grandchild from her. I do not care if it be a boy or a girl."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Mr. Hurst Comes to Havens Hollow

Ch. 31

Lighting from a large chandelier filled the over-sized Caldwell parlor and the heavy, velvet, bluish, curtains were drawn to keep out the cold as a roaring fire threw out plenty of light. A large tannish rug covered the floor and an old cedar chest had been placed against the far wall. A rectangular table with a silver candle holder also had books on either end. A large portrait of his wife had been place over a desk in between two windows. Mr. Caldwell sat in an overstuff chair not far from the portrait reading a paper and his wife sat crocheting; Lorna was upstairs in the guest room.

"Maybe, you should go check on our guest, Mother." Mr. Caldwell asked with concern. "Should she not be downstairs by now?"

Normally, Mrs. Caldwell would have smiled, laughed and told her husband to relax only she had seen a faraway look in Miss Scott's the night before and it had her concerned. Therefore, she laid down her project and stood up. "Perhaps, you right. I will go see how Miss Scott is faring."

Mrs. Caldwell climbed the stairs grateful her own was on the main floor. It was not often she bothered with these steps anymore. Her age was not going down, and her legs did not enjoy going up. However, in order to talk to Miss Scott going to Mrs. Caldwell's room was not an option.

"Miss Scott?" Mrs. Caldwell asked as she knocked on an open door. The room was small and basic. A normal sized canopy bed. A writing desk with a chair to sit at while preparing letters. And a vanity for a guest to sit at while getting ready for the day.

Mrs. Caldwell saw the woman sitting at the vanity fully dressed, but with tear-stained cheeks. "What is wrong?" Is there something I can do to help?"

"I mean no...ha'm." Lorna quickly wiped away the tears, there was no way she could afford to tell her what the problem really was- too much was at risk for James or Lord Ashford's grandson in danger. Finally, she turned around and gave a weak smile. "I was just having a pity pa'ty for myself. But, I p'omise, I can get off it."

"Often times it helps to talk about things." Mrs. Caldwell smiled really wanting to help.

Lorna went to decline and then a light bulb wen' on and she knew how to talk about it, without talking about it. "My siste' was alwa' the beautiful one, people alwa's ranted about her looks. I had a siste' who had all the b'ains…" She would simply not talk about Mary or Lydia because that way people could not connect her father to herself, thus he was not likely to get targeted. "Probably could talk on a conve'sation with 'he most educated man a'ound. And me? I can only paint simply pictu'es and while I do not conside' myself ugl' by any means, I am not 'he shining beauty F'ances is." Jane's middle name was Frances, no one knew it because it only on her birth certificate and was never spoken out loud, so that was not a lie. "How am I to eve' be held in a man's a'ms?" Lorna missed being held in her husband's arms and feared, though a messenger had been sent to James that, maybe, something had occurred, and he would not make it to Haven's Hollow. Things were beginning to wear on her; this was not a life she was used to. "Maybe, I am just weak."

"Last thing first." Mrs. Caldwell spoke firmly. "I may just have met you; nonetheless, you are no weak woman." She pointed a finger at Lorna. "If you were that gentleman in the town square would not have found your fist on his jaw yesterday evening."

"He dese'ved it." Lorna straightened up. " 'hat...male...had no business attempting to touch me like he did."

"My point proven." Mrs. Caldwell smiled and stood as she walked over. "Now to my next point. Turn back to the mirror." When her guest had done so, the woman took a brush and began to brush her hair. "I do not know if the reason you dye your hair is because of what you just said; It is not my place to ask but, but know this, everyone has their own beauty. And some of the handsomest of men I know, some of the most beautiful women who have entered this town turn horribly ugly as soon as they open up their mouth."

"I know 'hat." Sighed Lorna. "But..."

"No, buts about it." Mrs. Caldwell interrupted though she normally would not have and continued to speak she began to braid Lorna's hair. "No one enjoys being around someone with an ugly soul. You do not have that. It shows through your eyes. One of these days, a man is going to walk through the door, see you and feel as if he has walked into a brick wall and know he cannot go on unless his name is attached to yours."

