Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews. Many of you have some very good guesses. I know that the answers to the "mystery" behind the conspiracy will be obvious to most of you, but it will remain a mystery to ODC. In addition, the motivation will be part of that "mystery". Some of the characters that are usually front and center will remain in the background and may only be referred to. I just wanted to focus on E and D as much as possible.

This chapter is larger than I would have liked but I am having a hard time keeping the timeline straight and dividing up the scenes. I have only written three quarters of the story which amounts to about 50,000 words, so this will be a bit longer than my other stories. If you want a quick read, this may not be the story for you.

The next several chapters contain the bulk of the angst. After that, things will calm down quite a bit. There is one scene in chapter 4 or 5 that involves a non-sexual assault, but it is very quick and just leaves a few bruises. I will put in some warnings if you want to skip that part. I rate all of my stories "T" just to be safe. I hope you will enjoy the story even if you prefer a calmer read.

This story is unbeta'd. All the mistakes are my own. If you see any blatant mistakes, please let me know. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 2

February 17, 1812

Alton, Hampshire

Elizabeth leaned in close to catch the whispered words of the shy young girl. She gave her an encouraging smile and a nod in response and then said goodbye to the rest of the girls seated around the rough tables.

Mrs. Wilson, the headmistress of the orphanage walked her to the door of the classroom and, with sincere gratitude, said, "Thank you for coming in to read to the class, Ma'am. You cannot imagine what it means to us all to have you and your sister take time out of your busy day to spend it with the children."

Elizabeth assured her, "You are welcome. I enjoy it as much as they do." Waving to the sweet faces of the poor orphans, she said, "I will see you all next week."

The class, in unison, responded, "Thank you, Mrs. Darcy."

In the hallway, she greeted Mary who was just exiting the classroom across the hall and was heartened to see the contented smile evident on the face of her once-dour younger sister. Donning their outerwear and gloves, they stepped outside into the cold wind. The snow from the previous week was mostly melted and the mud had all but disappeared, making the mile-long walk back to Chilton Cottage less of a chore.

The orphanage was located in the quaint market town of Alton which consisted of only the most basic shops, along with a smithy, a posting inn, the orphanage, and a church. Although small in size, the town enjoyed a significant amount of business being situated on the main road between London and Southampton, and served as a busy stop for the post coaches.

In contrast, the nearby village of Chilton, where her cottage was located, could not truly be considered a village at all. South of Alton along the Southampton Road, it was merely a cluster of homes and cottage workshops associated with the Chilton Estate, one of the many properties of her husband. The estate's manor house was well off the road and was currently under a long-term lease to a wealthy, elderly couple who were in such poor health that they had withdrawn from all society. The smaller cottage that had been relegated to her by Mr. Darcy was on the edge of the property and had the dubious history of having once belonged to the local bailiff.

As they made their way down the lane toward the cottage on that particular day, she and Mary discussed the needs that they had noticed during their visit that morning. Mary told her about the new eight-year-old girl who had arrived at the orphanage in a threadbare dress and worn coat. She continued to detail the problems that she had seen with the other girls.

When she noticed her sister's lack of attention and saw the troubled expression on her face, Mary put her arm through Elizabeth's to recall her from her musings. Leaning in she spoke quietly so that the male servant who accompanied them could not hear. "Lizzy, what has brought on your dark thoughts on such a fine day?"

Elizabeth glanced back to see that Mr. Morris had dropped back far enough so that they could speak privately. She said with some chagrin, "I do not know, Mary. I should see the plight of those poor orphaned girls and be contented in my lot. And I am. I am contented, most assuredly. You have helped me immeasurably to get past the initial heavy gloom that I experienced in December. However, occasionally, it just assails me as if out of nowhere."

"Dear sister, try not to let your mind dwell on those days over much. God has been good to us, has He not?"

"Yes, of course, He has. And I feel it every day. But, sometimes my mind just behaves like a mouse caught in a maze, encountering one dead-end after another."

Mary gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze and said, "It still is a conundrum, I know. I can understand why you have such a difficult time putting it from your mind."

