Date: 2019-09-05 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Darcy Pemberley Elizabeth Bennet; Highlander duke aristocrats nobility; romance love; classics historical; historical regency; 18th century 19th century
Description: When Fitzwilliam Darcy, still smarting from Elizabeth's rejection, discovers she was forced to flee her home in disgrace owing to his actions, his course is clear. He must marry her. It is a matter of honor. All he has to do is find her and propose. Surely that will be simple enough. But Elizabeth does not want to be found, especially not by Darcy. From the moment he entered her life, he has caused disaster after disaster. Now he has followed her all the way to Scotland, foolishly certain it is within his power to fix all her problems. But far more is at stake than Darcy knows, and Elizabeth i

A Matter of Honor

A Pride & Prejudice Variation

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by

Abigail Reynolds

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White Soup Press

A Matter of Honor: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

Copyright © 2019 by Abigail Reynolds

Published by White Soup Press

ISBN: 978-0-9979356-8-4

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information, address abigail@abigail-reynolds.com.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Historical Notes

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Also by Abigail Reynolds

Chapter 1

THE TREE-LINED LANE leading to Longbourn looked just as it had last year when Darcy and Bingley had first ridden down it, the leaves turning russet and autumn gold. It had been a year since Darcy had first met the bewitching Elizabeth Bennet. Six months since the last time he had seen her. Six months of aching for her, six months of breathing air that had lost its savor, six months of gnawing doubt about whether she had believed the letter he had written her or whether she still despised him as the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry.

The two gentlemen had tried to call on the Bennets when they first returned to Netherfield a week ago, only to be told the family was away. The days had crawled by for Darcy, haunted by thoughts of Elizabeth. Now he would finally see her again. Would her smile still make the room sparkle with life? Would there be forgiveness in her fine eyes, or would she look at him with hatred? His palms grew damp at the memory of that terrible evening last spring when she had bitterly rejected his proposal of marriage.

So much depended on this new beginning. In his dreams he imagined starting a new courtship, free of the misunderstandings that had doomed his miserable excuse of a proposal, but he had steeled himself to settle for much less. Even if she could never love him, he might be able to be in the same room with her. That might be enough to give him a reprieve from the gnawing emptiness he had felt ever since that night in Hunsford. Returning to London had not given him any relief, nor had going to Pemberley with Georgiana and the Bingleys. This return to Netherfield was his last hope.

Bingley knocked at the door and offered his card to the portly butler, saying something Darcy could not hear over the sudden pounding of his heart. Elizabeth was somewhere behind that door.

The butler shook his head. “I regret to say the family is away.”

Bingley’s bright smile faded. “Again? Mrs. Goulding said they were back.”

The butler’s cheeks darkened. “The family is not at home,” he repeated hollowly.

Disappointment pressed on Darcy’s chest. “Come, Bingley. We will try another time.”

He remounted and grasped his reins before pausing to glance back at the house as if he could somehow conjure up Elizabeth’s presence. Instead, he caught a glimpse of her mother’s face glaring at them through the drawing room window.

He stiffened. The butler must have had standing orders to tell them no one was at home.

But why? Mrs. Bennet had always been embarrassingly pleased to receive Bingley last year, practically groveling over him and pushing her eldest daughter at him. But then Bingley had returned to London, leaving a lovelorn Jane Bennet behind, and apparently he had not been forgiven for that. Elizabeth’s pained expression at Hunsford as she told him how her sister had suffered when Bingley left her was still seared in Darcy’s brain.

“Come, Bingley,” Darcy said sharply. “Let us go.”

“It is odd that no one is at home,” Bingley remarked as they started down the narrow lane. “Mrs. Goulding said she had seen Miss Mary and Miss Kitty Bennet at the circulating library yesterday.”

Darcy sighed. He had to find a way to speak to Elizabeth. “They are at home, but refusing to see us. I saw Mrs. Bennet at the window as we left.”

Bingley reined in his horse, his face stormy. “It is true, then. It was not coincidence that so many people here were not at home when we called on them. Nor that our only invitation was to dine at the Gouldings, and that was because they could not avoid asking us after we met in town. Nor that no one has called on me except Sir William Lucas, and even he was not as affable as usual. But why? Why has everyone in Meryton suddenly taken such a dislike to me? They were happy enough to attend my ball last year.”

Darcy chose his words carefully. “Do you suppose they might believe you toyed with Miss Bennet’s affections?”

“I never made her any promises! Besides, even if they think I abandoned her, why would anyone but the Bennets shun me?”

“People in these country neighborhoods can be very loyal to one of their own.” Still, it was surprising, especially given how popular Bingley had been before. Jane Bennet must have suffered badly. Perhaps she had even tried to harm herself. If she had, the locals might blame Bingley for that, although not as much as Darcy would blame himself. And Elizabeth would never, ever forgive him if she had almost lost her sister because of him. Bile rose in his throat.

“I cannot believe it. They were always so welcoming to me!” Poor Bingley. He was so accustomed to being well-liked by everyone.

Bingley seemed disinclined to believe Darcy, but he might listen to someone else. “Perhaps you should try calling on Sir William. I imagine he will receive you, and you could ask him about it.”

“Will you come with me?”

Darcy shook his head. “Your chances will be better if you go on your own. They never liked me here, although they were always polite about it.” And if he had to hear much more of Bingley’s chattering, he might go mad.

Bingley tugged at his cuffs. “I suppose it is worth a try.”

Still, thoughts of Elizabeth would not leave Darcy even after Bingley turned off onto the lane to Lucas Lodge. How could he arrange to speak to her if he had no invitations to social events and her family would not receive him? He needed a way to find her alone, without either Bingley or her family, but he could not simply haunt the lane to Longbourn in the hope of spotting her. She loved long walks, and there were only a limited number of footpaths near her home. That was it; he could ride every pathway until he came across her. If that failed, he would have to demean himself by bribing a Longbourn servant to tell him her whereabouts. His new valet had not yet proved trustworthy enough for delicate tasks of that nature.

He had to know. Even if her answer was that she still despised him, it would be better than not knowing.

***

TWO HOURS LATER, BINGLEY strode into the billiard room at Netherfield and slammed the door behind him, his eyes flashing with anger. “How could you?” he demanded.

Darcy stared at him. This was unlike the friend he had known for years. “How could I do what?” he asked cautiously.

“You know perfectly well! Sir William would tell me nothing, but then I spotted Jane Bennet walking to town and stopped to talk to her. She tried to avoid me, even begged me to leave her for her reputation’s sake, but I insisted she tell me what was the matter. Now do you know what I am talking about?”

“I have not the least idea.” His breath caught in his throat. Jane Bennet always thought the best of everyone. What could she hold against him?

Bingley clenched his fists. “Do you deny that you saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Kent, or that you met with her alone on several occasions?”

Darcy stiffened. Why would that be a problem? “I told you I had seen her. We met several times while walking in the park, but otherwise we were always in company.”

“What about the night when Mr. and Mrs. Collins were dining with Lady Catherine and you knew Miss Elizabeth was home alone? Do you deny leaving the dinner and going to see her?”

Darcy’s chest tightened. If Elizabeth had told her family about that, then they must also know what had passed between them, and he could not imagine why they would hold that against him. “I admit it freely.”

“And that the maid never saw you leave, and the next morning, before the household was awake, you were seen with Miss Elizabeth and you gave her a letter?”

Oh, no. Someone had been making mischief. “I gave her a letter, but I was only at the parsonage for a brief time, whether or not anyone saw me leave.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Elizabeth can offer no proof of that, as she went to bed before Mr. and Mrs. Collins returned, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed. But that does not matter. You went late at night for an assignation with a young lady whom we all know you admired. Surely you do not expect me to believe your purpose was innocent!” Perspiration beaded Bingley’s brow.

“I went there to talk to her, nothing more,” said Darcy grimly. “And that is all I did.”

“Why would you leave your aunt’s dinner party solely to talk to her? Was there a reason you could not wait to speak to her the next day?”

“I wanted to speak to her privately,” Darcy said through gritted teeth.

“So you did deliberately call on her when you knew she was alone! How can you justify that?” Bingley demanded.

He had to say it. “I asked her to marry me.” It was the last thing he wanted to admit, but how else could he explain his behavior? It looked so damning the way Bingley described it. “She refused me, and I left. She accused me of something that was not true, and I wanted her to know the truth. I wrote a letter of explanation, and the next morning I gave it to her. It contained nothing beyond a defense of my character.”

With a harsh bark of laughter, Bingley said, “You wanted to marry her? Why should I believe that after all the effort you went to in order to keep me from proposing to Jane Bennet? All the arguments about how far beneath me she was? Miss Elizabeth was even farther beneath you. You would never have considered marrying her.”

This was a disaster. “Everything you say is true, and I should not have proposed to her, but I did.”

“How do you account, then, for the fact that Miss Elizabeth accepted ruination without any mention of your proposal or asking you to redeem her reputation? How do you explain that?” Bingley’s nostrils flared.

Because Elizabeth despised him and would rather be ruined than to marry him. “I cannot explain her actions beyond that she did not wish to marry me.”

“I do not believe you. And you used me, convinced me to return here in the hope of resuming your liaison with her, and, fool that I am, I agreed! If anyone had needed more proof something was going on, your presence here provides it.”

His chest ached. “I suggested you come here because Miss Elizabeth had told me I was wrong about her sister not caring for you. I wanted you to have another chance. And yes, I hoped to see if my letter had improved Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of me, but that was all.”

Bingley slapped his palm against the top rail of the billiard table. “You admit, then, that you hid your motives for coming here, and still you claim that you did nothing improper?”

“Bingley, on my honor as a gentleman, I have told you the truth.” But he could not deny he had hidden his motivation.

Bingley stared at him with angry, bewildered eyes. “You ruined her, and with her, you ruined the woman I love. Because of you, Miss Elizabeth has had to leave Longbourn forever. The Bennets are in deep disgrace. No one here will receive them. No one will speak to them on the street. None of the daughters will be able to find decent husbands because of you.”

Elizabeth had left her family because of his attentions? “I had no intention of harming anyone, least of all Miss Elizabeth. I never touched her.” The words sounded hollow. Even if he had done nothing improper, Elizabeth and her family were suffering because of him.

Bingley’s mouth twisted. “How can I believe nothing happened when Miss Elizabeth quietly accepted her fate, knowing it would disgrace her sisters as well? I have seen the results here with my own eyes. Now get out of my house. I never wish to lay eyes on you again.”

“Bingley...” But there was no point. “I will leave, but this is not over.”

***

“A ROOM AT THE INN?” his valet repeated.

Darcy was too shaken by Bingley’s news to feel annoyed at this further evidence of Smithers’ lack of respect. “Yes, I want a room at the inn in Ware for tonight. Bring only what I will need for two days. Pack everything else and send it to Darcy House.”

“In London?”

“Of course in London. That is where Darcy House is. I will meet you later at the inn.” Devil take it, this was a terrible time to have a half-trained valet. If his old valet had still been with him, Darcy could have had him ask about Elizabeth among the Netherfield servants. He would have to do without that knowledge now.

He strode out of the room and down the stairs, averting his eyes as he passed the ballroom where he had danced with Elizabeth. It must be a painful memory for her now. His interest in her had ruined her reputation and her life.

At the front door he took his hat and gloves from the butler. “Kindly inform Mr. Bingley I have left. My valet is packing my trunks and will send them later.” He pulled his gloves on so forcefully that a seam gave way.

“Very good, sir.” The butler held the door open with an air of utter indifference.

Bingley stood in the doorway to the dining room watching him with no sign of softening on his face.

Darcy did not acknowledge him. Instead he strode towards the stable without looking back. Never before had a friend challenged his word of honor. That Bingley, perhaps the closest of his friends, should do so left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he could deal with Bingley after the matter of Elizabeth was settled.

He mounted and rode towards Longbourn, this time noticing as he passed through Meryton how many acquaintances averted their eyes from him. It had no doubt been happening since his arrival, but he had not paid attention since he had no desire to speak to them. Now it was clear he was being cut. How dare they sit in judgment over him when he was blameless, or close enough to make no difference?

Elizabeth had done this. By remaining silent and choosing to leave rather than to contest the gossip, she destroyed his good name. Not that the local gentry had ever liked him, but this was worse. Would word of his alleged crimes eventually reach the ton in London? It probably did not matter. Trying to seduce young ladies was expected behavior for gentlemen of the ton, but the people of Meryton were loyal to Elizabeth.

A doddering servant answered the door at Longbourn. Darcy thrust his card into the man’s hand. “I wish to see Mr. Bennet.”

The manservant held the card by his fingertips as if it were covered with some distasteful substance. “I will see if he is at home.” Instead of inviting Darcy to sit in the hall, he closed the door in Darcy’s face, leaving him to cool his heels on the doorstep. More proof that he was not welcome at Longbourn.

The old servant opened the door again. “Mr. Bennet is not at home.”

Darcy placed his booted foot in the door before the servant could close it. “Be so kind as to inquire when Mr. Bennet will be at home,” he said evenly.

The servant came back more quickly this time. “I have been told to inform you that no one in this house will ever be at home for you.” His voice quavered as he spoke through the opening above Darcy’s foot.

Enough was enough. He was trying to help them, dammit. “Stand out of my way, old man. I have no desire to hurt you.” To hurt Elizabeth’s father, yes, but not an innocent servant who was only following orders.

Fortunately, the man obeyed, scurrying backwards until Darcy could push past him. He paused in the entrance hall, trying to remember the arrangement of the house. The drawing room was to the right. He remembered that much. Mr. Bennet’s library had been straight ahead, had it not? He would find it somehow. His feet must have remembered the way, since the first door he chose was the correct one.

Mr. Bennet looked up at him, his face twisted with distaste. “Get out of my house,” he spat.

Darcy reminded himself to be patient. The man had reason to distrust him, after all. “I apologize for forcing my way in, but we cannot find a resolution to this matter if I am unable to speak to you.”

“There is no possible resolution,” Mr. Bennet said coldly. “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”

Patience. “I will leave after we have discussed the matter. I assume you would prefer to do so privately rather than having me shout my business so the entire house can hear. I have only just learned about what happened to Miss Elizabeth, and I am here to make matters right by offering to marry her.”

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

No? “What do you mean by that?” Darcy demanded.

“The answer is no. You have offered, and I have declined. Good day.”

What was wrong with the man? “This is ridiculous. As I imagine your daughter has told you, I never touched her, nor did I do anything improper beyond giving her a letter, and even that can be explained. The rest is nothing but conjecture and gossip. Miss Elizabeth has had to leave her family and friends, and your other daughters are in disgrace and will be unlikely to find husbands, but all of this can be repaired by Miss Elizabeth marrying me.”

The cords stood out in Mr. Bennet’s neck. “Lizzy does not wish to marry you, and she will do so only over my dead body, and I mean that literally. Is that clear enough for you?”

“I do not believe you. I will grant you that she dislikes me, but she is neither cruel nor unreasonable, and I refuse to believe she would choose for her sisters to suffer rather than even attempt to resolve the issue.”

Mr. Bennet curled his upper lip. “Lizzy has made her sentiments on this matter clear to me. She does not wish to marry you under any circumstances.”

Darcy’s temper was slipping. “Since you will not see reason, I will address myself directly to Miss Elizabeth. Where is she?”

Mr. Bennet smiled in cold triumph. “She is out of your reach. I am the only person who knows where she is, and I will not tell you. Not today, not ever.”

“Then I will make it my business to find her myself,” Darcy snapped.

“You will fail. She does not want you to find her, and I have made certain you cannot hurt her again.”

The man was irrational. There was no other way to explain it. “You are the one who is hurting Miss Elizabeth and your entire family with that attitude,” Darcy said icily. “I can only hope you will come to your senses. Pray send me word when you do.” Darcy stalked out of the library before he said anything worse. Half blind with rage, he nearly ran into Jane Bennet, who must have been drawn there by the raised voices. Mrs. Bennet stood a few feet behind her, fanning herself frantically.

He bowed. This could be an opportunity. “Miss Bennet, I have just been speaking to your father. He has categorically refused my offer to marry Miss Elizabeth and will not even permit me to speak to her. Perhaps you might have better fortune at making him see reason.”

Mrs. Bennet wailed, “Oh, Mr. Bennet! How could you?”

At least she seemed to understand the obvious, that Darcy marrying Elizabeth would solve all their problems. Darcy hoped she would make her husband’s life a misery. Heaven help him, if he had to rely on Mrs. Bennet’s assistance!  He added more gently, “Miss Bennet, should he change his mind, I hope I may rely on you to send word to me. I can be reached at Darcy House on Brook Street in London.”

Jane Bennet nodded dumbly, her mouth hanging open with shock.

“I thank you.” As the old servant was still cowering by the door, Darcy let himself out.

Seething, he rode to the end of the lane where it met the main road. The last thing he wanted was to go to an uncomfortable inn for the night. When he had made the plan, he had assumed Mr. Bennet would accept his proposal and they would need to meet further to discuss the settlement. Now there was no reason to stay. He would go back to London tonight, where he could nurse his wounds in privacy and decide what to do next.

Chapter 2

RETURNING TO DARCY House brought him no relief. His own bed was no doubt more comfortable than anything at an inn, but his thoughts were less agreeable. Why had Elizabeth not come to him for help? Was her dislike for him so strong as to make her sacrifice her home and her sisters for it? She must have decided that receiving a letter from him was too improper and not read it, so she would still believe Wickham’s lies and misunderstand his actions towards Bingley. She still hated him.

That possibility cut like a knife, but it was not as sharp as his fear of what might be happening to her now. Mr. Bennet was not sufficiently well off to provide an income for his daughter. At best she might be someone’s companion, a poor relative who was little more than an unpaid servant. Her father might have found her a position as a governess, subject to the whims of her employer, or she might be in service as a nursemaid or lady’s maid. His sparkling Elizabeth, subject to hard work and poor conditions, likely with no more than a half day a week for herself. His gut wrenched.

He jumped out of bed, fleeing the thoughts that tortured him, but he had no place to go. One glass of brandy became two, then three, as he stalked from room to room through the sleeping house seeking solutions to the problem of finding Elizabeth.

Jane Bennet and her mother were the most likely to discover the truth, but he could not simply wait and hope to hear from them. Surely someone at Longbourn must know more. Nothing could ever be kept secret from the servants. He would hire someone to make enquiries. Yes, that was the thing to do.

Was there nothing else he could do? Elizabeth had spoken with fondness of her aunt and uncle Gardiner in London. He even knew where they lived, courtesy of the snobbery of Bingley’s sisters, who loved to repeat their unfashionable address on Gracechurch Street in Cheapside. That would be enough to find them. It was unlikely Elizabeth would be there, or Mrs. Bennet would have told him so, but they might know something.

The brandy finally slowed his mind enough to go back to bed.

After a few fitful hours of sleep, he arose and headed to his solicitor’s office to inquire about a discreet investigator. The solicitor promised to send someone to Darcy that very afternoon.

He returned home, tired and in low spirits. For lack of anything more useful to do, he began to write a list of people in Meryton who might possibly know something about Elizabeth. It would give the investigator a place to start.

The knocker on the front door sounded. It had to be the investigator, since no one else knew he was back in London. But as soon as he saw his butler’s best inscrutable look, he realized he was mistaken. Of course. There was one person who always knew everything, who was no doubt aware of his arrival almost before he himself was. He and Richard had spent years trying to guess how she did it, with no success.

Hobbes announced, “The Countess of Matlock wishes to know if you are at home. She is waiting in the drawing room.”

Darcy groaned. This was not what he needed. He rubbed his temple where an incipient headache loomed and set off to face his formidable aunt.

Lady Matlock sat elegantly on the settee. “Darcy, I had not expected to see you back so soon. I hope you have not been ill. Have you had trouble sleeping?”

He was certain his omniscient aunt somehow knew exactly how late he had been awake. “I am perfectly well. Some unexpected business called me back, and it is keeping me busy.”

“I will try not to delay you, then. I wondered if you had heard anything from Jasper of late.”

Jasper again. Darcy barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Not since the spring, when he told me he would be going away and asked me not to look for him.” He hoped she would take the hint.

Unfortunately, his aunt was perfectly capable of ignoring the most blatant of hints when she chose, and when it came to the subject of her youngest son, she could be as unyielding as marble. “Do you have any suspicion as to where he went?”

“No. He said that he needed to be away from all of us for a time. He is an adult now and can make his own decisions.”

She sighed delicately. “He is, of course, but Jasper can still be so impulsive at times. I have tried not to worry about him, but there is a new concern. He has stopped collecting his allowance. It was to be paid almost two months ago, and he has always collected it immediately in the past. Usually he is in debt by the time it is due.”

Darcy was well aware of his cousin’s tendency to overspend his allowance, since Jasper usually came to him when he needed money urgently. “That is surprising, to be sure, but perhaps he is abroad somewhere it would be difficult to collect the money. No doubt he has friends who are willing to loan him money until he returns.”

“I hope so. It is so uncharacteristic of him, though, and he has not been happy for some time.”

“Perhaps that is why he wanted to get away.” That was more than a guess. But if Jasper were in trouble, all he needed to do was to send word. Elizabeth had no such option, and she was no doubt suffering more than Jasper was. “If I hear anything, I will let you know.”

“I thank you. You have always been very good to Jasper, and I know you are the first one he turns to when he needs help. It has been a comfort to me.”

It was easy to be good to Jasper, since his young cousin was accustomed to his elder brothers telling him he was useless, an embarrassment, and a lazy half-wit. Being good to him consisted of little more than failing to call him names. “He has a good heart.”

“I agree. But I do not wish to keep you from your urgent business, my dear.”

Relieved that she did not plan to stay longer, he rose and bowed. “It is always an honor, madam.”

***

THE INVESTIGATOR SEEMED competent enough. Darcy spent half an hour explaining the situation and cautioning him about particular individuals, especially Wickham. Not that there was any obvious reason why Wickham would be involved in Elizabeth’s disgrace and disappearance, but when something unfortunate happened and Wickham was in the vicinity, he usually had something to do with it. The investigator agreed to return with a preliminary report in three days.

But that was not enough, so it was time for some investigation of his own. It took only a few coins placed in the correct hand on Gracechurch Street to discover that Elizabeth’s uncle worked at the publishing house of Gardiner & Howe. At first he thought it must be a mistake. From the disdainful way the Bingley sisters had talked about Elizabeth’s uncle, he had assumed he was a merchant, not a well-known publisher.

He had also expected Mr. Gardiner to be as boorish as Elizabeth’s mother, but instead the man he faced was fashionably attired and poised, as tidy in his appearance as the book-lined office surrounding him. “Mr. Gardiner, I thank you for seeing me. My name is Darcy, and I imagine you are aware of my connection to your niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He extended his hand, although he expected Mr. Gardiner would refuse to shake it.

He had been wrong. Mr. Gardiner’s grip was firm. “I am aware of the general situation, of course, although I cannot account for your interest in meeting me. Do sit down,” he said.

“Thank you.” If only his interview with Elizabeth’s father had gone this smoothly! “I have just learned of the malicious gossip concerning Miss Elizabeth and me. Naturally, I went straight to her father and told him I wished to marry her.”

“Very proper,” said Mr. Gardiner with a warm smile. “I am glad to hear it. Am I to assume congratulations are in order?”

“Unfortunately not. Mr. Bennet refused even to consider the possibility of marriage and told me to leave his house.”

Mr. Gardiner’s eyebrows rose. “That is rather surprising. Did he give a reason?”

Darcy laced his fingers together tightly. “He said Miss Elizabeth did not wish to marry me, which may well be true. I am aware she does not hold me in affection, although some of her dislike is based on a misunderstanding. I told Mr. Bennet I would like to speak to Elizabeth directly to see if we might come to an agreement. He refused to tell me where I could find her.”

Mr. Gardiner steepled his fingers. “That sounds unlike my brother-in-law. Are you certain you did not misunderstand? He sometimes expresses opinions not his own simply to see people’s reaction.”

Darcy gave a slight smile. “Miss Elizabeth does the same thing on occasion. I did not misunderstand. He said she was beyond my reach, he was the only one who knows where she is, and he would never tell me. I hoped you might be willing to inform me of her location. I would, of course, agree to have any meeting chaperoned by the person of your choice.”

Mr. Gardiner leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I might be willing to do so if I knew where she was, but I am as ignorant as you are on that matter.”

Or perhaps he was feigning ignorance. “Surely you must have an address where you write to her. I recall she corresponded regularly with your wife.”

“She did, yes,” said Mr. Gardiner slowly. “She no longer corresponds with anyone in the family.”

Darcy caught his breath. “Not even her sisters?”

“Not even them. It seems unnecessarily strict to me. Some of us are unhappy about it.”

Darcy’s midnight fears roused themselves and grabbed him by the throat. He hesitated, but plunged on. “Mr. Gardiner, I will not be offended if you accuse me of wild imaginings, but the way he said it – that she was beyond my reach – together with his refusal to consider the marriage or to allow me to speak to her made me wonder if...if it is possible Miss Elizabeth accidentally came to some harm after she left Longbourn. Until now, I told myself that was nonsense. But if none of you have heard from her....” He could not say it.

Mr. Gardiner became still for a long minute. “That is a disquieting thought. I feel certain my brother-in-law would not do anything to hurt one of his children, especially Lizzy, who has always been his favorite. But an accident would account for a number of puzzling things.” He shook his head as if to chase the image away. “My instinct is that he would have told us if something had happened to her, but I rather wish you had not put that thought in my head.”

“My apologies. I have lost sleep over it myself, and nothing could make me happier than to be proved wrong.”

Mr. Gardiner cocked his head. “You are concerned for her.” Clearly that surprised him.

“Of course I am! I...” The truth struck him. Mr. Gardiner must think this was only a matter of honor for him. “She never told you, did she?”

“About what?”

“That evening I went to see her, I offered her my hand. She refused me and made certain accusations. My letter to her was a response to those accusations.” Why was he telling this complete stranger something he held so close he had not even told Richard, and only told Bingley under duress? It felt right, though, as if he could trust Mr. Gardiner because he also loved Elizabeth.

“No,” said Mr. Gardiner slowly. “She never mentioned that, at least not to me. Lizzy can be very private about certain things. I am glad your interest in the matter goes beyond the question of meeting your obligations with honor.”

“It does.” Why did his voice sound hoarse?

“May I have your leave to discuss this matter with my wife? I value her opinion, and she has a better understanding of both Lizzy and Mr. Bennet than I do. I would, of course, ask her not to repeat any of it.” Clearly this tradesman had a sense of honor, or he would not have bothered to ask Darcy’s permission.

“Of course. If either of you have any suggestions for me, I would be happy to hear them. I am somewhat at a loss at present.” Again, something he would not usually admit to, but he knew his doubts were safe with this man.

“My initial thought is that I will have a word with Lizzy’s father myself. Something about this is not right.”

That could not hurt. “Do you have any ideas where I might start to look for her, places where she has relatives or friends?”

Mr. Gardiner considered. “Not immediately. Apart from me, all of her mother’s family lives in Meryton, and the only relative I know of on the Bennet side is a distant cousin who is to inherit the estate. Bennet must have some friends from his university days, but he has not mentioned them to me. He is not one to keep up social connections.” He seemed to ponder this, and then his eyes twinkled. “I suppose he could not ask my help in hiding her, since I would suggest my wife’s family and friends, which would be a singularly poor choice if he wished to keep her from you. My wife is from Lambton. Her father held the living there.”

“Lambton? But that is no more than five miles from my home at Pemberley!” exclaimed Darcy. “Is she the late Mr. Carlisle’s daughter, then?”

Mr. Gardiner’s smile widened. “You have a good memory.”

Suddenly embarrassed, Darcy said, “I did not know him well. I remember him judging the tug-of-war at a village fete. He took it in remarkable good humor when he lost his footing and ended up as mud-covered as any of the participants.” It had struck him at the time because he had little experience of adults who could laugh at themselves.

“My wife has told me that tale, and how he permitted some of the little girls to clean the mud off by throwing buckets of well water at him.”

Darcy smiled at the memory. “He gave a shilling to the one who had the best aim, and told the others to practice their skills for the next year.”

“My wife will be delighted to hear that you remember that.” Mr. Gardiner tapped his finger on Darcy’s calling card. “Is this address the best way to reach you, should I discover anything of interest?”

The sheer relief of having an ally nearly took Darcy’s breath away. “Yes, I thank you. I thank you very much.”

***

THE NEXT MORNING DARCY set out for Hunsford to consult with Elizabeth’s friend Mrs. Collins. When he had last visited Rosings, the spring flowers had been blooming, and now the leaves were falling from the trees, and bare branches reached towards the grey sky. The village was just north of his aunt’s estate of Rosings Park, so it took only a minor detour to reach the parsonage while avoiding riding past Rosings. Otherwise someone would undoubtedly report his presence to Lady Catherine.

He knew Mr. Collins would not take his side in this, so he waited out of sight of the parsonage until he saw Mr. Collins walking towards Rosings for his usual morning visit to Lady Catherine. A maid answered the door and showed him into the sitting room where Elizabeth had torn his heart to shreds. Now it held only Mrs. Collins, and none of the life Elizabeth had once brought to it.

Mrs. Collins said, “This is a surprise, Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine had not mentioned you would be visiting.”

“She knows nothing of my presence. I am here solely to speak to you.”

“I cannot imagine why,” she said coolly. That was not a good sign.

“I am attempting to locate Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I hoped you might know her whereabouts.”

Mrs. Collins pursed her lips. “I have heard nothing from Lizzy since she sent me a note of thanks after her visit last spring. You would do better to ask at Longbourn.” Definitely cold this time, but she had carefully avoided saying she did not know where Elizabeth was.

He had come this far; he might as well keep trying. “She is not at Longbourn, as I suspect you know. I have only just discovered her so-called disgrace. I say ‘so-called’ because she did nothing disgraceful. I wish to make matters right, but I cannot do that if I do not know where she is.” He bit out the last few words.

“An admirable sentiment, Mr. Darcy. Again, I encourage you to inquire at Longbourn.”

“I have done so and failed to get satisfaction. Mrs. Collins, you know me better than her family does. I have never been improper to Miss Elizabeth. Have I ever given you reason to believe I would seduce and abandon a young woman?”

She raised her chin. “It is not my place to judge my betters, sir, nor to consider what honorable reason a gentleman might have to give a single young lady a letter.”

Devil take it! “I agree giving her the letter was improper, but there was nothing improper in the letter itself. It contained a defense of my character, nothing more.”

“Mr. Darcy, this is none of my affair. You are the nephew of my husband’s patroness, and as I said, I cannot judge anything else. Would you care for some tea?” Was that meant as a reminder that she had to please Lady Catherine rather than him?

“I thank you, no,” he said through gritted teeth. “I ask you to reconsider. Your friend’s happiness and respectability are at stake, as is the reputation of her entire family.”

“I am sorry for their difficulties, but there is nothing I can do to help you.” Mrs. Collins rubbed her arms ostentatiously. “Are you warm enough, Mr. Darcy? I will stir the fire.” She crossed to the hearth and picked up the poker.

As if he were so badly bred as to allow a lady to do such a task! Darcy held out his hand for the poker. “Pray permit me the honor,” he said icily.

She held out the poker but did not release it to his hand. “Why, thank you, Mr. Darcy.” As she spoke, she cupped her hand behind her ear and then pointed towards the door.

Was someone listening to their conversation?

She knew something! How could he speak to her privately? Darcy nodded to indicate he had received her message. Taking the poker, he stirred the coals. “Is that better?”

“Much better, I thank you. It has been such a cold day. Are you certain you will not take tea? I would not wish for you to take a chill on your journey home, especially after I have been unable to assist you.”

“Perhaps a cup of tea would be welcome,” he said slowly.

Mrs. Collins went to the door and spoke to someone outside it. “A tea tray for two, Mary. And do not forget the sugar this time.” She continued to watch out the door as footsteps receded.

She darted to his side and spoke in a low voice. “Jane writes that she was sent to live with her aunt in Scotland.”

Finally, a place to start! “What is her aunt’s name? Where does she live?” he asked eagerly.

“I do not know. Lizzy told me once she thought she lived somewhere near Edinburgh because her letters to Mr. Bennet talked of the fine shopping there. She was never allowed to write to her aunt; there is something disreputable about her, although she is well-to-do. She is Mr. Bennet’s sister, but I believe she is married.”

“I have never heard mention of an aunt in Scotland.” Could Mrs. Collins be giving him a false lead?

“The Bennets claim she died some time ago. Lizzy used to wonder if she might have eloped. I only know she is still alive because Lizzy confided in me when her aunt asked Mr. Bennet to allow one of his daughters to come to live with her. Lizzy wanted to go, but her father refused. I wish I could tell you more, but that is all I know.” At the sound of footsteps in the hall, she raised her voice. “Mr. Darcy, you may ask me a hundred times if you please, but I will still be unable to tell you where Lizzy is!”

He had to say something. “Can you think of anyone who might know?” Why did she feel unable to tell him when the maid could hear? It must be that husband of hers. Lady Catherine would be furious if she knew Darcy was looking for Elizabeth, so Mr. Collins would disapprove of it, too. Mrs. Collins could not afford to anger her husband or Lady Catherine. He was fortunate she had told him as much as she had.

“Her family, as I have already said. But that is enough on that subject. How were the roads from London?”

“In good condition, I thank you.” But his mind was racing ahead, even as they conversed. At last he had discovered something! A less-than-reputable aunt who was well-to-do and liked to shop in Edinburgh. It was little enough to go on, but it was something. Edinburgh was not large; how many wealthy women with nieces recently arrived from England could there be?

He had to suppress the urge to jump on his horse and gallop off to Edinburgh. What should his next step be? He could stay in London and continue to press the Bennets and Mr. Gardiner for a name or address while sending someone to Edinburgh to look for her on his behalf, but if Elizabeth were going by a different name, it would be useless. There were too many women who matched the description of dark eyes, dark hair, and a light and pleasing figure. Or he could go to Scotland himself, knowing as little as he did.

Yes, that was it. Now that he knew where to find her, he would do it himself. But if he wished to travel to Edinburgh, he needed to do it soon or wait until spring. It was already the end of October, and travel would take much longer as the days grew shorter and the weather worsened. Ewan Ramsay had been inviting him to visit ever since their Cambridge days. That would provide an excuse if anyone happened to ask.

His mind was consumed with plans on the ride back to London. He had to write a letter to Ramsay warning him of his imminent arrival in Edinburgh. The letter would arrive only a few days before he did, but he could not simply appear on Ramsay’s doorstep after all these years. His valet would require delicate handling, too, since he would not be pleased by the change of plans. After Darcy returned to London, he would sack the man and find a valet who would make his life easier, not harder.

When he reached Darcy House, he was preoccupied enough that he barely nodded to his butler as he handed him his hat and gloves.

His butler cleared his throat. “You had a caller this afternoon, sir.”

Darcy did not care about whatever acquaintance had called. “Later, Hobbes.”

“He seemed to feel a certain urgency to speak to you, so I suggested he leave you a note.”

“Put it on my desk.” Darcy had no time for this.

Hobbes thrust a silver salver in front of him, blocking his path. Darcy bit back a curse. Why did Hobbes have to choose this of all days to be difficult?

The card on the salver read Mr. Edward Gardiner.

Darcy snatched the note under the card and broke the seal.

Mr. Darcy,

I have just returned from Longbourn, and, while I did not get the satisfaction I wished for from my brother Bennet, he did show me evidence which indicates our worst fears are baseless. Forgive my impertinence in leaving you this note, but I thought you might wish to know immediately. I will try to call tomorrow to give you a full report, but if you are impatient, you are welcome to come to my house. I will be there the remainder of the day, and you need not worry about coming outside of calling hours.

Yours, etc.,

E. Gardiner

Darcy closed his eyes as relief swept through him. Elizabeth was alive! Bless Mr. Gardiner. “Hobbes, my hat and gloves. I am going out.”

“Yes, sir.” The butler held out the required items. Darcy clapped his hat to his head and tugged on his gloves. He ought to change his dusty clothes, but he did not care.

Hobbes opened the door for him. As Darcy stepped through, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “Excellent work, as always, Hobbes.”

***

MR. GARDINER STOOD and shook his hand. “Mr. Darcy, I suspected you might make an appearance here.”

“I was grateful for your offer.” Darcy tried to quell his impatience.

“I suppose you are anxious to hear the news, so I will skip the preliminaries. Bennet showed me a letter he had received from Lizzy, or rather a small part of the letter. He folded it over so I could only see the first six lines. It was dated in August of this year, but she did not include her location with the date, although that is her usual habit.”

Breathe. He needed to keep breathing to stay calm. “What did it say?”

“Remarkably little. She hoped he and the rest of the family were well. The weather had been remarkably pleasant for the last four days, and she had taken advantage of it to go exploring. It ended midsentence saying she just returned from a walk in Queen – and it cut off at that point. Perhaps it was Queen Park, Queen Street, Queen Charlotte’s Garden, or any of the dozens of place names that begin with Queen.” Mr. Gardiner gestured to the large open book on his desk. “I was just looking for them in the gazetteer.”

“Was it her handwriting?”

Mr. Gardiner nodded. “It seemed to be. It must have been a short letter because the lines had not been crossed, and it sounded stilted. Lizzy usually writes long letters.”

Was she kept too busy with chores to have the time for a long letter? Darcy’s chest grew tight. “She should not have lacked for subject matter if he is her only correspondent.”

“I would have thought so as well, but it is difficult to guess anything from those few lines. Brandy?”

“That would be welcome.” Darcy accepted the snifter the older man handed him. Perhaps that would ease the coldness inside him. “Were you able to learn anything else?”

“Only that you have had a disruptive effect on the household. Mrs. Bennet was most displeased that your proposal was rejected, and she made this very clear. Mr. Bennet is distracting her by sending her and the girls to Bath. He refused to tell me anything more about Lizzy, but I spoke to Jane briefly. She said Elizabeth confided in her about your proposal, and cannot understand why she did not seek you out.”

At the sound of a light knock, Mr. Gardiner stood and admitted a petite woman. “Come in. My dear, may I present Mr. Darcy? I was just telling him about my recent visit to Longbourn.”

Darcy bowed. “It is a pleasure, Mrs. Gardiner. I do not recall meeting you in Derbyshire, but I remember your father.”

“My husband mentioned that.” Mrs. Gardiner’s movements were quick and birdlike. “I still retain a particular fondness for that part of England. My husband and I visited Lambton this summer. We had planned to take Lizzy with us, but it was not to be.” A look of sadness crossed her face.

A pang of yearning filled him at the idea of Elizabeth so near to Pemberley. “I was about to tell Mr. Gardiner that I learned something today. I traveled into Kent to see Miss Elizabeth’s friend, Mrs. Collins. She claims the eldest Miss Bennet told her in a letter that Miss Elizabeth was with her aunt, Mr. Bennet’s sister, in Edinburgh.”

Mr. Gardiner exchanged a puzzled glance with his wife. “That cannot be. Bennet’s sister died many years ago.”

“Mrs. Collins said everyone was told she was dead because she is somehow not respectable. Miss Elizabeth was not allowed to be in contact with her, but her aunt had asked Mr. Bennet to have one of the girls come to live with her. There is no love lost between them, and he has always refused in the past.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s brow furled. “Edward, did he ever mention this to you?”

“No, but he would not have. If he meant everyone to believe his sister was dead, the last person he would have admitted the truth to was his wife. She cannot keep a secret. If she did not know, there would be no reason for him to tell me.”

Darcy asked, “Do you know anything about his sister from before her supposed death?”

Mrs. Gardiner said, “She had left long before I met Mr. Bennet, but Edward grew up in Meryton. He must remember something.”

Mr. Gardiner’s eyes seemed to fix on a point far away. “She was a year or two older than Fanny – than Mrs. Bennet – and I must have been ten or twelve when she ran off, too young to be noticing girls. She was very lively and popular, much more than her brother. She was someone you would notice in a crowd, very vibrant, rather like Lizzy. Actually, Lizzy bears a resemblance to her, if my memory serves. She ran off with her music master, which is why Bennet refused to allow the girls to have one.”

Ran off with her music master, but was now well-to-do? Odd. “Do you recall the music master’s name? She will not be calling herself Bennet now.”

Mr. Gardiner pondered, but shook his head. “I am sorry. It was an Italian name, but that is all I can recall.”

“Do you plan to try to find her, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.

“Of course. I will leave for Scotland as soon as I can.”

Mr. Gardiner opened the gazetteer and paged through it. “Edinburgh. There is a Queen Street, and, better yet, Queen Street Gardens. That would work. She might take a walk in Queen Street Gardens.”

“It will be difficult to find her aunt, knowing so little of her,” Mrs. Gardiner pointed out.

He did not need reminding of that. “I may fail, but I must try.”

Mr. Gardiner nodded. “An admirable sentiment.”

“It is getting late,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Mr. Darcy, would you care to dine with us? It will be but an informal, simple family meal, but you are welcome to join us.”

There was a certain hardness in her voice that made him think this was a test of some sort, but he could not guess what it was. “I would not wish to impose, and I am still dressed for riding.”

“It is no matter. No one but us will see you.”

And he could keep talking about Elizabeth. He was so accustomed to keeping his own counsel that he had not realized how much he had longed for that. “If it is not an imposition, then I would be happy to join you.” He could write to Ramsay later.

She gave a pleased nod. “I am glad to hear it.” She tilted her head in the same way Elizabeth did when she was preparing to tease. “Your friend Mr. Bingley’s sisters could not shake the dust of Gracechurch Street off quickly enough. I am glad to see you do not share that opinion.”

Was he still the same man who thought Elizabeth’s low connections would degrade him? Now he understood better what truly mattered.

***

THE INVESTIGATOR SAT down on the opposite side of Darcy’s desk and shuffled his papers. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet returned to Longbourn in the second week of May, accompanied by her eldest sister and Miss Maria Lucas. No one reports anything unusual apart from one maid who felt Miss Elizabeth was out of spirits. She attended a variety of social engagements which I have listed here.” He handed Darcy a sheet of paper. “She had a disagreement with her father over her youngest sister’s plans to travel to Brighton. A footman recalls hearing her say something to indicate that her marital chances and those of her sisters had been damaged, but he could not recall the reason.”

Darcy read the list of engagements and pointed to one of them. “This. A group of officers dined at Longbourn. Did you learn anything about that?”

He flipped through his notes. “Six officers dined there, including Mr. Wickham, who was seen talking to Miss Elizabeth at one point. The maid who told me that said he seemed displeased afterwards, but as she herself admired and flirted with Mr. Wickham, I deemed it might be wishful thinking. After dinner, the ladies spoke about the regiment’s upcoming departure while the gentlemen discussed politics.”

Darcy ran his finger down the list. “And this, a week later. Mr. Collins called on Miss Elizabeth. What was that about?”

“No one seemed to know, but she was angry afterwards. Several days later, she announced she was going to visit her aunt and uncle in London, though she had stayed with them quite recently. She and her father left the next day. Mr. Bennet returned alone a fortnight later. The laundry maid said that all his clothes were dirty and dusty, as though he had been on the road for some time. He told the family Miss Elizabeth would not be coming back, but refused to give further details. Her oldest sister was distraught.”

Darcy frowned. “The gossip about her must have arisen very quickly, if the Bennets were entertaining only a week or so before she left.”

“That is a puzzling matter. The gossip did not start until a month or so after Miss Elizabeth’s departure. I checked this with servants at different houses to be certain of it. There was no scandal at the time she left.”

Then why would she have left? “Were you able to ascertain where the gossip began?”

“Lady Lucas’s name was mentioned several times when I asked people how they had learned of it.”

Lady Lucas, whose daughter was married to Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine’s parson. Mrs. Collins would not have passed that gossip along, but he suspected her husband would not have hesitated to inform his in-laws. Darcy would reserve the pleasure of choking the truth out of Collins for when he had more proof.

“Word of the scandal apparently reached the militia regiment which had relocated to Brighton. Miss Lydia, the youngest Bennet daughter, had gone there as a guest of the colonel’s wife, and was sent back in disgrace shortly afterwards.”

Darcy considered the list in his hand. “I would like to know more about Mr. Collins’s visit to Longbourn, including whom else he spoke to and whether he stayed at Lucas Lodge. Pray give further attention to the matter of Miss Lydia Bennet, especially whether Mr. Wickham was in Brighton and had any knowledge of her plans.”

The investigator made a note. “The Bennet ladies will be traveling to Bath soon. Do you wish to have someone check on their activities there? I think it unlikely that Miss Elizabeth is there, given Mr. Bennet’s insistence on secrecy, but it is possible.”

“I agree, but it is worth checking. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Lydia do not watch their tongues well and may say something of import.” If Scotland proved to be a wild goose chase, he would need every lead he could get.

***

DARCY SENT A LETTER to Georgiana at Pemberley advising her of his plans, but not of the reason for his trip, and promising to see her on his return journey. She would likely be unhappy that he would pass so close to Pemberley without stopping, but that would cause him to lose several days at the very least.

The other trip arrangements went smoothly. His valet made fewer complaints about the upcoming journey than Darcy had expected. Was Smithers finally learning not to question his orders?

The night before they were due to leave for Edinburgh, Mr. Gardiner sent Darcy another note informing him that his wife had received a letter from Jane Bennet, confirming her belief that Elizabeth was in Scotland with her aunt. She did not know anything further about the aunt, but recalled that her surname sounded Scottish. That was unlikely to be helpful in a city full of people with Scottish surnames, but at least he could make the journey with less worry that Mrs. Collins might have sent him on a wild-goose chase.

He and Smithers would be traveling by private post-chaise, since the light vehicle would be faster than taking his own carriage. Even so, they would likely be on the road for six days, and perhaps more if the weather turned bad. But the prize at the end would be worth it. He would find Elizabeth, rescue her from whatever situation she was in, and marry her. A rush of pleasure filled him at the thought.

Chapter 3

“AND THEY CALL THIS the Athens of the north,” Darcy muttered to himself as he gazed out the post-chaise window at the streets of Edinburgh’s Old Town. After nearly a week of travel, most of it spent either reading a guide to Edinburgh or in happy daydreams of seeing Elizabeth again, it was a shock to see the narrow, gloomy roads lined with dubious-looking tenements pushed one up against another, some of them six stories tall. Did the sun ever reach the street below?

One winding, dirty street after another. Why was the postilion taking him this way? Darcy had told him he wished to see Hanover Street where Ramsay lived before stopping at the White Horse Inn, but that could hardly explain it. He was certain Ramsay would live in a respectable part of town.

Just as he was about to call out to the postilion to go straight to the inn, they drove onto a bridge and the sky abruptly became visible. Even though the day was cloudy, it was surprisingly bright after the dark streets. At least the bridge was wide and seemed to be of recent construction. And on the other side they entered a completely different city, as light as the older part of the city had been dark, with wide avenues and sweeping vistas.

The terraced buildings on the broad streets were attractive and modern, interspersed with large classically designed buildings. There were columns everywhere. A picturesque castle loomed over the landscape. This town could indeed be called the Athens of the North. Edinburgh apparently expected its visitors to descend into the bowels of hell before reaching the promised land.

Fashionably dressed gentlemen and ladies strolled along the pavement, just as they would in the best parts of London, if the streets of London happened to be wider and cleaner than he had ever seen them, and the air less full smoke and soot. Already his eyes sought out every female form and compared it to Elizabeth. She was here somewhere. He was certain of it.

“New Town, sir. Turning onto Hanover Street,” called the postilion over his shoulder.

Ramsay’s house was as modern as the rest. Then the coach took him back across the bridge into the dirt and squalor of Old Town. Fortunately, the White Horse Inn turned out to be in a better neighborhood near the castle, but still it was nothing compared to New Town.

The postilion jumped down and lowered the steps. “Your inn, sir.”

***

“DARCY!” RAMSAY PUMPED his hand heartily. “I could not believe it when I read your letter. I had given up hope of ever tempting you here!”

His friend’s enthusiasm was infectious, especially after an uncomfortable night at the inn. “Ramsay, it is a pleasure.”

His old university friend was still unquestionably the same young man with whom Darcy had fenced during the day and argued philosophy at night over too much wine. Now his face showed more laugh lines and his ginger hair had darkened to auburn. “What is all this nonsense about an inn? You must stay with us, of course.”

“I would be pleased to do so, but I do not wish to impose. I gave you so little warning of my arrival. I did not even know if you would be in town.”

“You are always welcome at my house, even without notice. What brings you here at such an unpleasant season, though? Not the charm of my character, I warrant you.”

“Business of a sort. I am looking for a girl.”

Ramsay’s eyebrows rose. “Well, we have plenty of those here.”

“A particular girl, one who is missing. She was sent here a few months ago to live with her aunt, whose name I do not know.”

Ramsay’s forehead creased. “An English girl who arrived a few months ago? I cannot think of any, but I rarely notice these things. My wife is more likely to be helpful.”

***

“AN ENGLISH GIRL ARRIVING last spring or summer?” Mrs. Ramsay screwed up her pretty face in concentration. “Perhaps... No, she was here last winter. I do not believe I have heard the name Bennet. If you like, I can inquire among my friends – discreetly, of course."

“I would be most grateful,” Darcy said. This was what he needed; assistance from his friends who knew Edinburgh and its inhabitants.

“We should also think of places young ladies are apt to go. We must attend dances at the assembly rooms, of course, and such soirées as are happening. Milliners, of course – I will inquire among the better milliners and modistes. Does she enjoy reading?”

“She does.”

“The circulating library as well, then. Concerts, the theatre, the market. You must tell me what things she likes. It should not be impossible to find one young lady in Edinburgh, even if she is using a different name. Society is small enough that we notice newcomers.” Her lilting Scottish accent became stronger as she grew more animated. “We will find your Miss Bennet.”

Ramsay added, “My valet attends me when I call on patients. He can ask the servants if they are aware of any new arrivals. I also have a man of business who could make inquiries in the parts of town where we have no connections.”

Five-year-old Matilda tugged at her father’s trousers. “If I ran away, I would become an actress.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Ramsay scooped up the girl in his arms. “Now we will know where to look for you, poppet.”

Mrs. Ramsay’s lips trembled with suppressed laughter. “I thought you were with Nurse, Miss Mischief! You need not worry, though; I will be certain to check the actresses as well.”

Something about the little girl reminded Darcy of Elizabeth. “I thank you for your advice, Miss Ramsay,” he said with a bow.

The girl giggled. “He called me Miss Ramsay!” she told her father. “I like him. May I marry him when I grow up?”

“Darcy will be old and gray by then,” said her indulgent father. “And you would break the hearts of the handsome young men who will be violently in love with you.”

“I do not care about them,” announced Matilda. “I like Mr. Darcy better.”

It was a pity Elizabeth had not shared the girl’s sentiments, but that did not matter now. He had a second chance, and he would tell her everything that had been in his letter of explanation, and she would at last see him as he truly was.

***

“THERE IS A PLAY TONIGHT.” Mrs. Ramsay looked up from the broadsheet she held. “Bluebeard, or Female Curiosity. It sounds dreadful, but I think we should go. Even disreputable people go to the theatre, so she and her aunt might be in the audience.”

“A good idea, but you need not accompany me if you prefer a quiet evening at home,” said Darcy. “I have kept you out almost every evening since I arrived.” Soirées, assemblies, musicales – Edinburgh had far too many social events, and Elizabeth did not seem to be at any of them. The burst of elation he had felt on arriving in Edinburgh had faded with each failure.

Mrs. Ramsay said, “We had best accompany you. Three pairs of eyes are better than one. Mrs. MacLean is performing, and she is always worth watching.”

Ramsay shook his head. “Darcy has no need of us to make introductions at the theatre. A night at home will do us good.”

***

DARCY PAID EXTRA FOR a private box with a good view of the audience. The Theatre Royal was larger than he had expected and nearly as ornate as its better-known cousin in Covent Garden, but Darcy cared only about the theatregoers. Raising Ramsay’s opera glasses to his face, he began to scan the audience row by row, pausing to study each young woman. One possibility faced away from him. Dark hair, light figure, and a certain vibrancy. Could it be her? He silently pleaded with her to turn her head, but it was no use. He would have to return to her later. Who would have thought there were so many dark-haired young ladies in Edinburgh?

He barely attended to the play, a horrid melodrama, instead studying the boxes opposite him. Nothing. He could not see the boxes above or below him. Elizabeth could be in one of them and he would never know.

He pointed the opera glasses at the dark-haired girl again. Disappointment surged at the sight of her sharp nose and pointed chin. Not Elizabeth. He should not have let himself hope.

Perhaps he had missed someone or a latecomer had arrived. The back of the theatre was full of shadows, so he started again at the front. No, not that one. No, not her. No, no, no.

A familiar shout of male laughter made Darcy’s head snap towards the stage. He squinted at the young actor playing the... Well, he had not paid enough attention to know what role he was playing. His skin was too pale, but that could be greasepaint. But that voice...Good God, it really was Jasper! Darcy was going to wring his neck. He pulled the playbill out of his pocket and examined the cast list. No Fitzwilliam, of course, but there was a Mr. Fitzpatrick. That would be him.

Now the play had Darcy’s full attention, or at least one actor in it did. The play itself could not hold his interest, especially since now he was seething with anger.

But even his fury could not make him forget about Elizabeth. When the interval came, Darcy strode through the crowd of playgoers, his gaze flickering over each young woman he passed. People edged away from him. His fury must be showing in his face. This was not the sort of attention he wanted to draw. He made an effort to walk more slowly and pretend he was calm.

No Elizabeth. An unexpected surge of longing for her so strong he could almost taste it ripped through him. God, why had she not contacted him in London? He needed her, and she was not here.

He was cravenly glad to return to the privacy of his box. Elizabeth was so strongly in his mind he could practically feel her beside him. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine her as he waited for the damnable play to end.

***

A SHORT ROTUND MAN opened the stage door to Darcy’s knock. “Here for Miss Belanger?” he asked knowingly.

“I wish to see Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“Fitzpatrick? He don’t usually get visitors.”

“I am a relation of his,” said Darcy repressively.

“Hoy! He says he got no family.”

“By the time I am done with him, he may wish that were true,” said Darcy through gritted teeth. How dare this fellow keep him standing at the door?

The man laughed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Back there.”

Darcy wove his way through a confusing maze of bits of scenery and props to an open space, if one could call it that when a dozen people were moving purposefully through it. Jasper sat in his shirtsleeves at a small table where he was engaged in scrubbing greasepaint from his face. The dark wig he had worn sat on the table, but as Darcy watched, a young girl came by, took it up, and walked off with a saucy sway of the hips.

Darcy came up unseen behind Jasper and said in a voice dripping with irony, “Mr. Fitzpatrick, I presume.”

Jasper jumped. “Darcy!” He lowered his voice. “Dammit, I told you not to look for me.”

“I didn’t look for you. I came to the theatre to see a play, and you traipsed across the stage. I could hardly miss you.”

His cousin scowled. “Edinburgh is a long way from Pemberley, and this is not even the sort of play you like. And you expect me to believe it was a coincidence?”