Lorna could not help it, she began to giggle as words flashed into her mind. "I mean no insult to my late wife; she was a great partner in finding, and catching, criminals. But after she died -and I was past my fury at the man who shot the bullet for taking my catching-criminal partner down. One day I turned around, saw your growth, Kitty and - my dear I am pretty sure I ran into a brick wall. I tried to get past it, over it, and around it. And clearly..." He pulled her close. "I could do none of them."

"Laugh if you want." Mrs. Caldwell, not being privy to the flashback, chuckled herself. "But it could very well happen. "Now. Try this dress on. "She put down the dress and pulled out a dress a guest had left behind. "It is not one of the fancier ones, but it is amazingly beautiful for as simple as it is." Once her newest guest had it on, Mrs. Caldwell gently instructed Lorna to look at herself in the mirror. "Try to tell me you are not beautiful -without comparing yourself to your sister."

"I..." Kitty sat stunned over what a simple hairstyle could do. "Never thought of wearing my hair like this."

"I suggest you try it again. Now, I just heard the front door open. Shall we go down? Maybe, your knight in shining armor has arrived." Mrs. Caldwell roared with laughter as Lorna stood up and blushed. "I am just joking."

The two descended the stairs and entered the parlor. Two men with their backs turned to them were talking to Mr. Caldwell. Mrs. Caldwell recognized her steward, but did not know the one with him from where she stood; Lorna did. It was all she could do not to rush to Mr. Hurst. Instead, she forced herself to stand still and watched as he, and the steward turned around.

James's mouth, she could not at the moment think of him as Jake, about dropped and his eyes widened. He knew his wife was pretty, but this was a side of her he had never seen. Poor gentleman felt as if someone could have knocked him over with a feather. Finding his voice, he managed to ask, if she did not mind, could he take her for a walk around the town's square.

"I am most certain Mr. or Mrs. Caldwell would be more than willing to accompany us. Maybe, both?" He looked at the couple, both were grinning wide.

"Our pleasure, but what about your business?" Mr. Caldwell asked having been led to believe Mr. Hurst needed to see a man about some sheep.

"It can wait. I think I have been blind to a prize right before my eyes for quite some time, do you not agree?"

" I do."

As Mr. Caldwell replied and his wife- while Mr. Hurst was focused on her husband mouthed to Lorna 'He has that look in his eye; he is the one.' It was all Lorna could do not to laugh, if the woman only knew.

"Shall we?" Mr. Hurst pointed to the door and led Lorna out the door. They walked out in front, talked low, an in code about Lord Ashford's grandson. Why his wife was convinced Mr. Thompson's second son was one and the same.

"That explains the notes not coming more than they have, but why come at all? That makes no sense."

"Actually, yes, it does." Lorna began to point out the men might think it could help them to main control, or extract resources, or eve misdirect investigators. "Personally, I think it is the last. The last few notes you have been told about had your men all looking in England. You were extremely fortunate to get even a hint the boy had been taken to Scotland, but where are most of the men still looking?"

"England." James slapped his head. "Only I am ...along with a skeletal crew, are looking up here in Scotland."

"And Mr. Dexter and his men where are they?"

"Last I heard, England, but that does not mean he does not have allies here. And with your last bit of information, other than your suspicion of the boy, I fear he will now head our way." He glanced back towards the Caldwells who were talking and laughing. "Where do these Thompson's live?"

"We are getting close. It is a good thing your hair has gotten so long and your beard so full. Not to mention you walk with no limp, or cane. If Mr. Dexter does have men up here, they are not likely to know you." She then asked what he thought of the other information she had given him.

"Pull up your hood."

"Fine, but it is not that chilly." Lorna put it up and then asked how she was to explain it to Mrs. Caldwell

"It is chilly enough, she put hers up; it will not look odd and, let us face it, you need to go back to a darker hair dye. I fear the lighter one makes you look too much like a Bennet not a Scott which- as I just stated- is why your other information has me gravely concerned." Just as he finished speaking they reached the Thompson home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TW0

Innocent Attacked

Ch. 32

"Mr. Caldwell," Mr. Hurst said, turning to his friend, "I would like to meet Mr. Thompson's family."