"Exactly. The events run through my mind over and over. I can see it all clearly just as if I were reliving the whole nightmare: that moment when I woke to the horrible, humiliating situation; Mr. Darcy shouting at me; the roomful of shocked, disdainful people. And then, I lost Jane's regard. That, I believe, was the hardest part: losing Jane. I still cannot believe that she was so ready to condemn me and blame me for Mr. Bingley's abandonment. Only you, dear Mary. Only you, Charlotte, and Papa believed that I was innocent and not the instigator of my own ruin. I do not know how it all happened, and I still have no idea how the details were so thoroughly hushed up. Thank God, Lydia and Kitty were kept in the dark as to the reason for the rushed wedding. I never would have dreamed that Mama could be so discreet or so talented an actress."

Mary nodded in sympathy. "I too was surprised. However, true to form, her new-found discretion did not prevent her from harassing you endlessly leading up to the wedding. That woman was a mixture of scolding, condemnation, and exaltation, depending on her mood. I was appalled. Of course, Lydia and Kitty, although, unaware of the scandal were very irritating in their constant mocking and derision as to your choice of husband."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the memory. "What a miserable time that was. Not until we met with the furious Mr. Darcy to sign the settlement papers did Mama truly understand how things were to be. After he laid out his vindictive plan for our married life, she immediately pronounced that I was dead to her and quit the room in hysterics. His emphatic declaration that he would offer no support to her or any unmarried sisters at the passing of our father nearly caused her to have an apoplexy. Papa, on the other hand, was outraged on my behalf, bless him, and tried to convince me to call off the wedding saying that ruin was better than being so neglected by my husband. I had never seen him so very angry. However, you know that I could not call off the wedding, as much as I might have wanted to. Even though I felt abandoned and ridiculed by Mama and our other sisters, I could not subject you all to ruin due to my unfortunate circumstances."

She knew that Mary had heard all of these details countless times and was greatly appreciative of her forbearance in allowing her to voice her frustrations repeatedly. In exasperation, she kicked at a stone on the road. "There was nothing I could do. Nothing at all. I was caught in a snare like a helpless pigeon. I have never felt so terribly trapped in all my life."

After a few moments of quiet, with the only sound being the crunch of their feet on the roadway, she gave her sister a rueful look. "There, I have vented my vexation. Pardon my relapse into melancholy. Now, we can move on to happier topics."

Determined to put on a more cheerful mien, she began to question her sister about some of the other benevolent activities that they were involved in. Yet her mind still kept wandering back to the events leading to their residence in Chilton.

Three months had passed since her wedding ceremony. As he had promised, her husband with a granite-like expression on his face had, indeed, handed her into the carriage, and promptly ridden off on his fine horse in the opposite direction without a backward glance. In a fog of anger, humiliation, and despair, she had traveled post haste to the small cottage at Chilton. Her father had wrested the concession from her husband that she be allowed her choice of lady's maid. Therefore, Sarah, the upstairs maid who had grown up at Longbourn had agreed to accompany her. In addition, Mary had requested and received permission to act as her companion.

For the first month after the wedding, Elizabeth had spent her time trying to come to terms with the reality of her new life. She had vacillated between feelings of outrage and fury to homesickness and despair. She had, by turns, wept, railed, and moped. The low point had been at Christmastide. Thankfully, Mary had been there to comfort Elizabeth.

Inexplicably, some aspect of the crisis that Elizabeth had experienced had brought out Mary's best self. Witnessing her sister's suffering had led to the cessation of her moralizing in favor of kinder, gentler words and admonishments. That gentleness had led to a newly forged bond between the two sisters that brought healing to both.

Therefore, Mary had been instrumental in enabling Elizabeth to exert herself for the festive season. It had been difficult, but for Mary's sake, she endeavored to appear more cheerful. In response to Mary's efforts and her own resilience, her anguish had begun to ease. And as the new year dawned, she had determined to shake off the doldrums and to find a way to thrive in her situation, rise above her circumstances, and regain her happiness.