“Believe what you like, but I am here on business having nothing to do with you.”

Jasper grabbed Darcy’s sleeve and tugged him to one side just as two workmen carried through a large piece of scenery, one side painted with the details of a Moorish palace, the other side plain canvas. “Are you going to tell my parents?” he said in a low voice.

“Why should I? You are of age, and I have no burning desire to break your mother’s heart.”

“Darcy, you do not understand,” Jasper said urgently. “I need to do this. I came here because it was far away and no one here knows me. The precious family name is safe.” He sounded bitter.

“Acting? This is what you need to do?” Darcy dodged as more scenery was carried past him.

“I have always loved to act, even in those silly little plays my sister made us perform. Cambridge was the best time of my life because I could do amateur theatricals. It is in my blood. Sooner or later I will have to go home and bury myself in the church, but I want some time to live first, something I can remember the rest of my life as I am smothering in some rural living.”

“Spare me the melodrama, I pray you. I am not going to tell your parents. At least you had the sense to use a different name.” Darcy could not keep a note of censure out of his voice.

“Shh! No one here knows!” hissed Jasper. “I do not expect you to understand what it is like to desire one thing so much that nothing else matters. You have never set a foot wrong.”

“You might be surprised,” said Darcy slowly. “If this is what you wish to do, it is no business of mine.”

“Good night, my loves!” called a woman of mature years from the stage door. “Until tomorrow!”

Jasper raised a hand in salute without looking towards her. Darcy glanced over to see a woman in an extravagantly feathered hat blowing kisses to the other actors.

Beside her stood Elizabeth Bennet.

He stared at her in shock. Her eyes widened at the sight of him and she dashed out the door. His cousin forgotten, Darcy set out after her. Or he would have, had his way not been blocked by another enormous piece of scenery. He attempted to squeeze around the end of it.

“Hoy there!” The workman stuck his elbow in Darcy’s rib.

The older woman was disappearing out the door.

Darcy turned back to Jasper. “Is there a way around this?” he demanded.

“In a few minutes.” Jasper returned to cleaning his face.

“I must speak to Miss Bennet before she leaves!”

“Who is Miss Bennet?”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The young lady who just went out the door with that actress.”

Jasper’s face emerged from behind a towel. “I have never heard of a Miss Bennet. That was Miss Merton.”

“I must speak to her, whatever her name is.” It had been Elizabeth. Darcy was certain of it. She had been shocked to see him. She was using a false name, and now she was getting away.

Jasper said, “Have a care, Darcy. This is not like a London theatre where the actresses have protectors. The church is powerful here, and they barely tolerate the theatre, so our ladies must be respectable.”

“I mean no disrespect. I merely wish to speak to her.”

At last the workmen moved the scenery past him, and Darcy strode to the door. Outside it was dark and cool. A few playgoers lingered outside the main entrance to the theatre, but otherwise the street was empty. Darcy swore creatively and at some length.

What now? Jasper seemed to know something of her, but he was impulsive and his tongue loosened when he drank. Darcy did not dare to tell him the truth, but perhaps he could discover something. Slowly he walked back inside.

“What was that all about?” asked Jasper.

“I thought she was someone I knew. Who is she?”

“Mrs. MacLean’s niece. A pleasant girl.”

So the mysterious aunt was an actress! Well-to-do, but not entirely respectable. Of course. “Her niece did not look Scottish.”

“No, she is English. She has not lived here long.”

It was Elizabeth, without a doubt. At last! Now he needed a way to find her again. How could he lead up to that? “Is she an actress as well?” He hoped not. That much scandal would be difficult to overcome.

Jasper shook his head. “Not really. She often comes here with Mrs. MacLean to keep her company, and will occasionally step in for a small part if someone is ill, but she has no interest in acting.”

Perhaps Darcy could discover where Mrs. MacLean lived. If not, he could return to the theatre each night and watch the stage door. Sooner or later Elizabeth would appear.

Chapter 4

BREATHLESS, ELIZABETH pressed herself against the back of the carriage seat. A foolish reaction, since Mr. Darcy would hardly be likely to peer in the window to discover her presence, but every instinct screamed at her to hide. If she could have crawled inside the seat, she would have done so.

What ill fortune had made him choose to come to Edinburgh, and, of all places, backstage at the Theatre Royal? What could have brought him such a long way? He had never mentioned any Scottish connections to her. And how did he know Mr. Fitzpatrick?

Her aunt stepped up into the carriage and sat beside her. “Why did you run away like that? Are you unwell?”

“No. I saw someone I knew. Someone from before.” Elizabeth tried to slow her breathing.

“Is that such a terrible thing? Would it not be pleasant to speak to an old friend?”

Elizabeth shivered. “He is not a friend. He is the reason I am here.”

Aunt Emmeline stared at her. “The man who compromised you? He is here?”

“Shh!” Not that anyone could hear them over the clatter of the coach on cobblestones.

“Do you think he has pursued you here?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He has no reason to do so.” You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. But she had responded to his offer so harshly as to destroy any affection, and he was not the sort of man to pursue a woman who had refused him.

“Are you afraid he will try to compromise you again?”

“I doubt it. He never intended to do so in the first place. He was careless, not malicious.” That was one thing she could acquit him of. “I want him to stay away from me.” Perhaps he would do so. After all, he could have no interest in spending time with a woman who had humiliated him.

“Which man was he?”

“The one speaking to Mr. Fitzpatrick. Or berating him, perhaps. He appeared angry.” Hardly a surprise, given how ill-tempered Mr. Darcy was.

“The handsome one?”

Elizabeth grimaced. “I suppose you could call him that. Perhaps I should stay away from the theatre for a few days.”

“Nonsense. Why would he come backstage again?”

“I do not know why he did so this time!”

Her aunt shrugged. “You can ask Mr. Fitzpatrick about him if you like.”

“There is no need.” She wanted desperately to know what Mr. Darcy’s connection to the young actor was, but asking would only draw attention. It was a pity, though. She liked Mr. Fitzpatrick, perhaps more than liked him, but now she would have to be careful with him. She could not risk even the slightest association with Mr. Darcy. “I suppose I could give him the cut direct if he attempts to speak to me.”

“No need to do that. Simply tell him you are not the person he knows. You are Eliza Merton of Lincolnshire. Even if he does not believe you, he should take the hint and leave you alone.”

“I am certain you could manage that, but I am not actress enough for it.”

“Of course you are. Whenever you are annoyed but keep a pleasant smile on your face, you are acting. When you want to cry but keep your composure, you are acting. When you dislike your dancing partner but do not want anyone to guess it, you are acting.”

“In those cases, I am merely attempting to be polite.”

“What is politeness apart from acting?”

“Then you could have stayed at home to act instead of running off to go on the stage!” teased Elizabeth.

Her aunt leaned towards her. “Never!” she whispered dramatically. “I would rather play a drunken sheep on stage than a proper, polite girl at Longbourn.”

***

ELIZABETH MANAGED A pretense of normality until she was alone, but then all the memories came crashing back, like a wave swamping her and stealing her breath. That horrible meeting with Mr. Collins and the satisfaction he showed as he had made his threats, the nightmare of telling her father she must leave, and the cold that descended when he learned why she had no choice. Saying goodbye to Jane, who believed they would only be separated for a month, and struggling not to cry until the carriage had left Longbourn behind. Her father retreating behind a book as she sobbed.

Then there had been the weeklong journey, crowded into uncomfortable, smelly stagecoaches from morning till sundown, with only brief respites overnight at coaching inns. Her father had been amiable enough, but refused to speak either of their destination or the reason for their travel. At least he had not forced her to travel alone. The scenery slowly changed as the accents of the local people became more and more incomprehensible. The sun had come out when they arrived in Edinburgh, bathing the spacious streets of New Town in a golden glow, a ray of hope as she stood in front of her aunt’s elegant townhouse. Perhaps she would be able to make a life for herself here after all.

Mr. Bennet had presented his card at the door. The initially forbidding-looking butler had warmed at the sound of his English accent and told them they might wait in the hall while he inquired if the mistress was at home. Elizabeth had stepped over the threshold and sat down, but her father turned away without a word and hurried back down the street.

He had always hated saying goodbye.

Stricken, Elizabeth stared after his disappearing figure and slowly closed the door. She sat numbly in the chair the butler had indicated.

A moment later, a tall, stately woman in a colorful dressing gown hurried down the stairs, crying in a voice of shocked delight, “Thomas!” She halted, looked around the hall, and gazed down in puzzlement at the card in her hand.

Somehow Elizabeth managed to straighten her stiff, exhausted body. “He has already left,” she said quickly. “I am Elizabeth Bennet. I believe you are my aunt.” And she burst into tears.

Her aunt put a consoling arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and led her away. Through her tears, Elizabeth had the vague impression of an elegant drawing room and a red velvet sofa. She fought to control her sobs.

“You are Elizabeth? I remember you from when you were a little girl,” her aunt said kindly. “What brings you here?”

Elizabeth’s breath caught. “Did my father not write to you and tell you we were coming? He said he would.”

Her aunt snorted. “Your father says he will do a great many things he never bothers to do. He sends me one short note every year only because I told him that was my price for staying away from Meryton. But if he has at long last agreed to allow you to come here, I will not complain.”

“He did not precisely allow me to come.” Elizabeth mopped her eyes. “I had to leave, and this was the only place to go. I was compromised.”

Her aunt clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I am sorry to hear it. Is there to be a child? It will create no difficulty here; I will introduce you as my newly widowed niece.” She seemed almost pleased about the prospect.

Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open at the older woman’s startling practicality. “No, it is not like that! The most compromising thing was that a man gave me a letter privately, but his family is determined to make a scandal out of it. They were afraid he would want to marry me, so...” She swallowed hard, the tears burning her eyes again. “I cannot speak of it yet, not without crying.”

“Then there is no need to do so,” her aunt said warmly. “I am delighted to have you here.”

A maid in a frilly apron set a tea tray in front of Elizabeth’s aunt. “Call in two hours, Mrs. MacLean.”

“Ah, tea, just the thing. Do you take milk or sugar, my dear? Are you usually called Eliza or Lizzy?”

“Lizzy, if you please, and I like milk but no sugar.” Elizabeth watched her aunt pour the tea. A pile of small sandwiches to one side reminded her how empty her churning stomach was. “I thought your name was MacLaren.”

The older woman handed her a cup of tea. “It is, but when I returned to the stage after my husband’s death, I had to choose something else. He would not have wanted me to use his clan name as an actress, so I called myself Mrs. MacLean instead. The sound is close enough that I answer to it naturally. It is always best to keep your lies close to the truth. We must decide what to call you as well. I imagine your father would not want the name of Bennet associated with an actress, either, and the mere sound of it brings up bad memories. I never used it once I left Longbourn.”

Elizabeth had expected an argument about using an alias. “I think it is a good idea. Should I use MacLean as well?”

Her aunt tapped her finger against her cheek thoughtfully. “If you are to be my brother’s daughter, and it is best to stick to the truth, your name should be different from mine. The only person here who knew me before my marriage is Mr. Siddons, our theatre manager. I called myself Miss Merton then. It sounded enough like Meryton to make me notice when someone said it, you see.”

“Should I be Miss Merton, then?” Elizabeth did not particularly want the reminder of Meryton, but she was hesitant to displease the woman who had taken her in so generously.

“That should work.” Mrs. MacLean filled a plate with several small sandwiches. “Our mealtimes here tend to be irregular on the days I perform, since I must be at the theatre at a normal dinner hour. I eat a light meal before I go and another in the break between the first and second plays. You are always welcome to accompany me to the theatre, but I suspect tonight you will prefer to rest. That trip from London is exhausting.”

“I do not believe I will want to travel anywhere for some time!” said Elizabeth with deep feeling.

The maid returned and bobbed a curtsey. “Where shall we put Miss Bennet’s trunks, madam?”

“The blue room. Her name is Miss Merton.”

The maid curtsied again. “Pardon me, Miss Merton.”

She swallowed hard. How quickly Elizabeth Bennet had disappeared! “I am sorry to put your household to such inconvenience when you were not expecting me.”

Mrs. MacLean waved a hand. “It is nothing. Visiting actors often stay here when they come to perform at the theatre, so everything is always in readiness. The kitchen is accustomed to odd hours, so you may ask for food at any time. You do not wish to eat something now?”

“That would be lovely.” Elizabeth was very hungry indeed. Her anxiety about meeting her aunt had kept her from eating breakfast.

“Oh, how quickly one forgets! You will be among theatricals now, and we have less use for fine manners than the society you are accustomed to. When you are hungry, there is no need to wait for an offer.”

Elizabeth helped herself to the sandwiches and somehow restrained herself from tearing into them. “Are theatricals so different from the rest of society?” What had she got herself into?

“Oh, very different, and if you are anything like me, you will find it a refreshing change.”

After they had eaten, Mrs. MacLean invited Elizabeth to come up to her dressing room while she readied herself for the theatre. “After all, I have hardly learned anything about you yet.” Each of her gestures was larger-than-life, as if she were already on stage.

As her lady’s maid began to undo the buttons of Mrs. MacLean’s day dress, she said, “Tell me about yourself. You are the second daughter, are you not?”

“The second of five,” said Elizabeth. “I remember your visit to Longbourn when I was very small. You wore the most beautiful hat I had ever seen. I was fascinated by the ostrich plumes on it. You pulled one of them out of the hat for me and announced that the hat looked far better with three plumes instead of four. I still have that plume in my memory box.”

“That was you?” cried her aunt. “I am so glad. You were the lively one, and I always like lively girls.”

“I am still lively,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Sometimes a little too much.”

“Not among theatricals, my dear!” Mrs. MacLean announced, as if it were a biblical truth. “You and your pretty sister were the best part of that trip. The rest was a disaster. I had hoped that once my parents were dead and I had married Mr. MacLaren and become respectable, Thomas would be willing to receive me. Alas, no. He told me never to return. Once an actress, always a fallen woman.” She gave an exaggerated sigh.

“I always hoped you would come back,” Elizabeth said impulsively. “When my father said you wanted one of us to come to live with you, I volunteered, but he refused to permit it.”

Mrs. MacLean frowned. “I do not know what is wrong with that man! He cannot possibly be able to provide all of you with dowries suitable for your station. He should have been delighted that I wanted to adopt one of you and make you my heir. I even said he could keep telling people I was dead!”

Elizabeth stared at her in shock, her exhausted brain struggling to find words. “He never mentioned that part, just that you wanted one of us to live with you.”

“Why, do not tell me you thought I wanted you to be one of those poor relations who are essentially unpaid servants!”

Normally Elizabeth would have made a polite demurral, but she sensed her aunt would value frankness. “Well, yes, I did.”

“Lord! No wonder you have not wished to speak up. Clearly you and I must start at the beginning. I was so lonely after Imogen died and thought how lovely it would be to adopt a girl who shared my blood. Since Thomas had so many of you, it seemed the obvious solution, but of course he had to be difficult.”

“Pardon me,” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “Who was Imogen?”

“Did he tell you nothing at all?” cried Mrs. MacLean angrily. “Imogen was my daughter. She died over two years ago.” Tears filled her eyes.

Mortified, Elizabeth said, “I am so sorry. He told me nothing. All I knew about you was that you ran off to become an actress, married a Scotsman, and moved to Edinburgh. I did not even know you were acting again.”

For the first time, Mrs. MacLean’s face looked old and bleak. “I am not suited to sitting at home in mourning forever. I always loved acting, and after Imogen’s death, I needed something more. I do not need the money; I do it for love. It has meant I am no longer completely accepted by society here, but I have never cared much for bored wealthy people. Fortunately, the theatre here is not as disreputable as in England. We must all live upstanding lives, or the kirk – the Scottish church – would close the theatre.”

Elizabeth nodded, although she could not then imagine a world where the theatre could be almost respectable. Now, half a year later, the theatre was such a part of her life it was hard to imagine a time when she had never set foot backstage.

***

“HOW WAS THE PLAY?” asked Mrs. Ramsay.

“I found her.” Darcy accepted the glass of port Ramsay held out to him.

“You found her?” exclaimed Ramsay. “Excellent! What did she say?”

“I did not speak to her,” Darcy said. “I could not reach her in time. But now I know she is here, and that her aunt is Mrs. MacLean, the actress. She is using the name Miss Merton, and she fled when she saw me.”

“Why would she flee?” asked Ramsay.

“I do not know.” And he did not like it, either. “Still, I know how to find her. I plan to wait by the stage door tomorrow night.”

For once Darcy slept well and woke refreshed. Everything was under control now. No more worries about whether Jane Bennet and Mrs. Collins had sent him on a wild goose chase or how he would ever manage to discover Elizabeth’s whereabouts. He knew how to find her, and now all he needed was a chance to speak to her.

***

JASPER DROPPED HIS script on the side table and collapsed onto the settee. “Time for a break. I cannot remember a single word more.”

“You do look tired,” Elizabeth said.

“Trouble sleeping. Too much to think about.”

“Is anything the matter?”

Jasper grimaced. “I saw someone from my past last night, and it put me in a sour mood.”

Elizabeth had been wondering how to ask him about Darcy. “Is he someone you dislike, then?”

“Darcy? Not at all. He is a very decent sort, but he reminds me of that other life, and I do not like thinking about it.” His usually cheerful face appeared drawn.

“I am sorry it was such a difficult time,” said Elizabeth. Jasper had never told her anything about his life prior to coming to Edinburgh. She had not minded, since it gave her an excuse to do the same. But hearing him praise Darcy was disconcerting.

He made a face. “I should not complain. I had everything – a loving family and an income to live on. But you can imagine what school was like for me.” He gestured to the discarded script.

“I suppose they did not allow you to run from room to room while you studied,” she said gently. It had taken a few weeks to discover that Jasper could not memorize unless he was moving. As long as he could walk through the part, he could learn his lines, but if he tried to sit still and study, it was a waste of time.

“No. I had to stay in my chair until I learned my lessons, which of course I never could. It was torture. The worst part was that everyone else in my family is clever. They all despised me for it,” he said bitterly.

“You are clever, too,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You notice things no one else does, and you are always the first to solve a problem. Memorizing is hard for you, but there are plenty of dullards who have memorized reams of books, yet are incapable of a single original thought.”

Jasper expelled a long breath. “Thank you. I could almost believe you, even as I take advantage of you to help me memorize.”

“It is a terrible chore,” Elizabeth teased. “I would much rather be practicing my embroidery.”

“At least I can spare you that!”

But there was one thing she wanted to know. “Did your friend Darcy look down on you?”

“No. That is why I liked him. He and his sister never acted like there was something wrong with me. Darcy can be proud and dismissive with strangers, but once he knows you, there is no one more loyal and supportive.”

That was difficult to believe. If it were true, it was because the only people Darcy knew were his social equals, so everyone beneath him was dismissed. “Was he in an ill temper last night?”

Jasper considered this. “No,” he said judiciously. “He was probably just uncomfortable because the backstage is strange to him. He did not like discovering I was acting, but he always hates surprises, and he seemed to come around after we talked. He is almost never ill-tempered.”

Of all he had said, this was the most surprising. Elizabeth’s firmest belief about Darcy was that he was ill-tempered. Could she possibly have been wrong about that? Had she mistaken his pride for ill-temper? “Do you think he could fit in your new life?” She was not certain if she wished him to say yes or no.

He frowned. “He would do his best, I imagine, but I cannot forget who I was, and seeing him reminds me. I wish it were not true, but it is.”

Jasper did not want to see someone from his past, even someone he liked. Elizabeth would be grateful to see anyone at all she had known in Meryton – anyone except Darcy. But it would be easier for her if Darcy stayed away from Jasper, so she kept that thought to herself.

***

ELIZABETH THREADED her needle and knelt down to mend the torn flounce on her aunt’s costume. “Hold still.”

“Are you certain you would not prefer to have the seamstress do it?” asked Aunt Emmeline. “That is why she is here.”

“She is repairing the crown, and I might as well be useful.” When she first arrived in Scotland, Elizabeth had loved the excitement of her evenings backstage. While the novelty of watching a play from the wings had worn off, she still enjoyed the bustle and activity. “I do not know how you managed to get offstage without falling over this.”

“It is hardly the first time I have had to deal with a torn costume. At least this time it was the skirt, not the bodice.”

“That sounds like a story I must hear.” Elizabeth set the final few stitches and tied off the thread. “There. It should take you through the performance, at least.”

“Thank you, my dear. I must hurry to catch my cue.” Aunt Emmeline held up her skirts as she walked quickly from the room.

Elizabeth wound the remaining thread on the spool and returned it to the sewing basket. She glanced up as a shadow covered the open door.

“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you are well.” It was his voice.

A shiver went down her spine. She straightened slowly. “Pardon me. Were you speaking to me?”

Darcy made a gesture, but his face was in shadow. “Of course. I have been looking for you.”

Alarm took up residence in Elizabeth’s throat but she managed to say, “I think you must have confused me with someone else. Someone you are acquainted with,” she said pointedly.

“I could never confuse you with another woman. I do not know why you are calling yourself Miss Merton, but –”

“I call myself that because it is my name.”

“I intend you no harm, Miss Elizabeth. I only wish to speak to you. I just recently learned you were no longer at Longbourn and why. I wish to help you.”

Perspiration gathered on her forehead. “Longbourn? What is that? I think you can help me the most by realizing I am not the woman you know.”

“I can understand why you would be angry with me.” There was an almost plaintive note in his voice.

“Sir, I do not know you enough to be angry with you, but if you persist in this insistence that you know me, I might surprise myself. Pray move aside and permit me to leave.”

He stepped back with a frown. As she swept past him, he murmured, “Elizabeth, I beg you...”

She ignored him and hurried to the Green Room, where there were bound to be actors waiting for their next cue. She found an empty place beside one of the actresses.

Now she was safe, at least for the moment, but her heart pounded. There was far more at stake than Darcy knew, and she could not tell him.

***

DARCY BIDED HIS TIME until the play ended and the musical interlude began. As soon as Jasper was free, Darcy said, “Would you introduce me to Mrs. MacLean and Miss Merton?”

Jasper eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to meet them?”

“I admire Mrs. MacLean’s acting. I tried to ask her niece a question earlier, but she would not answer because we had not been introduced.”

“Are you planning to tell them about me? Why are you even here again tonight?”

“I am not planning to tell anyone.” Still, he needed to give some sort of reason for his presence. “I came here because I want a chance to talk to you, and this is the only place I know where to find you. I was upset last night. If you will tell me where you live, I will call on you tomorrow.”

Jasper chewed his lip. “I have a room in a private home, so it is difficult to have a guest. Where are you staying? If we must talk, I will come to you.”

“I am staying at 20 Hanover Street.” This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. He was not accustomed to having Jasper’s disapproval. Usually it was the other way about.

“If I do this introduction, will you stay away from here? The backstage, that is. You can still attend the theatre.”

“If that is what you wish.” Darcy cursed silently. He did not want to give up the one place he could find Elizabeth. “But if you want me to stay away for fear I will expose you, you need not worry.”

“You do not understand.” Jasper wiped his brow, and bent to check his appearance in the mirror. “The company is like a family. The Jasper they know is not the one you know. Whether you intend to or not, you drag me back into my old life when you come here. I am not a schoolboy any longer, but you make me feel like one.”

It was true. He was treating Jasper like a schoolboy, just as he had done to Bingley. That error had cost him his first chance with Elizabeth. “That was not my intention. I will leave now. Call on me only if you wish.” He would have to find another way to reach Elizabeth.

“Dammit, Darcy, that is not what I meant.” Jasper looked past Darcy and smiled suddenly. “Miss Merton, may I present my friend Mr. Darcy? Darcy, this is Miss Merton.”

Darcy bowed, unable to trust his tongue.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth murmured as she curtsied.

“You will be happy to hear I did not miss even a word tonight.” Jasper grinned boyishly.

“Well done!” said Elizabeth. “All your work has paid off.”

“Miss Merton is kind enough to run lines with me,” explained Jasper. “She has been very patient.”

“I am happy to help,” said Elizabeth demurely. “Poor Mr. Fitzpatrick has to learn not only his own lines, but also the three roles he understudies. It is no small task.”

Darcy suppressed the urge to strangle Jasper. First Elizabeth would not even admit to knowing him, and now it was apparent she spent hours cozying up to his cousin. How much worse could this get?

Chapter 5

DARCY WAITED IMPATIENTLY for three days until the theatre’s next performance took place, determined this time to get an answer from Elizabeth. Instead, he returned to Hanover Street in a state of sick frustration.

“You look unhappy,” said Ramsay. “No luck following Miss Bennet home, I take it?”

“There were two guards keeping everyone away from that side of the building,” Darcy bit out. “It would have been too obvious.”

Ramsay frowned. “Do you think it is because of you?”

“The timing certainly seems to suggest it.” Darcy collapsed into a chair. “I only tried to talk to her!”

Mrs. Ramsay brought him a glass of wine. “I do not know if a female perspective might be helpful, but it sounds as if she is feeling cornered. If she is frightened to speak to you, then it will only make things worse if you push to see her.”

“You think I should give up?” It felt like a betrayal.

“By no means,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “I wonder if you should change your tactics.”

“What do you mean?”

“You understandably want an answer from her right away, but I think you will do better if you do not press her so hard. She knows you want to speak to her. Give her time to stop running away and become curious as to your reasons. Stay away from her for a time. Let her feel more in control and less as if you are going to hunt her down regardless of her wishes.”

“You think I should sit around and do nothing?” He could not stay in Edinburgh forever, hoping for the merest glimpse of Elizabeth.

Ramsay said, “You have already done everything that honor requires. You offered for her hand and were refused. You sought her out, but she would not speak to you. No one could fault you if you gave up and left tomorrow. The question is whether you are satisfied with what you have done. If you are not, I agree it will take some patience. Show her you do not plan to force your company on her.”

“For how long?”

“I have a plan for that.” Mrs. Ramsay’s eyes twinkled. “Hogmanay is coming, and that is the one day of the year when no one will turn a tall, dark-haired young man away from their door.”

“That is brilliant, my dear!” Ramsay cried.

“I do not understand,” Darcy said irritably.

“Tis an old Scottish custom,” said Ramsay. “On Hogmanay, the first day of the new year, your luck for the year is determined by who is the first guest to set foot through your door after midnight. There are all sorts of good and bad omens attached to various types of first-footers, as we call them, but the very best luck of all is to have a tall, dark-haired young man carrying a basket of symbolic gifts – bread, salt, coal, and whisky. Even if your young lady does not believe in it, everyone else in her household will. It is the perfect way to meet her again in a situation where she should feel safe.”

“But I do not know where she lives. That was the reason for trying to follow her home.”

Mrs. Ramsay said briskly, “We will do it the hard way, by asking everyone if they know where Mrs. MacLean lives. Modistes, greengrocers, bakers, butchers – anyone with a business that might deliver to them. We will find it. There are few enough neighborhoods that well-to-do women would live in that it should not be difficult.”

“I am willing to try,” said Darcy.

“Finding her at the theatre would not work now, in any case. After tonight, it will be closed for a fortnight,” said Mrs. Ramsay.

Darcy frowned. “Closed for a fortnight? Why would the theatre close now?”

“Och, ’tis because of the kirk. The kirk barely permitted the theatre to open in the first place, and the actors dare not antagonize it,” said Mrs. Ramsay.

“’Tis because of your Christmas,” added Ramsay. “The kirk bans celebrating Christmas because they think all Christian feast days are but superstition. Many of the actors are from London and will not work on Christmas, but if the theatre closed for only that day, the kirk would accuse them of being papists. It is foolish, since it is merely English tradition and nothing to do with Rome, but there is no arguing with the kirk.”

“You do not celebrate Christmas?” Darcy asked in astonishment.

“Nay, ‘tis but another day here.”

“Not even Christmas dinner?”

“Not even that. I remember having Christmas dinner with your family when you brought me home for the school holiday, but we do not do that.”

No Christmas? Inconceivable! Darcy never considered it, but the idea of a year without Christmas was a bleak one. If he were in China or the Indies, it might not seem such a shock, but Scotland was part of Great Britain, and so was Christmas. Or so he had always thought.

He did not need more bleakness. The long search for Elizabeth and the bitter discovery she would not even acknowledge him had sapped any pleasure from his soul. Why was he even still here? He had come to rescue Elizabeth from disgrace, but she did not want to be rescued. Why could he not tell himself he had done the gentlemanly thing in finding her, and once he made her another offer of marriage, any obligation on his part was ended? But his heart did not believe it.

Now it would be even more waiting before he could have the chance of seeing her. The Ramsays did their best to keep him entertained, but the short days and cold weather kept his spirits depressed.

***

“JASPER, I AM GLAD TO see you.” Darcy shook his cousin’s hand in a firm grip. “I did not know if you would come.”

“I am happy to see you, just not at the theatre.” Jasper sounded much friendlier now. “How have you been? What brings you to Edinburgh?”

Darcy had his answer carefully prepared. “I am looking for someone who disappeared after being caught in a scandal. I recently learned my friend was living in Edinburgh under a false name, so here I am. I was at the theatre that night in case I might spot my friend in the audience. I have to confess I paid little attention to the play until I noticed you.”

“You did not miss much. Bluebeard is a poor excuse for a play, but it is popular, and we must earn our keep,” Jasper said cheerfully. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“I doubt it. I do not feel comfortable telling you his name since he has gone to such efforts to hide it.” He hoped Jasper would not make the connection between his missing friend with a false name and his interest in the woman he knew as Miss Merton.

“Well, let me know if I can help you, although I doubt I can. I spend all my time with theatricals, so I rarely see other people.”

“Theatricals?” asked Darcy.

“Actors, stagehands, costumers – anyone associated with the theatre.”

“You are happy?” Darcy asked.

Jasper grinned. “Never been happier. I love acting and have made good friends, ones who care about more than gambling and prize fights.”

That was positive, at least. “How did you get the position?”

“A friend from Cambridge recommended me for it. I came up for an audition, and they gave it to me. It was just bit parts at first, but now I am getting bigger roles. Siddons says he might give me a lead in a few months.” Jasper certainly sounded enthusiastic.

“How long do you intend to stay?”

The enthusiasm vanished. “As long as I can. Sooner or later, my mother will put the hounds on my track. You might as well tell me; what is the news from the family?”

“As far as I know, they are well. Your mother came to see me shortly before I left London, asking me to look for you. She was worried because you did not pick up your last quarter’s allowance. I told her you were an adult and would come back when you wished, and if you had been in trouble, you likely would have contacted me.”

Jasper snapped his fingers. “I never thought about the allowance. I should do something about that. Damnation, I hate making her worry, but I cannot bear to live in her world.”

Darcy said cautiously, “If you wish, and only if you wish, I could write to her and say I have heard from a reliable friend that you are well and working to earn your keep.”

“Would you?” Jasper’s relief was obvious. “You should say that I am working at a job she would disapprove of. That will make her believe it.”

“A job unsuitable to your rank?”

“Perfect! And true, too.” He hesitated. “I do love them, you know, but I love them better from a distance.”

Darcy nodded. “Your parents can be overwhelming. Your brother Richard has told me the same thing.”

“He feels it, too? I never knew. Is he still at the War Office?”

“They sent him off to work with Wellington for a time, but he should be back in January. He was supposed to return to India, but they canceled it at the last minute.” He could see that Jasper, who hated to sit still, was already getting restless. “I am very curious about your acting. What roles do you play?” If he could get Jasper to talk about the theatre, he might let something slip about Elizabeth.

It was a vain hope. Jasper did not seem to want to talk about the theatre. Instead, he said, “I must be going. Good to see you, Darcy.”

Darcy steeled himself to let Jasper go instead of wringing his neck until he told him where to find Elizabeth. He needed Jasper’s goodwill, and that required patience. “Of course. Thank you for coming.” He opened the study door only to discover a small body standing on the opposite side of it.

“Are you truly an actor?” Matilda asked Jasper. “Mama said I must not disturb you, so I stood here just like a little mouse. I did not disturb you, did I?”

“Not at all,” said Darcy, smiling despite himself. “You were very good. Miss Ramsay, may I present Mr. Fitzpatrick, an actor at the Theatre Royal? Jasper, Miss Ramsay has dreams of running away to become an actress.”

Matilda’s wide eyes gazed up at Jasper adoringly. “What is it like to act?”

Jasper, in one of his mercurial shifts, squatted next to the girl. “It is the best feeling in the world. It is exciting and very, very hard work.”

“I can work very hard,” announced the girl. “I wish I could see you act.”

Jasper thought for a moment. “Since you are too young to go to the theatre, would you like me to perform a speech for you here?”

“Oh, yes, please!” cried the girl.

He looked very serious. “Then let us ask your mama or your nurse if I may. If you want to become an actress, it is very important that you never speak to strange men without your mama or your nurse present.”

“But Mr. Darcy is here, and I am going to marry him when I grow up.”

Jasper cast an amused glance at Darcy. “Is that so?”

“So I am told,” said Darcy dryly. “But I imagine Mr. Fitzpatrick will need a bigger room if he is to act for you, so we should ask your mama.”

Matilda grabbed Jasper’s hand and pulled him across the entrance hall and into the drawing room. “Mama, this is Mr. Fitz... Fitz...”

“Fitzpatrick,” said Jasper with an elegant bow.

The girl beamed. “He is an actor and he is going to do a speech for me, and I did not disturb him at all, not even one little bit, did I?” She looked hopefully at Jasper, still holding his hand.

“Not in the slightest,” he assured her. “But I can only do this if your mama gives me permission.”

“Why, I would not miss it for anything,” said Mrs. Ramsay with an engaging smile. “It will be even better than going to the theatre.”

“Huzzah!” cried Matilda.

Jasper looked around the room, and then told the little girl, “Now, you must sit here on the floor, and imagine you are in front of a campfire. You are a soldier who has been fighting a long war in France. You are tired and cold. There are only a few of you left alive, and tomorrow you have to fight a hopeless battle against a huge army. Can you do that?”

She nodded eagerly as she followed his instructions.

“I am King Harry, leading the army. Come, Darcy, I will need you to give me my cue.” He took Darcy aside. “You must say ‘Oh, that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men in England that do no work today.’ Can you remember that?”

“Say it one more time.” Darcy found this new Jasper entertaining, if nothing else.

Jasper repeated it. “You do not have to be perfect.”

“I am glad of that.” He would be lucky to get most of it out.

Jasper turned to face Matilda, rubbed his hands together, and shifted from one foot to the other. He stood straighter and nodded at Darcy.

Darcy said, “Oh, that we now had but one ten thousand of those men that do no work today.”

Jasper rounded on him in apparent anger. “What's he that wishes so? My cousin, Westmorland? No, my fair cousin; if we are mark'd to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honour...” He continued through the rest of the monologue, gesticulating and addressing Matilda directly at times.

After he finished, Jasper grinned boyishly at Matilda. “Well, what do you think?”

Her eyes were round. “It was the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

Jasper chuckled. “That is what I like – an appreciative audience!”

“Bravo, Mr. Fitzpatrick!” said Mrs. Ramsay warmly. “You made me feel as if we were indeed in an army camp in France. Do you play King Harry?”

“Alas, no,” said Jasper. “I am merely Bardolph, but I am an understudy for the king.”

Matilda ran to her father, who now stood by the door, and tugged on his trousers. “May I marry Mr. Fitzpatrick when I grow up?”

“Jilted, by God!” exclaimed Darcy.

“You are at an unfair disadvantage,” said Jasper modestly. “Women always prefer actors.”

“That was an impressive performance. I had no idea you had such talent.” Darcy was astonished by the intensity Jasper had brought to his speech.

Jasper bowed with a flourish. “Thank you.” But Darcy could tell it meant something to his cousin.

“When will I be old enough to go to a play?” asked Matilda plaintively.

“Not until you are eighteen,” said her father.

“But that is forever!” she wailed and burst into loud sobs.

Jasper stared helplessly at the distraught child. “I am sorry.”

“Mr. Fitzpatrick,” said Ramsay loudly to be heard over his daughter’s wails. “Might it be possible to take Matilda to see the inside of the theatre one day when it is not in use?”

“Of course!” Jasper brightened immediately. He squatted down again. “Would you like to come inside the theatre with your mama and papa? We can even stand on the stage and pretend there is an audience.”

A smile broke through her tears. “Oh, yes! And Mr. Darcy, too?”

“Darcy, too,” he assured her, though he looked less pleased about that part.

Darcy resolved to buy Matilda a bag of sweetmeats for getting him in the door of the theatre again. It could be his chance to see Elizabeth.

***

“THANK YOU FOR ACCOMPANYING me,” Jasper told Elizabeth when they reached the stage door. “I have no idea what to say to a little girl if something goes wrong.”

“It sounds as if you did well the first time,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Who is she, anyway?”

“The daughter of a friend of a friend,” said Jasper gloomily. “She is very enthusiastic.”

“Well, if she is theatre-mad, all you need to do is to talk about the theatre, and that is what you do naturally.” They moved through the cluttered backstage area and out into the house where the audience usually sat.

Jasper said, “You might as well wait here in the vestibule until they come. No need for both of us to freeze outside.” He unlocked the main door and stepped through it.

Elizabeth paced back and forth across the vestibule. During a performance, it could get warm from all the body heat, but now it was chilly even with her pelisse and gloves on.

The door opened again, revealing a handsome couple, followed by Jasper holding a little girl’s hand, or perhaps she was holding his.

Behind them all came Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth’s stomach flip-flopped with sudden horror. Why had she not asked further about this friend of a friend? Now she would be trapped in conversation with him. Could she keep up the pretense of not knowing him the entire time?

Jasper said, “This is the vestibule where the audience comes between plays, so you must imagine it is full of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. And pray allow me to present Miss Merton, who has graciously agreed to join us. Miss Merton, Miss Matilda Ramsay, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay, and Mr. Darcy – oh, but you have met him already.”

Elizabeth curtsied. To avoid saying anything that could involve Darcy, she addressed the little girl. “Welcome to the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, Miss Ramsay.”

The little girl bounced on her toes. “Are you an actress?”

“I only act when it is absolutely necessary, but my aunt is an actress,” said Elizabeth.

Jasper said, “Miss Merton’s aunt is Mrs. MacLean.”

Mrs. Ramsay exclaimed, “Oh, but Mrs. MacLean is a great favorite of mine. She brings such life to her roles that it is hard to take my eyes from her when she is on stage.”

Now Elizabeth had to look at Mrs. Ramsay even though Darcy was standing beside her. “I will tell her you said so.”

“I want to be an actress,” announced the little girl.

Elizabeth held her hand out to her. “Then we must show you the rest of the theatre.”

The little girl skipped between Jasper and Elizabeth as they entered the seating area.

“This is the pit, where most of the audience sits,” Jasper said. “They are usually more interested in talking than paying attention to the play, but if they dislike the play, they will jeer and throw things at us. I was hit in the arm by a potato once.”

“That was very rude!” cried Matilda.

Jasper laughed. “Yes, but it is part of the entertainment for them. They would not come to the theatre if they had to sit quietly and watch us. The people who sit in the private boxes tend to be better behaved. At least they rarely throw food at us.”

Elizabeth tried to avoid looking directly at Darcy, but something seemed odd about him in the glimpses she caught out of the corner of her eye. His head was bent toward Mrs. Ramsay’s. Were they flirting? Then he talked to her husband, pointing out something in the gallery that made Mr. Ramsay laugh.

“Here is the stage. The part in front of the curtain is called the apron,” she said brightly.

“How do you get there?” the girl asked excitedly.

“There are steps which will take us to the wings,” said Jasper. “This way, behind that door.”

Elizabeth risked a look back over her shoulder. Darcy was whispering something to Mrs. Ramsay. Had he developed a tendre for his friend’s wife? It did not seem like him.

Not like him. That was it. He was different today. In the past, Darcy had always watched her. Even in the early days of their acquaintance, she would often discover that he seemed to be studying her. Whenever she would turn around, his eyes would be on her. She had thought at first he looked at her only to criticize, but later realized it must have been admiration. Now that connection was gone. It was what she had wanted, was it not? Why, then, did she feel a pang of regret?

Could he possibly have believed her story that she was someone else? He would not have expected Elizabeth Bennet to lie to him about her identity, so perhaps he thought it must be true.

Or perhaps he had decided she was more trouble than she was worth and had just stopped caring about her.

She plastered a cheerful smile to her face and told little girl, “Here is the stage. It is set for the next performance of Bluebeard.”

The girl asked in an awed voice, “How did you get a ship inside the building?”

Jasper laughed. “It is not a real ship. Our audiences want to see an elaborate spectacle and would think it a poor production if we did not have something impressive. The carpenters work very hard to build our sets. Come behind the ship, and you will see it is but the appearance of a ship. The ship is only the beginning. We actually have live camels on stage during the performance.”

“Real camels?” demanded the girl.

Jasper laughed. “Real, live, smelly camels. Once one of them spat all over me when it was upset. I had to play the entire scene soaked in camel spittle!”

Elizabeth stepped into the wings, ostensibly to find a prop to show the girl, but in truth to take time to collect herself. Darcy had deliberately sought her out at their last meeting and tried to insist on talking to her. He was not actually ignoring her now; he had bowed when Jasper presented her, but everything he had said was directed to one of the Ramsays or Jasper. She was apparently of no importance.

To think she had been so terrified that he would pursue her! She had greatly overestimated her own appeal. It stung more than she wanted to admit.

The others came past the spot where she lurked in the shadows, giving her the chance to study Darcy surreptitiously. He looked no different than he had in the past. The only change was his attitude towards her. And now she was the one watching him.

That thought was intolerable. Blindly she turned back to find the prop table and grabbed the first impressive looking item she saw, a jeweled crown.

She hurried past the three adult visitors to Jasper, who was showing the girl how the ship was constructed. She set the crown on Jasper’s head. “Your crown, King Henry,” she said.

“Is that a real crown?” asked the girl excitedly.

“It looks real, does it not?” Elizabeth took the crown back and showed the inside to the girl. “But it is just paint and paste.”

Matilda studied it with a frown, carefully set it on her own head, and giggled.

Jasper cried, “Behold the queen!”

Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay exclaimed over their newly royal daughter while Darcy quietly said something to Jasper which made him laugh.

Jasper bowed to the girl. “Your Majesty, if you will be so kind as to come this way, I will show you the backstage area.”

Elizabeth hung back as the others trooped after Jasper, hoping to be alone, but Mrs. Ramsay appeared beside her. “You must permit me to thank you, Miss Merton. It was most generous of you to give up your afternoon to amuse a child you do not even know.”

“I am happy to help, and she is an engaging child,” Elizabeth said. “It is an unusual experience for us as well. Most mothers would have vapors at the idea of their daughter wishing to go on the stage.”

Mrs. Ramsay smiled. “Between us, I am one of them. We have no wish for Matilda to tread the boards, but if I were to tell her that, she would become absolutely determined to do so. She is a strong-willed child and as persistent as a terrier. Sometimes the best way to discourage her from an idea is to appear to encourage it.”

Elizabeth looked at her with a new respect. “That is a clever approach.”

Mrs. Ramsay gave a tinkling laugh. “We learned it out of sheer desperation. Pray excuse me, I think my husband wants me.” She crossed to join him in a conversation with Jasper. Darcy stood to one side, examining a jar of greasepaint, showing no interest in her.

Elizabeth suddenly found it unbearable. Impulsively she walked over to him. “I am glad you have accepted that I am not your old acquaintance.”

He turned to her with a look of surprise and bowed. “You have said so, and I am, of course, loath to contradict a lady.” He returned to examining the greasepaint and pried the lid off.

She could not miss his implication. He knew perfectly well who she was, and he could not be less interested in her now. Lifting her chin, she said, “I hope you enjoy your time in Edinburgh.” She quickly retreated to Jasper’s side, trying to draw strength from his familiar form.

***

MRS. RAMSAY PATTED Darcy’s arm. “You did beautifully.”

“It did not feel that way,” said Darcy evenly. He had hated every minute of it. All he had wanted was to enjoy the sight of Elizabeth and talk to her, and instead he had practically ignored her. He abhorred this kind of pretense.

“I know, but it worked,” Mrs. Ramsay said earnestly. “When she first saw you, she looked like a deer ready to bolt and tried to stay as far from you as she could. When you did nothing, she relaxed, and after that she started watching you. By the end she looked unhappy and deliberately tried to talk to you. Aye, I would call that a success.”

Did it count when Elizabeth had only spoken to him as a test? How could she think he would not recognize her? There might be a woman somewhere who looked exactly like Elizabeth Bennet, but she would not have Elizabeth’s melodious voice, her infectious laugh that could light up a room. She might wear a lavender scent like Elizabeth, but she would lack Elizabeth’s particular sway of the hips when she walked and the delicate movements of her hands. And she would not make his heart beat faster and every inch of him feel more alive.

Turning away after answering her question was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but Mrs. Ramsay was right. Following his inclinations had made Elizabeth fear him. It was hard to credit such an idea, since he had never known her to fail to rise to a challenge, but perhaps having to leave her family had shaken her confidence.

Now it would be over a fortnight until he could hope to see her at Hogmanay, a fortnight of dark, cold, empty days. His first Christmas without Georgiana and other family. He was far away from all of them except Jasper, who had told him to stay away and would deny their relationship if asked, alone in a country without Christmas.

***

ELIZABETH NEEDED TO cover her discomfiture after the Ramsays and Darcy left. Jasper knew her too well, and he might say something to Darcy. “You have a little admirer there,” she teased.

Jasper flashed a grin. “She says she is going to marry me when she grows up.”

“You should take care! She strikes me as a most determined young lady. Now, do you wish to run some lines while we are here or go home?”

“Home. I am starving.” He clutched at his stomach in a highly dramatic manner.

“You are always starving, even right after you eat a meal!” she teased, hoping some banter with Jasper would distract her from brooding about Mr. Darcy and today’s blow to her pride. But even while listening to Jasper’s pleasant chatter, her stomach roiled with thoughts of Darcy. Why should his disinterest hurt her now?

She had never sought his good opinion and had hoped never to see him again. She had always assumed he would waste no time in forgetting her after her refusal of his proposal, and the thought had not troubled her. Even when he had sought her out that evening backstage, her primary feeling had been fear of discovery, but lurking behind, she had felt complimented that some part of him still cared enough for her to wish to talk to her. It could never be, but it had fed her vanity and softened her sentiments towards him.

Now her pride was mortified by the discovery that he had no interest in her at all. She did not know why he had bothered to try to talk to her. Perhaps he just wished to get an uncomfortable meeting over with in private, to make certain there would be no scene. Once he learned she intended to deny his acquaintance, even that slight interest in her vanished.

Why did she have that hollow feeling in her stomach of having lost something precious when there had never been anything to lose?

Chapter 6

ON CHRISTMAS MORNING Darcy tried hard not to think of what day it was, devoting himself instead to writing a letter to Georgiana until the butler announced he had a visitor.

Jasper bounded into the room. “Happy Christmas! Will you dine with me today?”

Darcy had never thought he would be so pathetically glad to see his nuisance of a cousin. Elizabeth Bennet had indeed brought him low if the idea of dining with Jasper at some Scottish public house felt like cause for celebration. He pushed the letter aside. “I would be happy to do so.”

They set off as soon as Darcy was bundled up against the cold wind. “Where are we going?” No doubt somewhere he would never be seen in London.

Jasper grinned. “You wanted to meet Mrs. MacLean, did you not? Today is your chance. She holds a Christmas dinner for English exiles, and she told me I could bring an English friend. Just think – Christmas goose, venison, plum pudding.”

Elizabeth. She would certainly be at her aunt’s Christmas dinner. His face might be half frozen, but it was nothing compared to the warmth flooding through him.

“It will be mostly theatre people,” said Jasper. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Jasper, I can think of nothing in the world I would rather be doing.”

Jasper frowned, his high spirits suddenly vanished. “There is no need to mock me. I meant the invitation kindly.”

“I was not mocking you. Your invitation made me happier than you can know.” Darcy noticed his cousin’s dubious expression. Perhaps he had gone too far. “I have been dreading the idea of Christmas with no celebration.”

“Oh. That is good, then. It is a strange idea, is it not? I am told they make up for it next week with the Hogmanay celebrations for New Year’s. If half of what I have been told about Hogmanay is true, it will be a memorable event.”

“Scotland still seems strange to me. I understand the accent better now, but the customs still surprise me. Do you like it here?” Darcy asked.

“Yes, very much, apart from the weather, obviously. It is so much less stodgy than London. Or perhaps I simply like having no one know who I am. And the acting, of course.”

“You seem to be thriving,” said Darcy.

“You mean I am not up to mischief? There is that, too.” Jasper rubbed his gloved hands together. “But what of you? Have you found the man you are looking for?”

“Not yet.”

“How much longer will you keep looking?”

“I have not decided. Are you so eager to be rid of me?”

“Not at all. You have kept my secret, and it is pleasant to have someone I could turn to in case of difficulty.”

Now came the truth. Jasper always needed money. “Are you in need of funds?”

“Hardly! I brought a quarter’s allowance with me and most of it is still sitting in the bank. I could live for years on that. It is remarkable how long money lasts when you do not gamble or have to wear the latest fashions or pay a valet.” He stuck out one foot. “I polish my own boots now. I manage pretty well, I think.”

Although Jasper’s boots appeared to be acquainted with boot black, they were scuffed at the toes and they lacked the mirror sheen required among the Pinks of the ton. “You do very well. Where does Mrs. MacLean live?”

“On Heriot Row. Not far now,” said Jasper casually, as if Darcy had not been hunting desperately for this information. Less than a dozen blocks from the Ramsay house, and he had known nothing of it.

“I live there, too,” added Jasper cheerfully. “Mrs. MacLean rents me a room.”

Darcy turned and stared at his cousin. Jasper had been living in the same house as Elizabeth? If anything had happened between them, Darcy would not be answerable for the consequences.

“I am sorry it shocks you,” said Jasper resentfully. “It is not an unusual arrangement among actors. Mrs. MacLean does not need the income, but she likes having a man in the house.”

“It surprises me, I admit, because once you would never have agreed to live in a house with a woman of a certain age. Clearly I do not know Jasper Fitzpatrick as well as I think I do.” Darcy could not afford to offend Jasper, especially not now. “But I would like to know him better.”

***

“HERE YOU ARE, SIR.” Elizabeth handed a cup of Christmas punch to Mr. Siddons. “Happy Christmas.”

“And to you as well.” The theatre manager raised his glass to her. “I look forward to this dinner every year. It is almost like being back in England.”

“But with a much smaller Yule log.” Elizabeth nodded to the elegant fireplace which barely held a moderate-sized log.

He chuckled. “Indeed so.”

Elizabeth ladled out a new glass of punch, turned to the next guest, and almost dropped the glass. It would have slid through her fingers had not a hand reached out and steadied it.

It was Mr. Darcy’s hand. What in God’s name was he doing here?

“How clumsy of me!” she said hastily. “You saved me from spilling punch everywhere. Let me see – are you not Mr. Fitzpatrick’s friend?”

His dark gaze enveloped her. In a low, intense voice, he said, “It is Christmas, Miss Elizabeth. I will say nothing to anyone, but I beg of you not to pretend. Not today.” His fingers brushed hers as he accepted a glass of punch.

A week ago he had practically ignored her at the theatre, and now this! Should she admit it? He had already guessed it, and her reaction to discovering his presence would have given her away in any case. So much was at stake, but there could be no one at her aunt’s Christmas dinner who would report on her. And it seemed to mean something to him, given the way he was studying her.

Elizabeth forced her shoulders to relax. “For Christmas. As long as you tell no one.”

A light leapt in his dark eyes. “I thank you.” He raised his glass. “To your very good health and happiness.” He touched the glass to his lips.

She ducked her head in acknowledgment. With trembling hands, she filled another glass with punch and held it out to the next guest.

Mr. Darcy took the hint and moved away. Elizabeth deliberately did not watch where he went. Not that there would be much doubt about it since he had only one friend there and everyone else in the room was far beneath his notice. It would doubtless be a repeat of the Meryton assembly where he had spoken only to members of his own party. Her lips twitched. That would not serve him well in this crowd of theatricals.

When she finally dared to look across the drawing room, she was astonished to find Mr. Darcy in close conversation with her aunt and Mr. Siddons. Not only that, but he appeared amused by something she had said.

What astonishing behavior! Surely her words of reproof at Hunsford could not have worked such a miraculous change! Perhaps it was not a change, though. Mr. Darcy might feel obliged to be polite to his hostess, no matter how much he disdained her.

At least it was safer that way. Nothing Mr. Darcy could reveal about Elizabeth would be a surprise to her aunt. She was not over-worried that he would disclose her past, though. He had said he would not. He might be proud, resentful, and ill-tempered, but she had never known him to be dishonest. No, Jasper had said he was not ill-tempered. What a puzzle Mr. Darcy was!

Soon there were no more guests to serve. Two actresses remained by the punch bowl to converse with her. She usually enjoyed their company, but today she could not forget the gentleman sitting across the room.

Then he was no longer sitting across the room, but beside her and offering his arm. “Miss Merton, would you do me the honor of going in to dinner with me?” He stumbled slightly over her new name.

“Of course.” She could not refuse him without being utterly rude. Even though the last thing she wished for was to spend time with him, she would have to tolerate it. Perhaps it would give her the opportunity to discover what he wanted from her and to convince him to stay away. She placed her hand on his arm. Somehow even that small contact felt intimate.

What could Mr. Darcy mean by this particular attention to her? After she refused his proposal so bitterly, she would have expected him to avoid her company, as he had that day at the theatre. Perhaps he knew so few people in Scotland that even her acquaintance was tolerable, but he would have to be terribly lonely before he would choose to spend his time with the woman who had summarily rejected his hand and heart!

She risked a glance at his face. He did not appear particularly pleased with her company, but his features showed no extraordinary resentment either. Perhaps there was no other woman present whom he felt comfortable enough to sit with at dinner. In this gathering, he would likely wish to avoid revealing too much about his background. A wealthy gentleman would be too much of a target.

It was impossible that he could still care for her, but on the slight chance he did, it behooved her to behave kindly towards him. She had no regrets about having refused him, but she had long rued how bitterly and hurtfully she had done so. Even though she did not want his attentions now, she had no desire to hurt him more than she already had.

Darcy steered her toward seats in the middle of the dining room table, far from her aunt at one end and Mr. Siddons at the other. On Elizabeth’s other side was Mr. Crocker, an actor of middle years and middling fame. As usual, he was foxed. She could smell the alcohol on his breath when he greeted her. He would provide no conversational escape for Elizabeth, but, on the other hand, if she slipped and said something about her past, he would be unlikely to notice it or to remember.

Darcy said, “I hope your family is in good health.”

“My aunt is well, as you can see. As for the others, I have not heard anything to indicate they are not,” It was an uncomfortable admission, but it gave her a chance to ask an important question. “And your family? Is your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam in India now?” She would breathe easier if she knew his cousin could not cause trouble.