"I think they would like that," replied Mr. Caldwell, opening a small white gate and walking up a short stone path. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. "That is odd. They are always home at this time."

Lorna felt uneasy and nudged Jake to look at a side window. He saw something that worried him. "Sir, I think we need to go inside, and the women should stay out here," Jake said.

Mr. Caldwell and his helper agreed and went into the Thompson house while the women waited outside. Inside, they found Mr. Thompson sitting in a chair "Mr. Caldwell," Mr. Hurst said, turning to his friend, "I would like to meet Mr. Thompson's family."

"I think they would like that," replied Mr. Caldwell, opening a small white gate and walking up a short stone path. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. "That's odd. They are always home at this time."

Lorna felt uneasy and nudged Jake to look at a side window. He saw something that worried him. "Sir, I think we need to go inside, and the women should stay out here," Jake said.

Mr. Caldwell and his helper agreed and went into the Thompson house while the women waited outside. Inside, they found Mr. Thompson sitting in a chair, not moving and Mrs. Thompson laying on the floor. Neitherone was moving. It felt more than a little strange.

"I will check the children's rooms," Mr. Caldwell said. He and his helper looked around and found the two children. Sadly, they were not moving either, it was clear nothing good had happened in this home.

Mr. Hurst heard a faint sound from under the floor. He quickly found a door to the basement and went down. There, he discovered a hidden room with a scared boy hiding inside. "I am here to help you," Mr. Hurst said gently.

The boy recognized Mr. Hurst and said, "I know who you are. My grandfather called you James. I was hiding because I was afraid."

Mr. Hurst helped the boy up and said, "Let us get you out of here. You can tell me what happened."

The boy worried, "What if they are watching us? They were after me. I heard them yelling but they could not find me."

Mr. Hurst had an idea. "How about we pretend you are injured and dress you like a girl? That way, no one will recognize you."

Soon, they got a wagon and loaded everyone up. Mr. Hurst made sure the boy was safe, saying, "We need to get you proper help."

As they traveled, Mr. Hurst asked the boy about what happened. The boy explained that bad men had taken him away and he ended up in an orphanage. He didn't know their names but was sure they were still looking for him.

Miss Scott kept the boy entertained with stories and songs during the journey. He felt safer with her and Mr. Hurst.

Mr. Hurst's coachman and footman were alert, watching the road ahead for any danger. They were determined to keep the boy safe. Two more helpers rode on horses, keeping an eye on the surroundings.

Inside the carriage, Mr. Hurst and Miss Scott quietly planned how to get the boy safely back to his grandfather. They knew they had to be very careful.

The road wound back down into the valley, the carriage wheels crunching over gravel which had been exposed by snow that had melted earlier in the day. The air was crisp and would have bit at their skin had they not been wearing their coats. The boy stirred but stayed asleep.

"Seems so unfair to him." Turning to her husband she sighed and asked if she could at least go back to the name Iona. "I am so tired of this name game. I am not trying to complain honest. I have done my best throughout this whole mess. I just..." She leaned back. "I hope it is not a sin to want to see men like Mr. Dexter hung."

"If it is, I am just as guilty as you." He wanted to tell her to back the name of Iona but until this boy was back home that was simply impossible. "If I knew for sure Mr. Dexter would not get wind we were still alive... I would be more than happy to allow it. However, we cannot chance him finding out."

"Sorry, I am simply beginning to feel so drained."

"Do not apologize." Mr. Hurst gave a sympathetic smile. "It is not as if you have done this type of work before." And the more he thought about it; his wife would not do it again...unless she wanted to step in for Anne. That lady had just sent word to his boss she was bowing out.

As dusk approached, the sky changed its color of dress, and the carriage lanterns were lit. Their soft light illuminating the interior and casting flickering shadows on the faces of its occupants. The journey continued in a hushed, somewhat peaceful silence, each person lost in their thoughts and fears or concerns. Finally, they arrived back at the estate everyone thought belonged to Jake Hurst.

Mr. Hurst woke Lord Ashford's grandson up and helped the boy down from the carriage, his hand firm and reassuring. "Welcome to your temporary home."