Elizabeth had been relieved to find that her new home, though small and a bit shabby, was neat with modern conveniences. It was a plain, square, red brick building that was situated just off the major thoroughfare from London. The rumbling of the carriages and post-coaches could be heard at all hours of the day and sometimes at night. It boasted a parlor and dining room in the front and a sitting room in the rear. The kitchen, laundry, and servant's quarters were down a passage off the central hallway. Upstairs there were six small bedrooms and another sitting room. The staff was comprised of a housekeeper, a cook, and two housemaids. The housekeeper's husband served as a man of all work. On the whole, Elizabeth recognized that it could have been much worse.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Morris, had turned out to be a kind lady who was delighted to have Elizabeth as mistress. Sensing the tenuous state of Elizabeth's relationship with her husband, she sympathized with the young bride and had been delighted to help the new Mrs. Darcy in establishing herself at Chilton Cottage. Furthermore, Elizabeth with her kind, unaffected manner had quickly garnered the loyalty of the rest of the staff as well.

After emerging from her despondency, she had thrown herself into charitable works around the community. She and Mary had taken to sewing clothes for the girls at the orphanage, and one day a week, they visited the youngest girls in their classrooms and read stories to them. In addition, they had become friends with the vicar's wife in Alton and had sought to involve themselves with the benevolent activities of the parish. The only impediment to those activities had been the lack of transportation. On the days when the weather was especially inclement, the farm cart used by Mr. Morris for hauling supplies from the village had proved unsatisfactory. For Mr. Darcy had not felt it necessary to provide her with so much as a gig. Those days of isolation had been especially hard to bear. Yet, despite the occasional lonely days, she had gained a semblance of contentment and had found enough activity to satisfy her energetic personality. Life had begun to regain meaning, and she had felt some hope that things would improve.

Contributing to her improved outlook was the bounty of books that she received from her father. For just before her wedding, her father had informed her in private that he intended to leave his entire book collection to her and that he had decided to begin to advance parts of that inheritance to her prior to his death. He had explained that he had no confidence that his wife would deal fairly with Elizabeth as regards to anything that he might bequeath to her in his will. Therefore, not long after her wedding, crates had begun to be delivered that were full of books, maps, and scientific pamphlets. Elizabeth and Mary had been enraptured. Sorting and cataloging these treasures had filled many a lonely hour. In fact, they had converted the upstairs sitting room into a library, and Mr. Morris had been eager to build new shelves to house her hoard of books.

Along with the books, a small, used pianoforte had been delivered as a Christmas gift from their Uncle Gardiner, who was their mother's younger brother. Mary's playing had undergone a transformation that reflected her new, overall gentler manner, and both girls had enjoyed time at the instrument playing duets or practicing on their own.

As regards to the abandonment by her husband, she had felt relieved rather than wretched. That, true to his word, he had remained absent from her life was perceived by her as a blessing. In addition, she was curious as to how he and his family had chosen to explain their estrangement to society. He had never communicated to her how she was to account for his absence. Fortunately, no one in the community had expressed more than a mild interest about her solitary state. When questions concerning her husband had arisen, she had simply kept her answers vague and had moved the conversation on in as forthright and sweet a manner as she could manage. She supposed that those who were familiar with the Darcys probably assumed, based on her inferior accommodations and simple wardrobe, that she was married into a poorer branch of the family.

However, she refused to dwell on her husband overmuch. He had proven himself to be resentful, cold, and unreasonable. Therefore, she welcomed their estrangement, convinced that he would never believe in her innocence. It was better for her peace of mind not to be forced to endure his presence. She refused to allow herself to dwell on how disappointed she had been to see how harsh and severe he could be. For before the compromise, she had begun to think well of him.

After dinner that same evening, as she and Mary sat at their sewing in the sitting room, Mrs. Morris stepped into the room and, with an apologetic look, said, "Mrs. Darcy, I apologize for the delay in relating this information, but it slipped my mind what with the to-do with the stove this afternoon. Once again, you had a caller while you were at the orphanage. I sent him on his way, but that gentleman still refuses to accept our assertions that you are not entertaining and especially not accepting any male callers while your husband is away."

Worry caused a tightness to form in the pit of her stomach. "Mrs. Morris, am I correct to assume that this is the man who has been making a nuisance of himself for the past two weeks?" The handsome man had exuded charm and friendliness, but Elizabeth had sensed a lack of sincerity in his expression. His manner was too practiced, too smooth, and his sudden appearance in the village had also given her pause. There was no good explanation for why he had come to the area or why he lingered. Due to the recent traumatic events in her life and in contrast to her former more friendly nature, she had become quite cautious in her dealings with men, no matter how gentlemanly they appeared.