“No, the War Office sent him to Spain instead.”

Spain was probably far enough away. “Did you travel here alone, then?”

“Yes, I am staying with an old friend from my university days.”

“He must be a good friend for you to take such a long journey.”

“He has been asking me to visit for many years, and I am glad to do so,” Darcy said gravely.

“You have chosen a difficult season for your visit. I cannot get used to how quickly it grows dark here.” Elizabeth gestured at the windows. “These winter days are short enough in England, and I cannot accustom myself to them being even shorter here.” Weather was always the safest thing to discuss.

“I will be glad to see longer days return,” said Darcy.

“I suppose I should not complain, since I enjoyed the long days of summer. The sun did not set until nearly eleven at night, if you can imagine that! It allowed me to take longer rambles than I might have at home.”

His lips turned up in a slight smile, as if at a pleasing memory. “Have you found some pleasant walks here, then?”

“Oh, yes. In the winter I have restricted myself to Queen Street Gardens, but in warmer weather I often climbed Calton Hill. I could spend weeks exploring Holyrood Park if I had the opportunity. Have you seen any of the environs during your visit?”

His smile faded. “Very little. I have spent my time here in Edinburgh.”

Elizabeth persevered, since travel was a safe topic. “It is not the best season for sightseeing. Have you traveled elsewhere recently?” She had almost said ‘since Rosings Park,’ but caught herself at the last moment. She had no wish to remind him of the last meeting.

“A little. I spent part of the summer at Pemberley with my sister, and at Michaelmas I accompanied Bingley to Netherfield again.”

She blinked in surprise. Bingley had returned to Netherfield? Had he approached Jane again? But she could not ask, not after having accused him months ago of separating Jane and Bingley. An unexpected rush of homesickness clenched her heart. “I hope you enjoyed your stay there.”

“I stayed less than a fortnight. Bingley made it clear I was not welcome to remain.”

What? That made no sense. “Good heavens! I cannot imagine Mr. Bingley ever saying such a thing. He is always so amiable.”

He dropped his voice. “I would have said the same thing once, but that was before your eldest sister told him why you had left.”

Mortification flooded through her. Of course. Her father must have told Jane the truth when he returned home without her. “Did you not tell him you had done nothing improper?”

“He chose not to believe me.” Darcy’s words were clipped. “You had been condemned by public opinion, and therefore I must be guilty as well. I had not known of the gossip until then. I am sorry for what you suffered through no fault of your own.”

There was gossip about her? Elizabeth swallowed hard, trying to keep back tears. She could not lose her composure at her aunt’s Christmas dinner. With false brightness, she said, “In some ways it has worked out for the best. My father had refused my aunt’s request to send one of us to live with her until now. He may not have realized she intended to make one of us her heir, or perhaps he thought her estate of little value. Now I am in line for an inheritance which is generous by Scottish standards, and I can marry or choose to have a comfortable independence. I like living here, perhaps better than at Longbourn, so I have no reason to complain.”

“Apart from leaving your family and home behind.” His dark eyes were intent.

“That is a high cost, but I prefer to dwell on the benefits of my current situation, especially on Christmas Day.” There was no reason for him to know that she had cried half the morning at the prospect of her first Christmas without her family. “Have you any other acquaintances here today, or just Mr. Fitzpatrick and me?”

“Just the two of you, but I had an enjoyable discussion with your aunt earlier, and I had the pleasure of meeting Walter Scott and discussing his poetry. My sister is a great admirer of his, and will be thrilled to hear I spoke to him. And Jasper introduced me to one of his actor friends, Mr. Sampson.”

Elizabeth nodded. “They have very different personalities, but both of them live for the theatre. The rest of the world could disappear, and I doubt either of them would notice apart from the lack of an audience.”

He took a sip of wine. “Your aunt is a remarkable actress.”

“She is, even though she only returned to the stage in the last few years. I should probably warn you that no one in Meryton is aware she is alive or that she had anything to do with the theatre. My father told everyone his sister had died.” She watched Darcy carefully to see how he would react to this shocking news.

He seemed uncomfortable. “I never heard anything about her there. You seem very fond of her.”

“Oh, she is a delight! I wish I had known her my whole life. She has been very kind to me, and I enjoy her company very much.” It occurred to her that anecdotes about her aunt would also make for safe conversation, and she could make those last for a very long time.

***

AT LEAST ELIZABETH seemed relatively comfortable chatting with him at Christmas dinner, even if she had neatly avoided any discussion of her departure from England. But after the second remove, as they awaited the desserts, she stiffened suddenly. Darcy followed her gaze to where Jasper strode in carrying a young boy pickaback.

Mrs. MacLean had apparently also noticed him, for Jasper said to her, “I promised Timothy to wake him in time to see the plum pudding. He has agreed to sit quietly on my lap.”

The boy whispered something in Jasper’s ear.

“Spurned!”  cried Jasper plaintively. He walked around the table to stand beside Elizabeth.

With a bewitching look of amused resignation, Elizabeth pushed her chair back and held out her arms to the boy. Jasper bent down so the boy did not have to scramble far to reach Elizabeth’s lap. He snuggled in quickly and rested his head against her shoulder as if it were too much effort to hold it upright.

“Mr. Darcy, may I present Timothy, my aunt’s ward? He is a particular favorite of mine. Timmy, Mr. Darcy is a friend from England.”

Her friend. It was so much less than what he wanted, but it was a start.

The candlelight was bright enough to show the hectic blush on Timothy’s pale cheeks. His fragile skin glowed like fine porcelain. Consumptive, most likely. “Happy Christmas, Timothy.”

“Happy Christmas,” repeated the boy.

Elizabeth asked, “Timmy, how did you convince Jasper to bring you down?”

“He said he would not want to miss seeing the plum pudding, either.” The boy sounded apologetic.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled up at Darcy. “Mr. Fitzpatrick and Timothy are great friends. He makes up for a serious deficiency in my upbringing. Growing up with four sisters, I never learned to play with toy soldiers, but Jasper is an expert at the art.”

“Did you play with toy soldiers when you were a boy, sir?” Timothy asked.

Thank heavens! One of the few subjects he could manage to discuss with a young boy. “I certainly did. I still have my toy soldiers standing in two rows in the nursery ready for battle. My housekeeper says they should be put in a box so they do not become dusty, but I do not think they would like being shut in a box.”

“Of course not!” The boy added confidingly, “I make hills and valleys in my counterpane for a battlefield for my soldiers.”

“That is a clever idea,” said Darcy, conscious of Elizabeth’s eyes on him. “I usually played with them on a table, which is a dull landscape.”

“Will it be much longer before the plum pudding comes?” asked the boy.

“Not long now, but if you are too tired, Jasper can bring you upstairs again,” said Elizabeth.

“Not too tired,” the boy insisted stoutly, although his eyelids were drooping.

Darcy surreptitiously checked his pocket. “Do you like sugarplums?”

The boy’s pale face brightened. “Very much, sir.”

Darcy produced the small package he had purchased for Matilda. “Here is a Christmas gift for you, then.” He placed it in the boy’s hand.

“Thank you, sir!” Timothy clutched it to his chest as if afraid he might drop the precious bundle.

“Look!” cried Elizabeth, nodding towards the door where a maid had entered holding the flaming plum pudding aloft.

Applause and exclamations of pleasure sounded as she carried it full-circle around the table before setting it down carefully in the middle. The boy watched eagerly as the blue flames slowly died down.

Elizabeth asked him quietly, “Do you wish to have some plum pudding here, or should I bring it up to you upstairs later?”

He rested his head on her shoulder again. “Upstairs, if you please.”

Elizabeth gestured to a footman. “Kindly inform Mr. Fitzpatrick that Timothy is ready for his trusty steed.”

The footman bowed, expressionless, and headed towards Jasper who was hidden behind the elaborate elephant-shaped Indian epergne in the center of the table. A minute later Jasper appeared and scooped the boy up. “Off we go!” They disappeared into the front hall.

Elizabeth said, “Jasper is very good to Timothy. As were you; giving him sugarplums will have won his heart. Did Jasper tell you to bring them?”

Darcy flushed at her praise. “In truth, I bought them for Matilda Ramsay. Her family does not celebrate Christmas, but somehow it seemed wrong for a child not to have sugarplums at Christmas.”

“A bleak prospect indeed, although I suppose a child who has never celebrated Christmas would not feel the lack. But it meant a great deal to Timothy.”

“He is ill?”

She nodded sadly. “The doctor insists he must have complete rest, which is not an easy proposition for an eight-year-old boy, even one with a clubfoot.”

Eight? Darcy would have guessed he was six. The boy was barely larger than Matilda Ramsay. “Has he always lived with your aunt?”

“Since his mother died when he was two. He only became ill last year, but I never knew him before that, of course. He is a sweet boy.”

“He seems very attached to you, despite your sad lack of experience with toy soldiers.”

“He is lonely, and he likes my stories. It is very strange for me, coming from a family of all girls, to be living with Timothy and Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

Devil take it. Darcy was unaccustomed to being jealous of Jasper, of all people, but if Elizabeth put his cousin in the same category with little Timothy, perhaps he had nothing to worry about. Perhaps. But Elizabeth was only acknowledging Darcy because he had forced her to do so, and she was living in the same house with Jasper.

A horse’s whinny came from outside the room. No, not a horse. That was Jasper pretending to be a horse, if he was not mistaken.

Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Mr. Fitzpatrick makes an excellent elder brother for Timothy. He seems to enjoy the role.”

He almost slipped and said it must be a novel one for him, but then he remembered that he did not know Jasper Fitzpatrick’s history. For all he knew, Jasper might have told everyone he was an only child, and if Darcy mentioned he was the youngest of four, it might only make trouble. “I imagine he is good at it.”

***

WHEN THE GENTLEMEN rejoined the ladies, Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. Darcy, wondering if it was because of him, stayed by Jasper’s side, but her absence sucked away any enjoyment he might have felt. It was another painful reminder of her dislike for him. He should have remembered Mrs. Ramsay’s advice and not shown so much interest in her.

A few minutes later Elizabeth walked in carrying a large reticule. For a happy moment he thought she was approaching him, but instead she stopped beside Jasper.

“I have made a special Christmas gift for Mr. Fitzpatrick,” she announced loudly enough to garner the attention of several nearby guests. “Some might say it is a rather selfish gift, since I will benefit from it as much as he does.”

Mr. Sampson asked, “Well, what is it?”

Elizabeth made a show of digging into her reticule and pulled out an embroidered strip of fabric. Instead of giving it to Jasper, she displayed it to the guests. “It is not just an extra-large bookmark. It has pins at the top and the bottom so Mr. Fitzpatrick can attach it to his script without it falling out.” She reversed the bookmark to show the back. “Of course, we all know Mr. Fitzpatrick will immediately lose the pins, so I made a special pocket on the back to hold extra pins. Now he will have no excuse to lose his place in the script.”

The guests laughed heartily. Sampson said, “She has you there, Fitzpatrick! As the bard says, But men are men; the best sometime forget.”

Smiling, Elizabeth held the bookmark out to Jasper.

“I thank you! It is just what I need. Now I will not drive you to the verge of madness when we run lines.” Jasper examined the bookmark with apparent pleasure.

Darcy choked back bile. It could not be. Elizabeth and Jasper living in the same house, and with enough of an understanding that she could give him a present publicly? He could not bear it. Somehow he would have to stop it, or he would lose his mind.

“Look, Darcy, is this not clever?” Jasper asked. “She even put my initials on it in case I lose it. Beautiful work, Miss Merton.”

“Very clever.” Somehow Darcy managed to force out the words.

Elizabeth leaned towards Jasper. In a loud whisper, she said, “Mr. Fitzpatrick, may I ask a very great favor of you?”

Jasper, damn him, clasped his hands over his heart. “Anything for you, my sweet Miss Merton!”

“Could you inform your dyspeptic friend that among theatricals it is perfectly acceptable for a young woman to give a gift to a young man, and that it carries no greater meaning?”

Jasper gave his distinctive shout of laughter. “Did you hear that, Darcy? It is true. Although it breaks my heart to say it, the lovely Miss Merton would not give me the time of day if she thought I had any intentions towards her.”

“Indeed, I would not!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I would instead send you directly to bed under the assumption you must be feverish.”

“I stand corrected.” Slowly the tension seeped out of Darcy’s shoulders. If Elizabeth were interested in Jasper, she would own it freely. He knew enough of her frankness for that. But he still did not like to see her banter with Jasper when he himself got nothing but serious looks.

“I am glad to see you are educable,” said Elizabeth with mock severity. “And now, may I have the honor of a private word with you, Mr. Darcy? Adding, of course, that such a thing is also perfectly acceptable among theatricals.”

He did not care if it was acceptable or not. “I am happy to be at your disposal,” he said, and followed her into the entry hall.

With serious expression, she drew a folded paper out of her reticule and held it out to him. “This is for Mr. Bingley. It says you acted the part of a gentleman and did nothing inappropriate, and that this is a matter of the appearance of compromise rather than actual compromising behavior. I hope it will make him acquit you of any misbehavior towards me.”

The letter itself was meaningless, but the knowledge that she had been concerned for him enough to write it was a gift. “That is kind of you, but I must decline. Bingley refused to accept my word as a gentleman. That is not something which can be forgiven with a mere explanation. If he changes his mind, it must be because he decides to believe me rather than because I have offered him proof. It is a matter of honor.”

Her brows drew together in a bewitching puzzled expression. “As you wish, but should you change your mind, you need only ask.” Her sudden smile brought light into the room. “Having only sisters has given me little understanding of how gentlemen resolve their disagreements.” She tucked the letter back in her reticule.

“I appreciate your concern, and I thank you.” Darcy hesitated. “May I ask you a question?”

“You may ask, but I do not promise to answer.” Her arch smile took any sting from her words.

“Did you read the letter I wrote you? A simple yes or no will suffice.” He held his breath.

Her smile became rueful. “I read most of it.”

Most of it? He had stayed up all night, laid bare the worst pain of his past, and she had not bothered to finish reading it? “I see.”

“I doubt you do,” she said tartly. “You were observed giving me the letter. My cousin Mr. Collins hunted me down as I was reading it and demanded that I give it to him.”

Darcy’s blood turned to ice. Georgiana’s secrets were in that letter. “He has the letter?”

With an impish smile, Elizabeth said, “No. I tore it to shreds and threw them in the stream. I thought you would not want anyone else to see it. Unfortunately, it also meant I could not finish reading it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “You did the right thing. I should never have committed those words to paper.” Even the idea of that fool Collins reading the letter infuriated him. But what had Elizabeth missed? He had discussed Bingley first, he was sure of that, so the end of the letter would have been about Wickham and Georgiana. “If you still believe Mr. Wickham’s stories, I would like the opportunity to finish what I said in the letter. Or you could ask Jasper what he thinks of Wickham. Their paths have crossed often enough for him to know the sort of man Wickham is.”

She shook her head. “That will not be necessary. I no longer believe you treated him unfairly, and I apologize for my misjudgment.” Her voice was flat. “I am glad you permitted Mr. Bingley to return to Netherfield.”

“He did not need my permission.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Am I to believe he decided to return on his own?”

Darcy flushed. “I suggested the possibility, but the decision was his. Whether anything may come of it is another question. You will no doubt know sooner than I.”

The color ebbed from her face and she looked away. “That is less likely than you think. My father is the only one who knows where to reach me, and he is a poor correspondent at the best of times.”

His heart broke at her evident unhappiness. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that my behavior had such consequences for you.”

Elizabeth seemed preoccupied by tying the ribbon of her reticule. “I confess I was angry with you at first, but I realized you had been careless at worst, and I was at least as guilty of that. I hoped to prevent gossip by leaving, and I am sorry to learn it was unsuccessful. But today is Christmas, so let us dwell on the past only as it brings us pleasure. Shall we return to the others?”

“As you wish.” His words were polite, but his thoughts rushed in a different direction. Why had she thought leaving would prevent gossip?

A man’s slurred voice said gleefully, “Caught you!” The drunken actor who had sat on Elizabeth’s other side at dinner pointed at them.

Darcy stiffened. “We have been talking, and the door has been open the entire time.”

Elizabeth glanced upwards and blushed furiously. “That is not what he means.” She sounded half-strangled.

“There.” The man’s wavering fingertip pointed to the chandelier over their heads.

A sprig of green leaves and white berries hung from it. Mistletoe.

A thousand thoughts raced through Darcy’s head. How could he make Elizabeth feel comfortable and safe with him if he kissed her? But if he had the opportunity to kiss her, how could he resist the temptation?

An attractive young woman appeared behind the actor. “What is the matter?”

“Missel...mistletoe,” the man said.

Hesitating would only make matters worse.

Elizabeth tipped her chin up.

Darcy’s heart raced. She had not offered him her cheek! As he lowered his face towards hers, the room began to blur around him, with only Elizabeth remaining in focus. The scent of lavender and sweet soap washed over him, penetrating the familiar Christmas aroma of roast goose, plum pudding, and evergreen boughs. He closed his eyes just as his lips brushed hers; warm, silky soft, tender. Elizabeth. A jolt of desire pulsed from his lips, tempting him into extending the kiss, caressing her seductive heat longer than he ought to, but nowhere near long enough. And she had not pulled back, as she easily could have, and his senses exulted.

“Oh, my.” It was a woman’s voice, filled with sultry humor.

The sound shocked Darcy back to reality, and he straightened, surrendering that vital link. But he did not feel bereft, not while the tension of the shared touch still burned in the air between them, and her sparkling eyes seduced him wordlessly.

Good God, when had he taken her hands? And how was he to ever let them go?

The woman said, “Now I know whom I should try to catch under the mistletoe.” Her words were met by muffled giggles.

Elizabeth said softly, “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas to you, Miss Elizabeth.” His voice was rough.

She dropped his hands and swept a deep curtsey to their observers. “What, no applause?” she asked archly.

The room came back into focus. Now two smiling ladies stood by the drunken actor, and each lightly clapped their hands.

Elizabeth turned her fine eyes back on Darcy. “Theatricals are never completely off stage, you know.”

He could somehow tell she was not making light of their kiss, but rather trying to lighten the atmosphere around them. His mouth curved into a slow smile. “I am starting to learn that.”

She gestured to the drawing room door. “Shall we return to safety?”

He wished he could say what he felt, but instead he simply bowed. “Your wish is my command, Miss Elizabeth.”

The moment was ended, but it could never be over. Surely she must feel that, too.

Chapter 7

SOMETIMES ELIZABETH wondered whether Mr. Siddons, the theatre manager, remembered that she did not work for him. Tonight he had ordered her to stand in the wings holding a cup of hot tea with honey for the leading man, who was suffering from a putrid throat. It made for long intervals of pure boredom punctuated by moments of urgency when Mr. Jamieson would step off stage, gulp the tea, and have Elizabeth dab the excess drops from the large false mustache he wore.

She would not have minded, were it not for those periods of boredom when her mind kept sliding back to Christmas and Darcy’s kiss. It had been two days now. How was it that she could still feel the warmth of his lips on hers and the burning, unexpected surge of heat inside her, the longing to press herself against him, right there in her aunt’s entry hall? The memory still made her skin tingle. The prickle of desire she had felt on occasion for other men had been a trickling summer brook compared to this whirling torrent.

If it had been any other man, she would be dreaming of their next meeting. But she could have no future with Darcy. Perhaps they might encounter one another again before he left Edinburgh, or perhaps not. Even that would be dangerous. Then she would never see him again. Ever. He would never kiss her again. Never gaze intently into her eyes. Never make her pulses pound with his presence. And that was the way it had to be. Any further contact would only lead to immeasurable pain.

It would be for the best if she did not see him again. Why could she not convince herself of that?

At the end of the third act, one of the stagehands took the teacup and teapot from her. “Siddons wants you. His office,” he whispered.

What could the theatre manager want from her now? Had she caused some sort of trouble? Her aunt would be displeased if she had angered Mr. Siddons. She tiptoed away from the stage.

Mr. Siddons was not in his office. Instead he stalked through the backstage, glowering at everyone. When he spotted her, he grabbed her elbow and propelled her to his office. Yes, he had definitely forgotten she was not one of his employees.

What could she have done? She could think of nothing worse than some ill-timed impertinence, but he was clearly unhappy.

He closed the office door behind him and scowled at her. “Does Fitzpatrick know King Henry well enough to go on tomorrow night?”

Of course. Everyone knew Jasper practiced his lines with her. “I would say so. He is not absolutely word perfect, but he does not miss any lines or cues.”

He tapped his foot. “It will have to do. No one can hear Jamieson halfway back in the pit. I am too old to play Henry, so it must be Fitzpatrick. Drill him on it tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Perhaps she ought to start asking for a salary!

“Make certain he is ready. That is all.”

She left him, already smiling. Jasper would be thrilled. It would be his first time stepping into a lead, and he loved the role of King Harry. She wished she could tell him herself, but limited herself to beaming at him as she passed him backstage.

At least this new prospect might help to keep her mind off Darcy.

***

DARCY TOOK THE BLOTTED note to the window. He needed better light to decipher Jasper’s scrawl. He raised his eyebrows as he read.

“It is from Fitzpatrick,” he said, just managing to get the name correctly. “Their leading man is ill, so he will be playing King Henry tonight.”

“We must go to it!” exclaimed Mrs. Ramsay.

“He enclosed three tickets, so I assume he is inviting both of you as well.” Why did Jasper suddenly want him to come to the theatre after making it clear Darcy should stay away? Perhaps there were some occasions where even a runaway would wish for a family member to cheer him on.

***

THEY WERE DIRECTED to a private box which was reserved for actors and their guests. The box was large and could easily have seated twelve, but they were the only ones there. They settled themselves at the front of the box, Mrs. Ramsay sitting between the two gentlemen.

“Not much of a crowd tonight,” said Ramsay.

His wife replied, “Too many people only want to see the famous actors. I am glad we came. Oh, I am as nervous for poor Mr. Fitzpatrick as I would be to go on the stage myself!”

Ramsay chuckled. “If his performance tonight is anything like the monologue he did for us, you will have nothing to worry about.”

Darcy surprised himself by saying, “I confess to a little anxiety of my own, simply because I know how disappointed he will be if it does not go well.”

The curtain began to rise.

King Henry was not in the prologue or the relatively dull first scene. The audience appeared more engaged in talking to one another than paying attention to the play until Jasper strode in at the beginning of the second scene surrounded by his attendants.

He was greeted with half-hearted booing and a catcall of “We want Jamieson!” Someone lobbed a potato at Jasper.

Jasper caught it in mid-air without breaking stride. He tossed it up and down as he said, “Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury?”

He had the presence of a young, energetic monarch, accustomed to quick obedience, showing no hesitation. The audience gradually grew quieter, and by the time King Henry was mercilessly castigating the French ambassador with threats of his vengeance on France, he had everyone’s attention.

As the next scene began, Darcy realized he had been leaning forward in his seat. He sat back, suddenly aware of rustling noises behind him. He turned his head to discover Mr. Siddons, the theatre manager, sitting in the next row. In the rear of the box, a shadowy shape stood by the curtained entrance, a shape Darcy knew intimately from his dreams. Elizabeth.

Her unexpected presence made his heart beat faster. She leaned down to whisper something to Mr. Siddons. Had she noticed him? Was she simply preoccupied with the performance, or was she ignoring him?

It would draw attention if he kept looking back at her, so he tried to fix his eyes on the stage. His cousin appeared again, this time to verbally toy with the three high-born traitors before telling them he knew of their treachery. He made the difficult transition from the youthful King Henry with grand dreams to royal ruthlessness with believable ease. It sent a chill down Darcy’s spine.

When the action returned to the seedy tavern in Eastcheap, Darcy looked over his shoulder. Elizabeth was gone, and Mrs. MacLean sat beside Mr. Siddons. With a sickening wrench, he wondered if Elizabeth had run from him, or whether it was normal for the theatricals to come and go throughout the performance. He feared it was the former.

The thought haunted him until King Henry, sword in hand, followed by his soldiers, ran onto the stage and cried, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our English dead!” Jasper’s transformation into the brilliantly charismatic young soldier-king was complete.

***

THE APPLAUSE FOR JASPER was loud and sustained despite the small audience, and there were a few shouts of “Bravo!” as if he had been an opera singer.

“Your friend has a remarkable talent!” Mrs. Ramsay exclaimed to Darcy.

Darcy was still in shock from Jasper’s performance. He had seen very few actors who could command the stage so well that it seemed impossible to look away from them, but Jasper had added himself to that number. “I had no idea he was capable of that.”

Elizabeth, who had returned without drawing his notice, said to Mr. Siddons, “He did it!” Her eyes were sparkling.

“He did.” Siddons tapped his foot rapidly. “He certainly did.”

Darcy quickly introduced the Ramsays to the theatre manager.

Mrs. Ramsay said warmly, “Mr. Siddons, that young man is going to be famous someday.”

Mr. Siddons bowed. “Madam, I think you may be correct. I have seen glimpses in him before, but he has reached a new level tonight. Miss Merton, after Hogmanay, Fitzpatrick will take over the role of Henry. We will see how he does over a few months.”

Mrs. MacLean announced with certainty, “He will end up at Drury Lane. You may depend upon that.”

Darcy’s blood ran cold. Jasper could not become famous or go to Drury Lane. He could not go anywhere he might be recognized or draw too much attention. Poor Jasper. The sobering thought sucked away the excitement of the moment.

Elizabeth finally seemed to notice him. “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fitzpatrick will be pleased to hear you came. He told me he planned to send you tickets.”

“I am glad he did,” Darcy said carefully. “It was a most impressive performance.”

Mrs. Ramsay said, “I hope you will tell him how very much we liked it. We cannot stay for the second play tonight, but this was a great treat.”

“Do you wish to tell Mr. Fitzpatrick yourself?” Elizabeth asked.

Mrs. Ramsay looked at Darcy.

How could he answer that? “He has asked me not to visit him backstage, but I would be pleased if you would tell him how much I enjoyed his performance.”

“But this is different,” she exclaimed. “If you wish, you may come back with me and I will ask him if he wants to see you.”

Darcy still thought it might be something of a trespass, but Elizabeth looked so pleased by the idea he could not refuse. “I thank you.”

Elizabeth told them to wait just inside the door to the wings. She returned a few minutes later with Jasper, who had removed his wig but still wore his surcoat.

He ran his hand through his golden hair, leaving a few spiky locks standing on end. “You came! I am glad. I will not shake your hand, as I still have greasepaint everywhere.” Jasper’s words tumbled over each other with excitement. “I hope you liked it. Everyone says I did well, but they would say that even if I had missed every other line.”

While Darcy was trying to formulate what to say, Mrs. Ramsay stepped forward and took both Jasper’s hands in hers, heedless of greasepaint. “My dear Mr. Fitzpatrick, you did more than well. You were magnificent. Someday I will boast to my friends that I was here tonight and that I knew you before you became famous. You did not play King Henry; you became King Henry.”

Jasper, his mouth ajar, looked at Darcy as if uncertain he had heard aright.

“She said it better than I could,” Darcy agreed. “Your performance was a revelation.”

Jasper’s lips moved soundlessly before he found his voice. “Mr. Ramsay, may I kiss your wife’s cheek? That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.” He sounded very young.

Ramsay nodded his agreement and his wife presented her cheek, saying, “Now I will have an even better story to tell.”

Mrs. MacLean bustled up to them. “Well done, my boy! I am proud of you.”

Jasper beamed. “You liked it?”

“I certainly did! What is more, so did Siddons, and he says he is switching you to King Henry for the rest of the run.”

Seemingly speechless, Jasper clenched his hands together in front of his chest and shook them in a gesture of triumph.

Ramsay said, “We should leave you to your other admirers. Thank you for your invitation, and congratulations on a fine performance.”

“My thanks,” said Jasper awkwardly. Hesitantly, he added, “Darcy, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”

“Of course.” Darcy allowed Jasper to steer him to a quiet corner behind the set.

“You did not like it,” Jasper blurted out.

His cousin needed even more praise? “I enjoyed it greatly. I was very impressed. I even forgot I knew you at one point.”

Jasper set his chin. “Then why do you look as if you were eating lemons?”

Good Lord. He supposed he did look grim. “Not because your performance was anything less than excellent.” He had said he would not treat Jasper like a child anymore, and this was his first test. “But I do feel sour, because the part of me that is your friend says you would be wasted in some rural parish when you have a talent like this. The part that is your father’s nephew is shouting treason. I imagine you are familiar with the dilemma, but it is new to me.”

Jasper’s face relaxed into its previous good humor. “All too familiar. Do you really think I should keep acting?”

“I am not certain I can answer that, but I can tell you the world will be poorer if you do not.” Darcy clasped his cousin’s arm. “That question can wait. Tonight you should be celebrating your grand success with your friends.”

“I will.” Jasper grinned. “I am glad you were here.”

***

HERIOT ROW WAS SOMEWHAT quieter than Hanover Street, where Hogmanay revelers were roaming the streets shouting and drinking. Here it was mostly first footers awaiting their moment. Darcy would have felt like a fool had he not been able to see other gift-laden men standing by doors up and down the street. An odd custom, certainly, but if it gave him an excuse to call on Elizabeth, he was in favor of it.

The bells of St. Andrew’s struck midnight. He counted the tolling, hearing cheers from nearby streets. On the final stroke of twelve, he lifted the knocker and let it fall. Would Mrs. MacLean and Elizabeth be home, or would they be out enjoying the revels?

The door opened immediately, but instead of the butler, Mrs. MacLean herself stood behind it. She clasped her hand to her heart. “Come in, come in,” she cried. “Lizzy, you must come to see our first footer! Good fortune has come to us.” She waved him in.

“I confess I have never called on anyone at this hour before, but my Scottish hostess assured me that I would not be turned away.”

“Of course not! Tall, dark-haired young men may visit any home in Scotland tonight.” Mrs. MacLean leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “There’s good luck for you.”

Darcy tried to hide his startled reaction. Was this Hogmanay behavior or another case of theatricals having different rules? But then Elizabeth came into the hall and he could think of nothing but her.

“Well, Aunt, you did ask for a tall, dark man,” Elizabeth said archly. “Happy New Year, Mr. Darcy.”

It was the first time since he came to Scotland that Elizabeth had smiled when she saw him. Intoxication bubbled in his veins, and he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. It was odd that he should be so desperate for her to smile at him, and then desperately want to kiss that smile away!

He held up the basket Mrs. Ramsay had prepared to Mrs. MacLean. “I bring gifts for the New Year. Salt, coal, whisky, and fruitcake.”

“Someone has trained you well in Scottish traditions! Do come into the drawing room for our Hogmanay refreshments,” said Mrs. MacLean.

“Oh! I have something for you. Excuse me a moment.” Elizabeth hurried upstairs.

Darcy followed Mrs. MacLean into the drawing room and accepted a glass of wine. He did not want anything stronger, not when he had to watch every word he said to Elizabeth.

She returned, her eyes bright. “You seemed so interested in the bookmark I made for Mr. Fitzpatrick that I decided to make you one as well.”

He took the little bundle of muslin she handed him. “And, perhaps, to prove your point that you can give gifts to any gentlemen you choose?”

Her eyes danced. “Yes, that, too. Yours has no pins, though. You do not seem the sort to lose your place marker.”

“Jasper is rather more distractible than I am.” He unwrapped the muslin slowly, giving himself time to recall that he should not let her see how significant this gift was to him. Inside the muslin was a bookmark of fine azure satin embroidered with his initials and a stylized thistle. “I thank you. It is beautifully done.”

Elizabeth giggled. “Adequately done, perhaps. I have not troubled myself to practice embroidery as much as I should. The thistle is to remind you of your visit to Scotland.”

As if he would need any reminders! He ran his fingertip over his initials. She had sewn those. “I will always recall Scotland with pleasure when I see this.” He cleared his throat before he said something he would regret. “I brought something for you as well, though hardly of the same caliber or value.” He reached inside his coat for the newspaper clipping he had brought. “I thought you might like this as a keepsake.” He proffered it to her.

“What is it?” she asked hesitantly.

“My host likes to read the London newspapers, even though they are a week old by the time they arrive. Take it.”

She unfolded the clipping and glanced up at him with a puzzled look. Her eyes moved down the column of announcements. “Oh! Oh, my goodness! Oh, my!” She grabbed his arm. “Is this true? Please tell me this is true!”

“It is printed in the newspaper, so it must be true.” Darcy drank in her pleasure, but why had she not already known this?

“Oh!” She bounced up and down on her toes as if she could not contain her joy.

“What is it, my dear?” asked Mrs. MacLean.

“It is Jane. My sister Jane. She is married to Mr. Bingley! He is the one I told you about, the one she was pining for. Oh, Jane!” She pressed the clipping against her heart. “Thank you. Thank you. This is the best gift I will ever receive.”

“How unfortunate,” teased Mrs. MacLean. “What shall we strive for when you have already received the best? Diamonds and rubies would be a disappointment.”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed and re-opened them to check the clipping again, as if the words might have changed. Her lips trembled. “Jane,” she whispered. Her face crumpled and she ran from the room.

Darcy took a step after her. He did not know why she was upset, but he wanted to comfort her.

“Let her go,” said Mrs. MacLean. “She needs some time to herself.”

He looked after Elizabeth helplessly. “I apologize. I assumed she already knew. She told me her father was a poor correspondent, but I thought even he would pick up a pen for news such as this.” He was a fool. Had he not learned his lesson about disparaging Elizabeth’s family? “Pardon me; I should not criticize your brother.”

“You may speak freely. You are not the only one disappointed in him. He has not sent one word since Lizzy arrived here. Not one damned word, if you will forgive my language.”

“Your language shocks me far less than his behavior.” Darcy wanted to saddle his horse, ride straight to Longbourn, and shake Mr. Bennet until his teeth rattled.

“Well, Thomas has always been bitter about my choices, and doubtless he does not like to see his daughter choosing to live with me. He should know it was only because she had no better option. She had never been permitted to write to me, so one could hardly see it as her preferring me over him. Any harbor in a storm is a better description.” She shook her head. “Poor girl. It is cruel that he does not allow her sisters to write.”

“You know I am the reason she had to leave.” He felt compelled to confess it.

“She has told me. She also said you had done nothing wrong.”

“Neither did she. I do not understand why she accepted blame for it, or why she did not come to me for redress. God above, how I wish she had told me!” He did not even care that he was exposing himself.

“So that is how it is. I have wondered.”

The front door slammed. Jasper appeared in the entrance to the drawing room followed by two other actors. “Happy New Year!” he proclaimed, his words slurring. “Darcy, what are you doing here?”

“He was our first footer,” said Mrs. MacLean indulgently. “I am surprised to see you home so early. The celebrations will go on until dawn.”

“This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen, as the bard said,” said Jasper’s friend Sampson. “We need to warm up so we can go back out.”

The newcomers helped themselves to food and drink, talking primarily to Mrs. MacLean, but Jasper kept glancing at Darcy in a worried manner as if he expected a scolding.

***

ONCE ELIZABETH MANAGED to regain her composure, she returned downstairs. Jasper and some of the other actors had returned and were making merry. She sat next to Darcy and whispered, “Completely foxed, if I am not mistaken.”

“They have been making the most of Hogmanay, I believe,” said Darcy.

“Is this your first Hogmanay?” she asked.

“This is my first visit to Scotland, so yes, it is. An interesting holiday.”

Elizabeth rubbed her fingers over the cuff of her long sleeve. “I do not believe I ever asked you what brought you to Edinburgh. Was it to visit your friends?”

Darcy seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I was looking for you.” The words seemed to reverberate.

Elizabeth stared at him, her stomach flip-flopping. “For me?”

“Yes. I thought you would have guessed that.”

She floundered for words. “I had not expected you to do so. How did you find out I was here? My father is the only one who knows, and he would not have told you.”

“He did refuse to tell me, despite my best efforts. I had to hunt for hints of where you might have gone. Finally I thought to ask your friend Mrs. Collins, who was kind enough to take pity on me.”

Elizabeth frowned. “But how did she know?”

“Your eldest sister mentioned something in a letter that made her think you were with your aunt, and she told me what little she knew of her, which was that she lived in Edinburgh and was well-to-do. It was little enough to go on, but here I am. As it turned out, I only stumbled across you by accident.”

Of course. She could imagine her father relieving Jane’s worry by saying she was with her aunt in Scotland, and Jane, not understanding why it had to be a secret, mentioning it to Charlotte. That part of the explanation was simple enough. Darcy’s decision to devote months of his life to finding her was much more complicated.

She could not look at him. She had assumed that after her refusal Darcy would have tried to forget about her. After all, it was one thing for him to develop a sudden passion for her and propose to her impulsively. It was a different matter to work to discover her whereabouts, travel the length of Britain in winter, and seek her out. Even when she denied knowing him, he had persisted. This was not a passing fancy. But it was even more impossible now than it had been that evening in Hunsford. A lump formed in her throat.

She had to say something. “I confess I deliberately made it difficult to find me. I am impressed with your persistence, especially when it comes to visiting Edinburgh in winter.”

“Are you warm enough yet, Fitzpatrick?” asked one of the other actors. “The city awaits! Once more into the breach!”

“Darcy, you should come with us,” said Jasper. “It is your only chance to experience Hogmanay. And it is far too late for you to be alone with the ladies.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Even theatricals must have some rules, I suppose.”

“We are not completely lawless,” said Elizabeth with mock gravity. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation in daylight.” When she might be able to think more clearly.

“It would be my very great honor.” His voice was quiet and intense.

She accompanied the gentlemen to the door and offered her hand to Darcy. His fingers closed on hers, the warm contact suddenly intimate, the sensation rebounding through her body even before his lips, unexpectedly soft, caressed the back of her fingers. She caught her breath as her entire arm seemed to come to a new, aching life.

Darcy gazed up at her without releasing her hand, his dark eyes seeming to ask a question, one whose answer she did not know. She froze as he turned her hand and brushed his lips lightly against the inside of her wrist. “Until we meet again, Miss Elizabeth.” His voice was slightly hoarse as he released her fingers and left the house.

Elizabeth could still feel the pressure of his hand, and the inside of her wrist burned as if he had branded it. Liquid heat poured from that spot to her deepest, most private places. She was not a stranger to desire, but this was different from the pleasant sensations she felt when a handsome gentleman had flirted with her or kissed her hand. This was something distinct, more untamed, and seemingly unstoppable.

Aunt Emmeline’s amused voice came from behind her. “You may be puzzled as to what that young man wants from you, but it is clear as day to me. He is unwilling to offer marriage, I assume?”

Elizabeth did not turn around. “He offered me marriage. There are other obstacles which cannot be overcome.”

“What sort of obstacles?”

She touched the back of her fingers where his lips had pressed. “His family is strongly opposed to the match.”

“Surely if he is willing to ignore his family’s views, you need not worry about them either.”

Elizabeth turned slowly to face her aunt. “He is not the one they are threatening,” she said flatly. “I am exhausted. Pray excuse me while I retire for what little is left of the night.”

She was already in bed when she realized she had not told her aunt that she did not like Mr. Darcy.

***

AUNT EMMELINE DID NOT come downstairs the following day until well after noon. “I am not as young as I once was,” she told Elizabeth with a sweeping gesture. “I can no longer stay up half the night for Hogmanay and arise at the crack of dawn.”

“You never arise at the crack of dawn,” said Elizabeth lightly.

“It is true. Such is the life of an actress! But you look as if you might have benefited from staying in bed a little longer, my dear.”

Elizabeth gave up her weak attempt at good humor. “I did not sleep well. I have been considering the situation with Mr. Darcy, and I think it would be wise for me to leave Edinburgh until such time as he returns to England.”

“Leave? He will just follow you again.”

“When I came here, I told my father I wanted no one else to know where I was going. Last night I learned that he had told my oldest sister, who in turn had told my friend Charlotte, who is married to the man who made me agree to stay away from Mr. Darcy. If he discovers I have seen Mr. Darcy, my family will suffer greatly for it. When I thought Mr. Collins did not know I was here, I did not worry, but if he knows where I am, he might discover our meetings. If I want my family to be safe, I must disappear.”

Her aunt tilted her head to the side, her brows gathered. “It sounds to me as if you need to talk to Mr. Darcy rather than run away from him. Ask him to stay away from you.”

“It does not work. He thinks he knows better than I do.” If she told him about Mr. Collins’s threats, he would try to fix the situation, and that would only make matters worse. Disastrously worse. “It is better for me to disappear. It will not be for long. I could even stay in Edinburgh if there were somewhere to go. I could just remain inside.”

“You could do that here.”

She had already thought of that. “Mr. Fitzpatrick would know I was here, and Darcy is his friend. It is better if he knows nothing of this.”

“Well, my dear, you seem to be determined, even though I do not think it necessary. Still, if you want to disappear, I have just the place for you.”

“You do?” That had been Elizabeth’s greatest worry. Scotland was still foreign to her, and she did not know where a woman could go alone safely.

“I have an estate north of Glasgow, out in the Highlands. No one ever goes there. I have thought of selling the place, but it was so dear to my husband that I cannot bring myself to do it.” Aunt Emmeline’s gaze was far away. “You could be of service to me, too, by making certain it is being well run. And you should take Timothy. The doctor said he might benefit from country air.”

Oh, to be in the countryside again, after all these months in Edinburgh! “That sounds perfect. How soon can I go there?”

Aunt Emmeline laughed. “Not this very moment! I will have to send word ahead of you so that they can prepare.”

“I do not need any special care, just my privacy.” And freedom from fear of discovery.

“The staff there have their pride. Give them two or three days to make ready for you.”

Two or three days. But what if Darcy came back sooner than that? She would just have to pretend to be ill and unable to receive him. She must never see him again, regardless of what she felt. And at the moment, she felt altogether too much.

***

THE LETTER ARRIVED two days after Hogmanay, but Darcy left it sitting unopened on his bedside table for a day after it came. It had been forwarded to him from London, but the original direction was in Bingley’s handwriting. Darcy was reluctant to read it. After all these weeks of forcing himself to accept that Bingley had questioned his honor, he did not want to reopen newly healed wounds. He already knew what it must say. Jane Bennet would have told her new husband the truth about him, and now Bingley was ready to believe his story, at least until the next time he decided to doubt Darcy’s word. He did not want to hear it.

In the end he only opened it in the hope that it might have some word about Jane that he could report to Elizabeth. He broke the seal with a muttered oath.

It did not even look like one of Bingley’s letters. There was not a single blot, and his handwriting was unusually tidy. At least he had gone to the trouble of making a fair copy.

It began as he had expected with an apology for disbelieving him. Bingley claimed he had known it was a mistake almost right away, but his anger over Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth kept him from trying to mend the breach. It was perhaps the best Darcy could expect, since Bingley was not born a gentleman.

You may have heard that Miss Bennet is now Mrs. Bingley. She has revealed to me that she believes Miss Elizabeth is in Edinburgh. We intend to travel thither to look for her once the weather is more clement, perhaps in April or May.

It ended abruptly with Bingley’s signature.

Darcy opened his writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper.

I have been in Edinburgh since November after learning the same information. It took me some weeks to locate Miss Elizabeth as she is using a different name. She is well and seems content living with her aunt. She has received no news from Longbourn since her departure, and was unaware the gossip had reached Meryton until I informed her of it. I gave her a copy of your wedding announcement which brought her great pleasure. When I see Miss Elizabeth next, I will ask her if she wishes for me to give you her address and new name. As for the rest, we can discuss it on my return to England, but I do not know when that will be.

Perhaps he would learn the answer to that question when he had the chance to speak to Elizabeth.

***

“I AM SORRY, SIR. I regret to inform you that Miss Merton is once again not at home.”

“I am here to see Mrs. MacLean, not Miss Merton.” Darcy did not add that he knew for a fact that Mrs. MacLean was indeed at home. That would come later if it was needed. He had not traveled all the way to Scotland to give up in an attempt to be polite to a butler.

The butler opened the door wider and stood beside it. “Very good, sir. If you would wait here, I will see if Mrs. MacLean is at home.” He bowed and walked off.

Darcy merely nodded. At least he had got inside the door this time.

“Mrs. MacLean will see you now.” The butler showed Darcy to the drawing room and announced him.

Mrs. MacLean rose to her feet and curtsied elegantly. “My dear Mr. Darcy! How charming of you to call. I thought of you often since you became our first-footer. Do sit down and tell me what you have been doing since Hogmanay.”

Her cordial greeting caught Darcy off-guard. “I have been doing very little apart from being turned away by your butler.”

“Turned away? You must have misunderstood. I would never turn away a fine young man like you.”

He had forgotten he was dealing with an actress. “I first called to see your niece on the second of January and was told she was unwell and not receiving callers. I received the same message on each of the next three days. Since then, I have been told she was out. Today I asked Jasper Fitzpatrick when I would be most likely to find Miss Merton at home, and he told me she had left Edinburgh shortly after Hogmanay.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Did you know I asked him about you? He said that you sometimes had no patience for social niceties, but that you were an honorable and trustworthy fellow.”

He did not care what Jasper had said. “How very kind of him. There, I have performed a social nicety, so may I impose upon you to tell me where Miss Elizabeth is gone?”

Mrs. MacLean opened her fan and waved it languidly. “I would love to oblige, but I am uncertain why I should tell you that, given that Lizzy has clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to avoid your finding her.”

So it had been deliberate, even after their conversation on New Year’s Eve. He would need to be more careful in his approach to Mrs. MacLean. “As you know, Miss Elizabeth’s reputation in England is damaged because of her connection to me. Her family is suffering for it. None of the neighbors receive them now, and her sisters are tainted by what is thought to be her shame.”

Mrs. MacLean’s eyebrows rose. “I had understood her family was not affected.”

“You were misled,” Darcy said grimly. “I returned to the neighborhood in the autumn and saw how they were shunned. Her family’s situation might have improved now that her eldest sister has married, but that marriage only took place because Mr. Bingley felt indirectly responsible for their troubles since he had brought me there in the first place.”

“That is unfortunate, but I wonder why you are telling me this.”

“Because all of this could be fixed if Elizabeth agreed to marry me. I understand she would prefer a different husband, but I am the one who can restore her family’s respectability. I do not understand why she runs away rather than discuss the matter. If she is so firmly resolved against me, all she needs to do is to say so.”

Mrs. MacLean fluttered her fan. “People who run away are generally frightened of something.”

But why, damn it? “She has no reason to be frightened of me.”

Mrs. MacLean nodded. “I agree, and, what is more, I do not believe she is frightened of you. The question, then, is what has frightened her, and that is a question only she can answer.”

Darcy ground his teeth. “It is a pity, then, that I cannot ask her.”

“It does place you in a difficult position.” She set aside her fan and glanced at the window. “I am so glad the days are growing longer again. Soon it will be spring. It is a beautiful season in Scotland. I particularly enjoy visiting my Highland estate in the spring when the flowers are in bloom.”

He stared at her in disbelief. Her sudden talk of the weather had to be a dismissal. She did not intend to help him, despite his clear reasons why Elizabeth should marry him. This was a pointless conversation. “I thank you for your patience, Mrs. MacLean. I will trouble you no longer.”

“Oh, will you abandon me so quickly? I think you would enjoy my estate. It is in the hills north of Glasgow. It would be a great pity for you to leave Scotland without ever seeing our Highlands. My husband loved it because his family is there, but I was very fond of the views.”

Why was the woman babbling on about her estate? He only wanted to know where Elizabeth was.

Oh.

“Is your estate far from here?” The Highlands were reputed to be a vast wilderness.

Mrs. MacLean beamed at him. “Some ninety miles, but the roads are not good, especially at the end. First you go to Stirling, and then on to Aberfoyle. Have you read The Lady of the Lake? It is set near there.”

Stirling. Aberfoyle. He tucked the names into his memory. “How would one find the way from Aberfoyle?”

She waved her hand. “If you ask for Kinloch House, someone will tell you the way.”

“Perhaps someday I will have the honor of visiting it.” His exultation at finding Elizabeth’s location suddenly vanished. He still had to convince her to marry him. If only he knew what had frightened her! “Should I ever have the good fortune to find Miss Ben – I mean Miss Merton, have you any advice for me?”

“My dear, a lady’s advice on these matters may cause confusion. I will only suggest that you recall you are in Scotland.”

He blinked. “I am well aware I am in Scotland, but I fail to see the relevance.”

She leaned forward and tapped his knee with her fan. “Marriage in England is such a complicated matter. Banns, family approval, being of age – why, it is a wonder anyone ever manages to marry there. It is much simpler here, where the nearest clergyman might be a day’s travel away. Anyone can marry you. I believe the blacksmith on Gretna Green does a fine business in weddings.” She dropped her voice. “It is enough even to claim you are married. If both of you claim before witnesses that you are married, then so you are.”

Darcy nodded slowly. “That is interesting counsel. I thank you.”

***

DARCY STUDIED THE LARGE map of Scotland that Ramsay had spread across his desk.

Ramsay pointed to a spot on the map. “We are here. It is half a day’s journey by stage to Stirling, but from there you will likely need to hire a guide to take you the rest of the way. The Highland roads are better suited to carts than to fine carriages.”

“I can ride to Aberfoyle and ask directions as I go.”

Ramsay looked up from the map. “I cannot advise it. This is the hungry season in the Highlands, and a lone English gentleman would be a tempting target for brigands. It would be better to hire a local to take you there. Did you bring pistols with you? I can loan you mine. You will want to be armed.”

“You make it sound as if I am going behind Napoleon’s lines. Surely it cannot be so bad.”

“Worse, in a way. Many Highlanders consider the English to be heartless monsters, not without reason. You cannot judge the Highlands by what you have seen here in the Lowlands. I would feel better if you hired a guard to travel with you.”

“I cannot think it is so very dangerous if Mrs. MacLean was willing to send Elizabeth there.”

“She would not have sent her alone. She was no doubt surrounded by Scots for the entire journey.”

He sighed. “Very well. I will hire a guide.”

Chapter 8

“THERE IT IS, MISS MERTON,” called the coachman. “Kinloch House.”

Elizabeth looked in the direction he pointed. A white house built in a Palladian style, no larger than Longbourn, stood on rising ground high above the loch. Under the gray sky, it looked something less than welcoming, but anything with a roof that allowed her to stop traveling sounded like heaven. Mr. Darcy had said at Hunsford that fifty miles of good road was an easy distance. She now knew that ten miles of bad road in winter was a very long distance indeed.

They crossed the river on an old stone bridge and drove along an even less traveled track following the bank, below hills covered with some sort of shrub. Small enclosures separated by dry stone walls lined the lane. Farm fields, by the look of the tilled soil, now barren in winter. A cluster of cottages stood on the heath above them. She had seen fewer cottages or farmers than she had expected on this journey, only a sad string of common folk carrying their few belongings down the road. Gypsies, most likely. The Highlands seemed to be populated primarily by sheep.

The lane to the house was winding and steep, but the view across the loch to the mountains was impressive. She would enjoy that. The house, surprisingly, appeared in good condition from the outside. Elizabeth had been prepared for it to be ill maintained since no one had been in residence for years, but the ivy was neatly trimmed back and the shrubs had been shaped recently. No fallen leaves spotted the lawn. Was all this effort a show for her benefit?

Elizabeth reached across to shake Timothy’s shoulder. “Time to wake up. We are here.”

The boy rubbed his eyes. “Already?” he asked blearily.

“At last might be more appropriate,” said Elizabeth. The bumpy ride might not have kept Timothy from falling asleep with his head on his nurse’s lap, but Elizabeth felt as if her very bones had been jostled apart. And that was without counting the fright she had taken when the carriage had been halted by an armed man who had then inexplicably permitted them to pass unmolested.

The driver pulled up in front of the portico and helped Elizabeth out, leaving the groom to deal with Nurse and Timothy. Two stableboys ran up to hold the horses. The coachman raised the door knocker and let it fall.

A neatly dressed elderly man with a narrow moustache, presumably the butler, opened the door. “Miss Merton, welcome to Kinloch House.” He held the door wide open, revealing two lines of servants awaiting her inspection, just as if she were the mistress of a great English house. My, there were so many of them! More than at Longbourn certainly, but perhaps the housekeeper had hired extra help upon learning that Elizabeth would be coming. A tardy maid hurried to take her place at the end of the line.

“Miss Merton, may I present the housekeeper, Mrs. MacLaren?”

Elizabeth smiled at the housekeeper apologetically. “I am sorry to be such trouble. I told my aunt I needed nothing special here, just a few rooms cleared of holland covers.”

“Kinloch House is always ready for the family to visit,” said the housekeeper with pride. “I trust you will find everything satisfactory.”

“You are very kind, Mrs. MacLaren. There is a little boy in the carriage who will need to be carried to the nursery.”

The housekeeper curtsied. “I will send someone to help him. Miss Merton, may I present the butler of Kinloch House, Mr. MacLaren? And this is our steward, Mr. MacLaren.”

Taken aback, Elizabeth asked, “How do I tell you which Mr. MacLaren I wish to speak to?”

“MacLaren the butler or MacLaren the steward will do. Almost everyone in the glen is a MacLaren. We have a few Campbells and a Stewart or two, but mostly MacLarens. May I present the upstairs maids, Margaret, Jean, and Janet? All MacLarens, of course.” She continued down the line.

Three upstairs maids in a house no one lived in? Six footmen? No doubt there were dozens of gardeners keeping that lawn free of leaves. This must be costing her aunt a fortune. The steward and housekeeper were likely employing every person in their entire families. But Elizabeth smiled at each servant, even the ones who looked at her anxiously, before being taken to a scrupulously clean bedroom with a large four-poster bed. A coal fire burned in an absolutely clean fireplace. Had someone scrubbed it out before lighting it?

“This will do nicely,” Elizabeth told the housekeeper.

***

ELIZABETH HAD PLANNED to bring her lady’s maid from Edinburgh to Kinloch, but the girl had taken ill just before their departure, so Elizabeth had assured her she could use one of the maids already at Kinloch House. She would not need to keep up a stylish appearance while hiding in the Highlands, after all.

Margaret, the parlor maid who had been assigned to serve her, timidly helped her into a warm woolen day dress. Elizabeth peered out the window as the girl fastened the last buttons.

Elizabeth frowned. “Margaret, it is the dead of winter and nothing is growing. Why are there four gardeners working in the garden?” Being overstaffed was one thing, but this was ridiculous.

Margaret came and peeked out the window. “Clearing the paths, miss.” Her voice trembled.

“Surely that could wait until spring.” Elizabeth watched the maid closely.

The girl glanced away and began to tie back the bed curtains. “The head gardener might be able to tell ye. He’s a gruff old fellow, my uncle’s wife’s father. My uncle wanted to be a gardener, but he would not take him, so my uncle become a tanner. Tanning makes his clothes stink, and my mother will not let him in the house until after he has washed thoroughly, but his tanned sheepskin is beautiful, better than aught from Glasgow.”

The maid had not been babbling about inconsequential things until Elizabeth started asking questions. Was it an attempt to distract her from asking about the gardeners? “How are you at dressing hair?”