Miss Scott and the others followed, their eyes scanning the surroundings and then hurried into the mansion eager to get in before anyone could spot the fact they had the boy with them. Inside the estate, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Plans were whispered in hurried tones, maps were spread out in the study, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo as all who were involved gathered to get handed their parts. The stakes were higher than ever, and no room for error could be made.

"Go and get some rest." Mr. Hurst turned to his wife. "I will join you soon. I need to talk to Mr. Shein and Mr. Caldwell's steward first.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

NOTE: The parents knew about the hidden room . They realized he had to have heard the screaming and where he had to have gone to. So, they died protecting the boy they viewed as their son.

Confrontation

Ch. 33

"What were you thinking!" bellowed James, tossing out any false names for good, as he chewed out the steward while racing to put Kitty and Lord Ashford's son on a horse. "Sending for unlisted officers was the worst thing you could have done! Especially, since I recognize one of those men even from this far away; he has no brains!" Grabbing his own horse, he called to Mr. Shein, his own coachman, and a few other men as they saw military men closing in. "Ride with me! And you…" He glared at the steward. "Stay here and deal with the officers and the aftermath. Lord help your soul and your life if Dexter's men get here first!" With that, Mr. Hurst's group fled the area and headed north.

"I did not send for them!" The steward shouted back and jumped on his own horse. "No way am I staying behind!"

"Well, then, who did? You are the only one other than Caldwell who knew and that man is now laying stone-cold dead on the steps of his own back door!" Thank heavens the man's wife was gone visiting relatives, or she would have been killed too. "Be glad we all were in these stables and not at the main house!"

"I have not the foggiest! So, someone else had to have found out, and was one step ahead of us."

North was not the area they intended to stay, but James had done it on purpose. If it had not been the steward who sent for the officers, who had? Who was it that was playing both sides. Now it was better to have Mr. Dexter's men think they intended to go into the hills of Scotland.

Going into the hills of any foreign country was the last thing on James's mind. No, he figured he would go north long enough to convince the steward that was what was happening and then his group would turn south and head back to England, taking another route. Yes, they were still in danger, but it would buy them much-needed time.

"I am going to send you to London with Mr. Shein. The house Anne was staying in is open, it is safe. Mr. Dexter does not know I have connections to it. I will come to you after I get Lord Ashford's grandson back to his father and grandfather," James told his wife, only to have Kitty plead—with no whining—not to send her.

"I am just as much in danger getting there as staying with you. There is no way to redye my hair. If I am to risk dying, I would rather be by your side than by Mr. Shein's." She glanced over at the gentleman who was trying not to smile. "No insult to you, honest."

"None taken."

"Your father is going to kill me."

"If Mr. Dexter does not first," Mr. Shein, and the steward, did not resist saying.

"Very funny, good sirs," James shot over his shoulder.

The group rode hard, the cold January air biting at their faces as their horses carried them far from where Caldwell's steward now stood alone in an empty mansion. The landscape was stark relentless, and unforgiving, with bare trees and frost-covered ground. They pushed their horses to the limit, needing every inch of ground they could possibly get.

As they reached a dense forest, James signaled for the group to slow down. "We will rest ourselves, and our horses, here for a moment," he said, keeping his horse steady.

Kitty remained on her horse and approached James. "What is the plan?" she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

"We will head south soon, but we need to make sure we are not being followed," James replied. "Mr. Shein, take a look around and make sure the area is secure."

Mr. Shein nodded and disappeared into the trees. The rest of the group took the opportunity to catch their breath and tend to the horses.

It was not long before the gentleman returned with news all the area was clear of any danger. "I could see no sign of anyone following us."

"Thank heavens for tender mercies," James said. "We will head south now. Stay alert and be ready for anything. Do not relax your attention."

Urging their horses forward, the group moved quickly but cautiously. The forest provided some cover, but no one was crazy, or stupid enough, to allow their guard to go down.