"Yes ma'am. Mr. Wickham. He keeps insisting that he should be welcomed due to his association with your husband."

Elizabeth barely kept herself from scoffing in derision, "Well, that claim will certainly not induce me to allow him admittance into my home. I have felt uneasy since I first encountered him." That encounter had occurred on the street in front of the orphanage when he had tried to force an introduction. Mr. Morris who always accompanied her had been quick to send the man on his way. Since then, Elizabeth had repeatedly refused to acknowledge him whenever he had approached her in the village. Furthermore, the entire household, including the housemaids, had been ordered to deny the man admittance to the house whenever he had attempted to call. With irritation in her tone, she added, "I do not understand why he is so persistent, but it is worrying. This is such a small community; I cannot imagine why he is here."

Mary gave her sister a sympathetic glance, and said, "I agree. Something about the man makes me very wary."

Mrs. Morris's face took on a slightly embarrassed expression. "I hesitate to say this, but it strikes me that this man may have nefarious intentions towards you, Ma'am. It is unseemly, especially in light of your husband's absence. He seems to have no reason to continue to hang about and his actions are not those of a gentleman. To approach a woman on the street and try to force an introduction and then demand entrance to her home is beyond the pale." The older woman spoke with a bit of agitation. "I am greatly alarmed since we are mostly a household of women. My Frank is the only male in the house, and he is not exactly a young or strong man." She paused for a moment and then proceeded more calmly. "I wonder if, in addition to Frank, you might consider employing a younger man to act as a footman charged with your protection. It would ensure your respectability and that of the house."

Elizabeth was just able to refrain from resting her forehead on the heel of her palm and closing her eyes in frustration. She realized the sense of what the housekeeper was saying and knew better than to believe that a gentlemanly appearance translated to gentlemanly behavior. Experience had been a cruel teacher. Rejecting the thought of asking her husband for more money, she made a quick mental calculation of her remaining funds for the quarter knowing that she would need to pay for the additional help out of her meager pin money. Glancing back at Mrs. Morris, she asked, "Could you advise me as to how much one would expect to pay a footman? Also, do you have anyone in mind?"

The older woman pursed her lips in thought and then brightened. Nodding her head she said, "As a matter of fact there is a young man who would do very nicely. Theo Williams is the youngest son of Cook's brother and is a good, polite lad. More importantly, he is quite impressive in size." She went on to elaborate on the character of the young man as well as the pay that would be typical for a footman in a household such as theirs.

Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose as she considered the expense when weighed against the threat of another scandal. She knew that she could not afford another hit to her reputation. This incident had served to expose their vulnerability to any determined troublemaker, not just Mr. Wickham. The whole household would be in a better position if there was more security. What Mrs. Morris had proposed was truly an excellent plan. Fortunately, she had hardly spent any of her pin money, so she reasoned that she could well afford this additional expense.

She nodded her head in agreement. "I think that your counsel is very wise, Mrs. Morris. I deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness in advising me on this. Please see to the hiring of Mr. Williams. My only request is that he be willing to assist Mr. Morris when he is not needed for security purposes. Will it be possible to accommodate him in the room next to Cook's quarters off the kitchen?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I will see to it first thing in the morning. However, until he is in residence, I would strongly advise that you continue to take Frank with you whenever you leave the house."

Elizabeth nodded, "I will do that. I will also write to Mr. Darcy to apprise him of the situation. Perhaps he will know how to deal with Mr. Wickham in a more decisive manner than we are able to."

In truth, she had never corresponded with her husband or he with her, and she dreaded the thought of it. However, she knew that she must. She could only hope that he would realize that Elizabeth was seeking his help, not embroiling herself in another scandal. All she needed was for her husband to suspect her of more wanton behavior. "Thank you, Mrs. Morris. You are a godsend. I do not know what I would do without you."

"It is an honor to serve you, Mrs. Darcy. I think that this is the perfect solution to this problem. I wish you a good night."