Margaret’s eyes widened in alarm. “Och, I am no lady’s maid, but I will do my best, if ye wish.”

Why was the girl so nervous? “I can manage it myself. After all, I do not need to look particularly elegant here, do I?”

“Ye will always look elegant, miss.” But the maid’s expression was woebegone.

Perhaps she should try being more forthcoming. “I had an odd experience yesterday while traveling here. A man carrying a pistol stopped the carriage. I think he was a highwayman, but when the coachman told him who I was, he left us alone.”

“That was probably Auld Jack. He is a highwayman, but he does not rob other Scots, only the Sassenach.” She sounded more confident on this subject.

“The Sassenach? What, pray tell, are they? The highwayman called me that.” And the footman who had flinched when she had looked in his direction at dinner had used the term, too.

The girl ducked her head. “Sassenach? It is our word for the English.”

“And not a compliment, I take it.” She might have only been there one night, but it was already clear that the staff did not plan to trust an Englishwoman. It was hardly surprising her aunt avoided coming here. “I wonder why that highwayman spared me if he dislikes the English so much.”

The frightened deer look was back in her eyes. “You belong to Kinloch, so ye are not really a Sassenach. I mean, English,” she said tentatively.

Elizabeth gave up.

***

AS ELIZABETH CAME DOWNSTAIRS the following morning, one footman was muttering to another, “What can ye expect from a Sassenach?” She pretended not to hear it, and, as soon as they saw her, they stiffened and took their positions against the wall, their faces wooden.

“Could you tell me where breakfast is served?” Elizabeth asked one of them. “If a Sassenach is permitted to know such things.”

He flushed. “In the dining room, miss.” Holding open a large carved door for her, he said stiffly, “Through here, if ye please.”

She could not decide if he was trying to be as stoic as English servants in great houses or whether it was just because he disliked her for being English, but she nodded in an attempt at graciousness as she passed him.

The dining room was decorated with sculptures and jeweled bowls from India, much like the house in Edinburgh. The long table was set for one.

The housekeeper brought in the tray of breakfast foods herself. “The cook tried to guess what ye might like, Miss Merton. We know the English dinna care for some of our Scottish food, so she tried to avoid those. I hope ye will tell us what you would like in the future.”

“Thank you, Mrs. MacLaren.” Elizabeth was tempted to say she would like not to be treated like a foreign invader, but that cause seemed hopeless. “It looks delicious.”

She helped herself from the tray, remembering her last breakfast in Edinburgh, laughing with her aunt and Mr. Fitzpatrick. Going somewhere completely isolated had sounded perfect when her aunt mentioned it, but she had not thought of eating every meal alone, surrounded by staff who thought she was one of the enemy. The area was so sparsely populated that she doubted she had many neighbors, and even if she did, they would be unlikely to welcome an Englishwoman as a friend. This would be a lonely stay. If only she could return to Edinburgh!

Then there was the business of overstaffing the house. She ought to determine the truth of the matter so she could tell her aunt about it. That would give her something to do, at least.

But she did not know what to do about any of it. When she had awoken this morning in the dark, unfamiliar bedroom, she had decided that if her aunt left her this estate, she would sell it and look for something closer to Edinburgh. She could not imagine coming all this distance to a dreary place that meant nothing to her.

Outside the window the sun was breaking through the clouds. That was what she needed, a ramble outside after the long day of traveling, and it would take her away from all the English-hating staff. She pushed away the remains of her breakfast.

“Is aught the matter? May I fetch ye something else?” asked the housekeeper.

“No, everything is perfect. I am merely restless and wish to go walking. Perhaps you can recommend a footpath.”

“Walking in this cold? I hope you have warm clothes. One of the footmen can go with ye.”

“There is no need. I like to walk alone.”

The housekeeper looked dubious. “Very well, if that is what ye wish. Will you go now?”

“Not yet,” said Elizabeth. “I must check on Timothy first.”

***

ELIZABETH CLIMBED THE stairs to the nursery where Timmy was picking at his breakfast of a roll and milk. He looked so pleased to see her that she said, “From now on I think I will take my breakfast here in the nursery with you. It is far more pleasant than sitting alone at the end of that long table in the dining room.” And at least Timmy would smile at her.

The boy’s eyes brightened. “I would like that.”

“I will inform the housekeeper, then.” This was as good a time as any to put her plan into action. “I also plan to tell her you are to have meat at breakfast and dinner.”

Nurse looked up from her chair by the window. “But the doctor said he must not have meat more than once a fortnight or it would agitate his spirits.”

Elizabeth said firmly, “My aunt put me in charge of Timothy while we are here, and I am changing the doctor’s rules. There will be no more purgatives or bleedings. No leeches. Timmy is to be out of bed except when he needs to sleep, and he should have as much exercise as possible, especially outdoor exercise.” She stared defiantly at Nurse.

Nurse’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, miss.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I have reasons. My sister Kitty was consumptive as a child. The apothecary prescribed lots of fresh air, exercise, and meat. She recovered, apart from a cough.”

“I would feel ever so much better about doing that,” said Nurse shakily.

“You would?” Elizabeth exclaimed in astonishment.

Nurse’s cheeks flushed and she hurriedly began to fold a pile of linens. “It only stands to reason that staying in bed all the time will not make someone strong.”

That had been much easier than she had expected. “Timmy, do you want to go out in the garden with me when you are done eating? We will bundle you up so well you will not feel the cold.”

Timothy dropped his fork. “Can we go right now?”

“Not until you finish your breakfast,” Nurse told him sternly.

***

TIMOTHY WAS ALREADY looking tired by the time they reached the garden, so Elizabeth limited their first outing to a short walk. Not that it mattered; the boy was so thrilled to be out of doors that even a brief stroll around the kitchen garden appeared to be a great treat for him. It brought a tinge of pink to his wan cheeks.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” he asked, out of breath despite the minimal exertion.

“We will most certainly do something out of doors,” Elizabeth reassured him. “But it will take time to build your strength.”

“And no more purgatives?” The boy sounded as if the concept was beyond his fondest hopes.

“Not a one. Now let us return inside, and that big footman will carry you up to the nursery.” The stairs would certainly be too much for him at this point.

“His name is Big Tom,” said Timmy importantly. “Because the other footman is Tom, too, and they call him Little Tom even though he is tall, because he isn’t as tall as Big Tom.”

At least Timmy was getting to know the staff. After seeing him safely back in Nurse’s hands, Elizabeth decided it was time for a long walk of her own.

When she returned downstairs and announced her intention, the butler held out her pelisse and cloak. She tied on her winter bonnet and picked up her muff.

The housekeeper hurried up to her, holding up a green and blue plaid muffler. “Ye should wear this, Miss Merton. Folks here can be suspicious of strangers, and this will tell them ye are a MacLaren.”

Should she point out she was not, in fact, a MacLaren? But the muffler looked warm even if it would clash with her dark red cloak, so she wrapped the woolen fabric around her neck.

The housekeeper followed her outside. “If ye would like to walk down by the loch, you can follow the lane. There is a path yonder that climbs the hill. It is steep, but the view is good. That path over there goes to the common grazing ground.”

Elizabeth pointed at a path going over the hill in the other direction. “What about that one?”

“Oh, no, not that one,” the housekeeper said quickly. “’Tis washed out and not safe. Too steep to walk without scrambling, and it is very dull, nothing to see. You would not like it, not at all.”

“No doubt it is icy as well.” Elizabeth watched Mrs. MacLaren’s expression.

The housekeeper nodded emphatically. “Aye, very likely.”

Elizabeth did not suggest that it also looked like the sort of path rabid dogs might frequent, but she was sorely tempted. Someday she would have to explore along the path the housekeeper wished to keep her away from. “I will go along the ridge, then.”

“Very good, miss. Do not be forgetting the sun sets quickly here in the hills.”

Even earlier than in Edinburgh? “I will be careful.”

She could feel the housekeeper watching her as she set off and was glad to pass out of view behind a rock outcropping. This was better, to be free and able to explore an unknown place. After a mile or so she reached the top of the hill, the muscles of her legs aching from the climb. She looked back at Kinloch House, a white shadow against the frosty ground, with the tenant cottages below, smoke curling from their chimneys, and the dark water of the loch beyond. She turned slowly in a circle, taking in the view of the loch and the snow-capped mountains and hills surrounding it, their barren sides offering a bleak beauty. The clean, crisp air filled her lungs, clearing out the soot of a winter’s worth of coal fires.

When had she last been alone, so far from any other human? Certainly not since coming to Scotland. Even the countryside near Longbourn was populated enough that it would be difficult to escape so fully. Now she had escaped Hertfordshire, Edinburgh, and Mr. Darcy. What was he doing now? Had he discovered her departure yet? Would his regret be mingled with relief, to be rid of the responsibility for her? She bit down hard on her cold lip, trying to chase away the memory of his kiss under the mistletoe and the rush of heat it had sent through her body. Some things could not be forgotten, though, only regretted.

The sun came out from behind a cloud, and she shaded her eyes against the bright reflection from the loch. The landscape could not be more different from the gentle, green hills of Hertfordshire, but it had a drama of its own. Perhaps she could find some rest for her spirit here after all.

***

ELIZABETH’S RAISED spirits lasted until her return to Kinloch House, where they were quickly quenched by more conversations that stopped abruptly when she came into the room, frightened looks, and maids who flinched away from her. Good heavens, what did they think she would do to them?

She was annoyed enough to seek out the housekeeper in her rooms, where she found Mrs. MacLaren comforting a crying maid. They both fell silent at the sight of her, of course. “Mrs. MacLaren, I would like a moment of your time when you are free. It is not urgent.”

The housekeeper gave the maid a pat on the shoulder. “Off ye go, Janet. Miss Merton, I would be happy to speak to ye now. Shall I come upstairs?”

Normally Elizabeth would expect that, knowing it would be more comfortable for both of them, but she was feeling contrary. “This will be fine. I hope I did not interrupt something important.” Why had the girl been crying?

“Janet was feeling a wee bit nervous, that is all.” Mrs. MacLaren held out a chair for her at the small table. “Did you enjoy your walk? I hope ye did not take a chill.”

“It was quite pleasant.” Elizabeth made herself as comfortable as she could be on the wooden chair. “Since I will only be here a few weeks, I had not anticipated involving myself in the management of the house, yet I find myself with many questions.”

The housekeeper, unlike the lower servants, did not quail. “I will be happy to answer whatever I can.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I expected to find a house that had been shut up for many months. Instead it is in perfect condition, as if you anticipated it being full of guests at any moment. It is certainly well staffed, and I might even say overstaffed.” She sat back, waiting for the excuses to begin.

“Aye, we do have a great many servants at this time of year,” Mrs. MacLaren agreed. “If it were summer, there would be fewer.”

“What does the time of year have to do with it?”

“Och, the master, may his soul rest in peace, was a generous man. When a tenant family would fall into arrears on their rent, he allowed them to work some of it off by sending their young people to serve here in the winter, when they could be of little use on the farm. Other houses have spring cleaning, but we do it in winter when we have the extra hands. The last two harvests have been bad, so more tenants than usual could not pay their full rent. I had to turn some away and send them to the steward to be put to work maintaining the roads and fences.”

It could be the truth. “You claim this was on the orders of my aunt’s husband?”

“Aye. Your aunt has never countermanded the orders, so we have continued the practice. Perhaps she would like to make changes now.” New lines showed on Mrs. MacLaren’s worn face.

“I will ask her. I certainly can make no complaint about the state of the house, but I find it odd that, despite the flawless upkeep, the staff seem terrified of me. Is there a reason for that?”

The housekeeper’s stern face softened. “Och, it is nothing about ye, lass. Many Highlanders are frightened of the Sassenach. The English, that is. It took time for them to trust your aunt, too. When they see ye are not like the other English, they will nae worry so much.”

That was unexpected. “I would not say I am particularly different from any other woman from England,” said Elizabeth stiffly.

“Hush, dinna say such a thing!” Mrs. MacLaren sounded shocked. “I cannot speak for English women, but Englishmen have treated the Highlanders ill. The Army took over here after the rebellion, and they were right cruel. They took Kinloch House and gave it to an English officer who did not care what anyone here suffered. Some tenants starved, and more would have done were it not for the clan chieftain’s charity. The common folk here have never known any kindness from the English, excepting your aunt. The old master told me there were many kind Englishmen, but we have never known them.”

A rebellion? Surely she could not be talking about the Jacobites. Culloden had been almost seventy years ago. “I do not imagine the Army is known for kindness when dealing with a defeated enemy.”

“Kindness! That wee plaid muffler you wore today – a man would have been transported for that, even thirty years after the cruel slaughter at Culloden!” The housekeeper’s eyes flashed.

“For wearing plaid?” exclaimed Elizabeth in disbelief.

Mrs. MacLaren took a deep breath to calm herself. “Miss Merton, I urge ye not to judge when ye dinna know the suffering we faced. ’Twas a nightmare, those years. The nightmare would still be happening here, had the old master not bought the place to protect the old ways.” She wiped a tear from her eyes.

Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt for raising a painful subject and for her own ignorance of the situation. “I will be the first to admit that I know little of the history of the Highlands.” Perhaps that would mollify the housekeeper’s clear distress. “But I assure you, I have no intention of being unkind to anyone here.”

“Of course not.” Mrs. MacLaren straightened. “Have ye any other questions?”

“Yes. I have noticed some of the servants and gardeners are elderly. Are the staff not given pensions for their years of service when they are too old to work?”

The older woman’s gaze flicked away from her for a moment. “Och, aye. But some of them have lived their whole life here at the house and have nowhere else to go. The old master let them stay on, and in return, they help out for an hour or two here and there.”

Elizabeth studied her. This time it was definitely not the truth, but why should the housekeeper lie about it? Was it simply to avoid Elizabeth’s disapproval? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

***

IT BECAME ALMOST A game for Elizabeth to discover what mysteries lay at Kinloch House. When she saw Margaret later that day, she told the maid about her walk and mentioned that she planned to take another one tomorrow, up the hill behind the house.

“Och, not that path, miss!” the girl exclaimed.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“There is...there is a terrible, nasty old man who lives up there, and he has vicious dogs. He has trained them to attack strangers,” said Margaret earnestly.

The next day Elizabeth realized it was not just the mysterious path that was off limits for her. There was always someone to steer her away from the stables, too. First they were being mucked out, which was remarkable since there was no smell of horse manure, and then there was an ill horse who could not be disturbed. There was only one thing to be done: she informed the groom that she would walk up the path behind the house instead.

The groom shook his head gravely. “There be a nest of wildcats there. Just a fortnight ago, they mauled a poor lad who was fool enough to go up that way.”

Elizabeth was tempted to ask if the wildcats fought with the vicious dogs on the icy path, but she decided to bide her time.

***

THE DAYS QUICKLY FELL into a pattern. Breakfast in the nursery, a short time outside with Timmy, and a longer walk by herself. Afterwards she would go over Timmy’s lessons and tell him a story. But none of it was enough to keep the long dark evenings from dragging, leaving her too much time for thought. She tried to fill the hours with reading and other tasks, but she missed the companionship she was used to in Edinburgh.

On her fourth evening at Kinloch, she brought out her embroidery, hoping the close work would distract her, but after only a short time, she had to unthread her needle and pick out the stitches she had so carefully made. Why did irises have to be her aunt’s favorite flower? Simple flowers were easy enough to embroider, but her attempt at the elegant lines of an iris looked like a child’s drawing. Perhaps she should just give up and make something else for her aunt’s birthday gift.

Or perhaps the problem was that she could not stop thinking of the last thing she had embroidered, that bookmark for Mr. Darcy. His dark eyes haunted her, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, and she kept finding herself remembering the sensation of his lips brushing against hers. Oh, why did he have to find her and raise these regrets for what she could not have?

The thread became caught, so she tugged harder and it broke. Now she would have to do the entire petal over again. Another mistake caused by Mr. Darcy.

Why could she not put him out of her mind? When she first came to Scotland, she had felt the loss of many people in her life, but he had not been one of them. The part of her that had been flattered by his offer at Hunsford had quickly been quashed by the disaster following it. Yet she had been flattered again when he tried to speak to her, and hurt when he ignored her that day he visited the theatre with the little girl. Perhaps she had never been as indifferent to him as she thought.

What did it matter, anyway? There was no future for them. Further contact with him could only bring tragedy. If only she could simply forget the man, and erase him as easily as pulling out her stitches!

Why should she care that he had followed her to Scotland? He had done that for his honor. He had said as much. How could she believe he truly wished to marry her when he had made such a point of paying no attention to her that day? He must have been ashamed to admit to his friends that he had once cared about her. Yet at Christmas, he had asked her to sit with him and kissed her tenderly under the mistletoe. That meeting might have been an accident, but he had deliberately gone to some trouble to seek her out on Hogmanay.

Perhaps seeing her at Christmas had rekindled his old affection for her, but then why would he claim to have spent all his time in Scotland because of her? She could make no sense of it.

Teasing, teasing man! She resolved to think no more of him. Who would want a husband whose affections were so fickle? She ran her thumb lightly over the inside of her wrist where his warm lips had lingered on Hogmanay. Why must the one man she could never have be the one to stir her senses?

She blew out an annoyed breath between her teeth and tossed her embroidery aside.

Margaret asked timidly, “Is aught the matter, miss?”

“Men,” Elizabeth said with heavy meaning.

“Men are always trouble,” agreed Margaret.

“They certainly are, especially men who cannot decide what they want and drive women mad trying to guess, and then we are fool enough to still want them.” Elizabeth could not believe she was saying this to a servant, but if it kept running around inside her mind, she would soon be a candidate for Bedlam.

Margaret eyed her in shock, and then a broad grin spread across her face. “Aye, just so! It is a wonder we dinna lock the doors and never let a one of them in!”

“I like that idea,” said Elizabeth firmly. “With very big locks.” Otherwise Mr. Darcy would probably try to break down the door. But with luck, the days of Mr. Darcy pursuing her were over. That thought left her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“It took my Charlie two whole years to make up his mind,” the girl confided. “I was ready to pitch him into the loch.”

“No doubt he deserved it!”

Margaret laughed. “Aye, that he did.”

“Is he a local man?”

“Aye, he works for the laird. Not at the castle, though. He manages one of the farms,” the girl said.

“The castle?”

“Castle Lochard, where the laird lives. Now, the laird’s son is a bonny lad, and I would not lock him away if he came calling! ’Twill be a lucky woman who catches his eye.” Margaret seemed to be watching her carefully.

Elizabeth did not care about the laird, but Margaret’s words reminded her of her promise to her aunt to check on the estate. “I would like to meet some of the tenants here. Will you go with me tomorrow?” She was not looking forward to what was bound to be a reception of barely hidden hostility at best. If they hated her for being English, so be it.

“Aye, if ye wish.” Margaret turned away and put some coal on the fire. “What was it like, the place ye lived in England?”

It was not an appropriate question for servant to ask, but it was such an improvement over fear and flinching that Elizabeth decided to overlook it. “My father has a small estate in the countryside not far from London. The house is much the same size as this one, although it is older. The landscape is not nearly as hilly, but very green and pleasant.”

Margaret hesitated. “Were there tenant farmers there?”

An odd question. “Yes, a goodly number. When I was small, I liked to stand on the stile and watch them planting in the spring.”

“Are they still there?”

“The tenants? Of course. Where else would they be?”

The girl looked up at her nervously. “I dinna know. It sounds like a pleasant place, though.”

***

THE TENANT COTTAGE was tidy but sparsely furnished. A bed in the corner was covered by a much mended blanket. The woman of the house, another Mrs. MacLaren, had wan cheeks, but her eyes showed smile lines, even if her expression was the wary one Elizabeth had come to expect from everyone. Big Tom, the footman Margaret had insisted on bringing with them, hovered behind Elizabeth, making the cottage seem crowded.

By the small window, a girl of perhaps twelve sat behind a simple loom, her hand nimbly moving the shuttle back and forth.

“Our Jenny is turning into a fine weaver,” said the woman.

Elizabeth obediently examined the fabric forming on the loom. It was the now-familiar tartan pattern so many of the MacLarens wore, and the weave seemed even and neat. “Well done,” she said.

A movement near the hearth caught her attention. A boy perched on a stool, his hands in constant motion as he whittled a small stick.

“Stand up and make your bow, Andrew,” said the woman firmly.

The boy carefully set aside his work and reached behind him for a crutch. He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the crutch and balancing with his other hand on the stool. Even the small bow made him stumble, but his mother caught his elbow before he could fall. “Good day to ye, Miss Merton,” he said in a raspy childish soprano. He turned his face aside as he coughed.

“Pray sit!” Elizabeth said, embarrassed. “You need never stand for me.”

“Andrew is a useful boy, for all he is lame,” said his mother with a mixture of defiance and fear.

“I can see that.” Elizabeth tried to sound reassuring. “What are you whittling?”

The boy held it out to her shyly.

She took the unfinished figure in her hand. A man’s shape, the helmeted head and arms formed already. “A toy soldier?” She had not spent months with Timothy for nothing.

He bobbed his head.

His mother placed her hand on his shoulder, her chin forward. “He mostly makes shuttles, handles, and spoons, but when he’s done with his work, he is allowed to make toys.”

Elizabeth turned over the whittled soldier in her hand. Why was his mother so worried? “I have a young friend at the house, my aunt’s ward, who loves his toy soldiers. He will not allow me to play with them, though. He says I ruin everything because I want the soldiers to solve their problems instead of fighting,” she said with a droll smile.

Big Tom’s rumbling voice came from behind her, weighed with significance. “He is lame, too. A clubfoot.”

The woman’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

The boy piped up, “Girls dinna understand toy soldiers.”

Elizabeth handed the soldier back to him, noticing how thin and fragile his fingers looked. “I fear we do not!” She turned to his mother. “Timothy is very lonely. He rarely sees other children because he is sickly. If you would be so kind as to permit your Andrew to visit him one day, I would be in your debt.”

The woman eyed her suspiciously, but shook her head. “Andrew canna walk all that way.”

Big Tom said, “I could bring him in the wagon, if Miss Merton permits.”

“Of course,” said Elizabeth.

The woman still hesitated until Tom gave her a decisive nod. “If ye wish it, then, miss.”

“Good. Timothy will be so happy to meet another boy who likes toy soldiers.” She had hoped the woman would be pleased with the offer, but apparently her distrust of Elizabeth was too strong.

“’Twill be a rare treat for Andrew, too,” said Big Tom.

Once they had left the house, Elizabeth asked Margaret, “What was that woman so worried about?”

“Och, she was afraid ye would want to send her boy away. Him being lame and all, and the family not able to pay their rent,” said Margaret as if that should be obvious to anyone.

“What kind of monster do they think I am?” exclaimed Elizabeth in annoyance.

Big Tom rumbled, “They dinna know ye, miss.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her. “Yes. I was born on the other side of the border, so I am a heartless beast until proven otherwise.”

Margaret repeated Big Tom’s words weakly. “They dinna know ye.” As if she herself did not flinch every time Elizabeth sounded the least bit vexed.

“Margaret, when that boy comes to the house, he is to be fed all the meat and milk he can eat, and he is to be returned home with a basket of nourishing food.” Elizabeth did not even try to keep her anger from her voice.

“Aye, miss.” Margaret sounded subdued.

Chapter 9

ELIZABETH WAS BREAKFASTING with Timmy the next day when Big Tom brought Andrew to visit, along with an aged three-legged sheepdog. “Bonnie Prince is no longer needed in the fields, and I thought he would keep the two of them out of trouble,” he said with a glint in his eye.

Timmy fell to his knees beside the dog and began to pet him. “What a good boy you are, Bonnie Prince! Is that his name? I always wanted a dog.”

“He is verra well-trained, miss,” Big Tom told Elizabeth apologetically.

“And you thought Timmy would like a dog,” Elizabeth said dryly, but not without warmth.

Big Tom grinned, apparently not the least troubled to be caught overstepping his position. “Boys and dogs, they go together, miss.”

Elizabeth knew a losing battle when she faced one. “Big Tom, pray have another breakfast brought for Andrew. Timothy, you must finish yours as well.” She had not missed the longing glances the tenant boy kept giving to their abandoned meal.

“But I want to play!” cried Timmy, as if she had threatened to imprison him for life.

“And play you shall. After breakfast.”

Elizabeth stayed in the nursery long enough to make certain the toy soldiers did not come out until both boys had eaten their fill. The minute they finished, they began setting out their armies, one for each of them and one for Bonnie Prince, who was apparently a warlord in disguise as a dog. By then Timmy had completely forgotten her existence, so she decided it was a good time to take the long walk she had been promising herself.

She left the house quietly and headed down the lane towards the loch, but once she was out of sight of the house, she doubled back and cut across the heath. If she kept walking towards the tallest hill, she should reach the forbidden path with no one the wiser. It was harder going than she expected, with the dead-looking gorse branches catching at her pelisse, but she found the path without a problem. Good; the house was still out of sight. She smiled. How foolish did they think she was?

She stuffed her hands inside her muff and set off at a vigorous pace, hoping the exercise would keep her warm.

Nothing untoward was apparent in the first mile or two as she climbed the mountain at a steady pace. The path was not washed out, nor did she encounter wildcats or a horrid man with a vicious dog, unless said dog was cleverly disguised as a placid sheep. There were a few icy patches, but they were rare and far between. If anything, this path seemed better traveled than the others she had taken.

She shaded her eyes with her hand. Was that some sort of building behind the crag? It might be a simple outcropping. It was hard to see clearly with the sun so low in the sky, but she thought she saw smoke rising from it.

She would have to turn back soon if she wanted to return to Kinloch House before dark, but first she would go as far as the ruined tower or rock outcropping, whichever it might be. The prospect of returning to Kinloch House was not unappealing, though. The cold had sunk into her bones and she could barely feel her toes. Tomorrow she would have to get an earlier start if she wanted to explore farther.

Yes, it was some sort of structure. Half ruined stone walls and what must have been a tower, and scraggly thatch forming a roof over part of it. Someone had lived there, and recently.

This must be the secret no one wanted her to find. She slowed her pace. Perhaps it would be wiser not to go straight up to it. She could circle around and see if she could find a hint as to the mysterious inhabitants.

But it was already too late. A gaunt, beak-nosed older man strode towards her, his hands buried in the pockets of his greatcoat. “This is no place for a lass alone. Ye maun turn about and never return.” His dialect was thick, but she recognized his voice.

“I know you,” she said slowly. “You stopped the carriage on the road the day I came to Kinloch.”

He tipped his head to one side. “Then you must be Mrs. MacLaren’s niece.” He stepped forward and tugged on her muffler. “The one who is not a MacLaren and is therefore not entitled to wear the MacLaren plaid.” His voice was silky and dangerous. The thick accent had disappeared as if had never existed.

“I know. Mrs. MacLaren – the housekeeper, not my aunt – insisted I wear it whenever I go out.”

The gleam of teeth showed. “A wise woman. It saved you from being shot a few minutes ago.” He said it as calmly as if he had been commenting on the weather.

“How very inhospitable.” Fear prickled at Elizabeth’s neck, but she would not let him see it.

“The housekeeper should have warned you against taking this path.”

“She did, and so did everyone else. I have been told that the path was washed out, icy, and dangerous. Others told me there were wildcats and starving foxes prowling this trail. One person mentioned a pack of rabid dogs and an old madman. One bold soul even mentioned wolves, which I understand are extinct in Scotland except along this very path. I had hoped someone would be more inventive, but no one mentioned werewolves or Macbeth’s witches as a reason to avoid this trail. How disappointing to discover the only threat is something as mundane as a gun.”

He drew a pistol out of his pocket. “Guns may be mundane, but they are deadly. Now I suggest you turn back and forget you ever saw me here.”

“Pardon me, but would it not be difficult to explain to my aunt that you shot and killed her niece for the crime of walking on her own land?” If he had not shot her by now, she suspected it was because he did not dare. “Perhaps you missed the point of my story, which is that vague warnings against doing something are not likely to deter me.”

He did not look amused. “You do not know what you are facing, and you are better off that way.”

She lifted her chin. “I daresay I am facing one of Auld Jack’s men.”

“Tsk. Who has been telling you stories?” He ran his finger along the barrel of the pistol.

“Very few men stop carriages along the highway for no apparent reason. It is clear to me that my uncle knew of your presence here and turned a blind eye, and I suspect my aunt does as well. Since my aunt expects to leave her property to me, I wonder why you are trying so hard to make an enemy of me.”

He raised his eyebrows, an amused smile hovering over his lips. “Touché.”

“Do many Scottish bandits employ French fencing terminology? It makes me wonder why an educated man who has some acquaintance with the sport of fencing is now a bandit in this godforsaken place.”

His smile was replaced by a cool look. “You will simply have to wonder. But you have accused me of being inhospitable. Would you care to come in and warm yourself before you undertake the walk home? We usually do not allow ourselves a fire during the day to avoid our smoke being seen, but we have made an exception for today. Of course, you would be alone among bandits.” His mocking tone told her he knew no young lady could accept such an invitation.

He did not know Elizabeth Bennet. “Thank you. I would be glad of a little warmth.”

He tapped his finger on the pistol barrel. “You are an unusual one.”

“I do not like being underestimated,” said Elizabeth with a touch of acidity. “Besides, if I will one day have to decide your fate, it behooves me to learn more of you.”

“If you live that long, which I begin to doubt.” Oddly, he sounded more amused than threatening. “This way, then.”

This was foolhardy at best, but Elizabeth was in no mood to back down. She was probably safe enough; if she disappeared while walking on the estate, her aunt would know whom to blame, and the man in front of her knew it.

He escorted her through what must have once been an arched doorway. The keep within was floored with hard-packed earth and empty apart from a Highland pony standing in a sheltered corner. A crude hut had been fashioned by putting thatch over what must have once been a room. Smoke curled up from an opening in the thatched roof. A ragged blanket hung over an empty doorway. He pulled it aside and bowed as if he were welcoming her to a London drawing room.

She would have liked to sweep past him, her nose in the air, but who knew what might be in the mysterious space beyond the blanket? She stepped in carefully.

It was dark and smoky inside. The only light came from the hole in the roof, chinks in the wall, and the doorway, making phantom shapes loom in the smoke. The hearth, if it could be called one, was a half circle of rocks surrounding two small glowing logs. A long dark shadow lay in front of it.

She took refuge in impertinence. “You seem to have misplaced your horde of bandits.”

“Even bandits have business that must be taken care of.” He seemed larger, more frightening in this small, dark room where ancient stone walls trapped her. What if he blocked the doorway so she could not escape?

The air was scarcely warmer than the air outside, and the smoke made her cough. Elizabeth stepped towards the fire. She would warm her hands for a minute or two, and, having proved her point, beat a hasty retreat.

She had her foot raised to step into the shadowy area before the fire when she realized it was a man’s body and scuttled back quickly. Fortunately, she did not seem to have woken him. Sleeping bandits most likely did not care to be disturbed by unwelcome visitors.

“My apologies,” she said quickly. “I do not wish to disturb your friend.”

A mocking smile greeted her words. “Not my friend.”

“Well, then, I certainly will not disturb your enemy.”

“Not that either. Just a fellow I found unconscious by the side of the road. He had been robbed of his boots and coat, but his linen was fine enough that I decided to see if he is worth a ransom. If he awakens, that is.” He seemed unconcerned about the possibility his guest might die.

“You robbed him, and now you are going to hold him for ransom, too?”

His teeth glinted in the darkness. “I was not the one who robbed him. I do not need to resort to knocking my victims unconscious.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes wide in a look of mock innocence. “Of course you would not! You only rob people in a polite manner.”

He laughed. “Exactly. There is no need to be rude about stealing someone’s money.”

“It must be easy to laugh when you are not the one being robbed or lying unconscious. I do not suppose you have brought in an apothecary to look at him.”

“My dear Miss Merton, the nearest apothecary is over an hour’s ride away, and he comes out only for rich men. Poor men must survive without his care. This rich man can do the same.”

“What a charming approach to life you have!”

“I brought him here this morning rather than leaving him by the side of the road to freeze. Does that count for nothing?”

She said through her teeth, “You have already told me the reason you did that. Surely there must be someone nearby who treats people who are hurt?”

He shrugged. “There is a fellow who sets bones and bandages wounds. Now I believe it is time for you to return to Kinloch House. You have made your disapproval of my choices clear. I have never claimed to be a saint. I will not lie awake tonight worrying about my cruelty.” He nudged the unconscious body with his toe. The man groaned faintly.

Elizabeth’s temper snapped. “That is a human being, a child of God like you!” She knelt next to the man’s form. “And if you will not care for him, I will!”

She gingerly picked up the corner of the threadbare blanket that covered everything but his hair. No doubt it was crawling with fleas, but she tugged it down to reveal his head and shoulders. In the faint red glow of the embers, she could make out dark hair and a trickle of something dark running down his exposed neck, but his face was turned into the shadows. His shirt, ripped at the shoulder, looked unnaturally white in this dirty place.

It was not as if she knew anything about caring for an injured man, but surely she could do something for him. She pulled her gloves off and ran her hand over his head, feeling for a wound.

Had she ever touched a man’s hair before? It was surprisingly soft. Ah, there it was, a lump on the side of his head, sticky with what must be blood. Poor man!

She could make out no other obvious injury, but the darkness could be hiding it. She wiped her sticky fingers on the blanket and slid her palm under his cheek to turn his head into the dim glow, revealing a swollen, bruised, but still familiar face.

Elizabeth gasped in horror.

It was Mr. Darcy. Her heart tried to leap out of her chest and her hand shook as she clapped it over her mouth. How could he be here? Why was he here – and what if he did not wake up? Tears filled her eyes.

“You know him?” the highwaymen asked.

She nodded dumbly, unable to speak.

“Good. That will make it easier. Will someone pay ransom for him?”

She glared at him incredulously. “You are a monster. I hope they hang you by the neck until you are dead.”

“You seem to forget that I saved his life.”

The dim firelight revealed a large, dark bruise on one side of Darcy’s face, a swollen lip, and a jagged cut across his forehead. Her hand shaking, Elizabeth stroked his undamaged cheek, the stubble pricking her fingertips. Poor Mr. Darcy, who would never have appeared in public without shaving! A warm drop of water landed on her hand, and she realized it was a tear.

Did he have other injuries? That dark stain on the side of his shirt must be blood. Yes, it was stiff and hard to the touch. But what was the shirt hiding? Her hand hovered over the fine linen. What was the point in paying attention to propriety when his life might be at stake?

The bandit’s scarred hand did it for her, tugging the shirt up just enough to reveal an abrasion on his side. Averting her eyes from his exposed chest, she examined it, her heart pounding. It seemed to be scabbing over. Could it be infected? If the area was red, she could not tell in this poor light. She laid the back of her fingers against the skin by the wound as she had seen the apothecary do. Just the usual warmth of human flesh, shocking in the cold, but it was not hot. What would he think if he knew she was touching him?

“Most likely they kicked him there,” said the bandit. “He may have broken ribs underneath, but he would have to be awake to tell us.”

It was too easy to see in her mind’s eye, a booted foot smashing into him. Oh, how she hated this place and its vicious inhabitants!

There might be other wounds. Gathering her courage, she felt along the side of his leg through the trousers. No swelling, and she could not feel dried blood on the cloth.

“No need to embarrass yourself further,” the bandit sneered. “His ankle is badly swollen, no doubt wrenched when his boot was pulled off, and his leg appears broken. Hard to tell when he is unconscious. No sign of internal injuries.” The highwayman’s voice was clipped.

Relief washed over her. She wanted to put her head down on Mr. Darcy’s chest and cry, but she would not show weakness. She grasped his shirt to pull it down, but stopped short. The shirt had not been stuck to the wound. She examined the abrasion again. No blood except on the shirt. Unless Mr. Darcy was an extremely tidy bleeder, someone had cleansed the wound. Slowly she tugged the shirt down to cover him and pulled the tattered blanket up to keep him warm, or at least less cold. She touched the lump on his head again.

“Careful. That is still oozing.”

How did the highwayman know that if he had been ignoring Darcy? And highwaymen did not say things like ‘no sign of internal injuries.’

A small bowl of water and a rag appeared beside her.

She said slowly, “I did not know highwaymen checked for internal injuries.”

“But you have never known any other highwaymen, have you? Perhaps we all do. You can clean the wound on his head if you like.” His tone was mocking.

She could deal with that mystery later. Right now, her heart ached for Darcy. He was always so in control, so strong, so immaculately dressed and shaved, accustomed to the finest in everything. Here he lay unconscious in a hovel, wearing no more than a torn, bloodstained shirt and his trousers, barely warmed by a tiny fire.

She dipped the cloth in the water and carefully parted Darcy’s hair to expose the lump. He flinched when the wet rag touched his wound, and she drew back involuntarily. She had hurt him.

“It is a good sign that he reacts to pain. If he did not, he would be unlikely to awaken.”

She steeled herself to resume cleaning the wound. He tried to twist his head away this time. It was a strange relief to see him move rather than lying limp as she wiped the dried blood from his neck. That skin had always been hidden by his cravat.

After setting down the rag, she stroked his hair, moving a lock that had fallen over his forehead. He turned his head into her touch, so it must be pleasing in some manner. She smoothed his curls, soothing her fraught spirits as well. She would not think of the impropriety of it. Nothing mattered but making him as comfortable as she could.

Why was he here? It was vanishingly unlikely that Darcy had some acquaintance apart from her in this particular godforsaken part of the world. He had to have been trying to find her. He must have discovered where she was, and, just as he had followed her from England to Scotland, he had followed her into the Highlands. And what had she given him in return for his efforts? Impertinence and unkind rejection, pretending not to know him, and running away from him. He must have wondered why she was so desperate to avoid him. Had it hurt him? He was certainly hurt now, and it was because of her.

“Who is he?” asked the highwayman.

She did not look up. “His name is Darcy. He is a gentleman from Derbyshire.” Somehow she got the words out despite the lump in her throat.

“Who are his relatives?”

Darcy’s relatives? They were her worst enemies. “I would rather not tell you. You would be wise to steer clear of them.” If only she had been able to follow that advice herself, Darcy would not be lying here unconscious. Unshed tears burned the corners of her eyes.

He rolled his eyes. “Why is that?”

“I do not need to explain my reasons, but it is in your best interest as well. His family is powerful and ruthless, and you would likely end up being hanged.” And if they discovered her there, he might not be the only one. She could not afford to forget that.

“I thought you wanted to see me hanged by the neck until I was dead. That is what you said, is it not?”

“That was when you were pretending to be cruel and uncaring,” she said tiredly, laying her fingers gently on Darcy’s cheek.

“I am cruel and uncaring. And I want that ransom.”

“Then wait for him to regain consciousness and ask him to have it sent. I do not want anyone’s blood on my hands, not even yours.” Her voice shook.

“In that case, Miss Merton, it is time for you to return to Kinloch House now,” the bandit said. “It will be dark soon.”

“Not without him.” How could she bear the luxury of Kinloch when Darcy was unconscious in this uncomfortable hovel?

The bandit sighed. “Totally apart from the ransom question, the only way to get him there would be in a wheelbarrow or slung across a horse’s back. Either one is likely to worsen the injury to his head.”

Elizabeth rested her hand on Darcy’s linen-clad shoulder. “You got him up here somehow.”

“Aye, but my choice was between letting him die and risking further injury. He will do as well here as anywhere else. The discomforts will not trouble him in his condition.”

“Then I will stay here with him.” The words came out of her mouth unplanned, but they were true. She would remain until he woke. She could not even think about the alternative.

The highwaymen muttered something explosive under his breath. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your reputation would be ruined.”

Elizabeth watched the steady rise and fall of Darcy’s chest. “Unless you are planning to go to Edinburgh to announce my sins to society, I have little to fear.”

He threw his hands up. “There is nowhere for you to sleep, and not enough food to keep from going hungry.”

“Then I will go hungry. It will not kill me.” Could he not tell she was on the edge of hysteria?

“You are returning to Kinloch House if I have to tie you up and carry you!” he snarled.

She glared at him. “I would simply come back. It would be much easier if you went to Kinloch House and asked the housekeeper to send someone here with food and a few blankets. She can even send a maid if you are that concerned about propriety.”

He studied her silently, his lips compressed. His right hand was at his belt, rubbing the grip of his pistol.

Had she gone too far? She was at his mercy, and he was a criminal. Her mouth went dry and she turned back to Darcy. Not that there was anything she could do for him, but she would rather look at him than the angry bandit. Would her aunt’s name protect her this time? If he planned to shoot her, she would rather not know it was coming.

Her chest felt tight with each breath and her neck ached with tension. What was she doing, invading a criminal’s lair and issuing orders to him? It would do Darcy no good if she were killed. Alive, she could at least send blankets to keep him warm.

She bowed her head. In a low, trembling voice, she said, “Very well. I will leave. If I may, I would like to return in the morning to see if there has been any change, but I will not stay.”

Silence was her only answer. She gazed on Darcy’s face one more time and forced herself to her feet. Slipping on her gloves, she looked up and discovered she was alone. The bandit must have left without a word.

She pushed aside the blanket that served as the door. The keep was empty, too, except for the Highland pony in the corner placidly chewing hay. Perhaps she could catch the man on the path outside, but that would leave Darcy alone.

Where had he gone? A criminal living in hiding would not have taken her flippant suggestion of going to Kinloch House to ask for supplies. Perhaps he was going elsewhere for the night.

The cold wind made her shiver, so she withdrew inside the small shelter. It was really no warmer than the outdoors, but the absence of wind helped a little.

She sat down beside Darcy’s waist, facing his head. She tucked the blanket in as close to him as she could. “There, that will help you stay warm. I do not know why I am talking to you when you cannot hear me, but it seems strange to sit in silence.”

Now she could feel something poking out from underneath him. She ran her fingers over it. Some kind of springy plant. Heather, perhaps, by the feel of it. “I suppose it must be his bed you are lying on, and his blanket. I cannot see anything else he might sleep on. He seems to live very simply here.”

Darcy’s hand had been lying outside the blanket all this time. The thieves must have taken his gloves, too. His fingers would be freezing. She stripped off her own gloves again to check. Yes, his hand was like ice. She pressed his fingers between the palms of her hands. “Does that help? I hope it warms them, not that mine are particularly warm, either.”

At Hogmanay his fingers had been warm on hers when he kissed her hand. She had thought it felt so intimate. It was nothing compared to the intimacies she had undertaken with him today.

Her cheeks felt hot despite the chill in the air. If she had to be embarrassed, she might as well use it on his behalf. She pulled down her muffler on one side and pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. That would do more to warm them. “I know, this is truly shocking behavior on my part! But it is the least I can do after all the difficulty I have caused you. I suppose you would not complain that I am taking liberties, after all.”

He did not respond, of course.

Gradually the room, if she could call it that, became even darker as the sun went down. The only light came from the glowing embers, casting a reddish sheen on Darcy’s face. How would she know if he became worse if she could barely even see him? And what could she do if his condition deteriorated, apart from holding his hand?

Desperation gnawed at her chest. Why had she not agreed to leave when the highwayman told her to? She could have gone back to Kinloch and sent servants back with blankets. She could have asked the housekeeper to get medical help to Darcy. But no, she had to refuse to leave him, and he was paying the price for her foolishness. Now it was too late; she could never find her way to Kinloch in the dark. All she could do was to wait for morning and hope he was still alive then.

Tears started to run down her face. She dashed them away before the wetness added to the cold that ached down to her bones. Her stomach growled, in search of the dinner she would not have.

What if he died? It would be her fault. This would not have happened if she had not run away from him. Unable to bear the thought, she placed her hand on his chest. It was still rising with each breath. A sob of relief threatened to choke her. She rocked her torso back and forth, not sure if she was hoping for warmth or consolation. She found neither.

Had it been minutes or hours since the highwayman left her? There was no way to know, and dark winter nights lasted for almost eighteen hours here. It would be an eternity of cold, misery, and worry. She would run mad waiting for each second to pass.

Perhaps she could count to herself. Sixty slow counts for a minute, sixty minutes to an hour, eighteen hours to a night. How many seconds was that? Thousands? Millions?

She needed to calm herself. How else could she make time pass? A desperate laugh escaped her. She could always run lines. She stopped needing a script long before Jasper did. Perhaps the sound of her voice might somehow reach inside Mr. Darcy’s stupor and offer him comfort. It was not as if she had anything else to do. “Act I. My lord, I’ll tell you that self bill is urged which in th’ eleventh year of the last king’s reign was like, and had indeed against us passed...” It felt silly, but it was better than doing nothing, so she kept going.

By Act II, her voice was getting scratchy in the cold air, and she switched over to reciting the lines silently to herself. Only a few weeks ago, in a different world, she and Mr. Darcy had heard these same lines together in the actor’s box. If only she could go back to that moment! But that was impossible.

Eventually her head began to nod, despite her hunger and the cold.

***

THE SOUND OF A MAN’S voice awakened her from her light doze. It was not her bandit’s voice. Could it be one of his outlaw band? What would he do when he discovered her presence? She stiffened with fear and bent over Mr. Darcy as if she could somehow protect him. There was nowhere to hide.

That new sound – could that be hoofbeats on the packed earth of the keep? That jingle could well be a horse’s harness.

“In there.” This time it was her bandit.

A lantern appeared in the doorway, seeming so bright after all the hours of darkness that Elizabeth threw her hand up in front of her eyes to block the glare. Above her hand the light reflected on the housekeeper’s lined face.

At the moment she was the most comforting sight Elizabeth could imagine. “Mrs. MacLaren.”

“Miss Merton? Oh, you poor dear. Ye must be ever so cold. And is this the poor gentleman?” Mrs. MacLaren leaned over Darcy. She turned back over her shoulder and called, “Bring in the blankets first!”

Big Tom entered, so thoroughly bundled in a coat, scarf, and hat that she could not have recognized him except by his size. He carried a pile of thick woolens.

“Put one over the poor gentleman, and give one to me for Miss Merton.”

Like a child in the nursery, Elizabeth allowed Mrs. MacLaren to wrap her in a thick, scratchy blanket. Her back ached from sitting on the floor so long, and she thought she might never be warm again.

“There, that will warm ye.” The housekeeper picked up the lantern and inspected the small room. “Oh, Mr. Jack,” she said reproachfully.

The bandit, apparently Mr. Jack, stood just inside the blanket doorway, leaning against the wall. “It is sufficient to my needs.”

Mrs. MacLaren snorted. “Our animals are housed better. Nae wonder ye would not let any of us come here. Your granny’s ghost will haunt me for this!”

Did Mr. Jack smile a little? “Nay, she’s too busy haunting me for all my evil deeds.”

“As well she should! Big Tom, some coal on that fire, if ye please.”

Mrs. MacLaren bustled out, returning after a minute with a covered basket which she set down beside Elizabeth. “Food for ye. Cold meat, bread, cheese, and wine. Ye eat it now, do you hear?”

“I hear,” said Elizabeth with a weak smile. “Mr. Jack, will you join me?”

“I ate in the kitchen,” he said flatly.

“Aye, because I made him!” Mrs. MacLaren left again. How many bundles had she brought?

“’Tis a rare fury she is in,” remarked Mr. Jack, his Scottish accent more pronounced than it had been before.

Elizabeth began digging in the basket, her stomach grumbling. She found a wedge of white cheese and bit into it, savoring the tangy flavor. After she swallowed, she asked, “In a fury with me?”

“I believe we share the honors, though I am perhaps in the lead now.”

“I did not truly expect you to go to Kinloch for supplies.”

“I did not plan to. You came very close to dying tonight,” he said coolly.

She choked on the cheese. “I thought you were going to shoot me,” she admitted. “I should not have insisted on staying.”

“I left to find a good spot to push you over the cliff,” he continued as if she had said nothing. “I even made finger grooves in the sod to make it look as if you had tried to save yourself.”

She shivered. “Thank you for changing your mind,” she said in a small voice.

“This is not a game I am playing here. Remember that.” He stared down his beaked nose at her.

She nodded. “But you have not always been a highwayman. Were you an apothecary before?”

His mouth twisted. “No. And that is enough questions.”

Mrs. MacLaren returned again, this time with a pillow and another basket. She slid the pillow under Mr. Darcy’s head, her movements gentle. Her words were anything but gentle, though. “Nan will watch over the gentleman through the night. Miss Merton will return to the house with me. And ye, Mr. Jack! Some of the men ye saved will be up here tomorrow morning to chink your walls and build ye a chimney, and ye will let them.” She stabbed her finger at him with each of the last words.

“It is unnecessary,” he said icily.

“It is necessary to their self-respect! Ye saved them when they were helpless, and now ye will act the part of your father’s son and let them repay a little of their debt so they can hold their heads up high for their last years. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” He sounded as if he were gritting his teeth.

Mrs. MacLaren did not even acknowledge his words. “Nan, here’s the gentleman. Ye know what to do. Now come, Miss Merton.”

Elizabeth cast a last glance at Darcy. Part of her wanted to insist on staying, but she could do more for him tomorrow if she slept. Besides, Mr. Jack’s emotionless recital of his plans to kill her had shaken her badly.

She pushed aside the blanket door and stepped out into the moonlit night. The fresh air was a relief after the smoky interior, but she felt a tug of regret at leaving Darcy behind.

Mrs. MacLaren thrust a lantern into her hands. “Ye carry that to light your way. We can see the path well enough by moonlight.”

Elizabeth held the lantern in one gloved hand. She must remember to switch hands from time to time or her fingers would freeze. She had left her muff on Mr. Darcy’s hands.

Chapter 10

IT WAS NEARLY THE MIDDLE of the short Scottish winter day when Elizabeth arrived back at the ruined keep to a very different scene. Outside the walls two elderly men toiled with shovels, apparently searching for rocks. Inside the keep, Mr. Jack was listening intently to another old man while a younger one paced off an area beside his hut. No less than three Highland ponies stood in the corner.

Elizabeth nodded to Mr. Jack before she ducked inside. Changes had been made there as well. A boy was filling the chinks in the wall with some sort of paste, and fresh straw had been strewn over the dirt floor. Mrs. MacLaren was nothing if not efficient.

Mr. Darcy lay still with his eyes closed. The jagged cut on his forehead stood out vividly against his pale skin. Elizabeth’s heart sank. “How is he?” she asked the servant seated beside him.

“As well as he can be. He moves from time to time.”

He did not look uncomfortable, at least. It was less painful to see him lying there now that his head rested on a pillow, but his bruised and swollen face broke her heart. “Thank you. I will stay with him now if you wish to return to Kinloch.”

“Better I remain here, miss. The menfolk will need to eat. Mrs. MacLaren sent the makings for tea, too, if ye would like some.”

“Tea would be utterly delightful.” It seemed unimaginably luxurious in this barren place. “I do not know your name, although I assume it must be MacLaren.”

“Nay, I’m a Campbell, miss. Peggy Campbell. I came from the other side of the ridge, but now I live at Kinloch.”

Elizabeth settled herself on the floor next to Mr. Darcy as the woman placed a covered kettle among the coals. It was a little warmer today with the larger fire, but still chilly enough that Elizabeth felt no desire to remove her cloak. Mrs. Campbell had been sitting in a small wooden chair that must have come from Kinloch, but it would not feel right to be so far above Darcy. Sitting at his side felt right.

And so wrong. She was supposed to be staying far away from Darcy. That was the only reason she had left Edinburgh. What was she doing, seeking out his company? But she could not stop herself. Something had changed, and now she had to be with him. She did not understand it, but there was no choice. And if there were any chance her presence might bring him even the slightest bit of comfort, she could not bear to be anywhere else.

She could not take her eyes from his face, even though the sight of his injuries and his helplessness made her chest painfully tight. How had they ended up here? He had fallen so far from the proud, finely dressed figure she had first seen at the Meryton assembly, and it was all because of her. Well, not just because of her. Running off had not been her choice.

A cup of tea appeared in front of her. “Here ye go, miss.”

The mere sound of a kind voice and the miracle of hot tea made tears burn in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Thank you.” She set the saucer aside so she could wrap her cold fingers around the warm cup.

“Unless ye need me here, miss, I’ll take some out to the men and see if I can do anything to help them,” said Mrs. Campbell.

“I do not need anything.” Except for Darcy to open his eyes and look at her with that slight smile she remembered so well. But that was not going to happen, and she would not deserve it if it did.

Mrs. Campbell wrapped herself in a thick cloak and carried a tray with the teapot outside. Elizabeth could hear her voice chatting with the workers. That thick Scottish burr had sounded so foreign to her when she first arrived, but now she hardly noticed it. If she ever returned to Longbourn, would the people there sound strange to her now?

She reached out to touch Darcy’s cheek, drawing back quickly when he stirred. Without opening his eyes, his hand moved jerkily, patting the opposite side of his chest as if searching for something he thought should be there. His eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

Elizabeth caught her breath. “Are you looking for something, Mr. Darcy?”

He mumbled something inaudible. Surely it had to be a good sign that he was trying to speak.

She leaned close to him. “What did you say?”

“Mark,” he muttered.

“Mark? What kind of mark? Or do you mean someone named Mark?” she asked.

“Book. Mark.” Saying the words seemed to exhaust him.

Bookmark. He must have had the bookmark she made him in his coat pocket. A flush of heat rose in her chest. Even only half conscious, the first thing he wanted was her bookmark. She did not deserve such devotion. “It is not here,” she prevaricated. She would make him a new one. And she would not start crying again. She would not.

He made a sound that might have been a reply if his mouth had not been so dry.

She dipped a clean cloth in her tea. “Open your mouth,” she instructed. When he obeyed, she slid the wet part of the cloth between his lips.

He sucked on it, his eyes still closed. “More.”

She dipped it in the tea three more times before he seemed satisfied. Leaning towards him again, she asked, “Do you want anything else?”

His eyes opened again and met hers. “Just you,” he whispered, and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

***

AN HOUR OR TWO LATER, Darcy finally shifted and turned his head to face her. His eyes did not open, but she could not resist laying her fingers on his cheek. “Mr. Darcy?” It was worth a try.

His eyelids fluttered open, and he seemed to focus his gaze on her.

“Are you awake?” she asked hesitantly.

“Elizabeth?” He sounded hoarse, but his speech was much clearer and sounded altogether wonderful.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad.” The knot of tension inside her began to unravel.

He looked from side to side. “Where am I?”

She beamed at him. “In a ruined old hill fort. You were attacked and robbed on the road. They took your coat and boots and left you unconscious. A man found you before you froze and brought you here.”

His brow creased. “But how do you come to be here?”

She could not help laughing, giddy with relief. “I stumbled across you as a result of being impertinent, difficult, and refusing to accept good advice.”

He smiled slightly. “That sounds like you.” He raised his head, winced, and set it back on the pillow.

“Does your head hurt?”

He touched his scalp. “Like someone is smashing it with a hammer.”

“Be careful. You were hit there, and the wound is not closed. But you must be thirsty after all this time.”

“Parched.”

“I have some tea here – cold, like everything else – and I think there is a bottle of wine somewhere.”

“Even cold tea would taste good at the moment.”