As they rode, Kitty kept a close eye on Lord Ashford's son, who was riding with Mr. Shein. The boy was being brave there was no question to it, but she could see the fear in his eyes. Her heart went out to him. She rode up beside him and offered a reassuring smile. "We will get you back to your father soon," she said softly. "Trust me, we want to be home just as much as you."

The boy nodded; his expression determined. "I know," he said. "And I do thank you for all you are risking getting me there."

They continued south, the landscape gradually changing as they left the forest behind. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the ground. They needed to find a safe place to rest for the night.

"There is an old inn up ahead. I have used it before. It is, surprisingly, in decent condition." James said, pointing to a structure in the distance. "We will take shelter there. If anyone shows up, we will have the advantage of having some sort of coverage at the very least."

They reached the inn and quickly secured the area. It was old and somewhat weathered but, James had been correct in saying it was in decent shape; it would provide protection from nature's elements. They set up a small camp inside, lighting a fire to keep warm.

"Secure all the windows and doors so that no one can open them. Make sure no one can enter from the basement and let us go checkup stairs."

"Thank they will come here?" Kitty asked as she and Jacob, by now she knew the young man's name, began to climb the stairs.

"Yes, it is the only real shelter on this route and sooner, or later, Mr. Dexter is bound to have figured out which route we took. And you know we need to be ready for anything," James shook his head. "Mr. Dexter will not give up easily. I am suspecting it will not just be his men who show up at that estate. Which means, he reads tracks well. So, though I did my best to have us cover ours; I fear he will find them."

"I wish you were wrong." Kitty bit her lip. "But I fear you are right. And.." She whispered a name to her husband. "You know it had to be him who sent for the lawmen. I would know that silhouette from anywhere. I would testify to that in any court in England. And, ten to one, one of your men would find proof easy enough of his existence in Scotland."

James pulled her close as they reached the top of the stairs. "If that is the case, we now know who it was who saw you Hollow's Haven. I hope you are not sorry you went to Brighton."

"No, but only because it got you past that brick wall, one I had no idea how to climb other than to visit my sister as much as I did." It was the first time Kitty had admitted she had seen the look in his eyes and had started, quietly, chasing him.

"You little minx." James chuckled, kissed the top of her head, and gently guided her into a room with only one small window, taking Jacob with her. "I will be back up later. Mr. Shein will then keep young Mr. Ashford with him for the night."

The night was cold and tense, with the men taking turns keeping watch. The fire crackled softly, providing a small comfort in the darkness.

In the early hours of the morning, they heard the sound of horses approaching. James and Mr. Shein quickly woke the others, and they prepared for whatever was coming.

Looking out one of the windows James and Mr. Shein saw Mr. Dexter and a handful of men on one side of the inn. Jame's footmen quietly checked the other and then came back to the open area of the upper floor. "They have no more men."

"Stay on that other side just in case any show up." James ordered and the man went back to where he had been.

Mr. Dexter's eyes scanned the building, landing on the upper floor where James and his group were positioned. "Well, well," he said with a sneer. "It seems my snitch was right in his information, and now I have found you!" The man hollered up.

James did not have to signal his men who had already taken their positions and were ready to shoot at a moment's notice. "You will not take the boy," he shouted back through the slightly open window, his voice echoing through the inn and out into the forest.

Mr. Dexter laughed. "You think you can stop me? A drunk? A gambler? A man does nothing but that, along with fishing and hunting? You have only been sober for two years!" he shouted. "You are outnumbered and outmatched in skill!" Having no clue just how deadly an aim James really was.

"We will see about that," James replied, his voice steady.

A tense standoff ensued, with both sides ready for a confrontation. Kitty and Jacob stayed n the room as ordered but their eyes never left Mr. Dexter or his men.

"Your move! You can either leave the boy alone and be a free man or die this day." James' voice rang out loud and clear.

Mr. Dexter glared at him, signaled for his men to attack and shouted it would be James who died not him. Gunshots rang out as Hurst's group fired from the upper floor, the sound echoing through the cold morning air.

One by one Mr. Dexter's men fell, Mr. Shein's shoulder was nicked but the bullet planted itself in a post behind him. The coachman's hand got hit but, thankfully, it was not his gun hand, and it was not deep. Finally, James took on last aim ... BANG! Mr. Dexter's eyes widened as he had taken aim at James at the same time only his bullet sunk into a picture over Mr. Hurst's head while Jame's planted itself deep within the walls of his enemy's chest.