After the housekeeper left the sitting room, Elizabeth shared a long look with Mary. "I hope that Mr. Darcy does not feel the need to deal with Mr. Wickham in person. I do not anticipate being in company with my husband again if it can be helped. I am just beginning to find contentment here."

Mary gave her a sympathetic smile, "Well, we now know how fragile a woman's reputation can be. I think that your measures to shore up our defenses are good ones. Perhaps the addition of the footman will be deterrent enough for Mr. Wickham."

"I certainly hope so. I cannot imagine that he and my husband are truly good friends. If they were, Mr. Wickham would understand the nature of our marriage and would not dare approach me. Well, we shall see how things play out. But what a lot of bother." No longer in the mood for sewing, she retrieved a book from the nearby table and said, "Here, I will read another chapter from our book so that we can relax before seeking our beds."

February 19, 1812

Alton, Hampshire

George Wickham impatiently checked his pocket watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. The chit was late, and he was becoming excessively chilled in the wintry breeze. He massaged his arms and stomped his feet to gain some warmth. He needed to appear as though he just happened to be passing by instead of lying-in wait, and he had to exude the air of the consummate gentleman in order to achieve his goal. If he was unable to charm his way into his quarry's good graces soon, he might be forced to resort to more direct measures.

Finally, the door to the orphanage swung open and his target stepped out along with her sister. Wickham began to move out from his post at the corner of the building when he was arrested by the sight of the giant of a man who followed them down the steps. He swore softly but vehemently as he eyed the new attendant from his position just out of their view. Her previous escort had not alarmed him, being older and of a smaller stature than himself, but this new man was going to make things extremely difficult. He looked to be a head taller and two stone heavier than the average man. In addition, he had an air of alertness that the old man had lacked.

Wickham hung back and simply watched them as they moved off down the lane. It would be better to reconsider his options and try again another day. Besides, for the next fortnight, he needed to be in London on business that could not be postponed. Perhaps he could, again, attempt to approach her at home upon his return. The only impediments at her cottage were the housekeeper and the old man servant. Ideally, he could charm his way into the parlor if one of the housemaids were to answer the door, but he had never had any luck getting past the housekeeper. She was quite formidable.

Wickham headed to the stables at the pub where he had left his horse while he continued to ruminate over this latest development. He would collect his things at the inn five miles away in Farnham and then make his way to London.

Up until just after the new year, he had been enjoying a rare run of good luck at the gaming tables in some of the more hellish gaming halls of London. He normally would not have stayed so long in one place, but the lure of the cards and his unusual good fortune had kept him in town through the fall and into the winter. Not even his friend, John Denny, had been able to persuade him to leave London for the life of a militia lieutenant in the _shire regiment.

However, in mid-January, he had received a cryptic, unsigned message requesting an urgent meeting, and it had indicated that it would be worth his while to attend. So, Wickham, curious and always eager for an easy payout, had arrived early. Wary of traps by moneylenders or irate fathers of daughters that he might have dallied with, he had stationed himself at a safe distance from the entrance to the pub where the meeting was to take place. A shock of wonder and anticipation ran through him when he recognized the person who entered. Wickham waited until the time for the meeting, and then, joined the individual at a table in the corner. Based on the identity of the person facing him, he knew that the purpose for their meeting must involve Fitzwilliam Darcy. Never one to miss out on a chance to gain an advantage over his much-despised childhood friend, Wickham greatly relished hearing what his host had to say.

As it turned out, his instincts were right. His potential new client had revealed that Darcy had been staying at an estate near the backwater town of Meryton in Hertfordshire in the Autumn of the previous year. While there, he had been embroiled in a scandal and forced into a sudden marriage to a gentlewoman from the adjoining estate. Inwardly Wickham had cackled with glee as he had thought to himself, "Serves the prude right."

His host had given him to understand that the compromise had been part of his bold plan to humiliate Darcy. Taken unawares, both Miss Elizabeth and Darcy had been helplessly trapped in a way that had been so well staged that neither victim suspected that someone else had been behind the whole thing. And now, the couple were most unhappily married. Darcy had laid all the blame for the compromise on his new wife and had set about dealing out as much retribution on her as possible, while the poor bride had no explanation as to how she had become entangled with Darcy and resented his poor treatment of her.