She poured a cup of tea. “Do you think you could sit up if I helped you?”

“I can manage.” With a wince, he propped himself up on his elbows, gritting his teeth. He took three quick swallows and collapsed back on the pillow, one hand rubbing his forehead. “Where did you say I am?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “An old hill fort in the Highlands. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Yes,” he croaked. “You can tell me what I did to make you hate me.” His eyelids sagged, as if the sentence had exhausted him.

“I do not hate you! Not at all!”

He pressed his lips together, then said, “You chose to be ruined rather than marry me.”

Elizabeth rocked back on her heels. She had never considered what Darcy might think of her decision to leave her family rather than to turn to him, since that had never been the choice she faced. Still, if he truly loved her, it must have hurt him deeply. But how could she reassure him without telling him the truth? “I do not hate you,” she said hesitantly. “I never did. If I had truly faced ruination, of course I would have accepted your offer.”

“But you did not. You left instead.”

She shook her head, trying to choose her words carefully. “There was not any gossip when I left. I had to choose between leaving my family or allowing them to suffer certain consequences, including ruining my reputation. Until you told me, I did not know the scandal had reached Meryton, and that my departure had not protected my family after all.”

“Why leave if there was no gossip?” He sounded bewildered.

She bit her lip until it hurt. “I cannot explain it to you, nor tell you why, and I beg of you not to ask me any more. The important part is that I did not leave rather than marry you.”

His face seemed to relax. “Good. Too much. You, and Bingley, and then Jasper. Nothing.”

“I do not understand.” What did she have in common with the two men?

“You...would rather lose everything than marry me. Bingley tossed away our friendship. Jasper wanted nothing to do with me. I thought he liked me, but that was only when he needed me.” Deep lines were etched by his mouth.

“Jasper does like you. He said you were a very decent sort, accepting and loyal. It is just that seeing you reminds him of a time when he was very unhappy.” She did not know why it was so important for him to understand that, but it was. “Bingley was wrong, and I imagine he knows it by now. Jane knows that you proposed and gave me the letter.”

Darcy’s mouth twisted. “Bingley did not believe me.”

She could fill in the rest for herself after what he had told her at Christmas. “No, he did not, and he should have known better.”

His eyes were almost closed. “Bingley,” he mumbled.

“What about him?”

He started to shake his head, but stopped with a wince. It must have hurt. Why had she kept him talking for so long?

“You should rest. We can talk more later.”

His eyes flew open and peered at her anxiously. “Later?”

“Yes, later,” she said firmly. “I will stay here, and if I have to leave for the night, I will return. You will have plenty of time to speak to me.”

“Mmm.” At least he sounded happier.

***

WHEN DARCY BEGAN TO doze, Elizabeth sought out the highwayman. Cold air struck her face when she pushed past the blanket door. The larger fire had made more of a difference in the temperature inside than she had thought.

Three old men were working together on what appeared to be a new wall, or perhaps the back of a chimney, but she did not see her highwayman there. She approached them tentatively. “Pardon me. I am looking for Mr. Jack. Is he here?”

The nearest man touched his forelock. “Aye, miss, just t’other side of the wall.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth followed his pointing finger around the end of the ruined wall.

The highwayman was heaving stone blocks into a wheelbarrow. “Yes, Miss Merton?” he said wearily, but it was clearly her presence rather than stones that wearied him.

“He is awake.”

“I thought he would be soon,” he said coldly. He bent his knees and lifted another stone, blowing out his breath with the effort.

Yes, he was definitely angry at her. “What ransom are you planning to ask for him?”

He looked as if he had tasted something sour. “What difference does that make?”

“It will take weeks at best to get a ransom from England. If I guarantee to pay the ransom if they do not, would you allow me to take him to Kinloch to recover?”

He crossed his arms and glared at her. “How do you suppose I can hold him for ransom when a dozen people now know where he is and can tell him how to get away?” He spoke as if explaining the obvious to a particularly backwards child. “That was the cost of letting you live.”

She had not expected that. “But all of those people are loyal to you.”

“Loyal enough to hang for my sake? I think not.”

She lifted her chin. “In that case, I owe you the ransom.”

His lip curled. “Miss Merton, why do you insist on pretending I am an honorable man?”

She crossed her arms to show she could be as stubborn as he could. “I do not know why you have undertaken to be a highwayman, but I know one thing: you are doing it to benefit someone else.”

“And how did you arrive at that interesting conclusion?” he asked icily.

Her temper began to slip. “Am I to believe your ill-gotten gains go to support your luxurious lifestyle?”

He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Perhaps I am simply a very bad highwayman. No more questions.” He turned his back on her.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth in frustration. She would have to approach him again later.

***

DARCY PUSHED HIMSELF up enough to take a sip of the tea Elizabeth had left for him. He had to gather his strength to get to his feet. His needs must be attended to in Elizabeth’s absence. It was embarrassing enough to know she had seen him in his shirtsleeves and cared for him when he was unconscious.

The tea moistened his parched mouth but only worsened the hammering inside his skull. Somehow he managed to sit up anyway. His empty stomach protested as he struggled to keep the few sips of tea down.

Dammit. He needed something to hold onto if he wanted to stand. Gritting his teeth, he leaned over to drag the chair nearer. Bracing his hands on the seat, he pushed himself to his knees and waited until the room was no longer spinning. God, if only his head would stop pounding!

He managed to get one foot on the straw-strewn floor, but pain in his ribs stabbed at him. He touched his side and winced. Another injury, dammit.

He could do this. His other ankle throbbed as he pushed himself to stand. There. His stomach might betray him any second, but he was upright.

Or he was until he set down his other foot. A hundred vicious knives slammed into his leg and cut it to shreds. A cry of agony escaped him as he fell back to his knees. He let his head rest on the chair seat as he rocked back and forth in an instinctive effort to fight back a scream.

A man took hold of his shoulders. “Lie down.” Darcy had not heard anyone come in.

“I must get up.” He could no longer remember why it was so important, but he knew it was.

“No. Now lean back,” said a cool, professional voice.

“I must –”

“Do not argue with him.” It was Elizabeth’s voice, high and urgent.

“But –”

“I pray you, just do as he says!” She sounded upset. This must be worse than he thought.

“Very well,” Darcy said ungraciously and allowed himself to be lowered back onto the pallet. He refused to admit it was a relief.

“You have sustained a nasty blow to your head. The more you rest over the next few days, the sooner the headache will leave you. Exercise is the worst thing for it. Now, what made you cry out?”

Embarrassed, Darcy pointed to his calf. “My leg. I tried to put weight on it.”

The man knelt down beside his leg and pressed against the bone just below the knee. “I am going to check your leg to find the injury. If you wish to be helpful, you will tell me when it hurts. If you wish to make it extremely difficult for me to help you, you will be stoic and manly and refuse to admit it hurts. Do you understand?” His tone was coolly ironic.

Darcy started to nod and immediately regretted the movement. “Yes.”

The man began to move his hands down Darcy’s leg, pressing a finger against the bone frequently. “What happened to you?”

Elizabeth said he had been attacked on the road. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is stopping at an inn – that!”

“Hurts, does it?” He pressed another spot that sent a shock of agony through Darcy’s leg. “How about this? And this?”

“Yes,” he growled through gritted teeth.

The man stood and dusted off his hands. “Both bones are broken. Your attackers made sure you could not come after them. I can set it for you. It will hurt more than you can imagine. If you put any weight on that foot, you will end up with a crooked leg. By that I mean no weight at all. Not one quick hobble, not leaning on it, nothing at all.” His voice dripped with irony.

“I am perfectly able to follow instructions,” Darcy said coldly.

The man’s lip curled. “And you are a friend of Miss Merton? Astonishing. I have never met anyone over the age of ten who is less able to follow instructions.” He turned on his heel and left.

“Insolent bastard,” Darcy muttered. Then he noticed Elizabeth was still standing by the door, her lips in a tight line. “I am sorry. I will make him apologize.”

“No!” She sat beside him. “You must not. I beg of you, do not argue with him.” She sounded frightened.

“His manners could use improvement,” grumbled Darcy. “I cannot see how he keeps any patients.”

“He is not a doctor,” said Elizabeth.

“Not a doctor? Who is he?”

Elizabeth bent her head and said in a low voice, “He is a highwayman.”

Darcy stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “I cannot explain it. There are many secrets here, and this is one of them. No one will tell me anything. Everyone in the Highlands despises and distrusts the English.”

“With good reason.”

“You know more than I, then. I am tolerated because of my aunt, but not trusted. I do not understand much of what is happening here, but I know this: that man is dangerous. He saved your life, but he could as easily slit your throat.”

If only his head did not ache! “Why did he save me, then?”

Elizabeth turned her face away. “He was planning to hold you for ransom,” she said in a low voice. “I unintentionally spoiled that plan, and he is displeased with me, to say the least.”

He caught at her hand. “You should not be here.”

“You need not worry. He will not hurt me. You are safer if I am here with you. Once you are stronger, we can take you away from here.”

“Once again, I have brought trouble upon you.”

A slight, teasing smile lit her face. “Unless you intentionally set out to be attacked and robbed, I am afraid I cannot blame you for this. Perhaps when you are better, you will be able to help me solve some of the mysteries here.”

The highwayman returned, carrying a long stick and accompanied by two elderly men. “Miss Merton, I will be setting his leg. We will all be happier if you are not present.”

Elizabeth’s face went still. “Very well. Mr. Darcy, I will be outside, and you may call me if you need anything.” She left the room.

The three men arranged themselves around his leg. “You will hold it here and pull up towards his head,” the highwayman told one of the old men, pointing at Darcy’s thigh. “You will be at the ankle, pulling down. Once it is straight, I will put on a temporary splint until the blacksmith can make a better one.”

What did a blacksmith have to do with making a splint? But heedful of Elizabeth’s warning, Darcy said nothing.

***

FINALLY MR. JACK EMERGED through the curtained doorway. “It is done,” he told Elizabeth coolly. “He fainted, fortunately.”

“I thank you,” Elizabeth said quietly, Darcy’s earlier agonized cry still ringing in her ears.

Mr. Jack shrugged. “Are you going to marry him?”

Elizabeth winced. “No.” She had missed her chance at that and would regret it forever.

“Is there another man? Are you betrothed?”

His questions made her uneasy. “What is the sudden interest in my private life?”

His expression was stern. “You offered to pay me a ransom with money you do not have.”

She flushed. “I have every reason to think my aunt would give it to me.”

“Perhaps.” He studied her. “I want something that is in your power to give.”

Elizabeth’s insides froze. Surely he could not mean what she was thinking. He had made it clear he detested her. “I will not agree to anything immoral.” Her voice shook.

His lips twisted. “Nothing like that. There is a man I want you to marry.”

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Is that all? Merely that I tie myself for life to a complete stranger I know nothing about, give up my freedom, share his bed, bear his children, and suffer whatever treatment he inflicts on me? It is such a little thing you ask for!”

“Is your friend’s life a little thing? I saved his life. Now I want you to save the lives of people I care about.”

“You are out of your mind!” she cried. “You cannot force me to do it.”

He smiled coldly. “In fact, I could force you to marry him, but I do not intend to, because he deserves better. I am going to leave it to your honor.”

She whirled away from him, but after two steps, she turned back. “Why?” she demanded.

“Because you are an heiress, of course.”

“One who does not expect to inherit for a decade at the earliest!”

He shrugged. “It does not matter. He can borrow against the expectation.”

“You are mad!”

“Do you not wish to know anything about him?” he asked mockingly.

“You wish to tell me, and I must perforce listen, as long as my friend is at your mercy,” she said angrily. She would not marry on this man’s command, but if listening to him would do any good, she would go that far.

“He is wellborn and educated. Young – four-and-twenty, I believe. Women do not seem to find him unappealing. He is a decent man who will treat you with respect.”

“Then he should have no difficulty finding himself a bride.”

“There are women who would marry him despite the debts he will inherit, but they can bring him nothing, and he will not drag them down with him.”

This was madness, but she felt obligated to play on. “Who is this penniless paragon of yours?”

The highwaymen studied her and turned towards the workers. “Duncan!” he called.

A young man with ginger hair trotted over. “Need help with that one?” He pointed to a large stone block sitting in a wheelbarrow.

“Just an introduction. Miss Merton, may I present Mr. Duncan MacLaren, son of the MacLaren? Duncan, Miss Merton is the niece of Charlie’s widow and stands to inherit his fortune.”

Red patches appeared on the young man’s cheeks. He turned to the highwayman. “Oh, God. Tell me you did not,” he said in deep embarrassment.

“I did,” said Mr. Jack coolly. “Now do your part.” He whispered something in the younger man’s ear and strode away.

“My deepest apologies,” said the ginger-haired man. “I beg you to believe I had no part in this.”

She felt a wave of sympathy for him. “What, do you object to being sold to the nearest heiress like a horse at the auction block? Perhaps I should observe your gaits and examine your teeth.”

He laughed, displaying very nice teeth. “Not at all. I am content to be sold, as long as the heiress in question wants to buy me. I draw the line at a bride who is forced to the altar.”

“I am relieved to hear it, though Mr. Jack has not yet found a threat comprehensive enough to convince me to tie myself to a stranger, however good his teeth and gaits might be.”

He grinned. “In that case, may I hope we can start anew as neighbors, forgetting Jack’s machinations?” He held out his hand, glanced down at the scuffed, dirty laborer’s glove he wore, and withdrew it, smiling apologetically. “Perhaps next time we meet, when I have not been grubbing about in the dirt.”

“I would be happy to know you as a neighbor. I had started to wonder if I had any.” Not that she had been hoping for the chimney-building sort of neighbor, but it was something.

“You would have met me soon enough. I have been away, but my father has already instructed me to call on you to extend a welcome on his behalf, as his health does not permit him to leave the castle.”

She dropped a curtsey. “I am glad to know there is one person in the Highlands who does not consider me a most unwelcome presence, or at least can manage to hide it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but some of her bitterness escaped.

His brow furrowed. “You have not been made welcome at Kinloch?”

She looked away. “No doubt they are doing their best, given that I am an Englishwoman and therefore untrustworthy, greedy, cruel, inhumane, and I probably prefer to dine on Highlander babies. Apart from that, they have been everything that is hospitable, apart from Mr. Jack, who wishes he had found the courage to kill me like an unwanted puppy.”

His dismayed expression was almost comical. “This cannot stand! Come, let us find a place to sit, I would hear more of this.”

Elizabeth flushed. “That is kind of you, but unnecessary. My reception at Kinloch is none of your affair.”

“If the niece of Charlie MacLaren has not been welcomed with open arms, it is most definitely my business. Or rather, my father’s business, but you may consider me as his representative.”

She raised her chin and took a step back from him. “I apologize if I have given the impression I am unable to manage my aunt’s staff.” She emphasized the last three words.

He seemed perplexed, but then relaxed. “We are speaking of two different things. How they perform in their duties is a matter for your aunt. How their behavior reflects on Clan MacLaren is a question for my father.”

“The clan?” asked Elizabeth dubiously. “Like the ones in Walter Scott’s poems? I did not know they still existed.”

A shadow fell across his pleasant features. “Some clans have fallen on hard times. Others, like ours, seek to find our way in a changed world.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I know little about Scotland. I came here for the first time last summer, and since then I have been in Edinburgh, spending my time among the theatricals there. They are almost a country of their own. I have not met many ordinary Scots.”

“That is just as well. In Edinburgh, and in all of England, you will hear people say that all Highlanders are dangerous savages. They would tell you we are the ones eating babies for breakfast.”

Elizabeth widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Oh, that could not be! If your Highlanders believe the English eat babies, then they would never do so on sheer principle. You would find your own barbaric ritual.”

He laughed. “Very true! But I do wish you would tell me what has happened at Kinloch House to make you feel unwelcome. It is important to me.”

Elizabeth sighed. “They have done everything possible to make me physically comfortable. They cannot disguise that they are frightened of me. Conversations end as soon as I appear, and they avoid answering my questions. It could not be clearer that I am considered untrustworthy even about such basic matters as the number of household staff. If you were one of them, you would now be changing the subject, trying to distract me by telling me in great detail some strange story about your grandmother who had two maids who both fell love with the same man, but he tragically drowned while fishing in Loch Katrine before he could choose between them, or some such ridiculousness. It goes on and on.”

“I will tell your housekeeper that your questions should be answered.” He hesitated. “They did not know you would be inheriting Kinloch until the letter came announcing your arrival. It was a shock to them, and there was no time to discuss how to acquaint you with some of Kinloch’s...idiosyncrasies.”

“A shock because I am English or because I am female?” Elizabeth had an edge to her voice.

“Neither. Your uncle purchased Kinloch to help the clan. Many people assumed he would leave it to a member of the clan, although he never said such a thing. When your aunt inherited it, we thought it was just a delay for her lifetime, since she had said she had no family. In the meantime, it continued to benefit the clan. I hope you will understand why it was an unpleasant shock to discover it would not go to a clansman but instead be in the hands of an unknown English girl with no knowledge of or affection for our Highlands.”

It made more sense that way, but she still disliked it. “And so Mr. Jack decided to solve the problem by making me marry you. Well, I suppose it is a clever, if improbable, solution.”

He laughed. “My dear Miss Merton, Jack was perhaps the last person in the glen to arrive at that idea. I daresay I have had three dozen people suggest it to me. My father gave me my marching orders within ten minutes of learning of your existence. Jack is a slow-top.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks grew hot again. “I am sorry to disappoint so many people, but I have no intention of marrying, and I certainly have no desire to spend my life here.”

With a wry look, he said, “I suppose it would not make a difference if I said we could live in Edinburgh.”

Was he serious? “A kind offer, but no. A year ago, before I met my aunt, I had only a token dowry. It has been a shock to discover how many men now desire to marry me even before they meet me. I think I preferred it when I was not an heiress.”

“I would hardly suppose I am the first, although no doubt most men have the sense to pretend to be bowled over by your beauty rather than your inheritance. Sadly, I have never gained the skill for that sort of deception.”

“I prefer your honesty.” She studied him. “I am puzzled by one thing. Mr. Jack said that I should marry you to save lives.”

The young man glared in the highwayman’s direction. “That is an overdramatic way to put it.” He looked away into the mountains for a minute. “I suppose you will have to learn sooner or later. We are at risk of losing our lands. Unless something changes, the clan will have to leave Scotland and start over in America. It will be painful to leave our ancestral lands, and perhaps some may not survive the journey, but I do not believe anyone will actually die of heartbreak. In any case, it most certainly is not your problem.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” She should not take out her anger at Mr. Jack on this poor young man who was simply trying to be hospitable. “I am glad your reasons for being willing to be auctioned off to an heiress are better than the fortune hunters who merely want to pay off their gambling debts. It has given me a distaste for the entire matter of my inheritance.”

He studied his boot tips. “I hope it serves you better in the future, and I pray you to disregard Jack’s demands.”

***

DARCY REACHED DOWN to touch the rough iron bar on the side of his calf. The so-called brace looked more like a medieval torture device, with leather straps above and below the knee, and iron bars running down from them to attach to the rigid boot on his foot. At least the pain of having it put in place was starting to fade. “This does not look like the usual treatment for a broken leg.”

The highwayman did not bother to look his way. “The standard treatment for a double break is amputation. This gives you a chance of walking again. I can cut it off if you prefer,” he said coldly.

An icy shudder ran down Darcy’s spine. One of his friends at Eton had lost his leg after a bad break. “No. I will try this.”

Mr. Jack shrugged as if it made no difference to him, though he had clearly gone to some trouble to get the blacksmith to make the brace.

Darcy tried again. “I understand you were the one who found me when I was hurt.”

The highwayman adjusted the buckle on the strap above his knee. “Aye.”

“Was anyone else there? Anyone injured?”

“Just you.”

It would help if the man would answer in more than two words! “My valet was traveling with me, as was a guide.” At least that was what his hazy memory told him. “Do you think the bandits took them?”

“No.”

Darcy gritted his teeth. “No?”

The highwayman sat back. “Bandits do not take poor men and leave the rich one behind. Besides, there were no bandits.”

“What do you mean, no bandits? Someone attacked and robbed me.”

Mr. Jack picked up a whetstone and began to sharpen his knife. “There was new frost on the road, so I could see tracks of a pair of horses and a carriage that had come from the direction of Aberfoyle. They had stopped and went back the way they came. The footprints by your body came from the carriage. Your guide and your valet no doubt turned a nice profit with everything you were carrying.”

Cold rage filled Darcy. Smithers, damn him. No wonder he had been so unwontedly cheerful about going off into an unpopulated area with Darcy. How long had he been planning to rob him? Or was it just a last-minute plan because he knew Darcy intended to dismiss him? That blackguard, to attack him and leave him to die! He would pay for this.

The highwayman lifted his head. “Who is there?”

Darcy had not heard anyone coming.

“It is I, Elizabeth Merton.” Her voice came from outside the blanket door.

Her new name still sounded wrong to his ears. He said, “Do come in, Miss Elizabeth.” He should call her Miss Merton since she had no elder sister here, but sooner or later he would slip and call her Miss Bennet instead, and she had made it clear she wanted secrecy. Calling her Miss Elizabeth was safer.

As soon as she had stepped inside, the highwayman pushed past her and disappeared into the outer world Darcy had never seen.

She glanced after him and shrugged. “Good morning. I hope your night was tolerable.”

“Perfectly so.” As if he were accustomed to sleeping on a bed of heather in a smoky ruin. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

She peered at him as she untied her tartan scarf. “You sound angry. Is something the matter?”

There was no point in pretending. “I just learned I was not attacked by bandits, but by my own valet and the guide he had hired.”

“What? That is appalling! You must be furious!”

“Appalling, yes, but there is little I can do about it now, apart from admiring the irony of being attacked by my valet and rescued by a highwayman.”

She pulled up the stool and sat beside him. “I am glad at least your sense of humor seems to have survived. You sound much better than you did yesterday.”

“I am starting to feel more like myself, and very embarrassed to be causing so much trouble.”

“That is silly. You certainly did not ask to be injured.” She smiled at him warmly.

If he had not been injured, would she be sitting beside him and talking to him? “At least I managed to find you.”

“Or I found you.” Elizabeth seemed to develop a sudden interest in her gloves. “I have wondered how you learned I was here.”

Darcy winced. “I discovered your aunt had a country estate and thought it was worth checking.”

“You are a terrible liar,” said Elizabeth affectionately. “My aunt told you, did she not?”

Embarrassed, Darcy said, “Not exactly. She refused to tell me where you were, and a minute later she told me about her country estate. She never said you were there.”

Elizabeth sighed. “How very like her. No doubt that technique was used in a play. Sometimes life with her feels like a succession of dramatic scenes.”

“I thought you were fond of her.” Was living with Mrs. MacLean unpleasant for her?

“I am. I like her very much, but she is so different from anyone I knew before. All of them are.”

“All of them?”

“The theatricals. You and I learned that our emotions must be kept under strict regulation and only spoken of in a calm, tangential manner. The theatricals live their emotions on a large scale. If one of them is happy or sad or angry, the whole room will be in no doubt of it. Affection is freely given and taken. When Jasper is pleased, he will often hug me and whirl me around in the air, and it means nothing except casual affection and exuberance. But I can tell he comes from a nontheatrical family, because when you are there, he suddenly reverts to propriety.”

Darcy hated the idea of Jasper being so free with her. Was this what he had meant when he said it was hard to have Darcy backstage? Probably better not to discuss that. “I hope it has not been too dull for you here without the theatricals.”

Elizabeth’s teasing smile lit her face. “A little quiet is not a bad thing. But if you should feel in the mood for theatre, I can always recite one of their plays. Several of them are melodramas hardly worth repeating, and you have just seen Henry V, but I can perform Romeo and Juliet for you all by myself.”

“You have memorized the entire thing?” Darcy exclaimed

“Well, only the scenes with either Benvolio, Mercutio, County Paris, Tybalt, Romeo, or Lady Capulet, but that covers most of the play. If one reads them aloud often enough, they begin to stick. I thank God that Jasper was not understudying Friar Lawrence! That long monologue would have killed us both. I do wish Mr. Siddons had chosen plays I like better, though. Neither of those is a favorite of mine.”

“Which ones do you like better?”

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, or A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Jasper would make a marvelous Orlando, but he is too young for Benedick.” She paused and laughed. “Forgive me. I forget that I am not among theatricals who are obsessed with choosing plays by the roles.”

“You and Jasper seem to be very good friends.” Dammit. He sounded jealous, probably because he was.

“I suppose so. He arrived a few weeks after me, and we were the only newcomers, both to Edinburgh and the theatre. After he came to live with us, I started helping him with his lines...” Some of the animation left her face.

“What is it?”

She smiled suddenly. It was as if the sun had come out. “I was trying to be tactful, but since you already know Jasper, it is likely not news to you that he has difficulty remembering things. We spend a great deal of time on his lines.”

“I am well aware of it. It must be frustrating for you.”

She shook her head. “Not really. He works so very hard to master his lines that it would be hard to resent him. I admire him for taking on something that is so difficult for him.”

“I cannot imagine how he manages it. I tried to help him learn his Latin vocabulary, and gave up in despair.”

“He is likely more motivated to learn his lines.” Her smile faded. “I imagine you are uncomfortable about him living in my aunt’s house with me. The theatricals all know and do not care, but he is very careful to keep anyone else from discovering it. He always makes his own way to the theatre and back so that he is not seen leaving with me.”

He tried to push back his resentment of his cousin. “That is thoughtful of him. He has a good heart.”

“He has only mentioned you to me once,” she said with an inquisitive look.

Darcy’s mouth twisted. “As you said, I am part of the past he wishes to leave behind. I do not belong in his new world of theatre.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly, as if she suddenly understood something. “I am part of his new world. Is that why you wanted nothing to do with me that day?”

Puzzled, he asked, “What do you mean?”

She bit her lip. “When you came to the theatre with the little girl, you ignored me.”

Was it possible that his behavior had hurt her? “The first time I saw you at the theatre, you were frightened and ran away. The second time you pretended not to know me. The third time I tried to see you, there was a guard keeping everyone away from the stage door. You seemed afraid that I was pursuing you. I thought you would feel safer with me if you thought I was uninterested in you.”

“You certainly convinced me of that!”

Mr. Jack strode in from outside. “How is your leg?” he asked coldly.

“The splint is uncomfortable, but the leg itself merely aches.”

“Then you are as ready as you will be to be taken down to Kinloch House. Miss Merton, you should go and make what preparations you need.”

Elizabeth paled. “May I accompany him down?”

Mr. Jack looked down his beaked nose at her. “No. If you are with him, he will try to be brave for your sake instead of telling us what he needs.”

She heaved a sigh. “Very well. Do you plan to bring him today?”

“There should be enough light,” he said.

She turned back to Darcy. “I will see you back at Kinloch House, then.” She looked as if she wished to say something more, but then she turned and left.

***

DARCY SUFFERED THE indignity of being carried out of the shelter and was rewarded with his first breath of clean air in days, a relief after the pall of smoke inside.

A ginger-haired man asked, “If we support you, can you swing your good leg across his back?”

Darcy blinked at the pony in front of him. “Yes, but a pony? Can he hold my weight?”

Mr. Jack’s sharp crack of laughter echoed in the courtyard. “A Highland pony? Easily, and he is more surefooted than a horse. You will be thankful for that soon enough.”

Darcy had not ridden a pony since he was a boy, and he felt like an oversized child with his feet hanging down.

Mr. Jack wrapped a blanket around his splint, no doubt more to protect the pony than to keep Darcy warm. “Does it hurt?”

“No more than usual.” It was true of his leg, but his ribs stabbed him with each breath. He reached for the reins, but Mr. Jack slapped his hand away.

“Jem will lead you.” The highwaymen jerked his head at the stolid young man holding the pony’s bridle. “Do not argue.”

Darcy had no intention of wasting the little energy he had on arguing. He was already exhausted. Having the pony led by a halter rope was just one more indignity.

“A slow walk,” Mr. Jack directed the young man.

It was not too bad at first. Darcy’s head pounded and his side throbbed, but not much worse than it had been before. The pony proved to be smooth-gaited despite the rough path. Darcy kept his eyes on the pony’s ears, since moving his head made him nauseous.

The journey seemed to take forever, but finally Jem pointed ahead. Darcy could barely make out a chimney and part of a roofline in the distance.

“Kinloch House,” said Jem unemotionally.

Not too much farther. Then the pony’s hoof slipped on a rock, something Darcy would not even notice under usual circumstances, but this time an excruciating pain lanced through his leg.

He must have cried out, because Mr. Jack demanded, “Your leg?”

“Yes.” Darcy hissed the words through clenched teeth.

“Might as well go to a fast walk, Jem,” said Mr. Jack. “The damage is done.”

Each step brought a new wave of pain, until it drove everything else out of his mind.

An eternity later, someone lifted him off the pony. In a red haze of agony, Darcy barely noticed being carried inside and placed on a bed. Lying still made the worst edges of the pain fade, but that mercy only lasted a few minutes until Mr. Jack unbuckled his brace and instructed the footman to pull on his ankle. Then merciful blackness overtook him.

Chapter 11

DARCY SWAM BACK TO consciousness, his head once again throbbing, but this time he lay in a bed that would have been comfortable if he did not ache in so many places. His tongue felt thick. Taking a deep breath made him cough, sending a stabbing pain through his ribs.

“Are you awake, sir?” asked the shadow of a young man with a soft, soothing voice.

“Everything is fuzzy.” The sound of his own voice made his head pound harder.

“Och, Mr. Jack gave you a wee dram of laudanum to help you sleep. It will clear.”

Laudanum. That would explain it. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon, sir. Is there aught I can bring ye? Hot chocolate, tea, or broth?”

“You can open the curtains. It is as dark as night here.”

“Aye, sir.” He tied back one of the curtains, sending a bolt of burning light lancing through Darcy’s skull.

Darcy threw his arm over his eyes. “Close it!” he croaked. The blessed darkness descended again. “Why is it so bright outside?”

“’Tis nae bright, but the blow to your head makes it seem that way. Mr. Jack said ye might prefer darkness and quiet for a time.”

It was too much work keeping his eyes open, so he let them close. “Is Miss Elizabeth here?”

“Aye, sir,” said the soothing voice. “When ye are ready, she will come to see you.”

He would manage to stay awake if the reward was seeing Elizabeth. “Then tea, hot water to wash, and a shave.”

“Aye, sir.”

***

A DETERMINED-LOOKING Mrs. MacLaren met Elizabeth at the breakfast table the next morning. “Miss Merton, since ye have no acquaintances in the area, I have taken the liberty of arranging for a chaperone to stay here while the gentleman is in residence,” the housekeeper said. “She will be arriving this afternoon.”

Elizabeth, her spirits already depressed after a long night facing painful facts, paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “That is unnecessary. Mr. Darcy is physically unable to do anything to compromise me, and in any case, I have decided to return to Edinburgh tomorrow.” She hoped she did not sound as hopeless as she felt. She was tired of running away.

“Tomorrow?” The housekeeper looked taken aback. “Is something the matter, miss?”

Something was most certainly the matter, but she could hardly tell the housekeeper that. “No. I simply wish to see my aunt.”

The older woman hesitated. “Surely Mr. Darcy is not well enough to travel yet.”

“Of course not,” she said sharply. “He will remain here until his health improves. I have great faith in your ability to provide whatever care and comfort he may require.”

“We will do our best.” The housekeeper was clearly puzzled, as well she should be. What sort of hostess would take such an interest in a seriously injured man, and then leave him behind for no apparent reason?

“So you can see there is no need for a chaperone. I wish you had asked me before you set it up.”

The housekeeper straightened to her full height. “If I permitted ye to have an unmarried man here, no matter how badly he was injured, with nae chaperone, your aunt would have me dismissed, and rightly so. I chose to act on the orders I knew she would give rather than to ask ye, just as I chose to have a maid sleep in the hall outside your room last night. Even if you are leaving tomorrow, you still need a chaperone.”

Elizabeth glared at her. The infuriating part was that the housekeeper was right, and it was unfair to blame her when none of this ridiculous situation was her fault. “Quite right,” she said wearily.

“Thank ye, miss. Shall I tell the maids to pack your bags?”

Something twisted inside Elizabeth’s chest. “Yes.” She had been so anxious to get Darcy safe in the comforts of Kinloch House that she had not considered what it would mean for her. But he had been fully lucid yesterday at the ruin. The emergency was over, and it was time for reality. And reality meant it was too dangerous for her to remain with him.

She would have to tell Darcy that she did not wish to see him again and ask him to stay away from her, and she would see the pain and confusion in his eyes because he could not possibly understand.

If only she could tell him the truth, to make him understand she had no choice! But he would not understand. He would never accept that she was helpless. No, he would try to fix it, just as he had tried to fix it when Bingley was about to make a match he disapproved of, and as he had tried to mend the scandal around her family. He was accustomed to having the power to change things. If she told him the truth, he would march straight to his uncle and demand that he withdraw his threats. And that would cause the worst outcome of all. She had to prevent Darcy from confronting his family, and the only way was to hide the truth from him, even if it made him hate her.

It was one more unfair turn in their story, that she should be required to hurt him when all she wanted was to be in his arms. She doubted he would ever be able to think of her without anger, and she would have to live with that.

His opinion of her should not matter, since she would never see him again after she left, but it did. It mattered all too much.

***

THE EFFECT OF THE LAUDANUM had worn off by midday, and with it the queasy, drowsy feeling. Darcy’s head still ached, especially when he moved it, but it was tolerable when he remained still. He could appreciate the satisfaction of being in a real bed, especially when that bed was inside a room with a solid door and a fire in a real fireplace. Between his head, his sore ribs, and the steady ache in his leg, he could not claim to be comfortable, but it was a great improvement over sleeping on a pile of heather in the cold, smoky ruin.

“Do you wish to dress or to wear a housecoat, sir?” asked the manservant with the soothing voice. “The housekeeper has found some clothes for ye. They will not be what ye are accustomed to, I fear.”

“What is your name?” asked Darcy.

“James. Or Young James, if you want to tell me from Auld James or Red James. Mrs. MacLaren says I am to serve ye until your own man arrives. How may I be of assistance?”

His own valet was never going to arrive, but he would deal with that later. “First a shave and wash, and then it will have to be the housecoat. Trousers will not fit over this brace.” Darcy threw off the counterpane and examined the monstrous contraption enclosing his lower leg. The ring around his knee had rubbed the skin nearly raw.

“I thought of that, sir.” James reached into a small cabinet and removed a pair of trousers. “I took out the side seam on these and replaced it with buttons. They can go on your good leg in the usual way, and then we can wrap them around the leg with the brace and button the side. It may not be pretty, but it should suffice for decency. There is a kilt as well, which would be even simpler to put on, but I thought an Englishman would prefer trousers.”

Darcy examined the trousers. “Very resourceful. In that case, I will wear these.” He might be an invalid, but he would prefer not to look like one. He glanced around the room. Yesterday he had been too exhausted from his torturously slow journey down the mountain to pay attention to his surroundings. Now the thin winter sunlight that crept in around the curtains revealed a long table and matching chairs lining the portrait-covered walls. “This is not a bedroom.”

“No, sir. It is the dining room. Miss Merton had us bring the bed down here. Mr. Jack says ye are not to be taken up or down stairs for at least a week, and since all the bedrooms are upstairs, she thought ye would prefer to have the freedom of the public rooms rather than be limited to one bedroom.” James brought out a pile of carefully folded clothing. “She has sent to the castle to see if they have a Bath chair.”

A Bath chair. He truly was an invalid. “What castle is that?”

“Och, Castle Lochard, of course. Seat of the MacLarens. Young MacLaren will send some more suitable clothing for ye, too.”

With a flash of displeasure, Darcy asked, “Does everyone in the area know of my situation, then?”

“News travels quickly in the glen.” James held up a shirt by the shoulders uncertainly. “Miss Merton said ye are accustomed to having your own gentlemen’s gentleman. We have nae personal servants here, and I am but a footman. The housekeeper said I should serve ye, as she knows I have a yen to move to Glasgow and become a gentleman’s gentleman, but I have nae experience at this. I would be in your debt if ye were to tell me what I could do better.”

Darcy blinked in surprise. His housekeeper would have died of mortification if any servant had dared to ask the master for lessons in how to do his job. At least this fellow seemed hard-working and eager to please, and it was in Darcy’s interest to have him trained rather than bumbling. “You should hold the shirt like so...”

***

DARCY RUBBED HIS HAND over his smooth chin. It was astonishing how much more civilized he felt now that he was clean, properly dressed, and freshly shaven.

“Do ye wish to go to the drawing room, sir?”

After being trapped for days in the ruin and now in this room, the drawing room sounded like the pinnacle of freedom. Still, merely being moved to the armchair beside his bed had made his head swim and pound. “Not today. I would prefer to receive Miss Elizabeth in here if she is willing.”

“Very good, sir.” James straightened the bedcurtains before leaving the room.

Darcy had not seen Elizabeth since before his journey down the mountain, and it seemed like a painfully long time. Staying in the ruin had been uncomfortable, but she had sat beside him all day. Her presence had become like the air he needed to stay alive.

Elizabeth appeared, bringing in the brightness of her presence. Unfortunately, she was followed by a maid who clearly had no intention of leaving.

A chaperone. Now Elizabeth could not even hold his hand. But, dammit, she did need a chaperone, or it would risk her reputation even further.

As Elizabeth drew closer to Darcy, she exclaimed, “You look much more like yourself now! I hope James has been making you comfortable, or at least as comfortable as you can be at present.”

“Yes, he has,” said Darcy, surprised to realize it was true. “One would hardly know he was a footman.” But he did not want to make polite conversation about servants. He wanted their earlier closeness back. “Sadly, nothing he can do compares to the curative properties of holding your hand,” he said boldly.

“What a clever fellow you are!” she teased. “Now when I fail to hold your hand, I am contributing to your ill health and injuries. But we are back in civilization, at least of a sort, and so I must obey the rules of propriety even if it causes me guilt.”

“At least I have not shocked your sensibilities,” he said dryly, but the sound of his voice suddenly seemed too loud and brought the throbbing pain back to his head. Now the room seemed unpleasantly bright even with the curtains drawn. He shut his eyes to keep it out.

“Does your head still ache?” asked Elizabeth. “Perhaps it would be better if I just sat here quietly for a few minutes.”

“I fear so,” he said in the quietest voice he could use. Damn this headache!

***

ELIZABETH PACED ACROSS the drawing room. What a coward she was! There was no other word for it. She had gone in to see Darcy with every intention of calmly telling him she would be leaving in the morning, but he had flirted with her, and she had not wished to ruin his good spirits. Then when his headache returned, she had not had the heart to give him the hurtful news. She made a tutting sound under her breath. Ridiculous! Not telling him because he was happy, and then not telling him because he was unhappy. What was she waiting for?

It was not going to be any easier to tell him tomorrow. The idea of leaving him, knowing it was forever, made her want to cry. Perhaps she should just write him a letter explaining she had to leave. No, that would be too dangerous. If the letter fell into the wrong hands, it would be proof she had been in contact with Darcy. Oh, how she hated his family for putting them both through this!

But hating them would not solve her problem. In the morning she would tell him she was leaving, even if his headache was unendurable, and then she would go. She would have plenty of time to cry on the road to Edinburgh.

***

THE CHAPERONE, MRS. Graham, arrived just as big flakes of snow began to fall from the darkening sky. She proved to be a woman of middle years dressed in well-made clothing that was several years out of style.

“It was very kind of you to come, Mrs. Graham. I hope it is not a terrible inconvenience to you,” Elizabeth hoped the woman would not be angry when she realized it was a waste of her time.

“It will be a pleasant holiday for me,” Mrs. Graham said with a warm smile. “My four sons still live with us and are dreadfully loud and quarrelsome. I will very much enjoy the peace and quiet here. Ye need pay no attention to me at all.”

“I will do my best not to be quarrelsome,” Elizabeth promised with a laugh. “The housekeeper did not tell me anything about you except that you were suitable, so I do not even know if you had to travel far.”

Mrs. Graham spread her skirts as she took a seat on the sofa. “Only from Aberfoyle. My nephew Duncan asked me to come.”

Elizabeth ran through her memory. Was there a servant named Duncan?

“MacLaren the Younger,” Mrs. Graham clarified.

Oh, yes, the chimney-building laird’s son whom she had refused to marry. “You must be the chieftain’s sister, then.” She hoped Mrs. Graham did not intend to encourage her to marry MacLaren the Younger. At least she would only have one day for it.

“Aye, I was Agnes MacLaren before I married Mr. Graham and began to birth enough sons to form our own army,” she said.

“I do feel you have been brought here under false pretenses,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “Mr. Darcy is unable to walk, so there is no real risk that he would try to compromise me, and I am planning to leave for Edinburgh tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I had not heard that, but perhaps it is for the best if ye wish to avoid gossip. I am sorry you have to leave so soon, though.” The woman sounded genuinely regretful.

“I hope you will feel free to remain here as long as you wish to enjoy the absence of quarrelsome sons.” It seemed only polite after she had come this far in the cold.

“Well, we shall see. If this snow keeps up, it may be that neither of us will be traveling tomorrow.”

Her heart twisted. An excuse to remain. Half of her hoped for it. The other half just wished for this to be over.

***

AS USUAL, IT WAS STILL full dark when Elizabeth awoke to the sounds of Margaret lighting the fire in her room. The air was chilly, so she wrapped herself in the counterpane as she sat up. “How much snow is there?” she asked groggily.

“Nigh on half a foot. I fear ye’ll not be going anywhere today, miss.”

A day’s reprieve, then, but it would only make it even harder to leave the next day. “How long before the roads are cleared?”

Margaret sat back on her heels and looked at her questioningly. “Cleared, miss?”

“Yes, cleared, so the carriage can get through.”

“Och, we dinna use carriages in the snow. Ponies and horses can manage it well enough if we need something, and there is nowhere to go that requires a carriage until the snow in the pass melts.”

That sounded ominous. “What pass is this?”

“The Pass of Aberfoyle, miss, where the river runs between the hills. ’Tis where Graham of Duchray and our Highlanders defeated Cromwell’s army.” Her voice lilted with pride. “But ye canna go through it when the snow is deep, and it is the last to melt.”

“Is there no other way out?”

The girl considered. “No other roads, only mountain tracks. Sorry, miss.”

“How long before the pass is clear?”

Margaret shrugged. “Could be a few days or a fortnight or more. Farther north the passes often close for the entire winter, but not here.”

A longer reprieve, then, but she would have to be careful. Allowing herself more time with Darcy would only open the way to heartbreak. But at least if she could not leave Kinloch House, neither could anyone get in to discover her presence there. That was a blessing.

***

DARCY FELT SUFFICIENTLY improved the following morning to allow two brawny footmen to carry him to the drawing room. Someone had prepared his place there carefully. After suffering the indignity of being carried like a child, Darcy was glad to find his armchair in the drawing room was at least a comfortable one. A small table with two decanters and a glass stood to one side.

James arranged Darcy’s leg atop a footstool. “Mr. Jack says it must stay elevated,” he said apologetically. In a whisper, he added, “The wine in the smaller decanter has a few drops of laudanum, should ye need it.”

“Good.” Darcy would have nodded at the young man’s thoughtfulness, but the motion might make his head worse. Besides, he had no intention of requiring laudanum. No matter how much it hurt.

The two footmen moved a small desk in front of him over his leg. The desk did not match anything else in the room. Presumably it had been brought in for this purpose.

“For your breakfast, sir,” said his resourceful footman-turned-valet. “When you are done with it, we can move it away again unless ye wish to write letters.”

He owed a letter to Georgiana, but he would have to fill it with lies to avoid worrying her. Better to wait a few days until he could report something that did not involve highwaymen and broken bones. “Breakfast will do for now.”

Elizabeth came in just after his meal was taken away, the timing of it so neat that she must have been waiting for word he was finished. “Good morning. No, do not even try to stand up, I beg you. Mr. Jack would dangle me from the nearest parapet if I allowed you to use that leg.”

“Good morning,” he said gravely. “Although I am not certain why a highwayman can give orders here, I have no intention of doing anything but resting my leg.”

She smiled, but it was a weak smile. “He can only tell us what to do about your leg. Highwayman or not, he is the closest thing to an apothecary here. If he ordered the staff to help him with a robbery, they would not obey. At least I think they would not, but I have been surprised by them more than once. I hope they have made you comfortable.”

“To an almost embarrassing degree. I am sorry to cause so much work and disruption to your household.”

She sat in an armchair facing him, but her eyes kept drifting away from him. “There is no need to worry about causing extra work at Kinloch House. It is ridiculously overstaffed, and half of the servants end up doing unnecessary work just to keep their hands busy.”

“It is kind of you to say so,” he said uncomfortably.

“It is true. You will see what I mean soon enough.”

It was a perfectly civil answer, but something was different. She had seemed so warm to him in the ruin, but now she was cool and distant. What had changed? “I hope you will not feel obligated to entertain me.”

She tilted her head and said archly, “Well, that is a relief, given my busy schedule of pressing social engagements and nonexistent duties to this mysterious estate which no one will explain to me. Before you arrived, I was so bored that I deliberately went walking into a situation which every single person here had warned me was dangerous and immediately tripped over your body. You are more likely to be entertaining me than the other way about, as will my new guest, Mrs. Graham, who is here to chaperone me. She should be joining us shortly.”

A formal chaperone. Elizabeth did not trust him, even when he could not walk. Her polite pretense was more than he could bear. “What is the matter? You seem different today.”

Her smile faded. “I made a mistake,” she said quietly. “In my concern over your injury, I forgot that I should not allow any connection between the two of us. All I wanted was for you to be well again. Now I must face reality.”

“Because of the gossip? That is easily remedied, and I came here specifically to do that.”

She stood and began rearranging the books on a shelf by the window, her back to him. “It is no use. My difficulties are larger than that. There is no future for us. Elizabeth Bennet has vanished from the earth. Elizabeth Merton must remain in Scotland, and she cannot maintain any connection to you. If last night’s snow had not blocked the roads, I would already be on my way back to Edinburgh.”

His thinking might be less than clear, but even so, he could not miss the rejection. “It is true, then. You would rather have your entire family live in disgrace than tolerate a marriage to me.” She did not want him, no matter how warm she had been to him in the ruin. That had been nothing but charitable behavior.

She swung back to face him, her hands curled into fists. “No! It is not that.” She closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she re-opened them, she said in a brittle voice, “Mr. Darcy, I am sensible of the very great compliment of your affection. I respect you for your efforts to help my family recover from a scandal you did nothing to cause. While I am tempted by what you offer, I could never be happy in such an unequal situation. As a result, I think it easiest if we do not prolong our acquaintance.”

A huge weight settled on his chest. “What of your family? You cannot deny that their suffering would be relieved if you married me.”

She lifted her chin. “My sister’s marriage to Mr. Bingley has likely already provided some relief, and I also cannot ignore that any assistance to my family would come at the price of making your family suffer. Can you deny that your sister’s prospects would be harmed if you married a disgraced woman who lived with her actress aunt?”

His mouth went dry. “Given her dowry and that she is the niece of Lord Matlock, only the highest sticklers would be likely to care.” But some of them would care. Marrying Elizabeth when she still lived in her father’s house would have been a degradation to his family; now it would be a disaster. It was just that he no longer cared about any of that.

She spun away to face the window, her back now to him, her shoulders stiff. “Ah, yes, Lord Matlock.” Her voice dripped ice. “Do you believe he and Lady Catherine de Bourgh would welcome me into your family?”

Of course they would not. They would be livid if they had the least idea that he was considering this marriage. “Their opinion is unimportant to me.”

“But not unimportant to me. I would not wish to spend my life being resented by my husband’s family. And now I wish to stop discussing this. I have made my decision; I ask you to respect it.”

He bowed his head, although she would not be able to see it. “As you wish.” Despair ate at his throat.

“I thank you.” Her unsteady voice made him long to reach out to her, but she would not welcome that.

Or would she? This refusal was different from the one at Hunsford. Then she had been angry and told him everything she detested about him. This time she was distressed and spoke only of the inequality of their ranks and the social consequences of a marriage between them. Rational reasons, having nothing to do with her sentiments.

She must be feeling at least a little regret over refusing him. Somehow he was certain of it. If there were any part of her that wished to be his wife, he would not give up trying to win her affection, but he would have to be more subtle about it. “When I was lying injured in the ruin, your warmth and gentleness were a great gift to me. Even if there is no future, I hope that we can remain on cordial terms until you must leave. But if you prefer to avoid my company completely, I will respect that as well.”

Elizabeth made a clucking noise. “I think that blow to your head addled your wits. If I wished to avoid your company, I would not have walked half an hour each way in the cold to spend my days in a chilly, smoky ruin.” But she said it in a friendly manner, and the tension in the air seemed to ease a little.

He shook his head and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his skull. He dug his fingernails into his palms until he could think clearly again. “Being helpless has addled me. I cannot do the smallest thing for myself, I have not a penny to my name, and no one here knows who I am. I am dependent on you for everything. Even the clothes I am wearing are your charity.” And that barely began to describe how much he hated his helplessness.

“Men do worry about the oddest things! If it is any comfort, I am always completely dependent on my aunt, and on my father before her.” She came towards him, pausing beside his chair.

Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. Astonishingly, she allowed it, albeit with a slightly puzzled, almost pained look.

The slight touch of their linked hands resonated deep within him. It made no sense. She did not want to marry him, yet she held his hand. She must have some degree of warmth for him. Perhaps he could still kindle it into something more. But he would have to go slowly or risk frightening her off – yet she might leave at any time, and then it would be too late.

An older woman with a lilting Scots accent spoke from the doorway. “It appears my services as a chaperone are in greater demand than I expected.” A footman stood behind her, carrying a small harp.

Reluctantly Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. At least she had not yanked it away.

“Apparently they are,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Mrs. Graham, may I present Mr. Darcy? Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Graham is the sister of the local clan chieftain and has the misfortune of being my chaperone.”

“’Tis no misfortune, as I am not averse to a challenge!” she said with good humor. “I have been enjoying being waited upon hand and foot here.” She gestured to the footman. “Ye may put the harp over there.”

Darcy struggled to resurrect what remained of his manners. He did not want a chaperone watching him every minute, and he had already made a poor impression on her. “It is a pleasure, Mrs. Graham. You play the harp?”

“Aye, when I have the opportunity. My sons prefer the skirl of the bagpipes to the gentle tones of the harp, so I intend to take advantage of the opportunity to practice here where there is no one to complain of it.” She looked around with an air of satisfaction.

“I for one will be glad of it,” said Elizabeth. “I miss having a pianoforte to play, and will be happy to hear music again.”

“As will I,” said Darcy. “Especially as it appears I will not be doing much reading in the next few days. I thought to entertain myself with The Lady of the Lake, but the words keep swimming across the page.” Perhaps that would help her opinion of him; everyone seemed enamored of Walter Scott’s narrative poem.

“Ye have never read it?” Mrs. Graham asked. “Ye should, since ye must have seen some of the setting on your journey here.”

“Sadly, I remember little of that journey after leaving Stirling,” Darcy said. That reminded him; he needed to do something about his disloyal former valet. He intended to see the man punished for his crime. But even thinking of it made his head throb again.

“Perhaps we could read it to you,” said Elizabeth.

“Only if you would enjoy it.” Darcy suspected her sharp eyes had not missed his change of mood. He reached for the smaller decanter and carefully poured himself a glass of wine. A trace of laudanum suddenly sounded like a good idea.

“I always enjoy the story,” said Mrs. Graham. “And I will read it, since it would not sound right in an English accent.” She picked up the volume beside him and opened it. “‘Canto First. The Chase.’”

***

MORE SNOW FELL OVERNIGHT, dimming Elizabeth’s prospects of escape yet further. According to the housekeeper, it would take a substantial thaw to open the pass, so she resigned herself to a prolonged stay. At least there was less to worry about now that she had made her position clear to Darcy. Mrs. Graham’s constant presence, practicing her harp in the corner or reading aloud to them, eased the strain between them. Still, Elizabeth was aware of Darcy’s eyes on her, causing her skin to prickle and creating warmth deep inside her, but with the chaperone always within hearing distance, the tension did not rise to a breaking point.

By the third day, when it became obvious the enforced inactivity was starting to wear on Darcy’s nerves, Elizabeth sought new distractions for him. Asking him to assist her in going over the estate accounts led to an extended meeting where Darcy spent several hours convincing the Kinloch steward to consider utilizing new, scientific methods of farming and making better use of grazing land. His spirits seemed so much improved by being of some use that she asked him to help Timothy with his Latin lessons, the one part of his schoolwork she could not supervise.

She had some concerns about his patience for dealing with a young boy, but Darcy seemed cheerful enough when Timothy came for his first lesson that afternoon, clutching his Latin book and sitting stiffly in a chair next to Darcy’s chaise longue. Elizabeth left them alone together, lest her presence make both of them self-conscious. When she returned half an hour later, Timmy was curled up beside Darcy in the chaise, his head on Darcy’s shoulder. The three-legged collie lay sprawled on the floor beside them.

Darcy looked up at her with a wry smile. “Timothy has been advising me on how to entertain myself while I am unable to walk. Did you know that between Timothy, Bonnie Prince, and me, we have five good legs?”

Elizabeth tried to hide her smile. “That should work out to almost two good legs apiece. Bonnie Prince has more than his share.”

“An interesting mathematical problem, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said gravely. “We will have to consider that.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” said Elizabeth. “But here is Nurse to take Timothy for his walk now.”

“But I want to keep studying Latin,” Timmy whined.

Darcy said, “We were discussing toy soldiers, not Latin.”

Timmy gave him a guilty look. “Oh, very well. Can we do Latin again tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

“If Miss Elizabeth and your nurse are agreeable,” Darcy said. “Now it is time for your walk.”

Timmy scrambled off the chaise and limped to the door. “Until tomorrow!”

Once he was out of sight, Elizabeth said, “You have a new admirer.”

“He is a pleasant boy. I was surprised he is doing so well in Latin given his poor health.”

“He takes his studies seriously, and there is little else he could do when confined to bed. I am glad to see he is showing a little rebelliousness. It means he is getting stronger.”

Darcy ran his finger along the spine of the book in his lap. “Is Timmy a connection of your aunt’s?”

“No. When Timmy’s mother died, a friend asked my aunt and uncle to care for him temporarily until he could make other arrangements. My cousin Imogen took a great liking to him and begged for him to remain. By the time she died, it was the only home he could remember, and my aunt did not have the heart to send him away.”

“He has no relatives?”

“Apparently not.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Even if he did, they likely could not care for him. I do not know the details, but his mother was very poor.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows. “It was good of your aunt and uncle to take him in and give him an education.”

“From all I have heard, my uncle was as kind and generous as my aunt is. Since Timothy could never manage as a laborer with his clubfoot, they hoped an education would allow him to work as a clerk or go into the church, but then he became consumptive.” She sighed deeply.

“You are attached to him.”