"You lucky bas..." The man never finished as Mr. Shien's bullet, which had flown seconds after Jame's stopped Mr. Dexter's heart. After that, any of the man's followers fled like the rats they were.

"You go check on your wife." Mr. Shein spoke as he looked at his shoulder and then helped the coachman with his hand. "After that let us get that boy back to his father and grandfather."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Home Sweet Home

Ch. 34

Lord Ashford's home was bustling with activity. Servants were rushing around, making Jacob's room ready, while the cooks were busy preparing a special meal. The grand entrance hall, recently remodeled with elegant wallpaper and polished wooden floors, was filled with the aroma of roasting meats and freshly baked bread. The long staircase, off to the side as soon as you entered the home had not been touched and still led to the upper floors where more preparations were underway.

Lord Ashford's son had finally made his way back to England. He had been trying ever since his son's kidnapping. "I cannot believe the hassle I had getting home," he told his father as he sank into a plush, newly upholstered chair. "When I had Jacob stay with you, I had no idea this whole mess would happen. If his mother were alive, I would not have asked it of you."

"I hope you do not blame me."

"No, no I do not. Blame that servant you fired though. She should have been watching Jacob closer." The two men were talking when James, Kitty, and Jacob walked in. Jacob rushed to his father and rambled on and on about the couple. "I thank you." Mr. Ashford walked over and shook the couple's hands. "Please, if there is anything I can do for you, just say so. I could even get you a title."

James spoke bluntly. "Kitty was right, we found proof of Ensign Wickham being in Hollow's Haven. So, what I want is to see George Wickham in prison for life. He not only has a serious gambling issue, but he got into debt so bad that Dexter used it to put not only your grandson's life in danger but my own wife's. And, while some say I should feel no pity for Mrs. Wickham, I do. She was too young and impulsive when meeting him. Could you please grant her a divorce? She will have a hard enough time as it is without being hooked to his name. Could you also see that someone in York hires her on as a maid? As to the title, I seek none. However, I promised my wife's father we would wed beyond handfasting as soon as our situation permitted. I would ask for a special license not only for us but for a couple who I have heard are having a spring wedding because of the bride's wishes. However, I happen to know she is probably only saying that out of hopes of seeing Kitty back home. Past those things I see nothing."

"Of course, to all of it. But first does not a certain colonel need to admit to the family the lady is alive?" Lord Ashford chuckled.

"Yes, that he would. Or maybe, I should be the one. The colonel was only following orders and trying to keep Kitty safe."

"As were you." Lord Ashford leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting a warm glow on the remodeled room. "Now about that title you do not want and the options I am giving you."

Colonel Fitzwilliam may not have heard anything about the special license, but he had come to Lord Ashford's home and been ushered in; therefore, he had caught the gentleman's last words. It was all he could do not to laugh as he heard James's audible groan. He might have heard the chancellor's response only the man heard the colonel's footsteps.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I think you have a couple to take down to Meryton, or maybe, I should say Longbourn." Standing up, he shook the couple's hands and grinned at James. "You can talk to the colonel about the options I just gave you. And your special license will be waiting for you at the courthouse in Meryton."

"Thank you, as to the license and as to the colonel…I will." James wanted to slap the back of the chancellor's head to rest of it, but he did not. He simply took Kitty by the hand and followed Richard out the door.

James helped Kitty up to the carriage and then turned to Richard. "I am willing to talk to the Bennet family if you wish; it was my idea in the first place."

"It was all of ours." Richard was not about to let Mr. Hurst take all the credit, or blame, depending on one's viewpoint. "Let me be the villain and you the hero." He grinned wide. "I am marrying into the Lucas family, you are married to a Bennet."

"You do have a point there."