His host had refused to disclose his motivation for seeking the ruination of Darcy or why he had chosen to involve Miss Elizabeth in the plot. But he had reveale that there was more to come and that he sought to solicit Wickham's help in order to commence the second part of the scheme.

At this point, Wickham's attention had been well and truly captured, and he had listened closely to the services that were being requested from him and the terms of payment for those services. In the end, the deal had been too good to pass up. Always eager for additional funds, the scheme had fit right in with George's ambitions for tormenting his old playmate. He was an expert when it came to Fitzwilliam Darcy and knew that this scheme would go far in exacting the revenge that Wickham sought. He and his new benefactor had shaken hands in agreement, and he had received an initial payment with the promise of additional installments periodically. With their business concluded, they both had left the pub going their separate ways.

Wanting to verify that the story his new patron had told him was true, Wickham had caught the first posting coach to Hertfordshire. What a boon it had been that his friend Denny was temporarily stationed there with his regiment.

It had been all too easy for him to find out what he needed to know. At the local pub in Meryton, he learned that Elizabeth Darcy, nee Bennet, was the second of five daughters in a family with no sons; and although the Bennets had held the estate for generations, upon the death of the father, they would lose it to a distant cousin due to entail. To top it off, none of the Bennet ladies possessed any sort of a respectable dowry.

Wickham had wasted no time in seeking an introduction to the youngest of the daughters. It only took a few encounters with the silly, flirtatious Miss Lydia Bennet and a few charming words in her ear, and he had obtained all the information that he had needed to corroborate his client's story.

According to her, during the previous Autumn, Darcy had been staying at Netherfield Park, Charles Bingley's leased estate outside of Meryton. Due to a husband-hunting machination of the girls' mother, the two eldest daughters ended up in residence at Netherfield for several days. Miss Lydia had intimated that Jane Bennet, the eldest, had been invited for dinner and had conveniently taken ill. Then, Elizabeth Bennet had ostensibly taken herself there to nurse her sister. Inexplicably, the second eldest sister had returned home betrothed to Mr. Darcy and then the pair had been hastily married. Miss Lydia had found it unfathomable that Miss Elizabeth had agreed to wed the dour gentleman but thought it a good joke. She had many varied theories as to how the marriage had come about and gave full voice to her thoughts on the subject.

Wickham, however, knowing the truth in full, had gleefully speculated to himself about the depth of the misery of the newlyweds. He wanted to clap his hands in satisfaction, for he knew that with so much animosity in the mix, he had much ammunition to work with.

Three days later he had taken a room in Farnham and had begun to collect information on the movements of Mrs. Darcy.

Wickham had been shocked when he had first laid eyes on her as he surreptitiously watched her coming and going from the cottage where Darcy had left her. This young lady was not Darcy's type at all. Although she was very pretty with large luminous eyes, and though her figure displayed very nice curves, she was small in stature. This was in sharp contrast to Darcy's usual preference. For he had always been drawn to the classically beautiful, statuesque ladies of the Ton, diamonds of the first water.

In service to his patron, Wickham was to strike up an acquaintance with Darcy's bride, fill her ears with his version of Darcy's character flaws, and then seduce her with his magnetic charm. Cuckolding that sanctimonious prig would be the ultimate achievement for George Wickham. That, of course, would be followed closely by blackmail and extortion: his two favorite words. At the same time, he would be receiving regular payments from his benefactor. This was a dream come true.

After all, Darcy had it coming.

For, the previous summer, the hated man had foiled one of Wickham's more brilliant schemes. That scheme had been so marvelously well planned. Wickham had spent months laying the groundwork, every eventuality had been anticipated, and he had been meticulous in every detail. However, he had been within one day of whisking off Darcy's fifteen-year-old sister, Georgiana, along with her dowry, to Gretna Green for a most advantageous wedding when her meddlesome brother had shown up early, and the stupid girl had confessed all to him. Wickham had fled to London in worse trouble with his creditors than he had been before he had started. The bitterness of the failure of his plan was severe. He truly needed to avenge the death of his dreams, and he had stumbled on an excellent way to accomplish that.