“Naturally. He is sweet and clever, and he never complains about his limitations.” She smiled suddenly. “And he loves the stories I tell him. How could I fail to admire a boy with such exquisite taste?”

***

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Darcy had almost found a comfortable position for his leg when the butler entered the drawing room and announced, “MacLaren the Younger wishes to know if Miss Merton is at home.”

Elizabeth looked up from her embroidery. “You may show him in.”

Mrs. Graham smiled broadly as she slipped a ribbon into the book to mark her place, apparently pleased at this new arrival.

The visitor proved to be a kilted ginger-haired young man who bowed to Elizabeth and kissed Mrs. Graham on the cheek. Darcy was immediately on his guard. Why would a young gentleman be calling on Elizabeth? The way the newcomer seemed perfectly at home in the house did not help his sentiments.

Elizabeth smiled at the visitor. “Welcome to Kinloch House. Mr. Darcy, may I present Mr. MacLaren, also called MacLaren the Younger? That means he is the son of the clan chieftain.”

“And my favorite nephew,” added Mrs. Graham.

“The last time I checked, I was your only nephew,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Aye, but ye would likely still be my favorite if I had half-a-dozen! Which, thankfully, I do not, since four sons and one nephew is quite enough!”

“As you have told me many times.” MacLaren approached Darcy confidently. “Do not try to stand. I have heard of your injuries.” He held out his hand.

Darcy shook it. “A pleasure,” he said tersely.

“I am glad to meet you at last. I hope your journey down the mountain did not prove too difficult.”

“I survived it,” said Darcy. How did this young sprig know so much about him?

Elizabeth said, “Do sit down, Mr. MacLaren. Is the snow still covering the roads?”

“Aye, but my horse is accustomed to it. I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Only the second canto of The Lady of the Lake, and it will still be here later. Mrs. Graham has been reading it aloud to us.”

“Are you enjoying it?” MacLaren asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Elizabeth. “I have read it before, but I think I prefer hearing it. The rhythm comes through that way, and I notice things that I missed the first time.”

They continued to converse about Scott’s book until the refreshments arrived and Elizabeth poured out the tea.

After he took his first sip of tea, MacLaren said, “I do have a purpose for my visit today, and it is twofold. I promised to answer your questions about the mysterious ways of this household and the clan, and I also have an invitation to deliver. My father would like to meet you, but he is recovering from lung fever and is not yet strong enough to leave the castle. He begs you to do him the honor of calling at Castle Lochard at your convenience.”

“How kind of him,” Elizabeth said. “I will be happy to do so when the roads are clear.”

MacLaren bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I thank you. He will be very glad to see you. I have asked him not to bring out the thumbscrews on his favorite subject when you call, but I hope if he does, you will not permit him to make you uncomfortable.”

Elizabeth said dryly, “I thank you for the warning. I believe I will be able to defend myself adequately.”

“Thumbscrews?” Darcy did not like the sound of this, even if the torture was only metaphorical.

“Oh, yes,” said Elizabeth. “It is a somewhat embarrassing situation. You see, apart from you and me, everyone within miles of this place is anxious to see me marry Mr. MacLaren. The elder Mr. MacLaren is apparently one of those who feels it most strongly.”

His Elizabeth, to marry this young Scot? Never. “I see,” he said coldly.

“You need not worry, sir,” said MacLaren with a smile. “Miss Merton has told me she has no intention of marrying, and, unlike my father, I have accepted her refusal. No, Aunt, not a word! You promised me. I am here now only to answer Miss Merton’s questions because she expressed frustration that the staff had been keeping secrets from her.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I instructed your housekeeper to be frank with you, but she asked me to make the initial explanations.”

Darcy frowned. “May I ask what authority you have in this household?”

MacLaren looked perplexed. “I am my father’s representative.”

Elizabeth broke in. “Permit me to explain. Mr. MacLaren has no authority over the household, but the clan chieftain has certain responsibilities towards those of the staff who are members of his clan, which happens to be all of them, as near as I can tell. And, if I am not mistaken, some of the secrets have to do with clan business.”

“Thank you, Miss Merton. They do, but they were undertaken on your uncle’s orders when he purchased the estate. He was, of course, a clansman himself. Your aunt has never countermanded the orders, so they have continued.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Am I to believe, then, that my uncle ordered elderly servants, instead of being pensioned off with thanks for their years of service, to be forced to live in the stables and continue to work?” Her voice rose with repressed outrage.

Mrs. Graham snorted. “Of course not! How could ye think such a thing?”

“No wonder you have been distressed!” exclaimed MacLaren. “The poor souls in the stable are not servants, but victims of the clearances, tenant farmers from neighboring clans whose houses were destroyed to make way for sheep farming. Those who were too weak to survive the long journey on foot to the coasts or to Glasgow were left by the roadside to die when they could go no further. Your uncle permitted such people to be brought here and allowed to live in the stables. Highlanders are proud people and dislike taking charity, so those who are able attempt to repay by helping out on the estate when they can.”

Elizabeth looked dubious. “That would certainly be a different situation, but if it is true, why did the staff not simply tell me so? Did they think I would be cruel enough to evict them to die?”

MacLaren winced. “In a word, yes,” he said heavily. “It is a regrettable assumption, but you are English and not part of the clan. Most English landlords and even some Scottish ones care only for how much money an estate can produce and nothing for their responsibility to their tenants or those in need.”

“Once again, all Englishmen are evil,” said Elizabeth resentfully.

Darcy did not like this intruder, but felt it only fair to say, “They do have some reason to believe that based on their experience. We have not treated them well, and absentee landlords who prefer to live in London are not likely to care about their tenants. That is true in England as well, but English tenants have more protection under the law.”

MacLaren steepled his fingers. “The tenants here have no protection. Kinloch was once part of my great-grandfather’s lands, but it was taken by the English after the rebellion. When the owner died, his son gave orders to clear the land. They were already evicting tenants when your uncle offered to buy the property. He paid rather more than it was worth.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Did he say it would be left to someone in the clan?”

“No,” said MacLaren slowly. “It went to his daughter originally, of course. After her death, it reverted to your aunt. It was a general assumption that she would leave it to one of us, but she has the right to dispose of it however she pleases.” A trace of bitterness entered his voice.

Darcy eyed him distrustfully. “Your father’s motive for wanting a match with Miss Elizabeth is mercenary, then.”

“Purely,” said MacLaren good-naturedly. “Not, Miss Merton, that you are at all lacking in charm, but he would wish it in any case.”

Even if many marriages were made that way, Darcy still did not like it. Not when it involved Elizabeth.

“His reasons are irrelevant, since I have no intention of marrying,” Elizabeth said sharply. “Mr. MacLaren, I thank you for your helpful explanations. I have also wondered about Auld Jack’s relationship to Kinloch House.”

MacLaren hesitated. “Some of it is not my story to tell, but he is one of those who finds the poor souls left by the side of the road and brings them here.”

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at Darcy. “You are not the only person he has rescued.”

“Had I not been injured, he would have robbed me.” It had been no more than the highwayman’s whim that had saved him, and he had no intention of allowing it to be romanticized.

“Even if it is not your story to tell, Mr. MacLaren, is it typical for the son of the clan chieftain to have a highwayman under his protection?” asked Elizabeth pointedly. “I would have thought it would be your duty to keep the roads safe.”

The Scotsman’s eyebrows shot up. “Jack told you he was a highwayman?” His voice rose in surprise.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Or at the very least, he did not contradict me when I suggested it. But I saw it with my own eyes. He stopped my carriage and held it at gunpoint, even if he did let us go when he learned who I was. He planned to hold Mr. Darcy for ransom. And he threatened to kill me.”

MacLaren rubbed his eyes with one hand and muttered something under his breath. Finally he said wearily, “He has a gift for making enemies, and he should not have said or done those things. Auld Jack was the name of a local highwayman who died some years ago, and Jack adopted it when he moved to the hill fort, but he is not a thief.”

Elizabeth’s lip curled. “Am I to believe he is just someone who puts on a mask and stops carriages with a gun for his own amusement?”

He set down his tea cup. “I canna explain any of this, nor why I help him, but it is not what you think.” He sounded defeated.

Darcy said sharply, “There is only one reason other than robbery that a man would stop unknown carriages with a gun. What is he guarding?”

Mrs. Graham said irritably, “Tell them the truth, Duncan, or they will suspect something worse than what it is.”

MacLaren stared silently at the floor for a long moment. “He is a free-trader, a smuggler, if you will, for a farm called the Wee Bruach. Their still produces whisky which is sold in the Lowlands. It was very popular until the Excise Act closed all small stills twenty years ago, leaving only illegal ones. When our need for money became urgent two years ago, Jack decided that re-opening the still was the best way to raise money quickly. But there are still excise officers prowling about, and the hill fort is part of a smuggler’s signaling network to warn of their approach. Jack scares them off. If he robs the officers on occasion, I am happier not knowing it.”

Darcy said suspiciously, “So the proceeds from an illegal still on Kinloch land go to the clan?”

MacLaren inclined his head. “The Wee Bruach pays its rent to Kinloch in full. Like any tenant, they can use the profit from what they produce as they choose.”

“But their profits have not been enough to save your lands,” Elizabeth guessed.

MacLaren shook his head. “Good, but not enough. If we had another three years, it would likely save us. When you arrived here, I was in Glasgow, begging the bank for more time, but they refused to oblige me. Now the money the still has made will pay for our clansmen’s passage to America.”

“What would happen if the excise officers found the still?”

“They would confiscate it and arrest the people there. They would not proceed against you unless they could prove you were selling the whisky yourself.”

Elizabeth considered. “I know smuggled brandy is more common than not among the well-to-do, but I know nothing of Scots law.”

“I am certain of this much: that a Scottish court would not bring proceedings against an English lady for anything short of murder, and perhaps not even that.” MacLaren hesitated. “The question is whether you plan to inform the excise officers of what I have told you. If you do, I will tell Jack the still must close immediately and everyone involved must leave the area.”

Elizabeth chewed her lip and glanced at Darcy.

He said to her quietly, “Everyone dodges excise men.”

She nodded. “I prefer to know nothing about your Wee whatever-it-is beyond that they pay their rent.”

MacLaren let out a long breath. “I thank you, on behalf of the men and women whose lives will be easier for it.”

“There is one thing I do not understand,” she said. “Your father does not lack for land, Mr. MacLaren. Why, then, are all these clan activities at Kinloch? Are your stables also full of elderly displaced farmers? Do you have illegal stills scattered across your lands? Or is this yet another secret?”

There was a twist in MacLaren’s smile. “Not a secret at all. The chieftain is always under suspicion from the English, and the local officers hate all Highlanders. They do not hesitate to trespass on our lands in search of any misdeeds they can use against us. But Kinloch is not clan property. It belonged to an influential Edinburgh merchant, even if he was born a savage Highlander, and now it is the property of an English lady, so they leave Kinloch alone. The poor folk in the stable are here because they come from other clans, and their chiefs would not take kindly to my father interfering in their clearances. A private landowner is a different matter.”

“It seems that the line between clan lands and Kinloch land is rather blurry.”

“Only after your uncle purchased Kinloch, and it was by his choice. As was all of this.” MacLaren smiled at Elizabeth apologetically. “Are there other questions I can answer for you?”

***

BY THE TIME THE CHIEFTAIN’S son had departed, Darcy’s leg was throbbing. Had he hurt it somehow, or was it just the result of his annoyance with their visitor? It was bad enough that Elizabeth felt that she could not marry him without having to hear about other men wanting to marry her, even if she had no interest. It was a painful reminder that she was now a much more attractive matrimonial prospect than she had been as a poorly-dowered girl in England, and other men knew it. Sooner or later, she would find one of them tolerable enough to marry.

Bile rose in his throat. This would not do, and his small decanter of doctored wine was empty. He signaled to the footman. “Inform James I would like some of my special wine.” No doubt all the servants knew what that meant, but he still used the code to keep his secret from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled. “I hope the cellars are well-stocked with your particular wine.”

Mrs. Graham said tartly, “His particular wine has laudanum in it.”

Darcy glared at her. “I did not think James was so little to be trusted.”

“Jamie never said a word. I happened to walk by when he was adding laudanum to your decanter. It was not difficult to guess what it was for.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks had gone pale. “I did not realize you were still in such discomfort. Perhaps we should send to Glasgow for a doctor.”

“That is unnecessary.” A Glasgow doctor might want to amputate. At least now he had a chance of walking again. “It is only a few drops of laudanum, just enough to dull the pain without slowing my mind. It is nothing to worry about.”

She gazed at him reproachfully. “If you say it is nothing to worry about, naturally my worry must cease instantly.”

He took in a deep breath. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. All I meant is that it is natural for a broken bone to ache while it is healing. I can ignore it most of the time, and I could get by without even a drop of laudanum, but by this late in the day it offers some relief.” He sought to lighten his tone. “I suspect I am better company for it.”

“I see,” said Elizabeth slowly.

But he doubted that she did see. How could she know what it was like for him to ache for her while she spoke of marriage to someone else, no matter how dismissively? If only she could trust him even a little, but it seemed that was not to be. He should learn to settle for what little he had of her.

***

MRS. GRAHAM EXCUSED herself for a few moments after an informal dinner in the drawing room, leaving Darcy alone with Elizabeth for the first time that day. Elizabeth had been particularly attentive to him at dinner, perhaps trying to distract him from the pain in his leg, which was nothing to the ache in his heart. But the laudanum-laced wine had relaxed him enough that he could drink in the lively expressions that crossed Elizabeth’s face and the way her hair shone in the candlelight without too much thought of the future, as if intimate dinners with her were something that could be a natural part of his life.

Now Elizabeth walked past him toward the bookcase, the slight sway of her hips almost hidden by her woolen dress, the curve of her neck outlined by the moonlight from the window. A surge of desire nearly overset Darcy, the longing to run his hand along that silver-lit skin so strong that he had to fight to keep himself on his chaise longue, broken leg be damned. In that moment, being lame forever seemed a small price to pay for being able to touch Elizabeth, to feel the silk of her skin, the little shiver she would give at his touch.

Then she turned and met his gaze, and he knew he was not alone in his desire. She wanted him, too. There was hunger and yearning in her fine eyes, and, as they stared at one another in silence, a hint of despair.

She bit her lip and shook herself, as if waking from a reverie, and looked away. She picked a book from the shelf at random, clutched it tightly, and hurried back to her seat by the fire, never looking his way.

The ache in his chest was like a burning coal he could not ignore. “Elizabeth,” he said softly.

She hesitated before raising her head. “Yes?” Her voice was weighted with resignation.

“You cannot deny what is between us. Surely there must be some way we can work together to overcome whatever stands in our way.” He did not know why she might answer differently this time, but he could not remain silent.

Her hands tightened into fists. “Do you think I have not tried to find a way? But there is no answer. And trying to pretend otherwise only makes it worse.” Her voice caught. “Perhaps you have never before been denied something you wanted desperately, but there are very few in this world who have that privilege.”

His face burned at her reproof. “I have been fortunate, but I have faced adversity. It is not stubbornness but the strength of my sentiments which will not be denied.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong approach.

As she looked at him, her pain evident in the lines of her face, she opened her mouth to say something, but apparently changed her mind. Instead, she rose to her feet and hurried from the room, her skirts swishing around her.

“Elizabeth!” he called after her, but there was no response, just the sound of her feet on the steps.

Devil take it! He could not follow her, could not do anything but wait for her to return. If she did return. He pounded his fist on the arm of the chaise longue, wincing at the pain as the movement jostled his leg. Damn it! Why could she not have stayed and talked to him?

He heard someone outside the door, but it was Mrs. Graham’s quick footsteps, not the soft sound of Elizabeth’s slippers. The older woman hesitated in the doorway, looking back in the direction Elizabeth had gone, and then turned to Darcy with an exasperated expression. “I canna leave the two of ye alone for even a few minutes!”

“It is nothing,” he said automatically. Another reproof was the last thing he needed.

“From what I saw of Lizzy’s face, it did not look like nothing,” she said tartly. “I will give ye one piece of advice, whether ye like it or not. When a lass says nae, ye must take her at her word. Show her that much respect.”

“I have the greatest of respect for her,” he said stiffly. But he had not shown it. She had begged him not to press her, and he had not listened. What a fool he had been!

Chapter 12

PAIN WOKE DARCY THE next morning, stabbing pain in his calf and cramping in his thigh. Moving only made it worse, and he groaned as he tried to find a more comfortable position. It was his own fault after his efforts the night before. His headache and sour, dry mouth were his own doing, too. What had he been thinking to drink so much?

He had been thinking he had lost Elizabeth, that was what. She had not returned the previous evening, not even to say goodnight. He had destroyed any warmth she felt towards him. It was over, and the best he could hope for was to avoid offending her again during their remaining brief time together. But instead he had been fool enough to think it a good idea to fetch the brandy from the side table himself rather than ringing for a servant to carry it that scant distance for him.

And now he had reinjured his leg and might limp the rest of his life because of it – a terrifying thought. Terrifying enough that he asked James, “Does Mr. Jack ever come here?”

“Aye. Every few days.” Even James’ quiet, soothing voice could not ease his frayed nerves.

“Do you trust his doctoring?”

“Och, aye! He fixed me da’s leg so he could walk again.”

He had to ask for help, even if it went against the grain. “When he comes next, could you tell him I would like to see him?”

“Of course. Is it your leg troubling you, sir?”

Darcy grimaced. “Yes, but do not tell anyone. I do not wish to be fussed over.” Especially not when Elizabeth was already angry at him.

A fine line appeared between the young man’s eyebrows. “Should I send a message to Mr. Jack?”

Dammit. Asking for help from an outlaw. “Can you take it yourself?”

“Aye, sir. I will go as soon as we are done. Do ye still want trousers today or the housecoat?”

“Trousers,” he grumbled. He did not want anything to touch his leg, but he had enough disadvantages in Elizabeth’s eyes. He had to look his best, or at least not completely crippled.

***

ELIZABETH APPROACHED the drawing room cautiously the next morning. She ached to see Darcy and at the same time dreaded it. Last night had been the proof that she needed to keep her distance from him, but how could she trust herself to do so when she wanted him so badly? She had eaten breakfast in her room, but she could not avoid him forever.

Her heart lurched at the sight of him, though he seemed unaware of her arrival, leaning forward and kneading his injured leg. “Is your leg paining you?

He looked up at her in the doorway, his face unreadable. “No,” he said tersely. “Just stiff.”

Perhaps he did not want to admit to weakness, or more likely, he was still unhappy from the night before. Distance. That was the key. Elizabeth rubbed her hands together so he could not see them shake. “Well, then. I think I would benefit from a walk to clear my head.” Anything to get away from this agony.

He glanced at the frost-covered window. “Stay warm,” he said.

“I will.” She swept from the room and put on her pelisse and cloak, hoping there would be somewhere with a path clear enough for her to walk on. Perhaps she could make her way along the lane where MacLaren the Younger’s horse had broken a trail when he called. At least she would be going downhill, and the mountains would protect her from the worst of the icy wind. If only they could protect her heart as well as her body!

The trail was uneven, making it hard to keep her balance. Good; she needed to focus on something besides Darcy. She had not gone far when she noticed a spray of snow coming from the hill behind the house. Two horsemen, or rather riders on Highland ponies, were making their way down the track from the ruin. She recognized Mr. Jack’s figure, although she had never seen him on horseback before, with a slighter man behind him. What had brought Mr. Jack to Kinloch House?

She turned around and picked her way carefully back up the track, keeping her attention on the approaching horsemen.

Mr. Jack reined in when he reached her while the slight man rode straight to the house. “Miss Merton, yet another walk in the bitter cold?” His breath made a cloud of fog as he spoke.

Elizabeth cocked her head, pretending better spirits than she possessed. “Am I still safe thanks to my tartan muffler, or do you plan to threaten to shoot me again this time?”

“Not right away. Since your friend Darcy sent for me, I must attend to him first. If I see you when you return to the house, I can threaten to shoot you then,” he offered with an amused look.

“Mr. Darcy sent for you?” she asked suspiciously. The other rider must have been his messenger.

“His leg is causing him pain. No doubt he did something foolish.”

Darcy’s leg would have to be hurting a great deal before he would ask Mr. Jack for help. “This would be the same leg he just told me did not hurt at all, and was only a little stiff?”

“The very one,” said Mr. Jack. “Surely it is not news to you that men in pain tend to be fools.”

She smiled at him archly. “And often when they are not in pain as well.”

“Touché, Miss Merton.” He touched his hat and rode off.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. How much had Darcy’s pain contributed to his behavior the previous night?

She retraced her steps back to the house. If she did not hear from Mr. Jack directly what was wrong with his leg, she might never know, given Darcy’s reticence on the subject.

When she arrived, Mr. Jack was already in the drawing room with Darcy and his manservant. She stood in the doorway and listened.

Darcy was speaking. “... cramps here, and a burning pain there.”

“I can be of more help to you if I know what made it worse,” Mr. Jack said wryly.

After a long moment of silence, Darcy said, “I stood on the other leg and tried to hop to reach a table.”

“Well, let us see what damage you have done.” Mr. Jack bent over the brace and began to undo the buckles.

Darcy noticed her then and flushed. “Miss Elizabeth, I did not expect you back so quickly.”

“I encountered Mr. Jack, and he told me about your leg, so I came back.”

“I believe he has it well in hand.” It was a clear dismissal, and it hurt.

In the ruined hill fort, she had washed his wounds and held his hand, but now she was not wanted. “Very well.” She did not trust herself to say anything more. It was safer to stay away.

***

IN THE ENTRY HALL, Mr. Jack tugged on his well-worn gloves. “He was ridiculously fortunate that the bones are still in place and he only misaligned the brace and knotted the muscles. It should hurt him less now, but it will be several weeks before he can use it, and he will not be able to travel until then. You will have him as a patient for some time.”

Elizabeth folded her hands tightly. “It hardly matters. Kinloch is becoming a veritable hospital. I have a little boy here with consumption as well.”

The highwaymen turned a sharp look on her. “Consumption? Make certain he has plenty of fresh air and as much exercise as he can tolerate.”

Was the man constitutionally unable to do anything but give commands? “That is what I am doing, although his doctor says he needs rest, not exercise.”

Mr. Jack scowled. “A local boy? Who is this doctor?” His voice dripped scorn.

“He is my aunt’s ward from Edinburgh. I do not know his doctor’s name.”

His eyes narrowed as he moved to stand nearly toe to toe with her. “Timothy has consumption?” he growled.

Elizabeth took an involuntary step backwards. “How do you know Timothy?”

He ignored her question. “Where is he?” he demanded.

At least he was not holding a pistol on her this time. That had to be an improvement. “Upstairs,” she said curtly. “This way.” She climbed the stairs with ill grace and stopped in front of the nursery door. “Wait here until I call you.”

She opened the door quietly and tiptoed in. Timmy was asleep on the rug in front of the hearth, his arms wrapped around Bonnie Prince. The elderly dog raised his head to inspect her.

Timmy rubbed his eyes. “Lizzy, is something wrong?”

Mr. Jack shouldered his way past her. And he had accused her of being unable to follow directions! He dropped to his knees beside the boy, who sat up and threw his arms around his waist.

How could Timothy possibly know the outlaw, much less be on such terms with him? Was this another one of those Highland mysteries just when she thought she had resolved them all? She seethed.

“Miss Merton tells me you have been sick,” Mr. Jack said gently, in a tone Elizabeth had never heard from him before. “What is wrong?”

The boy released him, drooping a little. “I am tired all the time, and I cough a lot. Sometimes I have fevers, and...” He leaned forward to whisper something to the man.

Mr. Jack’s lips grew tight. Turning to Elizabeth, he bit out each word. “Why was I not informed?”

Elizabeth rocked on her toes. “I had no idea of your existence, much less that you had any interest in him, or, for that matter, how to address a letter to an outlaw living in a ruined hill fort.”

Timothy tugged his sleeve. “Do not be mean to Lizzy. She is my friend.”

Mr. Jack’s expression softened, something Elizabeth would not have believed possible. “If you wish. Will you show me how you take a deep breath?”

The boy obeyed, his tiny chest swelling. He began to cough into his sleeve as he exhaled.

Elizabeth hurried to his bedside table and poured some of his tonic into the waiting glass. She brought it to Timothy and held it to his mouth. “Just a sip,” she coaxed.

Mr. Jack snatched the glass from her hand and sniffed the contents. He took a tiny taste, swirled around his mouth, and spat it out, tossing the remaining liquid into the fire where it sizzled. “Pour that out and never give it to him again.”

“It helps his cough,” Elizabeth protested.

“And makes it harder for him to breathe,” the highwayman snapped. “What sort of fool gives laudanum for consumption? He should have paregoric, nothing else.”

And he claimed not to be an apothecary! But there was no point in arguing with him. She would make her own decision about Timothy’s medicine later.

Mr. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a short wooden tube, just like the one the Meryton apothecary carried, because of course all highwaymen would carry apothecary tools. “Timothy, I want to listen to you breathe. I need to put this against your skin.”

Timmy obediently unbuttoned his coat. Despite her grievance with Mr. Jack, Elizabeth helped him out of it. Even an outlaw apothecary was better than no apothecary, and at least Mr. Jack agreed with her on fresh air and exercise for Timmy.

“Nurse still wraps my foot every day,” Timmy volunteered. “The new doctor said it was a waste of time, but I told her I wanted it anyway.”

“Clever boy,” Mr. Jack said absently. He tugged up Timothy’s shirt and pressed the tube against his chest, bending to put his ear to the other end. Every few breaths, he would move it to a new spot and listen again. His tight expression made it clear he did not like what he was hearing. Finally he put away the tube and tucked the boy’s shirt in again.

“Is it bad, then?” Timmy asked hesitantly.

“Bad enough, and you will have to work very hard to get better.” From any other man, Mr. Jack’s words would have sounded unusually harsh, but in comparison to how he spoke to Darcy about his injury, it was practically gentle.

Timothy must have been used to Mr. Jack’s ways, for he seemed unsurprised. “Do you want to see my foot?”

“I had better, and then we will go for a walk.”

Elizabeth said firmly, “Nurse already took Timmy out this morning.”

“That was this morning. He is going to walk until his feet will not carry him, and then he will ride, and learn to row a boat, and once he is rested, he will do it all over again,” he said tightly.

“I will be happy to hear your recommendations,” said Elizabeth. “But my aunt gave Timmy into my care, and there are matters you are not aware of.”

“Such as?” he sneered.

“Such as that if you take him for a long walk, he will collapse. Until I brought him here almost a month ago, he had not been allowed to walk more than a few feet under his doctor’s orders. He was bled and given purgatives regularly. He has improved his stamina since coming here, but a short walk around the grounds is still a challenge for him.”

“Damned idiot! He needs exercise, not rest.”

Elizabeth hoped he was speaking about the doctor rather than her, but she refused to be cowed. “I agree he needs exercise, but you cannot undo the weakness in his legs overnight,” she said evenly. “Threatening to shoot me or push me over a cliff will not change the facts.”

He snorted. “Let me see that foot, then, lad.”

The door opened and Nurse peeked in. “Are you awake then, Master Timothy?”

“Yes,” Timothy said brightly. “Look who is here!”

Nurse stopped short, her eyes widening. “Mr. Jack?” she squeaked.

Elizabeth ground her teeth and left the nursery before she could say anything she would regret.

Before she could reach the stairs, Nurse caught up with her, wringing her hands. “May I speak frankly, Miss Merton?”

“Of course. Is something the matter?”

“Well, it is just that I dinna know whether your aunt would approve of Mr. Jack being Timothy’s doctor again.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Is he doing something you disapprove of?”

“Oh, no, miss!” Nurse shuffled her feet. “It is only...well, it is just that...I do not know.”

Not more mysteries! “Pray be so good as to tell me why you are concerned.”

Nurse squeezed her eyes shut as if she expected to be struck. “Mr. Jack said, well, that your aunt blamed him when Miss Imogen died.”

Elizabeth stared at her in shock. What could Mr. Jack have done? “I think you had better tell me the entire story. Do you feel Mr. Jack was at fault?”

The older woman bowed her head. “I dinna know! He gave her the same treatment as the others, even if he spent more time with Timothy because he was so much sicker. No one expected him to survive. Miss Imogen was so strong, and she barely seemed sick until almost the end. But Timothy lived, and Miss Imogen died.” Nurse wiped away a tear. “So did two of the maids.”

“What was the matter with them?” Elizabeth had always been hesitant to ask her aunt about Imogen’s death.

“’Twas scarlet fever, miss.”

“What did Mr. Jack do to treat them?” She had always heard there was little to be done for scarlet fever sufferers.

“Cooling baths with Epsom salts, and we had to keep trying to make them drink, though it hurt their poor throats so. Your aunt wanted him to bleed Miss Imogen when she was failing, and he wouldna do it. Said it would only make her worse. Your poor aunt was so devastated when Miss Imogen left us.”

Elizabeth had never been convinced that bleeding helped anyone, and certainly Timmy was better for having stopped it, but it was unlike her aunt to be unfair. Still, losing her only child so soon after her husband’s death could make the strongest woman irrational. “Do you think Mr. Jack did his best for Imogen?”

A martial light kindled in Nurse’s eye. “Of course he did! He would have slit his own throat if he thought that would save his brother’s only child!”

Stunned, Elizabeth stared at Nurse in disbelief as a number of odd things suddenly began to make sense.

***

DARCY LABORED OVER his letter to Georgiana, trying to distract himself from the prospect of his next encounter with Elizabeth. Even if she had forgiven him for the previous evening, and there was no evidence of that, she would doubtless be unhappy about his self-inflicted injury, and there was little he could say in his own defense. So it was not a surprise when she hurried into the room with a look of exasperation, but his heart sank anyway.

She threw her hands out to the sides and exclaimed, “I do not believe this! I simply cannot believe it!”

“I apologize,” he said humbly. “I should have told you the truth about my leg.”

“Oh, not you. Do you know who first brought Timothy to my aunt and asked her to take him in? Do you know?” The pitch of her voice rose in aggrievement.

Timothy? How had Timothy come into this? “I have no idea,” he said cautiously.

“Mr. Jack, that is who! Yes, Mr. Jack, the highwayman who threatened to kill me. He was the one who convinced my aunt and uncle to give Timothy a home. And do you know why he was so interested in Timothy?”

Most likely his natural son, at a guess, but he could hardly say that. “Pray do not tell me they are related.”

She shook her head. “No. He was Timothy’s doctor. His doctor! When Timothy’s mother was dying, she begged him to keep Timmy out of the orphanage, so he took him to my aunt and uncle. And can you guess why he chose to ask them for help?”

“Fellow clansmen?” Darcy guessed. He had never seen Elizabeth so agitated.

“Because my uncle was his brother, that is why!” She collapsed into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “It is beyond belief! That my uncle’s brother, a doctor, should turn highwayman and threaten to kill me!”

“MacLaren the Younger said he was not a highwayman, though,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth threw up her hands. “Call him what you like – smuggler, free-trader, outlaw. He held up my carriage, and that makes him a highwayman as far as I am concerned. And when I ask anyone how he came to be an outlaw, they seem to forget how to speak English! Is everyone here daft?”

Darcy blinked in surprise. “Your uncle’s brother? I had suspected some sort of medical training, but not that. He must have run afoul of the law somehow.”

“Well, he is certainly on the wrong side of the law now!” Elizabeth expelled a long breath. “I do not like discovering that the most exasperating man in Scotland is my uncle’s brother!”

Darcy eyed her carefully. “It is a relief to me. I rather thought you considered me the most exasperating man in Scotland.” And he was grateful to Mr. Jack for somehow irritating Elizabeth enough to make her forget her anger with him.

She gave a gurgle of laughter. “No, you will need to try much harder if you wish to surpass Mr. Jack in that regard. He is upstairs turning Timothy’s medical treatment on its head. He plans to treat him himself, and I would not be a bit surprised if he threatens to shoot me again if I stand in his way.”

Darcy felt a surge of sympathy for poor Timothy being subjected to Mr. Jack’s bedside manner. “I suppose Mr. Jack’s real name must be MacLaren, then.”

“I had assumed that given how the clan treats him, but still. My uncle’s brother!” She shook her head in frustrated astonishment.

Mrs. Graham walked in, a book in hand. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Darcy, and said, “Pray do not permit me to interrupt your letter.” She clearly did not want to discuss Mr. Jack in Mrs. Graham’s presence. Of course not; Mrs. Graham must have known his identity all along.

“Not that ye will be able to send it until the pass opens,” said Mrs. Graham wryly, apparently not fooled.

“No, but it has been much longer than usual since I wrote to my sister, so I must make up for it with an extra long letter. It is hard since I have little to report to her, as I have done nothing apart from sit in this chair,” said Darcy. “Fortunately, she has had a fascination for the Highlands since she first discovered Walter Scott’s poetry, so telling her about the view from the window will still interest her.”

Elizabeth said, “You can tell her all about Kinloch House, as long as you do not mention my name.”

Mrs. Graham snorted. “Why should he leave ye out? Ye have been respectably chaperoned. Or will they consider a Scotswoman not respectable enough for the job?” she demanded.

Elizabeth shook her head. “That is not the issue. Mr. Darcy comes from a life I left behind when my aunt adopted me, and I want no one in England to know he has seen me. It is a personal preference, nothing more.”

“I will say nothing of you,” he said automatically. Then her words sank in, and a hollow opened in the pit of his stomach. “But I must tell you the truth. I have already told certain people I have seen you.”

All the color fled from her face. “Who?” she whispered, her hand rising to her throat.

“Only Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bingley. They both already suspected you were in Scotland with your aunt, and I did not tell any of them the name you were using or how to find you. So you need not worry.” But he could see how distressed she was.

She shook her head slowly as if in disbelief. “Need not worry?” Her voice rose on the last words. “You know nothing of my reasons for leaving England, and you tell me I need not worry? How could you? Did it never occur to you that if I wanted them to know my whereabouts, I would have told them myself?”

“It was not like that. Bingley had written to me, thinking I was in London, to say that he had learned you were in Edinburgh and that he and your sister planned to come looking for you, so I had to tell him I had found you already. Your uncle Gardiner has been so very worried about you that I felt obliged to tell him you were well and happy.” He gazed at her, imploring for her understanding.

“Happy?” She turned her face away. “Do you think I did not know they were worried? Do you think I did not want to reassure them? I had my reasons for not doing so, but you – you had to know best and to try to fix everything,” she said bitterly. “At Christmas dinner, you said you would tell no one. And I believed you!”

“I thought you meant I should not tell anyone in Edinburgh. I meant no harm.” But God help him, he had not given it a moment’s thought whether she would want them to know or not, only to relieving their understandable concern. But why would she be upset that they knew she was alive and well? Why did it have to be such a secret? “I will write them straight away and warn them not to mention it to anyone else. I am certain they can be trusted.”

“Trusted? Like my sister Jane could be trusted not to tell Charlotte that I was with my aunt, and Charlotte could be trusted not to tell you?” she demanded, her voice breaking.

In a low voice, he said, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am to have caused you such distress. Is there nothing I can do to ameliorate the situation? Why is it so terrible for them to know you are alive?”

She froze in place. “Have you not heard a word I said? I have asked you again and again to leave this be. I tried to stay away from you precisely to prevent a situation like this. You do not need to know my reasons. Why must you continue to pry into matters that have nothing to do with you?”

He flinched. “You are correct that I have not respected your desire to stay away from me. I have no excuse. I am a selfish being, and perhaps I have not attended sufficiently to the concerns you have expressed. But my desire to help you is genuine and deeply felt.”

She jumped to her feet. “Stop trying to help me! It just makes matters worse. The only way you can help me is by forgetting you ever knew me and never mentioning my existence once you leave here.” She started out of the room, then stopped short in the doorway and turned around slowly. “How could you write to my uncle Gardiner? You never met him,” she accused.

“I needed his help in finding you. After I asked your father for your hand and he refused me –”

Her eyes widened with shock. “You asked my father for me?”

“Of course. As soon as I discovered what had happened to you, but he would not tell me where you were and all but threw me out of Longbourn. I remembered you had an uncle in London, so I found him and asked him for his help. He and your aunt were very kind to me. Since I came to Scotland, I sent him reports whenever I learned something new – when I first saw you, when I found out more about Mrs. MacLean, and after I spoke to you at Christmas dinner. I received a response from him just before I came here, expressing his great relief.”

Tears shone in Elizabeth’s eyes. She turned and fled the room.

“Well, ’tis a royal mess ye have made of that,” observed Mrs. Graham.

***

IF ONLY HER HEART WOULD stop pounding! Blood rushed through her, making it impossible to think clearly. How could he have betrayed her this way? After all she had left behind to protect her secret, all she had lost, and he had simply given it away.

How many people must know by now that Darcy had seen her? Bingley would have told Jane, whose tender heart would have insisted on sharing the news with their mother, who would have gossiped to Lady Lucas, who would have passed the news to her son-in-law Mr. Collins, and he would have run straight to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Her father might even now be under arrest and awaiting trial, and she was helpless to stop it.

She clapped her hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved. Was it already too late? There must be something she could do! She would write immediately and tell them...what? To keep a secret they most likely had already spread? To tell her straightaway if her father was arrested? But then she would have to explain the entire story and if by some miracle they had told no one, that would only add to the danger.

With trembling hands, she lifted her lockbox from the drawer of the bedside table. It took three tries to fit the delicate key into the lock before she could open the top and remove the thick paper that lay inside. She unfolded it and began to read the words that had been burned into her memory.

No. They would not have arrested her father yet. They did not care about punishing her, only keeping her from marrying Darcy. Once they arrested her father, there would no longer be anything to stop her from turning to Darcy, and that was what they wanted to prevent.

If word had reached them, they would already have someone en route to Scotland to put a stop to her connection to Darcy, ready to threaten her again, to force her to go away again, even farther this time. To leave the aunt and city she had grown to love.

But that meant she had a little time. Her father and family were safe for now. Her breath came easier. She smoothed the contract.

A line near the end caught her eye. If either party should contract to marry another...

That was it. It was a straw, but she would grasp at it. As soon as she could reach Edinburgh, she would ask her aunt to find a man willing to betroth himself to her. If luck was with her, it would prove unnecessary, and she could break the betrothal later. Her reputation would be damaged, but her father would be safe.

She stilled as a new thought struck her. Perhaps she might need not go even that far. It would not matter if Bingley or Jane told people that Darcy had seen her if they also said she was married. It did not have to be true, if only they believed it. Yes. That one lie could save everything. Yes.

***

WHEN ELIZABETH FINALLY returned to the drawing room, she curtsied to Mrs. Graham and Darcy and said, “I must apologize for my loss of composure and harsh words. Mrs. Graham, I find myself in need of a few minutes’ private discourse with Mr. Darcy. Since he cannot be moved easily, may I impose upon you to allow us a brief time alone?”

The older woman shrugged and gathered up her embroidery. “If ye wish.” She shuffled out of the room, leaving the double doors open, and stationed herself in the library where she could still see them.

Elizabeth turned to Darcy and said in a quiet voice, “There is one thing you can do to help me. You can tell Mr. Bingley and the Gardiners that I am married.”

He looked bewildered, which was hardly surprising. “But you are not married.”

“If they believe I am, I can rest easy.” She watched him steadily.

“Why would that make a difference?”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Answering your questions has brought me to this point, so I will not answer any more. You asked what you could do to help, and this is my answer. Tell them I am married.”

“But it is not true, and then they would ask about your husband, what he is like, and other questions I cannot answer.”

“You can invent something.” She gritted her teeth. “Or does your precious honor forbid that?”

He drew back. “I do not wish to lie to anyone, but what I meant is that I am not constitutionally able to tell convincing stories. People always know when I am lying.”

Damn him! He would not even try. He had said himself that he was a selfish being, and it was true.

“Very well, Mr. Darcy,” she said evenly. “Let us try it a different way. Listen carefully to me. Once I reach Edinburgh, I will be married within the week. You heard me say that, did you not? Now will your honor permit you to tell them that I said I am on the verge of marriage?”

His brows were furrowed, but his eyes pleaded with her. “I do not understand.”

“What is there to understand?” she burst out. “You can tell them in complete honesty what I just said. I am not asking you to lie.”

“But it makes no sense. Why would I know nothing about your husband?”

She rolled her eyes. “If you need me to make up a story, I am marrying – let me see – an actor at the theatre. Yes, that will be good, because it makes me disreputable as well. You met Mr. Sampson at Christmas dinner; he will do as well as anyone else. Can you manage that?”

He raised his hands, palms up. “I simply do not understand. Why would you want them to think you are married?” He paused and his face hardened. “Or perhaps I do understand,” he said heavily. “You disappeared to avoid being forced into a distasteful marriage, and you are afraid that could still happen. But if everyone believes you are already married, then you need not fear pursuit from your unwanted suitor. That is it, is it not?”

Her hands balled into fists. Why must he keep pressing her? “You may believe what you like, but it comes down to this. If you cannot bring yourself to tell everyone I am married, then I will have no choice but to make it true. I will find the first man willing to take me for my inheritance, marry him, and send out an announcement to the papers. That would be the price of sparing your honor.”

His face was white. “I find it hard to believe you would refuse to marry me because of our inequality and then jump into marriage with a perfect stranger who only wants your money.”

She stared at him in bewildered helplessness. She had forgotten about her attempt at a polite refusal of him, and it made nonsense of her current assertion. “You will never accept something is needful simply because I say it is, will you? Very well. You will not help me to escape the dilemma you yourself caused. I will do what I must, and you may comfort yourself that your honor is intact at the price of forcing me into an unwanted marriage.” She turned away blindly. Conscious that Mrs. Graham was watching them, she grabbed a book to give herself an excuse to leave the room.

“Elizabeth, wait,” Darcy said heavily. “I will tell them you are married to an actor.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She fumbled for her handkerchief before tears could blind her, but lost her grip on the book, sending it tumbling to the floor. Pressing the fine linen to her eyes, she slowly stooped to pick up the volume and set it with excessive care back on the side table. When she could trust her voice again, she said, “Thank you. I am in your debt.”

“You are not in my debt,” he said angrily. “My presence in your life has caused you nothing but trouble. All I wished was to make you happy. I wanted it so much that I offered you myself and everything I own. Yet all I do is bring you grief and loss, and the only thing you want is for me to tell people who love you that you are married. Of course I will do it, and I will try to feel grateful that I can do anything to give you even a small measure of comfort.”

Now the hot tears insisted on pouring out. Oh, it was so much easier when she could believe he was a selfish monster insistent on having his own way! She mopped her eyes fiercely. “I know you never meant me any harm.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I understand you do not wish to answer questions, but I would like to tell you why it was important for me to tell Mr. Gardiner I had found you, if you are willing to hear it.” He sounded hopeless.

It was little enough to ask. “If you wish,” she choked out.

“After I learned you had left Longbourn, I used to lie awake at night, wondering not only if you were even alive, but how intolerable your life might be. Perhaps you were your aunt’s unpaid servant, run ragged at her beck and call, and that spark which brightens your spirit waning to dimness with fatigue. Or perhaps you were working as a governess, with the master of the house abusing his power over you. Or were you forced to become a maid, or even to sell yourself on the streets to avoid starvation? Do not tell me these things do not happen to disgraced gentlewomen, because we both know they do, and such women have little recourse when their families have cast them out.” His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I have imagined you in all those situations, and I know Mr. Gardiner has as well. I do not have the words to tell you how I felt when I discovered none of those were true, to have that eternal gnawing in my stomach go away and be able to sleep through the night unhaunted by dreams of what you might be suffering. My first thought was to give Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner that same relief.” He paused. “It was beyond cruel for your father to refuse to offer any assurance beyond that you were well, for your uncle, like me, could not trust him on that subject when he did not allow you to write anyone. We could not understand your silence, so that silence was filled with nightmares.”

Elizabeth pressed her fist to her mouth and bit her knuckles until the pain overwhelmed her guilt. “I had not known,” she said brokenly. But what could she have done if she had known how they were suffering? She had been a fool to rely on her father to provide reassurances when he could choose to simply hide in his study and be silent. She rocked back and forth in a hopeless attempt to soothe herself.

Mrs. Graham’s sharp voice came from the doorway. “Mr. Darcy, I must insist on putting an end to this conversation. I may be a lax chaperone, but I will not tolerate ye reducing a poor lass to tears.”

“Rightly so.” Darcy’s voice was clipped. “My apologies for causing you distress, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth swabbed away the last of her tears. “You must not blame him. He was merely telling me news of my family in England that made me sad.”

Mrs. Graham snorted. “I am not a fool. I know a quarrel when I see one, lass.”

“We did quarrel, I admit, but we had already resolved that. Mr. Darcy is not at fault for anything worse than being more stubborn than I like, and I am certain he would say the same about me.” She tried to put a note of finality in her voice.

“Miss Elizabeth, you know perfectly well that I would say nothing of the sort. I am grateful for your patience with me,” he said quietly.

“Very well, then,” said Mrs. Graham testily. “Go wash your face, lass, and then perhaps we will manage some civil conversation.”

***

EVERY INSTINCT TOLD Elizabeth to flee. Away from Kinloch House, away from this agony, away from Darcy. She could not face being alone with his words ringing in her ears, so she stopped by the nursery to see Timothy. He sat at a small desk, quill in hand and the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration, Bonnie Prince sprawled in all his three-legged glory by his feet. When he heard Elizabeth come in, he carefully placed the quill in the inkwell, scrambled to his feet and made a sketchy bow. Nurse must have been speaking to him about his manners again.

“You look like you are working hard,” she said.

The boy shrugged. “I was making a fair copy of my Latin composition for Mr. Darcy. He said my last one had too many blots.”

And of course, whatever Darcy wanted, he got. “You need not worry about that for long. I am told the snow in the pass is starting to melt, and we should be able to return to Edinburgh soon.” She tasted bile at the back of her throat.

“No!” Timmy cried. “I don’t want to go back!”

Startled, Elizabeth said, “It was always the plan we would only stay for a month.” What had happened to sweet, calm, cooperative Timothy?

“But that was before! I want to stay here with Bonnie Prince. I want to play with Andrew and have my lessons with Mr. Darcy, not go back to having purgatives and being bled. Today I walked almost all the way to Andrew’s house, and in Edinburgh I will have to stay in bed all the time again.” He burst into noisy sobs.

She tried to put an arm around his shoulder, but he pushed it away. “Perhaps if we show my aunt how well you are doing, she will consent to stop the purgatives.” This was the last thing she needed.

“I won’t go. I’ll stay at Andrew’s house and work in the fields,” he said defiantly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Bonnie Prince needs me here.”

Elizabeth resisted the temptation to point out that Bonnie Prince had done perfectly well for many years without Timothy. “We must go back. Edinburgh is where we live.”

“I hate Edinburgh! All the stinky soot makes me cough, and I hate that doctor who only wants to see me suffer until I die. I wish he would die!” He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Don’t make me go back there. Mr. Jack is my doctor. My real doctor.”

“Timmy, you were perfectly happy in Edinburgh,” she said in a weak attempt at sternness. “The doctor there only wants to help you.”

“I wasn’t happy! I was too weak to care about anything.” He flung himself face down on the bed. “I’ll die if I have to go back to that!” His shoulders shook.

She sat down on the bed beside him and laid her hand on his back. What could she say to help him accept her decision? One thing was true; in Edinburgh he would not have had the strength to carry on like this. Everyone had believed he did not have long to live. Now he had grown stronger, if only a little. If she took him back to Edinburgh now, would he lose the ground he had gained? Would her aunt agree to stopping the bleedings? She had such faith in Timmy’s doctor, whom she said had come highly recommended. Perhaps if Timmy had more time here, his progress would be more obvious, and her aunt would listen. As long as Timmy had Nurse and Mr. Jack to care for him, he did not need her.

But even if Timmy stayed, Elizabeth could not.  She needed to put this into the past and go on with life. More time with Darcy would just make it that much harder to forget him. Even worse, for a moment tonight she had been so close to giving in and telling him everything, despite knowing what it would cost, just because she could not bear the distance between them.

Now she was starting to cry, too.

“I must return to Edinburgh as soon as I can, but I will see if there may be a way for you to stay a little longer,” she said slowly. “And I will do my best to convince my aunt that you do not need bleedings and purgatives. But you will have to return to Edinburgh sometime.”

Timothy sniffled and turned his face to look at her. “If I have to go back, could I bring Bonnie Prince with me?”

She bit her lip. “Oh, Timmy. Bonnie Prince needs open space to run and sheep to herd. He would be unhappy in the city.” Timmy would be leaving a piece of his heart here, just as Darcy would be taking part of hers. It was not fair. “But you could come back to visit him.” That was more consolation than she would have.

***

IT WAS NEARLY AN HOUR before Elizabeth felt able to face Darcy again. It would have been so much easier just to stay upstairs until bedtime, but that would be the coward’s way out, and she would once again have to spend the entire night worrying about seeing him in the morning. So she washed her face, tidied her hair, and trudged down to the drawing room like a soldier facing a hopeless battle.

Mrs. Graham was in her usual chair by the hearth, and Timmy sat pressed up against Darcy in the chaise longue. The guilty look on the boy’s face told its own story. “Is it not nearly your bedtime, Timothy?” she asked. It gave her an excuse not to meet Darcy’s eyes.

“Sorry.” Timmy extricated himself from the chaise and scurried past her.

“Good night!” she called after him. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to her chair and sat down. “I hope he was not bothering you, Mr. Darcy.” Might as well meet the enemy head on.

“Not at all,” said Darcy gravely. “He was only here a few minutes, and I have almost finished writing my letters to Bingley and your uncle. Big Tom assures me that he will personally make certain they reach the post in Aberfoyle tomorrow.”

“But the pass may not open for a few days yet,” said Elizabeth.

He smiled slightly, though his eyes were shadowed. “Apparently there is a track on the mountainside that a determined man with a sure-footed mule can make it through in a pinch.”

“If there has not been an avalanche over the track,” said Mrs. Graham. “There has been nae word of one, though. But it is time for dinner, and I have asked your butler to set up the small table in here again so we can all eat together.”

The idea of spending hours at the dinner table with Darcy sounded like torture, but Elizabeth squared her shoulders. “A good idea. Perhaps your sure-footed man with the determined mule – or is it the other way about? – could stop at the village blacksmith on his way back to see if your Bath chair is ready. Then you would be able to eat at a proper table.”

Darcy poured himself a glass of wine from the small decanter beside him. Was it still laced with laudanum? “I never thought I would be grateful for a Bath chair, but I will be happy to see it arrive.”

Chapter 13

EVER SINCE HER ARRIVAL at Matlock Park, Georgiana Darcy had been trying to have a private conversation with her cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, but she could never find him alone. If he was not playing billiards with his elder brother or closeted with his father discussing politics, his mother was claiming the neighbors would be insulted if he did not visit with them when they called. She was almost to the point of skulking outside whatever room he was in to catch him when he came out, but the servants would inevitably notice her odd behavior and just as inevitably report it to her aunt.

Instead she skulked at the stables. The grooms and stable hands always liked her and were unlikely to say anything, and if anyone mentioned that Georgiana was spending hours grooming every horse in the stable, even though none of them needed it, everyone would just laugh and say, “Oh, we know all about Georgiana and her horses!”

Her strategy worked. Cousin Richard came to the stables the next day when she was currying Bucephalus. She dropped her currycomb, hurried after him, and caught his coat sleeve. “Cousin Richard, may I speak to you?”

He stopped, his expression registering surprise. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

“I want to go to Edinburgh. Since my brother is away, I need your permission.” Why had she blurted it out like that? She had meant to lead up to it gradually.

His eyebrows rose. “Edinburgh is a very long journey. Why do you want to go there?”

She gulped. “I want to see William. I am worried about him.”

“Darcy is in Edinburgh? I had no idea,” he said. “He never mentioned any plans to go there.”

“I... I think it was a sudden decision. Something bad must have happened when he was visiting Mr. Bingley this autumn because he came back early and in such low spirits, even worse than in the spring. Then, one day in late October, he sent me a letter saying he was leaving the next day for Edinburgh.” Once she started, the words came out in a rush.

Cousin Richard tapped his foot. “I have not heard from him in some time. Not since Michaelmas, at least. He must have written to you from Edinburgh, though.”

“He did for a time, twice a week, just like always. At first his letters talked about going to soirées, assemblies, and musicales. Then they became shorter, and all he wrote about were the sights in Edinburgh, nothing about himself. He thinks I do not notice, but I do. In December it was even worse. His Christmas letter was all about how dark and cold it was, and he had no plans for Christmas. This is the first Christmas we have been apart since our father died. There was one short note after Christmas, and then nothing. He almost never misses a letter.”

“Perhaps it was misdirected or lost. Snow might have delayed it,” he said soothingly. “Nothing to worry about.”

He did not believe her. She pulled out a packet of papers and thrust them at him. “Would you be so kind as to read his letters?” It was her last chance to persuade him there was a problem.

He took the packet with a sigh and sat down on a hay bale. His expression showed nothing as he perused the first few letters, but a crease appeared between his brows when he reached the later, shorter missives. After he read the last one, he paged through all of them again, apparently checking the dates, and reread the last few.

Refolding them carefully, he said, “I agree something is troubling him, but I would assume he wishes to handle it himself. A fortnight without letters is hardly surprising in midwinter. I do not see any reason for you to go there, especially in this foul weather, and the Scottish roads can be in poor condition. I am certain you will receive a letter in a day or two.”

“But...” Georgiana stuffed back her protest. There was no point in arguing, not when Cousin Richard still considered her a little girl. She could not stop the tears from rushing to her eyes, so she turned and fled out of the stable and into the wilderness garden to find a private place to cry. If she went to her room in tears, her maid would report it to her aunt. Why could they not leave her alone?

***

AT BREAKFAST LADY MATLOCK said, “Richard, I understand you plan to travel today.”

Richard Fitzwilliam scowled. He loved his family, but could they not allow him a little privacy? It was bad enough that Georgiana now kept her head bowed and would not look at him. “Some business in London calling me back sooner than I expected.”

Lord Matlock narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had a month’s leave.”

“I did, but the War Office wants me back early,” he prevaricated.

Lady Matlock poured another cup of coffee. “How odd. I did not see any letters for you yesterday.”

Sometimes he loved his family. Sometimes he wanted to strangle them.

Before he could think of a plausible excuse, Georgiana accused, “You are going to Scotland. You told me it was nothing, and now you are going!”

Everyone stared at Georgiana, who never spoke unless asked a question.

Richard colored. “Just a quick jaunt so I can reassure you he is perfectly well.”

Georgiana’s eyes were wide. “I wanted to go! He will talk to me, and I can raise his spirits. All you can do is to make him drink too much.” She clapped her hands over her mouth as if she could stuff the words back inside.

His sister snickered. The rest of the family watched him with interest.

“This is a tempest in a teapot,” he said in his best commanding officer voice. “Georgiana is fretting because she has not received a letter from Darcy recently. I did not wish to worry her more by telling her I was going to check on him. I can travel faster on my own.”