It was Richard's words that got their carriage parked in front of Longbourn. However, due to a post the colonel had sent, theirs was not directly in front of Mr. Bennet's home. The Bingley's, Darcy's, Luca's, Miss Anne's, the Philip's, the Gardiner's had come down from London and, ugh, Lady Catherine's carriage was even at Longbourn. The only couple not there was the Wickham's. And, due to Lord Ashford's power in England, their divorce was going at a faster rate than what was normal, and at his expense- not anyone else's.

"Lord Ashford's paying for her divorce and making the arrangements for her to prove herself capable of holding down a job up in York but, for now, I think it is wise if she keeps her distance from the family' Had been James' reply when Kitty had asked what was going to happen to Lydia.

"Pull up your hood." James told Kitty as he climbed down. "Let us give Richard time to explain to your family, and friends, what has gone on -and defend your father's knowledge before showing you to them. If the servants see you, all bets are off."

The plan had been for Kitty to wait in the dining room, but she was so drained that Mr. Hurst took her upstairs while Richard had the servants show him into the parlor. The man then went back down to the dining room to wait for Richard to fetch him to speak to the family.

Richard stood in the parlor with his hat in his hands being stared at by a room full of people wondering about the strange letter they had gotten- even Mr. Bennet and Anne. They would not have been; however, they were still under orders to keep quiet. Therefore, they were confused as to why Richard was here. If Kitty had actually been killed why not pull them aside privately?

"First, I must apologize to you all; especially to you, Mr. Bennet." Richard was going to be very careful about what he said, and who he said it Infront of. "What I have to confess I thought best told to everyone at once, rather than lay that burden at Mr. Bennet's feet who has already been through so much."

"Oh, do just get to the point," Lady Catherine de Bourgh huffed, her voice dripping with impatience and disdain. "And quit wasting our time with such trivialities."

"First, Lady Catherine...Fitzwilliam and Mr. Johnston will escort you out; you came here uninvited. You can hear my news second hand." Richard took a stance, and tone, of his rank. It was a fact none of the men missed, or even the women around Lady Catherine missed. So, when she tried protesting; it was to no avail, and the Fitzwilliam and the colonel's aunt was shown out the door. It was only when the others were back did he speak and catch everyone up.

"You mean Kitty is not dead? And Father knew this the whole time? Even at the funeral?" Elizabeth's mouth fell wide open, as did the others.

"No, your sister is not dead. And, yes, Mr. Bennet was told. However, do not blame your father. He was ordered to keep quiet, and his tears were not faked. Mr. Bennet had no idea if he would ever see your sister again." He turned to Kitty's father who could not help but looked confused as he asked why she and Mr. Hurst were not with him. "They are but..." Richard explained about their waiting. "First, Lady Catherine's carriage. Second, Mr. Hurst made you a promise. One of which do you wish to speak of to your family or do I? Before he comes in and explains things; it will explain why Kitty is holding back."

Mr. Bennet was not surprised all eyes turned to him. "Mr. Hurst asked for your sister's hand in marriage but the circumstances were so dangerous they had no choice but to be wed by handfasting in Scotland. I sent word they had my blessing as long as they married by a preacher as soon as it was possible."

"Mr. Hurst? And Kitty?" More than one jaw dropped.

"Close your mouths." Snapped their father. "He is no drunk, or gambler; The man is no George Wickham." They had all gotten the news about Lydia's divorce and why it had occurred.

"Is that a fear of hers?" Elizabeth turned to Richard "Is my sister afraid we will not accept him, has he not kept this word?"

"I think I best get Mr. Hurst." However, when Richard came back only James was with him.

"Where's Kitty?"

"I will tell you, but she wanted me to first talk to you first." Jame looked straight at Mr. Bennet and Anne pulling out two folded pieces of paper. "Lord Ashford gave me these; they are special licenses. And Sir..." He sighed. "Your daughter has been very brave throughout this...situation... but now she tires easily and well, she begs me to do the asking... we...Kitty in particular..." He looked at Thomas then at Anne. "Were hoping, if the bride did not mind, that -maybe- a double wedding could be had though the one couple is already wed by Scottish irregular laws?"

Everyone looked at Thomas, who was looking at Anne. "It is up to you, Anne. I will not hold it against you either way. And I doubt Kitty would either."

"Tell her I would love it, beg her to come in."