Wickham laughed in delight to realize that Darcy had failed to learn a very important lesson from the previous debacle in Ramsgate: Never leave a lady unprotected.

February 19, 1812

London

Fitzwilliam Darcy studied the people sharing the theater box with him that evening. His aunt had insisted that he be seen in society in order to prevent any speculation about the state of his marriage, and this evening was an effort to acquiesce to her demands. They were all there to see what was expected to be a rather good production of Hamlet, one of Darcy's favorite Shakespearean plays. He had come as a guest of Sir James Hamilton who he had known from Cambridge. Also in attendance were Sir James's wife, Lady Beatrice, and her sister, Lady Felicia Bertram. They were daughters of the Earl of Bromley. Lady Felicia was the young widow of Sir Thomas Bertram and had just completed her mourning period.

Accompanying Darcy, at the insistence of his aunt, were her daughter and son, Lady Amelia Fitzwilliam and Rupert Fitzwilliam, Viscount Worthington. Although Aunt Eleanor had not said it in so many words, it was understood that they were there to shore up their cousin during the evening. Worthington and Lady Amelia had been given strict instructions to keep Darcy from floundering in society. Every opportunity to reinforce the agreed-upon narrative concerning his marriage, was to be exploited. In addition, Darcy had received even stricter instructions to "appear happy" as any newly married man would.

As was typical, for whenever the subject came up, Darcy could hardly hide his discomfort when Sir James mentioned the absence of Mrs. Darcy due to illness.

Sir James explained, "Darcy, here, is a newlywed. However, his wife was unable to accompany him to town due to illness."

The ladies murmured words of commiseration along with their hopes for a speedy recovery.

Seeing his cousin's unease, Viscount Worthington smoothly interjected, "I suspect that Darcy is rushing through the business that drew him to town in order to swiftly return to his lovely bride. It has been very hard on him to be parted from her. But we have all been gratified to hear of the improvement of her health." His cousin gave him a wink.

Darcy abhorred the necessity for disguise of any sort but took the cue from the Viscount to elaborate on his wife's convalescence in the country. It irritated him that Worthington was enjoying his role as his "minder" a bit too much. In desperation, he sought to turn the conversation to other less dangerous topics. Discussing Elizabeth Darcy was his least favorite activity.

Regardless, the theater production was superb; and Darcy found himself enjoying the evening. When he returned to the box after the second interval, he discovered that the seating order had been rearranged such that the only seat left was next to Bertram's widow. They exchanged pleasantries briefly before the next act commenced.

During their short conversation, she revealed that she had been married to Sir Thomas for five years after he had inherited from his father. However, he had succumbed to a recurrence of brain fever a little over a year ago. Having only just come out of mourning, she professed how comforting it was to be among family as she re-entered society.

Although she appeared to be a demure and pleasant lady who had the type of elegance and sophistication that society prized, Darcy noted a hardness to her expression, reminiscent of Caroline Bingley. In addition, her clear blue eyes were cool and her bright smile failed to warm them to any degree. Unbidden, a pair of beguiling green eyes flashed in his mind's eye, causing him to repress a curse. He viciously thrust that image from his thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on the performance on the stage.

Later that night as he prepared for bed, Darcy reflected on the last several weeks that he had spent in society. Despite the discomfort he felt when fending off questions concerning his ailing wife, he realized that he had never experienced such a lack of reserve in company. With no little chagrin, he knew that it was all because he no longer felt hunted. For regardless of how much he detested the way that his marriage had come about, Darcy had come to appreciate the freedom that his married state afforded him. Match-making mothers and their determined daughters no longer spared him a glance at social events. As a married man, he could move through society without having to deflect fathers who wanted him for a son-in-law. At balls, he could retire to the card room without seeming churlish. If he did dance with anyone, there was no fear of raising expectations. Tonight, he had been able to walk through the lobby of the theater without a care, greeting friends and talking to acquaintances. Yes, the liberty he experienced as a married man was a novelty. Perhaps this was the silver lining to his matrimonial cloud.

That night, he slept undisturbed except for the haunting dreams of tear-filled, green eyes silently pleading for understanding.