“You can ride faster than Georgiana on Bucephalus?” his sister asked mockingly. “On what winged steed?”

Occasionally Richard loved his family. This was not one of those occasions. “I plan to travel by post. A post coach is no place for young lady.” Dammit. He had planned to ride.

His mother said placidly, “No doubt you would prefer to ride. You may take the small coach for your servants and trunks, Richard, and Georgiana can retreat to that if the weather is poor. More coffee, dear?”

His sister smirked. Richard ground his teeth. No wonder Jasper had run off.

***

“THIS IS THE PLACE,” Richard told Georgiana as they stood outside the house in Edinburgh’s New Town. They had stopped at an inn to bathe and change clothes, since otherwise they would have looked like vagabonds. Georgiana had kept up with the punishing pace he had set with nary a complaint.

Richard handed his card to the butler who answered the door. “We are looking for Mr. Darcy.”

“He is nae longer here, sir.”

Richard exchanged a glance with Georgiana. “Would you be able to tell us where he is?”

“I cannot say, sir. The master might know. Would you care to ask him?”

***

IT SEEMED STRANGE TO sit in the drawing room without Darcy there. Elizabeth found herself listening for the sound of wheels on the tiled floor of the entry hall. “I had not expected Mr. Darcy’s meeting with the steward to go on quite this long,” she said to Mrs. Graham.

“I doubt they need so much time, but poor Mr. Darcy deserves to enjoy his freedom, such as it is. He has been trapped in the house, and before that the hill fort, for so long, that even an outing to the steward’s office must seem like a delightful change. And if his chair had broken, they would have told ye long since, lassie,” said Mrs. Graham with a chuckle.

“I have no worries about that,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Young James told me he had tested it thoroughly with Big Tom. He does not lack for inventiveness!” After discovering there was no Bath chair to be found locally, James had convinced the blacksmith to cobble together an improvised one from an old caned chair and two wheelbarrow wheels. It was clumsy-looking at best, but it meant Darcy could be wheeled from room to room rather than carried, both in the house and across the small yard behind the kitchen to the steward’s office.

MacLaren the butler entered and announced, “There are two visitors for Mr. Darcy, Miss Merton. Their appearance is that of fashionable people.”

Visitors for Darcy? But he knew no one here. His only friends were in Edinburgh. “Does that mean the pass is open?”

“I would imagine so, Miss Merton, since I do not recognize them.”

The pass was open, and she was free. Free to leave Darcy forever. She had known it was coming, had prepared herself for it, but still it felt as if the world were melting under her feet. But there was nothing to be done for it except to welcome Darcy’s friends and to tell her maid to pack her bags.

She straightened her shoulders. Perhaps Darcy’s Edinburgh friends had decided to deliver his trunks personally, but she really should train the butler in the use of calling cards for those rare occasions when a stranger came to the door. “Show them in, but in future, pray ask for a calling card from callers you do not know.”

She heard the butler murmur, “This way, if you please.”

A young woman, practically a girl, entered first, followed by a familiar figure. Too familiar. A leaden feeling invaded Elizabeth’s stomach.

“Miss Bennet!” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam with an air of pleased surprise. “You are the last person I expected to find here.”

“I no longer use the name Bennet. I am Miss Merton now.” Elizabeth could hardly speak for her suddenly dry mouth. Now it was real. Darcy’s family had learned he had seen her again, and they had sent the colonel to put a stop to it. “Welcome to Kinloch House, Colonel.”

His lips quirked. “I had intended to be just Mr. Fitzwilliam here, as I was advised to forget my army rank when I entered the Highlands. May I present...” Suddenly his face turned rock hard. “Georgiana, wait for me outside the house. Now,” he commanded.

The girl gave him a timid glance, bit her lip, and scurried from the room.

What was that about? She had to be Darcy’s sister. Even if the colonel were here to keep Darcy from marrying Elizabeth, why did that make her unfit to be in the same room with his sister?

Colonel Fitzwilliam said coldly, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to inform me where I might find Darcy, since it is hardly appropriate for me to wait in your company, and I cannot leave Miss Darcy standing outside.”

Inappropriate? She stared at him in confusion, and then it all became clear. He thought she had an improper relationship with Darcy. Good heavens, first his family worried that she would entrap Darcy, and now this! “You think I am his mistress? How dare you!” she exclaimed.

He scowled. “The facts speak for themselves. Where is Darcy?”

She had forgotten Mrs. Graham’s presence in the corner by the window, but now that lady came bustling towards Colonel Fitzwilliam. Without a word of warning, she slapped him smartly across the face. “Mind your manners! Ye are in Scotland now, where we treat ladies with respect.”

His hand rose to his cheek. “Madam, this is no business of yours.”

“Indeed it is, as I am Miss Merton’s chaperone!”

Enough was enough! “It is certainly inappropriate for you to remain after you have made such insulting and ungentlemanly assumptions about me, Colonel,” she said icily. “Perhaps Mrs. Graham will accompany you to the steward’s office where you will find Mr. Darcy. She will no doubt explain to you the importance of speaking to him quietly and keeping him away from bright lights, as loud noises can exacerbate his concussion and send him to bed for days. I hope she will also prevent you from encouraging him to attempt to walk unless it is your desire to see him to limp for the rest of his life. Good day, Colonel.” She brushed past him as she left the room.

She hurried to the side door, her hands trembling. This was a disaster, far beyond the harsh insult from a man who had once admired her. Darcy’s letters had spread the word that he had seen her again, and his family had sent Colonel Fitzwilliam to stop it. He would report back to his father and aunt, and then the consequences would begin. Her father’s face flashed before her, bringing a wave of nausea with it.

Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock would assume she had engineered this meeting with Darcy. They would never believe she had not planned it, nor would they accept a new promise from her to go away. Even if they did, she did not want to leave Edinburgh. She had established a new life there, and she could not bear to leave her aunt. Without her, she would be all alone, with no means of supporting herself. Surely there must be some other way to convince them that she would not marry their precious Darcy.

She swallowed hard. Her one route of escape was still open. Claiming to be married would no longer be enough. She had to find a husband, and quickly. That would be proof enough that Darcy was safe from her. But whom? Almost anyone connected to the theatre world would be happy to take her and her inheritance to wife, but the only actor she liked well enough was Jasper Fitzpatrick, who had already told her marriage was impossible for him. What other men were single? Sampson was too profligate and regularly visited the brothels. Jamieson had a cruel streak. Both of Mr. Siddons’s sons were married, and his grandson was but a boy of twelve.

Frantic, she nibbled on the edge of her thumb, her stomach whirling with nausea. Surely there must be someone she knew, even just a little, who would make a tolerable husband.

MacLaren the Younger. That was it. Her pounding heart began to slow. He seemed likable, he had a reputation for fairness and generosity among the common folk of Kinloch, and he wanted to marry an heiress. He had even said they could live in Edinburgh if she chose.

Her fingernails digging into her palms, she asked for her coat and headed to the stables.

***

STARTLED, DARCY EXCLAIMED, “Richard! What in God’s name brings you here?”

“That is my question for you, or it was,” Richard drawled. A reddened mark showed on his cheek. “Georgiana was worried about you. With some reason, it seems.” He gestured to Darcy’s leg.

“Nothing that time will not heal,” Darcy said dismissively. It might be true of his leg, but the injury to his heart was a different matter. Richard’s presence was only going to make that worse. It would be like Rosings again, watching Richard’s flirtation earning smiles from Elizabeth. “Pray tell Georgiana I am perfectly well, and I will write her a long letter soon.”

“You may tell her yourself. She is outside.”

“Outside? In the cold? Well, bring her in!” What was wrong with Richard?

“Not until I understand why you are here.” It sounded like a challenge.

Darcy gave him a strange look. “I was attacked on the road, and afterwards unable to travel, so I was invited to stay here.”

“Or perhaps you were here already,” Richard said darkly.

Darcy stared at him, baffled. “What is wrong with you, Richard?”

Mrs. Graham pushed past Richard and faced him, arms akimbo. “Perhaps ye should learn to keep a civil tongue in your mouth if ye do not want me to warm your other cheek.” She glared at his cousin.

Darcy rubbed his temple. Their loud voices were making his head ache. “Would someone be so kind as to explain to me what is happening? Quietly, if you please.”

Richard scowled. “Georgiana has been worried sick about you, while you have been taking advantage of the gently born young lady, who has had to hide her shame under a false name. I am ashamed of you, Darcy.”

Mrs. Graham’s hand flashed out and connected with Richard’s cheek. The resounding clap echoed painfully inside Darcy’s skull. “Ye dinna learn quickly, sir!”

Darcy did not need a woman to fight his battles. He began to push himself to his feet to respond to Richard’s ridiculous accusation, but large hands descended on his shoulders and shoved him back into the chair.

Big Tom, the footman, stepped in front of Darcy to face Richard. “I dinna suppose ye would care to repeat those words about Miss Merton,” he said silkily, rubbing his fist in his other hand meaningfully.

Good God, the man could hang for hitting an officer in His Majesty’s Army!

“Stop it, both of you!” Darcy commanded. “Richard, you are wrong. There is nothing improper between us.”

“No?” Richard demanded belligerently. “It is a mere accident of fate that you and she should both find yourselves in this godforsaken nowhere?”

Darcy’s head throbbed. “Not an accident at all. I was traveling here for the purpose of having a conversation with Miss Elizabeth – with the permission and encouragement of her guardian, I might add. When I was injured, Miss Elizabeth had me brought here rather than leaving me lying helpless on a pile of heather in a truly godforsaken hovel. Even if I were physically capable of trying to dishonor her, I would never do so, and you may have observed she does not lack for defenders.”

Richard blinked owlishly at him several times. “It does look very bad,” he said grudgingly.

“I am well aware of it. That is why Mrs. Graham is here as Miss Elizabeth’s chaperone.”

Richard rubbed his chin. “I suppose I should apologize to Miss Bennet, then.”

“Miss Merton,” Darcy corrected. “She changed her name when her aunt adopted her.”

“Ye certainly should apologize, but it is too late.” Mrs. Graham pointed out the window. “Do ye not see her riding away? Now, if ye will excuse me, I will go find that poor young girl ye left standing out in the cold.” She hurried off without waiting for his agreement.

Why was Elizabeth leaving? She had not mentioned any plans to go out. “What did you say to her?”

Richard rubbed his cheek. “Much the same, I suppose. That Scottish woman does not hold back when she hits.”

Whatever he had said to Elizabeth must been very bad indeed, if it led to Mrs. Graham slapping him and Elizabeth fleeing the house. And now Darcy had to deal with Richard and Georgiana, and his head was pounding. He turned back to MacLaren the steward. “Perhaps you and I can continue this discussion later.”

The Scotsman bobbed his head. “Whenever ye wish, sir.”

***

ELIZABETH SHADED HER eyes as the medieval tower of Castle Lochard rose across the water. She asked, “No one told me it was in the middle of the loch. How do I get there?”

The groom chewed on a straw. “The loch is still frozen, so ye maun walk it. The pony is too heavy.”

People had to go to the castle in a boat, as if they were living in a medieval Scottish tale. She supposed it made the castle more defensible, but it was certainly inconvenient. She would have to accustom herself to it. There was no other choice.

A well-used rowboat was turned upside down in the snow at the landing, near a path where the snow over the frozen loch had been tramped down.

“Here is the track, miss,” the groom said. “I’ll walk ahead to be sure the ice is safe.”

“Thank you.” As if this journey did not seem unreal enough already! She still had not decided on how to approach the subject of marriage, apart from having to push every thought of Darcy from her mind. Knowing she could not marry him had been bad enough. Deliberately marrying someone else broke her heart.

And it would cause Darcy even more pain, but perhaps it would be better this way. It would provide a clean break. Part of him might be relieved that his honor no longer required him to convince a disgraced actress’s niece to marry him. Her chest grew tight and ached. Probably just the cold air off the loch. That would explain the tears in her eyes, too.

She gingerly stepped onto the frozen edge of the loch. Surely they would have tested the ice regularly to make certain it would hold. She hoped she would not regret this.

Fortunately, it was a short distance to the island. As they drew nearer, she could see soot stains on the outer walls of the castle. There was a wing which appeared to be a ruin, its empty windows gaping. The grounds appeared unkempt, with shrubs that had not been trimmed recently. Perhaps this was not such a good idea if they cared so little for appearances. Or was it the result of saving every penny in the hope of keeping their lands?

She raised a heavy wooden knocker and let it drop. Several minutes passed before a young maid opened the thick wooden door. No butler, apparently.

“Can I help ye, miss?” asked the girl.

Elizabeth abruptly realized that her calling card case was in her desk in her bedroom. So much for setting a good example. “I am Miss Merton of Kinloch House. Is the younger Mr. MacLaren at home?”

“Aye, somewhere about. If ye will come into the solar, miss.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth stepped gingerly over the threshold into a room with no more than a few chairs and a side table, the walls bare, but she followed the maid into a surprisingly snug room. The carpet covering the flagstones was attractive, if threadbare. Portraits graced the paneled walls and the room was pleasantly furnished. A fire burned merrily in the inglenook.

The girl bobbed a curtsey to an elderly man in Highland dress sitting in a wingback chair near the hearth, a plaid blanket over his legs. “MacLaren, Miss Merton of Kinloch House is here.”

Good heavens, not only did these Highlanders not use calling cards, but it seemed they thought introductions were optional, too!

The MacLaren acknowledged her with a nod. “Welcome to Castle Lochard, Miss Merton. Pray forgive me for failing to stand. It is not one of my better days.” He gestured to indicate his legs.

“Thank you, sir. I owe you a formal call, but today’s visit is informal. Your son kindly offered to answer any questions for me, and I came to take advantage of that.” She swallowed hard.

He gestured to the maid. “Fetch the lad, then.” He looked up at Elizabeth and pointed to a chair opposite him. “Sit down, lass. I canna bear having people loom over me.”

Elizabeth sat, grateful for the warmth of the fire, but trying to hide her anxiety. “I am sorry to hear you have been unwell.”

“It happens when you are old.” He was overtaken by a dry cough, and covered his mouth with his handkerchief. Once he could breathe again, he said, “My son will take you on a tour of the castle. The tower dates from the 15th century. The wing was added in the late 1600s and was somewhat more comfortable, but the cursed English torched the place after the Jacobite rebellion. We stayed out of the rebellion, but they burned it anyway.”

How could she, as one of the cursed English, respond to that? “You seem to have done a fine job restoring it.”

“The tower, aye. The shell of the wing is solid enough, and we had started work on that before the mortgage was called in. He’s a fine lad, you know.”

The sudden change of topic disconcerted her. “I know he is much admired by the local people,” she said cautiously.

“Och, aye. They know their future depends on him. ’Tis a hard load, that.” Another coughing fit seized him.

His son hurried into the room, dressed in an outdated frock coat and waistcoat. His cravat was askew as if he had tied it hastily. He smiled at her, but with a question in his eyes. Hardly surprising, given the impropriety of a single lady calling on a bachelor household.

He bowed. “Miss Merton, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

“I took a fancy to see the castle,” she said lightly. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing of import, I assure you. Did you travel here alone?”

She shook her head with a smile. “One of the grooms insisted on accompanying me. They take prodigiously good care of me.”

“Highlanders take care of their own,” said the laird.

This was becoming uncomfortable. “So I understand, from the novels I have read,” she said with a polite smile. “On the other hand, the novels promised me all the Highland men would be wearing kilts, but I have seen them only rarely.”

The chieftain answered, sitting as straight as a soldier. “Kilts were against the law when I was a boy. The proscription lasted 35 years, so when it was lifted, an entire generation of Highlanders had never worn nor even seen one. When I put one on for the first time, I decided to wear it always in honor of my forefathers. A few of the common folk have gone back to the kilt, but most continue to wear what they always did. The English were very effective in destroying that part of our Highland culture. Duncan wore the kilt as a child, but they broke him of the habit at school.” A trace of anger entered his voice.

“I went to school in the Lowlands,” said the younger Mr. MacLaren smoothly. “Highland ways were not acceptable there.”

Perhaps that explained why his speech and manners were so different from other local people, at least when he was speaking to her. “Were there no Highland schools you could attend?” Elizabeth asked.

The chieftain’s fingers tightened into claws. “The eldest son of a Highland landowner must be educated in the Lowlands or England. It has been the law for over 200 years, to break our chiefs of their ties to the clan. Many never return, making their homes in Edinburgh or London instead.”

Elizabeth hardly knew what to reply. No wonder the Highlanders were so resentful of outsiders! “You must be proud your son has returned to the Highlands.”

The laird inclined his head silently.

The younger MacLaren’s cheeks reddened. “But I have not returned to wearing the kilt, except when I am on my father’s business.” It was clearly a sore point between the two.

His father frowned. “You returned, with your honesty and loyalty intact, and you take your responsibilities to the clan seriously. That is all I can ask. Any clan would be fortunate to have you, with or without the kilt.”

His words were obviously for Elizabeth’s benefit. She was tempted to point out that he had excellent teeth and gaits as well, but the thought reminded her of the unwelcome truth that she had come to purchase him as a husband. Somehow she managed to smile. “Your father was just telling me about the castle when you arrived.”

The old man harrumphed. “Well, lad, show it to her!”

He flushed. “Would you care for a tour of the castle, Miss Merton?”

“That would be lovely, Mr. MacLaren.”

He opened a thick wood door in the far stone wall. “This is the room we use as a study and library. Our collection of books is limited as a result of the fire, but we had hoped to expand it. Through here is the dining room. Very medieval, is it not? It sadly needs updating.”

Elizabeth looked up at the ancient ceiling beams, conscious of the old man who could likely hear every word. “I rather like it, even if one does expect a knight in armor to appear at any moment.”

“Indeed. Here is the staircase. Take care as you climb. These steps have hundreds of years of wear, and they can be slippery. I urge you to hold onto the rope banister. That was my mother’s invention.”

Elizabeth had no difficulty navigating the worn treads of the circular staircase. “It reminds me of a ruined tower not far from my home in England. My sister and I climbed it once when we were small. She pretended to be a trapped princess, and I was the ghost haunting her. I thought it far more entertaining to be a ghost than a princess.”

He emerged onto the landing behind her. “I imagine you would enjoy that role.” He paused. “I must ask your forgiveness for my father’s attempts at matchmaking. I have told him many times you are not interested, but he does not always listen to me. Pray ignore him.”

Suddenly embarrassed, Elizabeth inspected a tapestry of a hunting scene hanging on one wall. “Actually, that is what I came to speak to you about.”

“About that?” His voice rose in surprise.

“Yes. I told you that I had no desire to marry at present, but circumstances have arisen where it is now very much in my best interest to marry, and quickly. I have not been in Scotland long enough to have a wide acquaintance of single gentleman, and I remembered our discussion.” She would not let cowardice get the better of her, so she turned to face him, her chin up.

His expression wavered from astonishment to confusion before settling on caution.

She added quickly, “Assuming you still have an interest in the notion.” Had he ever truly been interested, or was he just being forced into the idea? How mortifying that would be for her!

He hesitated. “I am still interested, but I am concerned about the reason for your sudden desire for a hasty marriage. If it is the usual reason of finding yourself in a delicate condition, I must consider that. While I imagine I am desperate enough to agree to give another man’s daughter my name and to raise her as my own, my eldest son must be chief after me and he must be a true MacLaren, with his heritage in his face.” The corners of his mouth twisted. “Forgive me for speaking frankly.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. “I am not in a delicate condition,” she snapped. “You need have no fear of that. Perhaps this discussion was a mistake.” First Colonel Fitzwilliam had implied she was in an improper relationship with Darcy, and now this.

He caught her arm as she turned away. “Wait, I beg you. I did not mean to question your morals. You would not be the first woman to find herself in such a state against her will. But I cannot imagine what other circumstance would compel you to marry quickly against your own inclination. I would be very glad to learn otherwise.” He sounded calm and reasonable, just as a good chieftain should be. Of course, if he was willing to marry her even if she were carrying another man’s child, he truly was desperate.

Just like her.

“It is a legal matter,” she said tiredly. “Last year I signed a contract. You might say I was forced into it. I learned today that my family in England is in danger because I am thought to be in violation of the contract. There is a clause that renders the contract void if I am married.”

He took her elbow and steered her to an old-fashioned stuffed sofa. “I think you should tell me more about this contract.”

She tried to regulate her breathing. If she were to marry him, he would have the right to see it, and it might be a relief to tell someone. “It will not improve your impression of English aristocrats,” she said in an attempt at lightness.

He smiled. “It can hardly worsen it.”

“This also involves Mr. Darcy, but he is unaware of any of this, and it must remain that way.” She closed her eyes. “Last year, when I was still living with my family in England, I visited my cousin, the man who would inherit my father’s estate after his death, and his wife. He is a clergyman, and his patroness is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy’s aunt. Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were both staying with her, and I saw them frequently. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Darcy had become interested in me.” She glanced at him to see his reaction.

“That is hardly news to me,” he said gently. “I have seen him with you.”

“He is a very wealthy man, far above my touch. Lady Catherine wanted him to marry her daughter. When she discovered he was attracted to me, she decided to put an end to it, first trying to bribe me, and then with threats. If I did not disappear completely, she would smear my reputation until my family was ostracized. My four sisters would be unable to marry. My cousin would give no shelter to my mother and sisters after my father’s death.” She paused to collect herself. “My father would be arrested and charged with sedition. It would be the end of my family, whether he was imprisoned for years or hanged. If I agreed to disappear, they would protect my father and my reputation, and give my mother an allowance after my father’s death.” She swallowed hard. “I signed.”

He looked dubious. “Could this Lady Catherine actually have your father arrested?”

“By herself, probably not. But the contract was also signed by the Earl of Matlock, Mr. Darcy’s uncle, who is the Lord Chancellor. He has that power.” Just talking about it brought bile into Elizabeth’s throat as she remembered the helplessness she had felt. “So I left my family, changed my name, and moved to Edinburgh to stay with my aunt, telling no one where I was going. But Mr. Darcy found me in Edinburgh, so I ran off to Kinloch House, lest his family discover I had seen him. Once again, he followed me and ended up unconscious in Auld Jack’s ruin.  I thought we were safe from discovery here, but today, who should appear on my doorstep but Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lord Matlock’s son, who warned Lady Catherine of Mr. Darcy’s interest in me. Now I have been caught not only seeing Mr. Darcy, but living in the same house with him.” She covered her face with her hands. “I violated the contract, so the only way to avoid my father being arrested is to marry someone.”

“This is perhaps an unhappy question, but what of Mr. Darcy? Would it not be simpler to marry him? Then you would be part of the family, and it would be too late to ruin you or to arrest your father.”

“You underestimate Lady Catherine’s willingness to take revenge,” she said bleakly. “If Darcy married me, she would consider him already ruined, so there would be nothing to stop her from punishing me. It is not worth the risk. And the contract stipulates that if I tell Darcy the truth, they will have my father arrested even if Darcy is already married to someone else.” Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock had thought of everything when they set their trap.

He considered this. “Does Lady Catherine go this far with any woman who catches Darcy’s eye?”

“I wondered about that at first, too, but she did have particular reason to worry about me. Mr. Darcy wrote me a letter. I do not know how that would be seen here, but in our circles in England, only engaged couples can exchange letters. On the strength of that letter, I could have demanded that he marry me, and he would have had to do so. What she did not know was that I had already refused a proposal of marriage from him, so he was at no risk from me.”

“And yet he has continued to pursue you? He is a most persistent suitor.” He sounded disapproving.

“Not as much as you think. He let me go, but when he discovered I had to leave my home because he had supposedly compromised me, it became a matter of his honor. He had to offer to marry me,” she said bitterly. “But let us talk of something else before I start to cry. I have done more than enough of that already.”

“Of course. Thank you for explaining that to me.” He paused. “Now that you have told me your secret, I suppose I should tell you mine. Auld Jack is my uncle, my father’s youngest brother.”

But Mr. Jack was her uncle’s brother, so how could he be Duncan’s father’s brother, too? Unless.... “Then my aunt’s husband must have been your uncle, too.”

He blinked at her as if puzzled. “Aye, of course. Did you not know?”

“No one ever told me,” she said with a hint of asperity. “Only that he was a member of the clan.” Now it made sense why everyone would have expected her uncle to leave Kinloch to MacLaren, his eldest brother’s son. Doubtless it also explained why so many clansmen thought a marriage between them seemed a natural conclusion. She was not just an heiress, but an heiress of the chieftain’s own family.

His expression registered shock. “You did not know he was my uncle, too?”

She turned her hands palm up. “If it was ever mentioned to me, it was before I knew enough about Clan MacLaren for it to make an impression on me. No doubt my aunt thought I knew. She does not speak of him often; I think she still misses him a great deal. I only discovered a few days ago that Auld Jack was my uncle’s brother, and I was shocked enough by that. His behavior at times...” She trailed off. Insulting his uncle would not help her position.

“His behavior can be outrageous. I know. Uncle Jack has always taken things to extremes, even as a child. Everyone was relieved when he went to Edinburgh to study medicine, and he seemed to become settled at last, but then he unexpectedly returned two years ago, angrier and more distant than ever. When he learned of our financial difficulties, he blamed himself for having helped strangers who could not pay rather than setting up a lucrative practice where he could have helped us financially, and is now risking his life to make money as quickly as possible. It is impossible to reason with him when his mind is set on something.”

“I have noticed,” she said dryly. “Does it not trouble your father that his brother is operating an illegal still?”

“He dislikes the necessity of it, but he feels the government has no right to tell us we cannot brew our whisky. I dislike dodging the law, but is it any worse than what I am doing in convincing you to marry me solely because I need your money? Is it worse than the bank cheating us out of our land, knowing full well it will mean the end of Clan MacLaren in Scotland? Jack says the English are robbing us of our home, and he is merely evening the balance by breaking their laws in the hope of earning enough money to ransom our own land,” he said bitterly.

Taken aback, Elizabeth asked, “Are you certain you wish to marry an Englishwoman?”

He smiled apologetically. “It is to the advantage of the clan. The English see all Highlanders as less than human, so they feel they can mistreat us without a care. Having an English wife and half-English children would give them pause. If my mother had been English, the bank would likely not have called our debts in.”

“My English blood would be a sort of a dowry, then,” she teased, although his stark words concerned her. “You said I could live in Edinburgh if I chose.” She wanted to be clear on that. She could not imagine spending her life in the Highlands.

“If that is what you wish. Most likely I would spend the winter there with you and return here for the rest of the year. Once there were children, I would want them to spend their summers in the glen so they can feel themselves to be part of the clan, but we can discuss that further.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “You might even find you like it here in the summer.”

“I might well,” she said. “I should make it clear that all my aunt has done is to name me as her heir. I have no money now apart from an allowance.” Would that give him pause?

“That does not matter. Once we are married, I will be able to borrow against your expectations and repay that money over time, just as we would have been able to do for the mortgage, had we been allowed the opportunity.” He looked past her, as if at something only he could see, and then shook himself out of his reverie. “Do we have an agreement, then?”

The words stuck in Elizabeth’s throat. Was this the right thing? It had made sense to her earlier. She wanted to marry and have a family someday, and she was unlikely to find such an accommodating husband again. Mr. Darcy’s image rose before her eyes, making her chest tight again, but there was no point in even thinking about him. She could never have him, but she could buy her father’s safety with this. “Yes,” she said firmly, ignoring the shiver running down her spine.

He beamed. “Well, shall we tell my father and make him the happiest man alive?”

***

GEORGIANA JUMPED UP from the sofa where she sat with Mrs. Graham when Big Tom wheeled Darcy’s chair into the room half an hour later. “Oh, William, I am so sorry! Mrs. Graham has told me what happened to you. Are you in pain?”

“Only from time to time.” Darcy decided not to mention that this was one of those times, between the pounding in his head and the jostling of his leg in the wheeled chair. “I am sorry to have worried you.”

“I knew something was wrong! I am so relieved to know you are safe now.”

“I am sorry you had to come all this way, though.” Much as he loved his sister, he wished neither of them had come. One way or another, it was an end to his time with Elizabeth, the only time he would ever have with her.

“I did not mind,” Georgiana confided. “I have wished I could visit Scotland, and now I have seen at least a little of it. Everyone has been so kind here.”

He did not want her to see the pain weighing on his soul. “I see Mrs. Graham has been taking good care of you.”

“Oh, she has been perfect! She played Scottish songs on her harp for me. She says she will give me lessons if I wish.”

Richard frowned. “I thought you did not like the harp.”

Georgiana wrinkled her nose. “I hated learning the classical harp. They are too big and ostentatious and... and too gilded. I have always wanted to play a lap harp like the minstrels used.”

Richard cleared his throat. “I do not know if we will be remaining here. Miss Bennet – I mean Miss Merton has not invited us to stay.”

Mrs. Graham raised an eyebrow. “There is an inn in Aberfoyle. You must have passed it on your way here. At this season, they are certain to have rooms available. I am sure Miss Merton will invite Miss Darcy to stay, though.” She pointedly omitted Richard’s name.

Richard cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. I believe I owe you an apology. I misapprehended the situation and jumped to an unwarranted conclusion,” he said stiffly.

“I am glad you recognize your error, but you may save your excuses for Miss Merton. I do not care a jot what a Sassenach army officer thinks of me, nor have I any concern for your comfort.” Mrs. Graham, seeing the strain on Georgiana’s face, added more gently, “Nay, dinna fret, lassie; I dinna blame you for what the English army did to us long before you were born! Come sit by me, and I will show you how to hold the harp.”

***

DARCY FIDGETED, TRYING to see out the window in the gathering gloom. It had been more than three hours, and it was getting dark. Where could Elizabeth have gone? She had not mentioned plans to go out, but she had apparently left immediately after Richard leveled his insults at her. Damn Richard! Yes, it had no doubt looked suspicious to his cousin, but he might have given Elizabeth the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you angry at me for coming?” Georgiana asked in a small voice.

He reached out a hand to her, careful not to move his head. “Not at all, sweeting. It was thoughtful of you to be concerned.”

“You look angry,” she whispered.

Darcy closed his eyes. “I am worried about Miss Elizabeth, and my head aches. That is all.”

“He is angry at me, poppet,” said Richard. “Pay no attention.”

Darcy met his gaze. “Yes, I am. For thinking so poorly of both Miss Elizabeth and me,” he said levelly.

“Good God, Darcy, how many times do you want me to apologize? What am I supposed to think when I find you secretly sharing a house with a girl I know perfectly well you –”

“Richard!” Darcy warned.

Richard threw his hands up. “Pray tell me when it is safe to talk to you again.”

A light, melodic laugh sounded from the entry hall. Elizabeth was back! Darcy started to push himself to his feet.

“No!” cried Georgiana. “You must not walk!”

Cursing under his breath, Darcy lowered himself back into the chair. Damn his leg! He should be used to this by now.

Hesitantly, Georgiana said, “Would you like me to give her a message?”

What? Quiet, timid Georgiana offering to speak to a total stranger? She must be desperately worried about him. “If you would not mind,” he said slowly. “You could tell her that I will be greatly in her debt if she could spare a moment to speak to me.”

“Of course.” She hurried from the room, and he heard the sound of her half-boots on the stairs.

Georgiana returned a few minutes later. “She says she will be here soon, once she has finished what she is doing.”

He could not help himself. “What is she doing?”

“She is talking to a young man outside a bedroom – her bedroom, I think. They are looking at a paper,” said Georgiana.

A man outside her bedroom? What man would dare go so far into the living space of Kinloch House? He narrowed his eyes at his damnable leg that kept him from going to Elizabeth. Could all these people not leave so he could be alone with her again?

Darcy picked up a fortnight-old newspaper and pretended to read it. It kept him from staring longingly at the door like a lovesick fool.

Georgiana, after a quick look at his face, returned to Mrs. Graham’s side. “Would you be so kind as to tell me the words to that song? I would like to learn it.”

The older woman picked up her harp and set it on her lap. “Do ye mean ‘My Heart’s in the Highlands,’ lass?”

“Oh, yes!”

Mrs. Graham sang the song to her own accompaniment. Georgiana asked her to repeat it. On the second time through, she joined in on the chorus.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here

My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe -

My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Finally Elizabeth appeared, a few locks of her hair escaping from the knot behind her head as if the wind had tossed them. Her cheeks were flushed from her recent excursion, and she stilled when she saw him. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She turned her back to Richard in a deliberate manner. He had never thought to see Elizabeth give anyone the cut direct, but Richard deserved it.

Behind her came MacLaren the Younger, his perpetually furrowed brow smooth today. Why had Elizabeth brought him here?

Mrs. Graham stopped playing mid-chorus. “Duncan, lad, this is a delightful surprise!”

The young Scotsman smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “It is a delightful day in many ways.”

The older woman turned to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, may I present my nephew, MacLaren the Younger? Duncan, Miss Darcy is Mr. Darcy’s sister, and over yonder is Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Her voice turned chilly when she introduced Richard.

Georgiana arose from her curtsy and asked shyly, “Are you a chieftain’s son, then?”

The ginger-haired man smiled down at her. “I am. My father is the MacLaren.” His Scottish accent seemed to entrance her.

If Georgiana’s eyes grew any wider, they might pop from her head. “I feel so fortunate to be able to visit the Highlands. The Lady of the Lake is my very favorite book. I have read it, oh, countless times.”

MacLaren said, “I am glad to hear it. Did you know Loch Katrine is but a few miles from here?”

“Truly?” Georgiana squeaked.

“Perhaps you would like to ride out one day to see it,” said MacLaren.

Elizabeth added, “Mr. MacLaren lives in an old castle on an island in the middle of a loch, just like Ellen’s father. I was able to walk across the ice to go there, but usually one has to be rowed across to visit him.”

“There are still such things here?” asked Georgiana in an awed voice.

“Georgiana,” Richard said quellingly.

“Och, dinna stop the lass,” said MacLaren genially. “I have a fondness for those who love the Highlands.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Unlike me.”

MacLaren turned to her. “You have other sterling qualities, my dear.”

My dear? How dare he?

“But you have reminded me of our task,” said MacLaren with a pleased expression. “I must trouble you for your congratulations. Miss Merton has done me the very great honor of agreeing to become my wife.”

It was so unexpected that at first Darcy thought he must have misheard. Then it hit, like a blow to his stomach. Once, as a child, he had fallen from a tree and had the breath knocked out of him. He remembered the helpless sensation, his inability to draw air into his lungs or to call to his nurse, the fear he would die from lack of air. That was how he felt now, except that this time he was afraid he would not die.

Elizabeth.

Chapter 14

ELIZABETH FELT SICK. Darcy had gone pale at the news of her engagement, and he had not even looked at her as he mechanically offered his congratulations in a low voice. If only she could tell him the truth! But that would put her father in danger again, and that price was too high. She had accepted Colonel Fitzwilliam’s clumsily abject apology, not for his sake, but because Darcy did not deserve the extra strain of a quarrel between his cousin and her. For Darcy’s sake, she even forced herself to invite him to stay at Kinloch House in case the colonel’s presence might provide some consolation for him.

But the bright conversation between Mrs. Graham and Mr. MacLaren could only do so much to cover up the dark silence from Darcy, much less the pain in her heart. She had to get away. “Mr. MacLaren, I must share our news with my aunt’s young ward upstairs before he hears it from one of the servants. Would you be so kind as to join me? He will want to meet you.”

MacLaren bowed. “It would be my very great pleasure.”

She felt Darcy’s eyes on her back as they left the room.

Just outside the door, the housekeeper awaited them, wringing her hands. Her eyes flew to MacLaren’s face. “Is it true, then?” she asked.

He smiled broadly. “Aye, ’tis true enough. We are to be married.”

Mrs. MacLaren wiped a tear from her cheek. “Och, laddie, ’tis the best news I’ve heard this ten year and more! Miss Merton, it was a blessed day you came here, a blessed day indeed.”

Elizabeth said uncomfortably, “That is kind of you to say.” She had not given a thought to the effect of her sudden engagement on the servants.

“Do ye wish to tell the staff yourself, or shall I?”

She had much rather not tell anyone, least of all the servants who had more animosity towards her than anything else, but they were MacLaren’s people, too. She looked questioningly at him, and he nodded. And it was no longer the case that she could leave this place behind her forever when she went back to Edinburgh. A lump formed in her stomach. Her life was different now.

“We will tell them,” said Elizabeth wearily. “I have a question. In England, I would have told you to give the staff a bowl of punch to make merry. Would that be appropriate here?”

The housekeeper glanced nervously at MacLaren. “Aye, that would be welcome.”

MacLaren added, “If you have no objection, Miss Merton, they might enjoy the freedom to make music and dance tonight after their duties are done. They will want to celebrate, as this means more to them than just their mistress becoming engaged. It is the freedom from years of worry.”

At least someone would benefit from it. “I have no objection.”

The housekeeper coughed softly. “It would not go ill if you mentioned that your new guests are to be treated with all courtesy. Otherwise I fear yon nasty Sassenach is likely to sleep in clammy sheets and find salt in his coffee.”

It took a moment for Elizabeth to realize she meant Colonel Fitzwilliam. The servants must have heard her use his title. They would not accept an English Army officer kindly.

MacLaren frowned. “What is this about?”

The housekeeper lowered her voice. “Och, he insulted Miss Merton. The staff has taken a powerful dislike to him.”

Because he had insulted her? Was this not the same staff that had met her with distrust, if not overt dislike? Perhaps she had won them over more than she had thought. It gave her a moment’s warmth.

MacLaren said something quick in Gaelic, and the housekeeper replied in the same language, gesticulating with her hands.

Elizabeth did not even mind that they were deliberately excluding her from the conversation. Another time it might annoy her, but she could not bring herself to care about the servants’ behavior, especially since salt in the colonel’s coffee seemed the least he deserved. She might draw the line at arsenic, but salt was definitely within reason.

***

“IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?” MacLaren asked Elizabeth as they emerged from the servants’ hall.

“Just a little tired. So much has happened today. What was it you told them in Gaelic?”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Just that they could leave the defense of your honor to me, with a few pointed comments about your new guest. Hopefully this news will distract them from his sins.”

“They certainly seemed distracted. I had not expected such a powerful reaction. In England, servants do not show such emotion.” Their announcement had been greeted by a shocked silence that had lasted at least a minute, and then the outpourings began – cheering, exuberant embraces, tears, and thanking her again and again as if she had become engaged for their benefit. The old butler had turned white, sank into a chair, and briefly sobbed into his handkerchief. “But I am glad it made them happy.”

He halted and looked at her searchingly. “I know this marriage is not what you truly want, but I hope you can find some consolation in knowing that through it you are helping so many people. And I promise I will do whatever I can to make you happy.”

She could not talk about this, or she would burst into tears, so she turned it back on him. “My happiness? What of yours? Is there not some pretty young girl you would prefer to be marrying?”

“Me? Och, no. I have always known I would have to marry for the clan, so I have steered clear of the lassies.”

“Does it not trouble you to marry me simply for my money?”

He seemed surprised by her question. “It is hardly an unusual thing in England, is it?”

“But I imagine... Well, perhaps I should say that I worry I will discover later that you are angry about it.”

He sighed. “That is fair, I suppose. I was angry when I realized I was our last salable asset, and I feared I would be forced to marry someone distasteful. When I went bride-hunting in Edinburgh, the heiresses I tried to court ranged from plain to cruel to foolish, and I was angry about it then. But even then the only ones who would even look at a Highlander did not have enough money to pay the mortgage, so it was pointless.” He expelled a long, slow breath at the memory. “I was an insufficiently valuable asset.”

Elizabeth said, “That must have been very unpleasant.”

“Perhaps I should just say that I am relieved to be marrying a young woman who is intelligent, witty, attractive, and connected to the clan. That is much better than I ever hoped for.”

“But will you blame me someday?”

He shook his head. “Since I was a babe, my father has drilled into me that the chieftain must above all be fair. You did not choose to be born English, nor to inherit Kinloch House. It would be unfair to blame you for those things. And I believe you and I can be friends.”

“Yes, we can be friends.” And that would have to be enough. “And what of living in Edinburgh? Will you resent that?”

He drew back and gave her a puzzled look. “Of course not. I am very much looking forward to that.”

“You are?” Now she was truly confused. “I thought you wanted to live here.”

He grimaced. “At present I have no choice in the matter. I love the Highlands, but that does not mean I do not miss the wider world I saw as a boy, and being among people who have traveled more than ten miles from the place of their birth.”

So he was not as provincial as she had thought. It was both a relief and unnerving to realize she knew so little of the man she had just agreed to marry. “I am glad living there will not be distasteful to you. But we must tell Timothy now. He will certainly have heard the noise from below stairs.”

In the nursery, Timmy’s first question was, “Has something happened? What was all the cheering about?”

“Actually, yes, something has happened,” said Elizabeth uncomfortably. “I have some news for you, but introductions first. Mr. MacLaren, may I present my aunt’s ward, Timothy?”

“I know you,” said Timothy. “You were Imogen’s friend.”

“Right you are,” said MacLaren. “You were very young then.”

Timothy looked back at Elizabeth. “What is this news?” Clearly he expected it to be bad.

“Only that Mr. MacLaren and I are engaged to be married.” It felt wrong on her tongue, as if she were trying to speak Latin. But that only made her think of Darcy again.

The boy’s expression brightened. “Can I live here with you, then?”

Now she would have to disappoint him, too. “I will still live in Edinburgh.” As Timmy’s face fell, she added hurriedly, “But I may well spend my summers here, and you could certainly come with me then.”

“And can Bonnie Prince stay with me?”

Oh, to be young enough that a dog’s love could solve all her problems! “When we are here, yes. Bonnie Prince would not have it any other way.”

***

DARCY DID NOT KNOW how he had made it through dinner, mechanically raising the fork to his mouth and chewing without tasting the food, trying not to look at Elizabeth because the sight of her made his chest ache with the knowledge that she would soon belong to another man.

Why had she done it? The question pounded at his aching brain. She hardly knew the man, and while she was perfectly amiable to him, he could sense no particular warmth. MacLaren seemed happier talking to Georgiana than Elizabeth. Richard’s insulting behavior should not have provoked this strong a response.

There was only one possible answer. She had decided to marry MacLaren because she could find no other way to stop his own attentions. Bitterness rose in his throat. How often had she asked him not to press her about marriage? How often had she said it was impossible? But he had not listened, and finally it had driven her into the arms of a Highland fortune-hunter. She would rather marry anyone but him. Did she hate him so much? Had he invented those moments of burgeoning warmth he thought he had seen?

When Elizabeth and Georgiana withdrew after dinner, leaving Darcy with Richard and that thrice-damned Scot, she seemed to take all the hope of happiness with her. Now all that remained was emptiness. After the decanter went around, he kept it beside his glass. His only hope of sleep tonight was to drink himself into oblivion.

MacLaren raised his glass in a toast. “To the lovely Miss Merton.”

“Her name is Bennet,” growled Richard.

“I know,” said MacLaren amiably. “I also know why she felt the need to change it.”

That was more than Darcy knew. He drained his glass and immediately refilled it.

MacLaren said, “I wonder if either of you might be able to clarify a point of English law for me. Are women permitted to make contracts in England?”

“Only widows,” replied Richard. “Otherwise their husband or father or brother must act for them.”

“Interesting. If a single woman did sign a contract, would it be invalid, then?”

“Not worth the paper it is written on.”

Darcy downed another glass of port.

***

ELIZABETH WALKED MACLAREN to the front door at the end of the evening, wanting to avoid a farewell under Darcy’s pained eyes. Not that she expected MacLaren to attempt any familiarity; he seemed to understand her situation with Darcy too well for that. So she was surprised when he asked if he could see her the following day.

She was tempted to tell him there was no need for him to pretend this was a love match, but in truth it would benefit both of them to be better acquainted. The prospect of another day of watching the agony in Darcy’s eyes, though, was not appealing. “Miss Darcy is very eager to see the castle. Perhaps I could bring her there instead.”

His steady look told her he understood her reasoning. “I would be happy to receive you there.”

The sound of a fiddler tuning up came from below stairs. “The celebration must be beginning,” Elizabeth said ruefully.

He looked embarrassed. “I fear it may go on late into the night. I hope it will not disturb you overly much.”

“Only in that it is somewhat embarrassing to have our news received with such joy.” She still found it hard to speak of their engagement. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her stomach.

She offered MacLaren her hand, conscious of Darcy’s presence in the drawing room. He would be thinking the worst the longer she remained out of his sight with MacLaren.

He bowed over her hand, and she was grateful he made no attempt to kiss it. She was not yet ready for that.

***

“THANK YOU FOR BRINGING me to see the castle,” Miss Darcy said, her words coming out all in a rush. “I will try not to be in your way.”

Elizabeth turned weary eyes on Darcy’s sister seated beside her in the gig. The poor girl had not asked to be Elizabeth’s excuse to leave Kinloch and Darcy behind for the day, and certainly it was not her fault that she was a constant reminder of her brother. “I am glad of your company, and I do not know when else you might have this opportunity.” She tried to inject warmth into her voice.

The girl bit her lip. “If you want some time alone with Mr. MacLaren, I hope you will tell me. I brought my sketchpad and will be happy to sketch the castle.”

“That is very kind of you, but unnecessary. This is not a love match for either of us, just a good practical connection.” Why had she felt the need to say that?

“I thought him a very pleasant gentleman.”

“He is.” What else was there to say? “I hope your brother will not mind that I took you away from him your very first day here.”

“I am glad you did,” the girl confided. “He needs time to talk to Cousin Richard. My poor cousin has been in low spirits for months, but I thought seeing my brother would cheer him. It is unlike them to quarrel like this.”

That was not a topic she cared to discuss. “Your brother is not at his best. Despite what he may say, I believe he is in substantial pain.” Pain from his head, his ribs, and his legs, but mostly pain in his heart. Because of her.

“He does not like to complain, so I never know if he is suffering.”

“So I have learned, but I believe his discomfort is lessening.” But talking about Darcy was too painful. “Look, we are almost there. The loch is behind that line of trees.”

Mr. MacLaren received them warmly and his father with even greater enthusiasm. The younger man gave Miss Darcy the same tour of the castle Elizabeth had received the day before, but the girl asked far more questions, seeming enraptured by the history of the castle. Elizabeth spent much of her time in conference with the old laird, who now wished to know every detail of her life.

When Elizabeth pointed this out to the younger MacLaren, he laughed. “Och, he wishes to know what you are made of and whether you have the strength to take on the part of the laird’s wife. Dinna fret, though; in these modern days, there are fewer responsibilities, and I will not expect you to take on anything you do not wish to. That was not part of our agreement.”

It had not been, but Elizabeth could not pretend this part of his life did not exist. She would have to make some effort to be part of the life of the clan for their children’s sake, if nothing else. But it was hard to care about a future that felt so bleak.

MacLaren must have noticed her change in mood, for he said lightly, “I will not, for example, expect you to lead the clan into battle should I be kidnapped by a rival clan, as one Lady MacLaren did in the time of Robert the Bruce.”

Miss Darcy, who had been making a sketch of the Great Hall, looked up, her eyes widened. “Truly? What happened?”

“Och, now that is quite the tale!” MacLaren, to Elizabeth’s relief, launched into a convoluted saga of internecine clan warfare. When he finished, he stopped to look at Miss Darcy’s sketch. “Aye, lass, you’ve a rare talent! You have caught the room exactly.”

The girl flushed. “Thank you, but the perspective is not quite right. Do you see how this wall seems a little off?”

“I would never have noticed it,” he said stoutly. “Such a picture...” His voice trailed off unexpectedly.

Miss Darcy bit her lip and stared worriedly at her sketch.

“Is something the matter?” Elizabeth asked MacLaren.

“Nothing at all,” he said with a smile. “Not now. I have had it in my mind for so long that I would be leaving this place forever to go to America, taking nothing but memories, so my first thought was to ask Miss Darcy for a sketch that I could someday show to my children. But now that you have agreed to marry me, there will be no need to leave, and my children will grow up knowing their ancestral home instead of having no more than a sketch of it. I have not yet adjusted my thinking.”

The girl still looked concerned. “But why would you ever leave such a perfect place?”

“Och, lass, ’twould not be willingly,” he said with a smile. “’Tis a long, sad story. My great-grandfather took out a mortgage on our land to build the new wing of the castle, expecting he could repay it in his lifetime. But then the rebellion happened and the English burnt the castle and took Kinloch House. He had to mortgage the remaining property to the hilt just to feed our people. It has taken us this long to pay off most of the debt, and we hoped to be free of it in another ten years, but last year the bank called in our mortgage early. An English lord wants our land to raise sheep, after clearing all the tenants, of course. We have done everything we could, sold anything of value, and begged for loans, but it was not enough.” He paused, his eyes distant. “I thought this would be my last winter in Scotland. I am grateful, both for myself and for the clan, that it will not be.”

“That is terrible!” Miss Darcy had tears in her eyes. “Such things should not be permitted!”

“True, but the world is full of many injustices, and we can do no more than our best,” he said with an effort at lightness. “’Tis a true gift for drawing you have there, lass.”

***

RICHARD LOOKED UP FROM the chessboard when Georgiana, Elizabeth, and MacLaren entered. “Did you like the castle, poppet?” he asked Georgiana before moving the intricately carved Indian pawn forward a space.

Georgiana’s eyes sparkled above her pink cheeks. “Oh, yes. It was like stepping into a novel. I met the MacLaren, and he was wearing a kilt.”

“Formal Highland dress,” inserted MacLaren the Younger with a smile. “I wear it, too, when I am on formal clan business, but my father wears nothing else.”

“They have the most astonishing medieval dining hall. We were invited to dine there, but when the snow started, Mr. MacLaren insisted on bringing us back right away. I was glad when I saw how the mountains glowed in the sunset, just like in The Lady of the Lake – ‘Each purple peak, each flinty spire was bathed in floods of living fire.’ And the falling snow made everything even more magical.”

Darcy could not help himself. “Miss Elizabeth, did you find it magical, too?”

She flinched at the cutting edge in his voice. “I found it cold. I managed to stay on my pony, which I consider a victory. I am not much of a horsewoman.”

MacLaren looked embarrassed. “I am sorry I had to insist upon it, but horseback is safer than your gig in the snow. I will have a man return it once the road is clear.”

“Will you still travel to town tomorrow?” Georgiana sounded worried.

“Aye, but there is no need to fret. This is not enough snow to close the pass and my horse is surefooted. If need be, I can stay overnight in Aberfoyle,” said MacLaren. “I will stop here on my way home, and we can decide then if the roads are safe enough to go to Edinburgh the following day.”

“I would prefer not to put that off any longer than necessary, but I doubt my ability to ride any great distance,” said Elizabeth.

Darcy’s chest tightened. Elizabeth was not wasting any time before going off alone with MacLaren. “You wish to share the news with your aunt, of course.”

“Naturally,” said Elizabeth coolly.

“We must draw up the settlements, too, and I expect we will hold the wedding while we are there,” said MacLaren easily. He seemed to be watching Richard.

Now Darcy could not breathe at all.

“You will be gone some time, then, to allow for the calling of the banns,” said Richard.

“Banns? There is no need. Scottish law does not require them. I imagine we will return in a week or so. I have a few matters I must settle here, and the clan will wish to hold a ceilidh to celebrate. After that, we will likely spend the remainder of the winter in Edinburgh.” MacLaren glanced at Elizabeth. “If that suits you, my dear.”

Elizabeth nodded, but her face was pale.

Richard exclaimed, “You are in quite a hurry!”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, and she turned slowly to face Richard. “Why, yes, Colonel,” she said in a silky voice. “We are in quite a hurry. I am certain you can imagine why.”

Richard blinked, appearing taken aback. “All the usual reasons, I suppose.”

MacLaren touched the back of Elizabeth’s hand, and she subsided.

***

LATER, ONCE MACLAREN had left, Darcy finally found a chance to speak to Elizabeth, calling after her as she was about to follow Mrs. Graham from the room. “Miss Elizabeth!”

She halted in place, but did not turn around immediately. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

“Why?” he asked gruffly, all the words he had prepared deserting him.

She did not pretend to misunderstand him. In a calm social voice she said, “I told you that we could only have this time together because no one knew where we were. We were discovered. It was a foolish risk to have taken. I should have returned to Edinburgh immediately.”

“Richard will tell no one if I ask him not to. Georgiana can keep a secret.” Was there nothing he could do to bring back her warmth?

She sighed. “Your family are the last people in the world I can trust. I am sorry. This is not the ending I wished for.”

“Then choose a different ending.” His eyes pleaded with her.

She shook her head slowly. “I am not the one writing the script. I never have been. Pray excuse me.”

“One more thing, if I may. It is about Richard.”

She crossed her arms. “He made me a formal apology, and I accepted it. I will not be rude to him again. That is the best you can hope for.”

“Richard’s reaction was unusual for him. He has been in low spirits for months, ever since his transfer to India was canceled. Normally he would not react like that.”

She looked down at her slippers. “That is unfortunate for him. I remember he spoke of looking forward to returning to India. But he is not the only one to suffer a loss since then, is he?”

“No. Of course not,” he said heavily. “What he said the other day – that is not who he is. That is all.”

Her smile was artificial. “You must pardon me; we will never agree on your family. Your sister is a very sweet girl, but as for the rest of them, I wish them far, far away from me. Now I must go before I say anything worse.” Her skirts swished as she hurried out of the room.

He opened his mouth to call after her to point out that she liked Jasper well enough, but remembered in time that she thought he and Jasper were merely friends. He buried his face in his hands.

Chapter 15

ELIZABETH WAS WORKING again on her embroidery when Georgiana appeared in the drawing room the next afternoon, back from her ride with Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had never known a girl who had such a passion for riding regardless of the weather. Her cheeks were still pink from the fresh air.

Darcy asked, “How was Ben Lomond?”

“We did not make it that far,” his sister said, obviously trying to mask her disappointment. “But I am glad to be back.”

“Too cold for Richard?” Darcy asked.

“No. The trail was steep and icy, and Cousin Richard...” Georgiana patted her hip, the spot where Richard carried his hip flask.

“This early in the day?” Darcy exclaimed.

The colonel was trouble enough when he was sober, but for the sake of politeness, Elizabeth pretended not to hear the girl and turned instead to Mrs. Graham. “Do you think it will snow again tonight?”

“Like as not,” the older woman replied. “I hope Duncan has the good sense to spend the night in Aberfoyle if it does. Miss Darcy, since ye are back early, would you like another harp lesson?”

“I would love one, if you please.” The girl held her hands out in front of the hearth. “Just as soon as my fingers are warm.”

The sound of wheels on gravel made Elizabeth glance out the window. A familiar-looking carriage was disappearing around the corner of the house. She caught her breath. What would her aunt be doing here? She excused herself and hurried to the entry hall, a sudden rush of longing for her aunt’s comforting presence filling her.

The butler already held the door open while Big John rushed out to lower the carriage steps. Aunt Emmeline appeared, wearing a flamboyant feathered hat which could not be doing much to keep her head warm.