"I would gladly, but when I said she had no energy, I meant it literally...would you, Mr. Bennet and Anne go to her first? I took her upstairs and put her to bed. She needs her father and soon to be new mother; Kitty has something to say to you both."

Mr. Bennet and Anne rushed out of the room worried for his daughter; the women left in the rom however only took second to figure out what Mr. Hurst words meant. Their eyes lit up, but they kept quiet; let Kitty's father hear what their minds had already figured out.

"Kitty?" Mr. Bennet knelt by his daughter's bedside as did Anne, the fourth Bennet sister did indeed look drained. "We are more than happy to have a double wedding, but are you alright?"

"I will be, but would it too much to ask the marriage ceremony be in the early afternoon? And within the week? I understand if you change your mind, Anne. I mean I am already married by Scottish law." Kitty replied as she turned her head to get a better view of Anne and her father.

"Fiddlesticks, do not worry about me." Anne grinned wide. "I always knew I was going to have a double wedding. I must confess though I thought Charlotte was going to change her mind and it was going to be here. But why the early afternoon and within the week? I mean I really did not care about a spring wedding, I only said that because I hoped you would be back by then."

"Because at that time of day I will not be having a conversation with any bush, or pail, and my favorite dress will still fit."

"You are going to have a baby already?" Mr. Bennet's eyes widened

"Guess this one did not want to wait? Are you mad?"

"Good heavens, no." Mr. Bennet laughed and gently hugged his daughter. "Now, I think we need to leave your room. You look like you need some sleep."

"I agree." James spoke from behind. "Let us visit our company downstairs while my wife gets her rest."

Epilogue

James, in spite of wanting nothing for his actions and -yet wanting out of the line work he had been for so many years - had mixed feelings when Lord Ashford would not let up on giving him a reward. And it was something he opened up to Kitty about as she held James Thomas in her arms one evening as she sat up in bed while visiting her father not long after having given birth to their son.

"I am not fighting him anymore on the subject but only because I am tired of chasing criminals all over England. Tired of it all together, I did not like what I saw myself becoming when my bullet was taking those men down this last time around. No, I have seen too much horror and bloodshed. I need a place I can be away from crowds, parties, and men's horrendous actions; I hope you understand."

"I do. What kind of reward is Lord Ashford wanting to give you?"

"He gave me three choices." James replied with a lopsided grin. "First, I turned down flat- no hesitation whatsoever, and that was a title of an Earl with a property up in London. Second was a political position, with property further north than Mertyon." His eyes started dancing and showing amusement at the last one.

"What has you wanting to laugh?"

""You know how Charles, Jane and their young son are now living closer to Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and their new daughter?"

"Yes, but what are you getting at?" She would have thought James was saying they were getting Netherfield, but his eyes would not be laughing so hard.

"Bear with me, darling, I have to tell you everything for you to see where the humor is, though I only took it because it was better than the first two offers. " James was having difficulty not roaring with laughter even at that. "You know how Anne fell in love with the estate adjacent to Longbourn, the one with four thousand acres."

"Yes." Kitty was now quickly connecting the dots and was now having a hard time not laughing but had the decency to allow her husband to keep going.

"Well, it appears one so-called 'Lady' made a not so carefully thought-out remark within earshot not only of Lord Ashford's closets friends about us but within her own daughter's ears. Well, that same lady is now living in London and complaining very loudly," James spoke as he began to chuckle as he mimicked the new Mrs. Bennet's mother's voice. "That man will destroy the place within six months for he will be drinking to excess, lazily working with wood if he does any work at all, and squandering his time in useless endeavors! How Mr. Bennet ever permitted his daughter to marry such a man is beyond me!" James again rolled his eyes. " Her words not mine."

"My new mother sold Rosings Park to Lord Ashford and he turned around and deeded it to us!" Kitty cracked up laughing. "A Bennet is not only polluting the halls of Pemberly, but her daughter is living at Longbourn and another Bennet will be disgracing the halls of Rosings Park!" Kitty figured that was just too precious, and the sale of Rosings Park had been done due to the woman's own actions, not the Hursts'.