“Aunt!” cried Elizabeth, running forward to greet her. “What a delightful surprise! And Mr. Fitzpatrick, too!” She kissed her aunt’s cheek.

Aunt Emmeline pulled her into a quick embrace. “Now go back inside, child, before you catch a chill.”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be shooed indoors. “How did you manage to get away? I thought the theatre schedule was full.”

Jasper unwound a scarf from his neck. “Closed for a fortnight due to influenza. Half of Edinburgh is ill. Siddons is furious about the lost revenue.”

“He must be!” Elizabeth exclaimed. But she could not be happier, even if it meant having to explain her engagement. If only Aunt Emmeline could magically make everything better. “Aunt, I am so pleased to see you.”

Aunt Emmeline removed her hat and rubbed her forehead. “Dearest Lizzy, I have missed you, but that carriage ride has exhausted me. Let me have a few minutes of quiet to refresh myself, and then I will join you.” It was hardly surprising. The motion of carriages often made her aunt ill.

This was obviously not the moment to tell her aunt about her dilemma. Elizabeth beckoned to the housekeeper. “Perhaps you can take my aunt to my room since it is already warm, and light fires in the other rooms. I imagine some strong tea would not go amiss.”

“Aye, Miss Merton. This way, Mrs. MacLaren,” said the housekeeper.

Elizabeth stopped short. Of course the staff here would know her aunt as Mrs. MacLaren, not Mrs. MacLean. This would be very confusing. She kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I hope you feel better. If you want anything, please send word.”

“Just to be left alone.” Her aunt turned to trudge after the housekeeper.

The sight of Jasper gave her an idea. She had been longing for someone to confide in, someone she could tell the entire story and ask their opinion. He was acquainted with Darcy as well as her, and he might even know something about Darcy’s family. He understood what her life in Edinburgh was like, and could guess what it would cost her to give it up. Even if he could give her no advice, his understanding would be a comfort.

She caught at his sleeve. “Jasper, you cannot know how grateful I am to see you. There is something I need to ask you about. It is rather urgent.”

Jasper shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to the butler. “I am glad to see you, too, but what is so pressing?”

Since the drawing room was at the back of the house, Darcy would not have heard their arrival. “Not here. In private. The study will do.” She led him into it and shut the door. “Thank God you are here!”

“Good Lord! What is the matter?” asked Jasper with a laugh.

Elizabeth took a quick, shallow breath. “I am in a terrible dilemma. I was going to go to Edinburgh tomorrow and talk to you there, but now it cannot wait at all.” Once her aunt had rested, she would have to be told the news.

Jasper selected a leather armchair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “This sounds exciting.”

“Not in a good way.” She took a deep breath. “I have become engaged.”

“What?” Jasper exclaimed, sounding more amused than shocked. “Engaged to whom? Do I know him?”

“No. He is the son of the local chieftain whom I met here.”

He straightened, his eyes wide. “Lizzy, what are you thinking? You cannot marry a wild Highlander! How long have you known him? A fortnight? You have not even been gone a month!”

She held out her hands to stop him. “I know, I know! I do not want to marry him, but I must marry someone quickly, and he is my best option.”

Jasper’s jaw hardened. “What happened?” he asked ominously. “I will kill him if he has touched you.”

“Nothing like that,” she said snappishly. Why did every man have to assume she had been unchaste? “I am being threatened with harm to my family, and the only way out is for me to marry immediately. That is the problem I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Threatened? Good God, why would anyone want to harm you? What are they threatening?”

She swallowed hard. “My family’s well-being. My family in England, that is. Unless I get married right away. Perhaps you can see some other way out, but I have racked my brains, and I do not think there is one.”

He settled back in his chair. “Then you had better tell me about it. But you cannot marry a savage! If it comes to that, you’d... you’d do better to marry me, and God knows I am no prize.”

She felt a surge of warmth for his loyal friendship. “I thank you, but you told me long ago that marriage was impossible for you. And the man here is not a savage, not at all. He is a decent man and will not be a bad husband, even if he is only marrying me for my aunt’s money.”

“But a Highlander!” Shock and disgust warred in his expression. “My situation is complicated, but I cannot let you be trapped in the middle of nowhere because of it. It would be better... but let that be. Who is threatening you?”

She chewed her lip. “First, will you promise not to tell anyone what I am about to tell you, most especially not your friend Darcy?”

Jasper’s eyebrows shot up. “How does Darcy come into this? He would never use threats like that. I am as certain of that as the day I was born.”

“No, he has nothing to do with that. But do you promise?”

“Of course. I will say nothing to Darcy. You have my word.”

She wrung her hands. “The problems started with Darcy’s family. They were afraid he would marry me.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Darcy marry you? Why would they think that? He will marry some perfect, well-dowered diamond of society. He would never consider marrying so far beneath him. Not that you wouldn’t be better for him than any of them, but it would never happen!”

She glared at him. “Well, for whatever reason, his family was afraid it would. They had someone threaten me into disappearing, so I moved to Edinburgh and changed my name. But their main condition was... Is something wrong?”

He leaned forward with a stunned expression. “No. Go on.” His voice was heavy.

“They said I had to stay away from Darcy. But then he appeared in Edinburgh, and he would not stay away from me, so I came here. But he followed me again, and he was injured, so I could not turn him away.”

“Darcy is injured?” cried Jasper. “What happened?”

“A broken leg, mostly. He will recover.” Darcy’s injuries were the least of her worries now. “No one but my aunt knew I was here, so I thought it was safe enough to let him stay. But one of the people making the threats found him, and he was furious to discover I was here. I have managed to intercept his post so he could not send out word, but that will not last long. And the only way I can prove I will not marry Darcy is by marrying someone else.”

Jasper rubbed his forehead. “This is a nightmare,” he said softly.

“It is.” Elizabeth choked back the urge to cry. “So much is at stake. I do not want to get married just to prove Darcy is safe from me.”

He looked grim. “What does Darcy say?”

“I have not told him. He would try to fix it, no matter how much I begged him not to. He would tell his family, and my family would end up paying the price.” Her voice shook.

“Damn. I cannot argue that. Darcy always thinks he can fix everything.” Jasper picked up a paperweight from the desk and turned it over, passing it from one hand to the other distractedly. “Who in his family made these threats?”

Elizabeth hesitated, but he had promised not to repeat it. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lord Matlock.”

His hands froze, and the paperweight tumbled into his lap. “I was afraid of that,” he said flatly. He did not look at her, and his face had turned a sickly ashen.

Shocked out of her own worries, she asked, “Are you ill? Should I bring you a glass of wine?”

“I am not ill,” he bit out. He replaced the paperweight with a sigh and wandered to the bookcase. “If Lord Matlock is involved, you must take it seriously. He does not make idle threats.”

Her heart sank. “So you think I must marry?” Somehow she had hoped he would have another answer.

He hesitated. “Is what he threatened to do so bad?”

She nodded. “My father would be arrested. Sedition. A long prison sentence, if not transportation or hanging. And Darcy could not fix that.”

He considered this, his expression grim, and then nodded. “Dammit, you should not be in this position!” His fingers tightened on the bookshelf until his knuckles showed white. “Sometimes I hate —” He turned his face away and bit back his words.

She frowned. Naturally this was a shock to him, but why did he have to act as if it were his personal tragedy? She was the one suffering. But she should have known better than to turn to an actor for help. They always had to be at the center of the drama. “I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.” She kept her voice flat to disguise her bitterness, but she turned away from him.

“Do not worry about me! It is your life that is being torn apart.” Jasper’s voice trembled.

It would do no good to dwell on Jasper’s histrionics. At least his answer should give her a measure of peace. If she had to marry MacLaren, so be it. She said briskly, “It is good you are here for Darcy’s sake. He needs a friend. He has taken the news of my engagement badly, and there is nothing I can say to him.”

“He really does want to marry you, then?”

She shrugged, trying to appear unmoved. “That is what he has given me to understand, but I had already told him it could never be.” It did not matter how either of them felt.

Jasper raised his head with a gloomy expression. “And you? Do you care for him?”

“It does not matter whether I care for him or not,” she snapped.

“God, I am sorry. That makes it even worse.” He slumped back into the chair, the image of dejection.

The door opened to reveal a frowning Aunt Emmeline. “Lizzy, the servants are saying you are engaged to Duncan MacLaren,” she said with pointed disapproval.

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. She should have realized that might happen. “Come in and close the door,” she said wearily. “We were just discussing why that had to happen.”

Half an hour later, Aunt Emmeline’s arm was around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Well, I suppose you could do worse than young Duncan, especially if he is agreeable to living in Edinburgh, but let me give the matter a little thought. Perhaps I can think of someone more to your taste.” She turned a calculating eye on Jasper. “What about you?”

Jasper grimaced. “I have been asking myself that very question. I would do it for Lizzy’s sake, but that solution would present some major difficulties of its own. There are things you do not know about me.”

“Aunt, I beg you, do not try to convince him,” Elizabeth pleaded. “He told me months ago that he could not marry.”

Jasper waved his hand in agitation. “Let me think. If nothing else, there are Darcy’s feelings to consider.”

Darcy, who would not know why she had suddenly rushed out of the drawing room. He must be wondering what happened to her. “I should rejoin Darcy. Mr. MacLaren said he would call later on his way back from town, and I would prefer for them not to be alone together.”

Aunt Emmeline sighed. “I suppose I must reacquaint myself with Duncan. I have not seen him since Imogen’s funeral.”

Elizabeth squeezed her aunt’s hand. “And you will not say a word of this to Darcy?”

“Of course not. Your father may be a coward and foolishly resentful, but he is still my little brother. I would never put him at risk.” The older woman straightened her shoulders. “I just wish I could unleash Lady Macbeth on Mr. Darcy’s family.”

Jasper winced.

***

ELIZABETH FOLLOWED her aunt into the drawing room, leaving Jasper to trail after her.

Making her usual theatrical entrance, Aunt Emmeline announced, “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Darcy. I see you found your way to Kinloch, although I am sorry you had a mishap en route.”

“The pleasure is mine. Pray forgive me for failing to stand.” Darcy gestured at his leg. “I am under strict highwayman’s orders not to use it under any circumstances.”

“Highwayman’s orders?” asked Jasper from the doorway. “When did you start taking orders from a highwayman?”

Before Darcy could answer, Georgiana ran to throw her arms around Mr. Fitzpatrick. “Jasper!” she shrieked.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Of course, it was not strange that Georgiana would know Jasper since he was acquainted with her brother, but to be in terms of such intimacy with him?

“Georgie!” Jasper whirled her around. When he set her down, he put his hands on the girl’s shoulders and whispered something urgently to her. Georgiana’s forehead puckered, but she nodded slowly.

Jasper turned to the older woman. “Mrs. MacLean, may I present Mr. Darcy’s sister, Miss Darcy, to your acquaintance? Georgie, this is Mrs. MacLean, a friend of mine from Edinburgh.”

Georgiana bobbed a curtsy. “I am honored.”

“Another friend of Jasper’s? Delightful.” Aunt Emmeline smiled, but Elizabeth could see the lines of fatigue in her face.

“Jasper, I had not realized you were here as well.” A worried-looking Darcy beckoned to Jasper. “A private word, if you please.”

“If you wish.” Jasper walked towards Darcy, gloom descending once more onto his face.

Colonel Fitzwilliam strode in, looking slightly disheveled and definitely displeased. “What is all this racket?”

Just what she needed. Elizabeth said flatly, “Aunt, may I present Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy’s cousin? Colonel, this is my aunt, Mrs. MacLean, and Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

Jasper paled and took a step backwards.

Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at him, his face growing flushed. “You! So this is where you have been hiding,” he growled. “You rattle-pated lobcock, do you feel no compunction at all about terrifying our mother with your disappearances?”

Their mother?

The implications struck Elizabeth like a brick. If they were brothers, then Lord Matlock must be Jasper’s father, too. No wonder he had been so upset by her revelations! This was a disaster beyond belief. All these months of hiding from Darcy’s family, and she had been living under the same roof as Lord Matlock’s son. And she had told him her secrets.

Darcy said quickly, “Richard, I sent word to your mother a month ago, telling her that Jasper was well and happy.”

The colonel ignored him, instead advancing on Jasper and grabbing him by the cravat. “God knows you are too lazy and stupid to amount to anything, but you could at least manage to treat our parents with respect.”

“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” said Aunt Emmeline sharply. “Mr. Fitzpatrick is a respected and hard-working member of our troupe, and I will thank you to unhand him.”

Scowling, the colonel released Jasper’s cravat, pushing him away at the same time. “Fitzpatrick? I always said it was a miracle you could remember your own name since you forget everything else inside a minute, but this beggars belief!”

Jasper staggered, but then stood in place, showing almost no reaction.

He might be Lord Matlock’s son, but Jasper was also her friend, and Elizabeth would not let the colonel insult him this way, not when she knew what a sensitive point his poor memory was for him. Elizabeth hurried to stand beside him and crossed her arms. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, let us have the monologue from Bluebeard,” she said crisply.

“What?” Jasper seemed surprised to see her there.

“The monologue from Bluebeard, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Now, if you please.”

Jasper lifted his foot and set it back in place, then did the same with the other foot. In a quiet voice that gradually became stronger, he began to recite, addressing his lines directly to her. Elizabeth filled in the responses to allow him to finish the scene.

As he concluded, Elizabeth turned to the colonel and said sharply, “Would you not call that a remarkable feat of memory from someone who cannot remember his own name?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes bulged. “You are on the stage? Do you care nothing for the family’s reputation?”

Jasper raised his chin. “No one knows what family Jasper Fitzpatrick comes from, or at least no one did until you began this tirade. And I have a new family now.” He swept his hand to encompass Aunt Emmeline and Elizabeth. “They gave me a chance and let me prove myself, which is more than you ever did. All you ever saw in me was the family embarrassment, the one to be shunted out of sight wherever possible. Well, now I am out of sight, and what is more, I am not going back to that. This is my life now.”

“Why, you ungrateful –” The colonel advanced on Jasper.

Her aunt spoke in a commanding voice that would have carried across a crowded theatre. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, if you cannot act the part of a gentleman with Mr. Fitzpatrick, I must ask you to leave my house. Now.”

The colonel ignored her, his hands curling into fists as he approached Jasper.

From the doorway, the calm voice of MacLaren the Younger cut across the room. “Is this gentleman causing you difficulties, madam?”

“Yes,” she said regally. “He is.”

At a gesture from MacLaren, two burly footmen came in. Each took one of the colonel’s arms. “Come with us, sir,” said one of them.

“Damn your eyes!” Colonel Fitzwilliam roared as he tried to pull away from them.

The footmen looked to MacLaren who gave a slight nod. They dragged him backwards, ignoring his swearing and struggles.

After the front door closed behind them, MacLaren said mildly, “A closer acquaintance with the snow should sober him up.”

“A well-timed entrance!” Aunt Emmeline stepped forward, holding out both hands to MacLaren. “Duncan, my boy, is it yourself all grown up? You were still a stripling when I saw you last.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

He looked surprised at the warmth of her greeting. “It is good to see you again. Welcome back to the glen. It has been too long.”

She gazed around the room. “I had not realized how much I had missed it here. Come sit with me and tell me about yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are not angry at me?”

“Over Lizzy? Of course not. There are worse reasons to marry than out of a desire to save other people, and I was rather fond of the outcome the last time a Miss Merton married a Mr. MacLaren. You have a look of my Charlie about you now that you are grown.”

He laughed. “Better Uncle Charlie than Uncle Jack!” He drew an imaginary beaked nose over his own straight one.

“I would say so! Now, come sit with me and tell me everything. Is your father any better?” She led him to the couch, chatting warmly all the while.

***

DARCY WATCHED WITH dismay Mrs. MacLean’s animated discussion with MacLaren. She had been his one remaining hope. She had supported Darcy’s pursuit of Elizabeth, and if she had expressed disapproval of this engagement, Elizabeth might have been convinced to break it off. But it appeared Mrs. MacLean was delighted by MacLaren. Bile burned his throat.

It was a relief when his sister and Jasper converged upon him. Georgiana had her hand on Jasper’s sleeve as if to comfort him. “He did not mean it. He was already upset, and today he was drinking even while we were out riding,” she said.

Jasper shook his head. “He meant it. The drink might have loosened his tongue, but nothing more. It doesn’t matter. I am accustomed to it.”

“I am sorry I could not warn you he was here more quickly,” Darcy said. “In any case, bravo. You handled it very well.”

Jasper’s expression brightened a bit. “Thank you. I am glad Lizzy made me recite. It helped me remember who I am now.”

“I am so proud of you,” said Georgiana fervently. “Is it as good as you hoped, being an actor?”

“Even better. I have no words for it.”

“Will we still be able to be part of your family?” she asked softly.

“Of course! At least you and Darcy will,” Jasper said. “Darcy has even seen me act. But what happened to you, Darcy? Lizzy said you were hurt.”

As if he needed a reminder that Jasper would remain Elizabeth’s close friend once Darcy was forced out of her life.

***

OVER AN HOUR LATER, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, now dressed in dark, subdued colors rather than his usual more fashionable attire. He bowed to Aunt Emmeline. “I apologize for my earlier outburst, madam,” he said stiffly. “There can be no excuse for behavior such as mine when ladies are present. I will take my leave of you now.”

The actress raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

He bowed again. “An inn in Aberfoyle for tonight, and thence back to England tomorrow. I am due in London soon.” He had not so much as looked in Jasper’s direction.

Jasper drawled, “Good journey to you. Pray give my regards to our parents, and ask them to announce that I am dead.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” his brother said coldly. “All you need to do is to stop acting.”

“Even if I were willing to do so, there are other reasons I cannot return.” He glanced at Elizabeth and his lips tightened. “Jasper Fitzwilliam is no more. Jasper Fitzpatrick is now a Scotsman and will never return to England.”

“But you must go to London,” protested Aunt Emmeline. “You could perform at Drury Lane or Covent Garden.”

Jasper stiffened. “The London theatres have many fine actors. I am well satisfied with my present position.”

Elizabeth said coolly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I must insist you remain here tonight. It is already dark, and the roads are too icy for night travel.” She could not let him leave until she was safely married, but she would come up with a different reason tomorrow to keep him here.

“My niece is correct,” Aunt Emmeline pronounced. “You must stay, Colonel.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed. “If that is your wish, madam, I will be honored to do so.”

***

ELIZABETH ASKED DUNCAN MacLaren to stay for dinner. He was good at defusing unpleasant scenes, and she was not at all certain there would not be another one when Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jasper ate at the same table. It was impossible to think of them as brothers. There was a physical resemblance, to be sure, but temperamentally they could not be more different. She had not forgiven the colonel for his harsh words to Jasper earlier. She had only seen that flint-like look on the colonel once before, when he had thought her to be Darcy’s mistress, and she wished she had never learned that the otherwise amiable colonel had another side.

It was a relief to withdraw with the other ladies after dinner. She patted Jasper’s arm for reassurance as she went past him.

Once the ladies settled themselves in the drawing room, Georgiana asked timidly, “Do you think they will quarrel again?”

“I do not know, but that is why I asked Mr. MacLaren to stay for dinner,” Elizabeth said. “Since Mr. Darcy would be unable to intervene physically, I wanted to have one man there who could and would defend Jasper if needed.”

“He would be good at that,” the girl said confidently. “He is always so calm.” Her eyes shone with admiration.

Aunt Emmeline sniffed. “I hope he will keep them apart. I cannot say I like that Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“He is not usually like that,” said Georgiana. “He has never understood Jasper, though.”

“You seem very fond of Jasper,” Elizabeth observed.

“Oh, yes! He and I have always been friends, even though he is much older than me. He used to say we were two of a kind because...” The girl’s cheeks turned scarlet and she seemed to sink in on herself.

Elizabeth said reassuringly, “You do not need to tell us.”

“I am sorry,” the girl said softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” declared Aunt Emmeline. “But I wish you to try something.”

Georgiana’s knuckles turned white. “What is that?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“I understand you are fond of The Lady of the Lake. Do you ever wish you were like Ellen?”

The girl nodded.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes and pretend you are Ellen, sitting in your father’s hall. Think of what Ellen would wear, and imagine you are wearing it. Can you do that?”

“I will try,” Georgiana said hesitantly and closed her eyes.

“You are Ellen, and you are not afraid of anything, not even the king of Scotland. Now I want you to open your eyes, still being Ellen, and say, “It is a private matter.” Say it the way Ellen would.”

Georgiana opened her eyes and said firmly, “It is a private matter.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Aunt Emmeline. “Just perfect. I hope you remember that whenever you are feeling shy or embarrassed, you can pull Ellen around you like a cloak and say whatever she would say.”

“It was only that Jasper and I were both the youngest, and neither of us felt we could fit the lives we were supposed to lead,” Georgiana said with that same unusual calmness.

Aunt Emmeline smiled warmly at her. “I did not fit my life, either. I was not meant to be a proper young lady. I tolerated it until my father decided to marry me to a horrid old man, and that was when I ran away.”

“Oh, I do not want to run away! My brother is the best man in the world, and I love Pemberley.”

Aunt Emmeline looked inquisitive, but Elizabeth felt her situation with Mr. Darcy was quite complicated enough without encouraging his sister to confide in them. “I have been trying all afternoon to try to imagine the Jasper Fitzpatrick I know as the unhappy, ne’er-do-well son of an earl, and I just cannot picture it. He seems so happy to me.”

“He has always wanted to act,” said Georgiana. “I am so glad for him.”

To no one’s surprise, the gentlemen rejoined them as soon as was decently possible. It could not have been a pleasant foursome for them. There were new lines between Darcy’s eyebrows, and the colonel wore a stoic expression. Jasper seemed withdrawn, quite unlike his usual self.

Fortunately, Aunt Emmeline put into effect her remarkable talent for entertaining guests. She enlisted Jasper and Elizabeth to help her perform a comic scene from a popular play that even moved Darcy to smile, and persuaded MacLaren to sing an old Scottish ballad. He in turn coaxed Georgiana into a duet of “My Heart’s in the Highlands.” The girl’s sweet voice entwined pleasingly with his baritone, but Elizabeth was shocked to see tears in her aunt’s eyes at the end of the song.

Before she could decide what to do, MacLaren had come to sit on her aunt’s other side. “What is the matter, Aunt Emmeline?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “Nothing. It just made me remember how you and Imogen would sing together.” There was a wealth of sorrow in her voice as she fished out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I keep expecting her to walk through the door. She loved Kinloch so much.”

MacLaren took her hand in both of his. “Aye, that she did. Do you remember how she used to beg me to take her rowing on the loch? And the islet that she declared was her kingdom, and she was its queen?”

A fond smile curved the older woman’s lips. “And she was always singing. I have so many memories of her here. That is why I never came back until now.”

“You belong here,” he said firmly. “We have all missed you. The clan has not been the same without you.”

She looked down. “But I am no longer part of the clan, not now that Charlie and Imogen are both gone.”

MacLaren frowned. “You must listen to me carefully, Aunt Emmeline. You have never stopped being a member of the clan, not for a second. Once a MacLaren, always a MacLaren. Why do you think my father writes to you every month?”

“He writes me to boast about you,” she said with a little laugh. “I was always the one he talked to when he was worried about you, and now that you have grown up so well, he wants to tell me that. He wrote me a fortnight ago to propose a marriage between you and Lizzy. I told him I had married for love, and I intended to let Lizzy do the same. But you took care of matters yourselves, did you not?”

Some of the color faded from MacLaren’s cheeks and he released Aunt Emmeline’s hand. “Aye, that we did. But it is good you are back.”

She nodded. “Yes, it is,” she said steadily. “But I am tired after my travels, so I will bid everyone good night.” She made a majestic exit, but her face was pale.

MacLaren asked Elizabeth quietly, “Did I say something I should not have?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I think she did not expect you to still consider her part of the clan. She has said on occasion I am her only family, but I believe she has felt the loss of her connection to the MacLarens.” Seeing her in this setting was revealing a new side of her aunt, one Elizabeth had not even suspected.

A pained expression crossed his face. “I should have gone to see her when she did not come here.”

It was something, at least, that he cared about her aunt. “Your father tried, and you cannot hold yourself responsible for everything anyone in the clan might happen to think.”

“No, I suppose not.” He moved closer to her and said in a quiet voice, “And you? Are you well? Her arrival must have been a shock for you.”

She shook her head. “A surprise, but a relief. I am glad she has taken our news so well.” And it helped that she was no longer alone with her struggle. Having Aunt Emmeline and Jasper here gave her strength.

“Good. As for our plans, obviously we will not be going to Edinburgh tomorrow.” He dropped his voice even lower. “Have you thought what you wish to do?”

She glanced across the room where Colonel Fitzwilliam sat moodily fingering the pieces on the Indian chess set. “I do not know how much longer I can convince the colonel to stay after today’s quarrel, so I suppose we had best have the wedding as soon as we can,” she said quietly, proud that her voice did not tremble.

He nodded. “I need to consult one more solicitor about the settlement papers. I thought to do that in Edinburgh, but there is a man in Glasgow as well. I could go there tomorrow and we could be wed the day after. Would that be soon enough?”

“I imagine I can manage to keep him here that long.” Tomorrow would be her last day as a single woman. Perhaps it was for the best. But it made her want to tear her hair and weep. “And I will check on my aunt now, if you will pardon me.”

“Of course.” He bowed as she left the room.

She found Aunt Emmeline still in the front hall speaking to the housekeeper. Elizabeth waited until they were finished before approaching her aunt. “Do you mind if I walk you upstairs? I have not seen you alone for a moment since you arrived, and I have missed you so.”

“Of course, my dear. I am going to the nursery first to see Timmy. When I checked on him earlier, he had another little boy with him, so I said I would return later.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. She been so preoccupied by the news of her engagement that she had not thought to tell Aunt Emmeline about the changes in Timmy’s treatment. “I will come with you, if I may, and I have a confession to make. I have not been following his doctor’s orders.”

Aunt Emmeline pushed back a stray lock of hair. It was a sign of her fatigue that such a thing could exist. “Nurse told me. She thinks it is helping him.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “Something is helping him, although Timmy would attribute his improvement to the sheepdog he has adopted here. But he is getting stronger every day.” Her aunt might have taken the change in the boy’s regimen well, but Elizabeth decided to wait until morning to tell her about Mr. Jack’s involvement. Today had been trying enough already for both of them. Instead, as they walked upstairs, she told Aunt Emmeline about Timmy’s Latin lessons with Darcy.

The candles were still burning in the nursery. Timmy sat in his nightshirt at the head of the bed, his clubfoot exposed and resting on Mr. Jack’s lap.

Aunt Emmeline stiffened with a suppressed gasp. “Jack!”

Mr. Jack released Timmy’s foot gently before standing, his posture oddly defensive. “Emmeline,” he said evenly. “I suppose I should be leaving, then.”

“No! I pray you, no.” Aunt Emmeline drew in a sharp breath. “I hoped you would take care of Timothy. That is why I sent him here. I have followed all of Dr. Mackenzie’s instructions because you recommended him, but poor Timmy kept getting worse. I knew he needed you.”

“Mackenzie?” Mr. Jack snorted. “That was for his foot, not for consumption.”

“I did not know,” said Aunt Emmeline in an uncharacteristically humble voice. “I thought you would come back, but you never did.”

Even more uncharacteristically, Jack looked away. “I could not.” The words seemed forced from his throat.

Aunt Emmeline’s pained expression softened. “Oh, Jack. I lost Charlie and Imogen. I lost my own brother when I was still a girl. I do not want to lose you, too.”

Elizabeth could not tell which one of them had moved first, but a moment later Aunt Emmeline and Mr. Jack were locked in a tight embrace, as if the pain of standing apart was too much to bear, as if they were fellow survivors of a terrible disaster.

It was like watching the final act of a tragedy, but with a bit of hope peering through. And a new, previously unrecognizable side of Mr. Jack. Even in the shadows, the strain on his face was clear.

In an effort to give them some privacy, Elizabeth tiptoed over to Timmy’s bedside. He rolled his eyes at her, clearly impatient with this adult foolishness, but he let her kiss his forehead and tuck him into bed.

Elizabeth heard footsteps as she smoothed the counterpane over Timmy. When she looked up, Mr. Jack and Aunt Emmeline were gone.

Chapter 16

DARCY GLARED AT MACLAREN. Why did the man have to call today? Tomorrow Elizabeth would leave Kinloch House as his wife, dammit. Could he not have the decency to allow Darcy to have her to himself for her last day as a single woman without forcing his way in?

But why should MacLaren care about Darcy? He was getting exactly what he wanted – Elizabeth’s money – and Darcy was just a temporary nuisance, an embarrassing one at that, who could not vanish from Scotland soon enough.

Elizabeth smiled at MacLaren, but it did not reach her eyes. Mrs. MacLean greeted him with outstretched arms. Georgiana’s face lit up at the sight of him.

Darcy detested him.

What did Elizabeth see in the man? He was not particularly handsome and he made no attempt to charm her. He had not a penny to his name. The only thing that could be said in his favor was that his manners were good. Darcy had every advantage. He knew perfectly well no sane woman would choose Duncan MacLaren over him.

But Elizabeth had.

MacLaren introduced the tall, reedy man accompanying him as Hollings, a solicitor from Glasgow. So that was why he was here. Darcy had no interest in Elizabeth’s marriage settlements. The very idea made him wish he had refused the tea he had only drunk because Elizabeth had offered it to him. It churned sourly in his stomach.

And now MacLaren was asking Elizabeth to join him and Hollings in the study, depriving Darcy even of the ability to look at her. Damn him.

Elizabeth was already walking out of the drawing room when MacLaren said, “Mr. Darcy, could I persuade you to join us? I would appreciate your opinions on this matter.”

Elizabeth looked stunned.

He could hardly say he would rather eat rusty nails than help Elizabeth with her marriage settlements. “If you wish,” he said with only the barest modicum of graciousness.

A footman stepped forward smartly to push his chair to the study, trailing after the stork-like solicitor.

Somehow Darcy needed to maintain a calm demeanor. There was a reason for it; he simply could not remember what it was. Once pride would have been his motivation. Now he no longer cared about pride. But he did not wish Elizabeth to think any worse of him than she already did, so that would have to be reason enough.

MacLaren told the servants to leave and closed the door to the study. “Forgive me for interrupting your day, but there are matters that must be settled before tomorrow, matters which have come up in my investigation of Miss Merton’s legal status.”

Elizabeth’s legal status? What did that mean? Through his haze of misery, Darcy was struck that MacLaren looked almost as bad as he himself felt.

MacLaren continued to Elizabeth, “You agreed to marry me because you thought it was the only way to save your father, but that is not true. Mr. Hollings was kind enough to come here to explain this to you. He is Glasgow’s foremost expert on English law.”

Elizabeth’s head rose, her eyes wide. “I do not think we need trouble Mr. Darcy about any of this,” she said determinedly. “I would prefer to continue this privately.”

“I am sorry, my dear,” said MacLaren. “I know you wish to protect him, but he needs to know. It is wrong to leave a man in ignorance of his family’s misdeeds. As it turns out, crimes would be a better word.” He held out some folded papers to Darcy.

“No!” Elizabeth started from her chair, but sank back as Darcy’s hand closed around the documents.

Darcy looked from her to MacLaren, and opened the paper. A contract of some sort. He skipped to the bottom of the second page to see the signatures. Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lord Matlock? His chest tightened until he could barely breathe.

How could his aunt and uncle have behaved with such unutterable cruelty? He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as he read, the churning of his stomach threatening to overset him. His own family had done this to Elizabeth. His aunt, whom he had faithfully visited every year and helped to manage her estate. His uncle, the patriarch of the Fitzwilliams and Lord Chancellor of Great Britain. The very people he should most be able to trust, and they had betrayed him by doing their utmost to harm the woman he loved. Good God, they would have destroyed her entire family to keep him from marrying her! Everything that Elizabeth had suffered, all the losses, all the pain, had been caused by his family. Had been caused, in the final tally, by his interest in her.

Now he knew why she had run from him, had pretended to be someone else, and had fought with him; why her warmth would vanish at times into anger and coldness. It was a testament to her kindness that she had been civil to him rather than spitting in his face. She could have left him to die in that cold hill fort and been free of all this, but instead she had saved him, and by doing so, had risked her own family.

There was nothing left to read, but he could not bring himself to look up. He did not deserve to be allowed to gaze at her.

When he finally raised his head, he said softly, “This is why you kept running from me.”

Elizabeth nodded miserably.

MacLaren said, “When Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived here, she knew he would report her presence to your uncle, leading to the arrest of her father. As you can see, there is a clause stating that her marriage to someone else would void the contract. I was available and suitably desperate.”

That was why she had become engaged? It had nothing to do with him! Nothing to do with her feelings about him, at least. His mere existence was the source of her problem. He looked down at the contract, his gut clenching. All of this had happened because of him.

“I am so very sorry,” Darcy said to Elizabeth. Damn his leg! If only he could walk over to her, he would say far more for her ears only.

“Miss Merton, you have no reason to fear,” said the solicitor in an Eton accent. “Your father is in no danger, I assure you. That document is fraught with illegalities. A single woman cannot sign a contract, so it is invalid. That by itself would not protect you, but, invalid or not, that contract is written proof of extortion and misuse of legal powers, which are crimes.”

MacLaren squatted down next to Elizabeth. “It is true. He has shown me the relevant statutes.”

The stork-like solicitor pushed up his spectacles and offered Elizabeth a closely written sheet of paper. “These are my notes. I wish to be very clear on one point, Miss Merton. The contract is invalid, but the threat is real. Should you choose not to marry Mr. MacLaren, you cannot simply ignore it. You would need to take legal action to stop Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine de Bourgh. This document is quite damning to Lord Matlock in particular, given his position in the government, so I suspect he would agree to a private settlement. A charge of extortion would ruin his reputation and likely force him to resign his office.”

Elizabeth studied his notes, her face wan. “But if I challenge this, and Lord Matlock does not agree to a private settlement, all these matters would become public. The scandal would harm my family as well as Lord Matlock, perhaps even more so.”

“You are correct, but I think it unlikely Lord Matlock would take that risk. He was a fool to affix his signature to this document, but he would have to be ten times a fool to allow this to be made public. His legal danger is minimal, since he would be tried in the House of Lords where his peers would be unlikely to find him guilty, but his reputation would be lost, and with it, his ability to perform his office.”

A powerful rage coiled in Darcy’s chest, a burning desire to punish those responsible. “What steps would you recommend to challenge this?”

The solicitor ticked off points on his fingers. “First, gather evidence. Question the intermediaries and anyone who was aware of this so-called contract. If they do not cooperate, they can be threatened with arrest for extortion. Once that is done, Miss Merton’s father and his solicitor should meet with Lord Matlock to propose a private settlement.”

Elizabeth made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “There is no point considering it, then. My father will not do it. He would simply tell me to get married.”

He turned his stork-like gaze on her. “That is unfortunate. As a single woman, you have no legal standing, so someone must act in your stead. Mr. MacLaren could do it as your intended husband, or your widowed aunt as your guardian, although Lord Matlock would likely take a man more seriously.”

Darcy asked abruptly, “What if I do it?” His interest in her had started this. It was his duty to put a stop to it.

The stork-man blinked at him owlishly. “You have no legal standing to press charges on Miss Merton’s behalf, but that does not preclude a private settlement. I would advise you, though, to consider what you would hope to gain.”

What would he hope to gain? Everything that Elizabeth had suffered, nay, everything he himself had suffered since discovering her disappearance, all the hours and days and weeks and months of frantic worry, the time lost to hunting for her, and the ongoing pain of his injuries were all thanks to the selfishness of Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine. He wanted to see them suffer.

No. He wanted Elizabeth to be free. Now he understood why her attitude towards him had lurched from warmth to anger and back again so often. If he could remove this obstacle, he might have a chance to win her heart.

Or perhaps too much damage had already been done.

Elizabeth’s hand was over her eyes, hiding her expression from him. MacLaren still crouched beside her, his hand resting on her arm, his attention exclusively on her. Why had he revealed this? He needed Elizabeth’s inheritance desperately. Was there some other reason he did not want to marry her?

“MacLaren, why did you bring this to light? It is not in your best interest.” Darcy watched him carefully.

The Scotsman rose slowly and rocked on the balls of his feet. “You simply cannot imagine that a Highlander might have a sense of honor, can you?” he said bitterly. “’Twould be far easier to have said nothing, and the clan will pay dearly for my decision, but I canna trick a woman into marrying me. How would I teach my son to be an honorable man, knowing he had only been born because I hid the truth?” There was pain in his voice, the pain of a man forced to choose between his honor and his future.

Darcy could not bring himself to reply. Instead he asked softly, “Miss Elizabeth, what do you want?”

She made no answer apart from a fractional shake of her head, her hand still over her eyes.

MacLaren crossed his arms. “Dinna tell me you are fretting over whether she will choose the penniless Highland barbarian over the wealthy English gentleman,” he said angrily.

“No!” Elizabeth uncovered her eyes and grasped at MacLaren’s sleeve. “I will make my own decisions, but first I want to speak to my aunt and to Jasper. And I definitely wish to hear how Colonel Fitzwilliam explains his part in this.”

“Aye, I would like to hear that, too,” growled MacLaren.

It took a moment for Darcy to comprehend her words. “Richard had no part of this. I am certain of that.”

Her eyes flashed. “He appeared without warning in Scotland in the dead of winter a month after you told people you had seen me here. And who do you suppose told Lady Catherine of your interest in me in the first place?”

“Not Richard. He would not do that.” But even as he said it, a sick feeling came into his throat. Not Richard, too. If he could no longer trust Richard, he had nothing. Richard, his childhood hero, his protector from bullies at Eton, his closest friend at Cambridge and after. But Richard had never been quite the same since he returned from India. Doubt began to twist inside him.

When he was finally wheeled back into the drawing room, he found Elizabeth in Mrs. MacLean’s arms, with Jasper rubbing her hand. Georgiana and Richard looked baffled and embarrassed.

“Georgiana, I will thank you to go upstairs,” said Darcy.

“No.” Elizabeth detached herself from her aunt’s embrace. “She will be on the marriage mart soon enough, and she should learn what her family is capable of. They might try the same thing with her someday.” Her voice was brittle.

It was not worth fighting about, and he had bigger battles ahead. “Richard, Jasper, I have just learned that your father has been threatening Miss Elizabeth in order to keep her from marrying me.” He watched Richard closely, praying for some sign of shock.

“You must be joking.” Richard sounded uncertain.

“No, he is not,” said Jasper. “Lizzy told me about it when I first arrived, before she knew he was my father. Sorry, Darcy, she swore me to secrecy.”

Jasper had known all along, while Darcy had been torturing himself wondering why Elizabeth had engaged herself to MacLaren?

Richard looked stunned. “I do not believe it.”

Darcy held out the papers. “Read it for yourself.” Dear God, if Richard had known of this, he could not bear it.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Richard took the papers to the window and began to read. A scowl grew on his face. Finally he simply shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

“I have not decided. Some will depend on Miss Elizabeth’s wishes.” Conscious of Elizabeth’s eyes on them, Darcy added, “This is unforgivable behavior on their part, though. Whatever the outcome, I will be breaking with both your father and Lady Catherine.”

“I cannot blame you for that. It is the least they deserve. Threatening an innocent girl who had done nothing worse than to catch your eye! It is hardly surprising my father would have disapproved of the match, but that he would go this far...” He sounded lost.

Darcy forced himself to continue. “We have another problem. Miss Elizabeth believes you are part of this plan. She took your arrival to be a sign that she had been discovered. Assuming you would betray her presence here, she became engaged to MacLaren to prevent her father from being arrested.”

Richard turned a bewildered expression on Elizabeth. “You thought I was part of this? Good God, I have my faults, but this? God, no!”

Jasper added, “He would not, Lizzy. Richard can be harsh, but I will not believe this of him.”

Elizabeth raised her chin. “I do not know what to believe, and I find it difficult to trust the word of anyone in your family, but this can be proved one way or the other. The very day of your arrival you wrote a letter to your father.”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “Yes, telling him I had found Darcy.”

“Or, perhaps, telling him you had found us together,” Elizabeth said evenly. “I could not afford to risk your alerting your father to my presence, so I intercepted your letter. I intended to return it to you after I was safely married and the threat was over. I have it upstairs, still sealed. Shall I read it and see if you told him about me?”

Richard’s eyes flared, but then he subsided. “I suppose I cannot blame you for your distrust,” he said heavily. “You may read it and show it to whomever you like.”

Elizabeth inclined her head and left the room.

Turning to Darcy, Richard asked plaintively, “Surely you do not believe I knew about this?”

“Of course not, but I do not wish to put you in a difficult position of having to take sides between your father and me.” And Richard had seemed so unhappy since his arrival here, but he could not say that in front of everyone.

“I cannot believe he did this! Lady Catherine, perhaps, since she wants you to marry her daughter, but my father? Why should he care? You are not his son,” Richard said fiercely.

“He cares about the power it gives him,” said Jasper in a low voice. “And he does not hesitate to use threats to get what he wants. I have heard him do it often enough.”

“Then why have I never heard him do such a thing?” demanded Richard. “You must have imagined it.”

“You never heard it because you were never dragged to those blasted political soirées with him,” said Jasper bitterly. His voice dropped into a lower tone. “‘I hope you will see your way clear to voting for the bill. It would be such a shame if the government turned its attention to what you wrote in that foolish pamphlet.’” It was a dead-on imitation of Lord Matlock.

Richard shook his head angrily. “Why would he take you to political soirées? You care nothing for politics.”

Jasper’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Because he uses me as a bribe, hinting that I might marry the daughter of a man whose vote he wants. He does the same with our sister, and he even bandies about Georgiana’s name. But Darcy is his biggest bait, and that is why he would be against this marriage.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Then why has he not involved me?”

Jasper threw up his arms. “Because you are not a bargain. Frederica and Georgiana have large dowries. Darcy has Pemberley and a huge income. I have a pretty face plus Grandmama’s estate coming to me. Wait until I am declared dead and you become heir to that, and you will see what it is like to be offered up for sale.”

“I don’t want your damned estate!” Richard roared.

Jasper rounded on him. “Now you say that, after all these years of blaming me because she chose to give it to me?”

MacLaren stepped between them. “Enough. There are bigger problems at hand.”

Richard sank into a chair, his expression bleak. He pulled out his pocket watch but did not open it, simply holding it instead, rubbing his thumb absently over the engraved case.

Elizabeth returned and handed Richard a slim letter, the seal still intact. With a grimace he broke the seal with his thumbnail and handed it back to her.

She glanced at Darcy and began to read it, biting her lip. Finally she looked up. “It makes no mention of my presence. My apologies for suspecting you, Colonel. For what little it may be worth, I have paid a high price for my false suspicions. Mr. MacLaren has suffered even more so, and it is to him I owe my deepest apologies.”

MacLaren stood up. “You owe me no apologies. You were perfectly frank as to why you entered into the engagement, and anything I did since then, I did of my own accord. Whatever the outcome may be, you have my best wishes. I assume you do not wish to proceed with our engagement, but if I am incorrect, you need only tell me so. For now, since the discussion here no longer seems to be a matter I should be involved in, I will return home.” He bowed. “I will ask one thing. While it mortifies me deeply to make such a request, Mr. Hollings’s services do not come cheap. Since I am once again in financial straits, I would not refuse any offer to assist with his fees.”

“I will cover them,” said Darcy. “You have my thanks for what you have done, and my respect.”

“Wait!” cried Elizabeth, hurrying to MacLaren’s side. “I... I must thank you for your generosity and understanding, especially when it comes at such a cost to you. There is little I can do to help you, but at such time as I inherit, Kinloch House will be yours.”

MacLaren’s brow was furrowed. “It is a kind thought, Miss Merton, but I will likely be living in America by then. I would be pleased if you would keep it as refuge for those clansmen who live here.”

Elizabeth nodded jerkily. “As you wish.”

Darcy tore his attention away from the document to study MacLaren. An hour ago, he had wished a hundred painful deaths on the man. Now he was the one who had freed Elizabeth and helped Darcy at the cost of his own future. “MacLaren, what is the situation of yours?”

MacLaren shook his head. “It is a problem that rests only on me. I bid you all good day.”

“No!” Georgiana’s soft voice broke in. “He is in desperate straits. He told me about it. The bank called in their mortgage early because a rich Englishman wants their land. He will evict all the tenants and destroy their houses so he can graze sheep there instead. Mr. MacLaren has done everything he can to raise the funds to pay off the mortgage, selling everything of value he can find, all his family heirlooms and silver, and it is still not enough. His clansman will be left with nothing, so he will have to lead them to America to start a new life. It is not right!” Her voice shook.

MacLaren almost smiled. “And that is not even counting illegal stills, highway robbery, and fortune-hunting among our desperate measures to raise money. Miss Darcy, you are very kind, but it is not your brother’s problem.”

“It should be! William, can you not help him?” Georgiana’s eyes filled with tears.

Darcy frowned. “How much is left on your mortgage?”

At first it looked as if MacLaren would refuse to answer, but finally he said reluctantly, “Over twelve thousand pounds.”

“Twelve thousand pounds?” Darcy asked. “Is that all?”

MacLaren stiffened. “I assure you, sir, that when one has nothing at all left, twelve thousand pounds is an impossibly large sum.”

“That is not what I meant,” said Darcy irritably. “MacLaren, I will loan you the money.”

The younger man caught his breath. “I cannot accept your charity.”

“Then I will loan it to you on the same terms as your original mortgage, and you can pay me interest.”

The Scotsman eyed him dubiously. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Darcy could say no more as Georgiana threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek repeatedly. When he could speak again, he added, “All I will ask is that you sit down with me to go over the plans I have drawn up with the Kinloch steward for improving crop yields and making more profitable use of grazing land. It is similar to improvements I have made to my own estate. I think you will find it interesting.”

“Does it involve displacing tenants?” MacLaren asked suspiciously.

“Not at all. It improves their ability to support themselves so they can actually pay their rents rather than constantly being in arrears.”

MacLaren held himself very still, as if he dared not let himself hope. “I would be very grateful to meet those terms, and I thank you on behalf of the entire clan.”

“I believe my sister is doing an excellent job of expressing her appreciation,” said Darcy wryly. He owed MacLaren something that went far beyond money.

“Perhaps we could discuss this more tomorrow,” said MacLaren uncertainly.

“I will be here,” Darcy said. It was understandable that the man would be doubtful.

“I will see you out, Mr. MacLaren.” said Elizabeth determinedly. MacLaren, with a bow, followed her from the room.

Silence fell in the drawing room, as if no one knew what to say. It left Darcy free to worry about what Elizabeth might wish to say privately to MacLaren.

At least she returned quickly.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth, I have some questions about how all this happened. Would you be willing to tell me how this contract came to be?”

She took a deep breath, her face still pale. “After you left Rosings Park, I stayed at the parsonage for another week as planned, and went to my uncle’s in London afterwards. Two days later, I had an unexpected visitor. Mr. Collins asked to speak to me privately. I could not imagine what he wanted, since I had just left his house. He offered me an agreement. He would give me a large sum of money in return for my promise never to see you again.” She appeared to be struggling to keep calm.

Darcy clenched his fists. “Lady Catherine must have guessed about my sentiments towards you. I should have been more careful.”

“At the time I found it amusing. She clearly did not know the truth of how we had parted. I laughed at him and told him I never expected to see you again, and I would not take a bribe for doing what I already planned to do.” She folded her hands together carefully. “Your aunt must have taken that to mean I was set on having you, because he came back the very next day offering a much larger sum. I said the same thing.”

“So he came back with threats,” said Richard darkly.

Elizabeth nodded. “I was naïve enough to think that was the end of it, but he came a third time after I was back at Longbourn, with that contract.”

Darcy frowned. “Miss Elizabeth, there is one thing I do not understand. How could your father be charged with sedition?”

She flushed and turned away to look out the window. Reluctantly she said, “He has some Jacobin beliefs, although he has never acted on them. Sometimes he says things, even exaggerates his own beliefs, in order to shock people for his own amusement. If you heard him holding forth like that, it could sound seditious.”

“Has he published any pamphlets or spoken to large crowds?”

“My father? That would involve work.” A sad smile crossed her face.

“Who has heard him say seditious things?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Some of the neighbors, the ones that are more informed. The others have no interest. My uncle, of course. I remember my father trying to shock a group of militia officers by questioning the king’s authority.”

“Do you know if he spoke that way to Mr. Collins?”

“He might have, but I doubt it,” she said slowly. “He is not the sort of man with whom my father liked to talk politics. He preferred to listen to Mr. Collins’s foolishness and laugh at it.”

“What about Mrs. Collins?” asked Richard.

“She would know about it, but I cannot see her mentioning it. She might have let something slip, I suppose, but who would have paid attention?”

Richard frowned. “Those militia officers – were there any of them who might have been in communication with Lord Matlock or Lady Catherine?”

Oh, no. Darcy met Elizabeth’s horrified gaze. “George Wickham,” he said slowly.

“Wickham was in the damned militia?” exploded Richard.

Darcy asked Elizabeth, “Was he among those your father talked to?”

She nodded slowly. “He was there. A group of officers dined at Longbourn, and...” Her face contorted in dismay.

“What is it?” asked Darcy urgently.

“Wickham had sought me out earlier that night and asked about my stay in Hunsford. I told him you had been there and that I thought you improved on further acquaintance. He had always complained to me about you, so he knew that was a reproof, and now I wonder if he suspected there might be something between us. The next day he left for Brighton with the rest of the militia.”

“And Brighton is only an hour’s ride from Rosings,” groaned Richard. “He knows Lady Catherine and is aware of her ambitions for Anne, so he knew exactly where to go to make mischief. And this is precisely the sort of mischief he would make.”

Bile rose in the back of Darcy’s throat. Wickham would not have cared about Elizabeth’s fate. He had done this solely on the chance it might cause Darcy pain.

Elizabeth sat down in the window seat and stared at her hands. “Do you think he knew you were interested in me?”

“He always did,” said Darcy. “Do you remember the day Bingley and I were going to Longbourn to inquire about your sister’s health, and we met you in Meryton on our way?”

“The first time I met Wickham,” said Elizabeth flatly.

“I did not see him there at first because I was watching you, but when I finally noticed him, he was staring at me with a triumphant expression. He knows me very well.”

“And the very next night he took me aside and told me how you had mistreated him. He did not tell anyone else in Meryton until after you had left, only me.”

“He knew just which ear to pour his poison into,” said Darcy bitterly.

Elizabeth looked stricken. “And I believed him.”

Richard slapped his hand on the table. “I will kill him this time.”

Georgiana made a tiny sound, almost a whimper. Devil take it, he had forgotten about Wickham and Georgiana! But Jasper had not missed it. He put his arm around Georgiana and led her from the room.

Elizabeth stood as well. “Unless you have any other urgent questions, I must ask you to excuse me. I need a little time alone.” Her voice trembled.

“Of course,” Darcy said gently. “I am so very sorry.”

“It is not your fault.” She walked away quickly without looking back.

God, he hated this helplessness. He could do nothing to heal Elizabeth’s pain nor to relieve her worry, and he could not even walk over to her to speak words of comfort.

Jasper returned without Georgiana, his expression subdued, and collapsed into a chair.

Darcy rubbed his hands over his face. What he needed was a quiet place where he could lick his wounds, but everyone was watching him and waiting for his next step. And he needed to decide what that was. He turned to the solicitor who had been waiting by the door. “Mr. Hollings, I thank you for your patience, and I would welcome the opportunity to speak to you further privately. Jasper, if you would not object, I would appreciate it if you would attend and report back on our meeting to Miss Elizabeth. I do not wish to have discussions behind her back.”

“Wise of you,” sniffed Mrs. MacLean. “Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I will leave you to your business.” She swept from the room.

Darcy said, “Richard, while I would welcome your advice, I would have to ask you to keep anything we discuss from your father. I will understand completely if you feel you cannot agree to that.”

Richard looked up, still rubbing his watch. “I have no trouble agreeing to that. He has brought shame on all of us with this behavior.”

Hollings pushed his spectacles up his nose. “What do you wish to discuss, Mr. Darcy?”

“My options. I intend to intervene in this matter. I hope it will be as Miss Elizabeth’s intended or her husband, but if she refuses me, I still wish to put a stop to it. I am limited in that I cannot travel at present, so it would likely be at least a month, perhaps longer, before I could go to London.” And that was being optimistic. His leg was improving, but merely being wheeled from one room to another could bring his headache back. A week on the road would be impossible. “Would you be willing to travel to London to act on my behalf?”

The solicitor pursed his lips. “I do not know any of the principals involved, so I would be at a substantial disadvantage, and I suspect Lord Matlock would be less likely to listen to a solicitor from Glasgow than to a member of his family. And not least, my time is very expensive, especially when it would mean leaving my other clients for a month or more. Your own solicitor in London would be much cheaper and already be familiar with your affairs.”

“Do not worry about money,” advised Jasper with a laugh. “Darcy is wearing borrowed clothes. His estate brings in ten thousand a year.”

Darcy glared at his cousin. “My solicitor also handles Lord Matlock’s legal affairs, and I suspect few London solicitors would be interested in making an enemy of the Lord Chancellor.”

Hollings removed his spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief. “That does alter the situation, but I would still recommend waiting to confront Lord Matlock until you could be present. For my own safety, if nothing else; I have no desire to be arrested on trumped-up charges.”

“But what if he arrests Lizzy’s father in the meantime?” asked Jasper. “Too many people know that Darcy has seen Lizzy again.”

“True.” The solicitor replaced his glasses on his beaky nose. “It might be wise to hire a local informant who would report to you if he is arrested, although that would require having someone available locally to take action if that occurs. It would take too long for word to reach you here.”

“I could do that much,” said Richard with some reluctance. “I live in London, and if my father goes so far as to arrest her father, I will confront him myself.”

“That would work to reduce the risk until Mr. Darcy can travel,” said Hollings. He turned to face Darcy. “However, if your goal is to marry the young lady, you should prepare for further interference. If Lord Matlock is so strongly opposed to this marriage, we must assume he may have other tricks up his sleeve.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Darcy.

“That if you are determined to make her your bride, you must make certain he has no ability to stop you. Marry the girl right away. If your estate is not entailed, write a will in her favor. If I may be crude, get her with child. Keep the marriage a secret for now, but by presenting Lord Matlock with a fait accompli, you make it in his best interest to withdraw his objections rather than to fight the inevitable.”

“Good advice,” said Richard. “My father can be very devious.”

Hollings asked, “I have assumed that Lady Catherine de Bourgh is less of a threat than Lord Matlock. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Her weapons are less concerning. She can keep Collins from supporting the Bennet ladies after Mr. Bennet’s death, but that hardly matters if Elizabeth is my wife, as I would provide for them.”

Richard’s expression brightened for the first time. “Collins? I have the perfect solution for him.”

Chapter 17

THE SOUND OF A KNOCK at the door made Elizabeth sigh. “Yes?” she asked resignedly.

“It is I.” It was her aunt’s voice. “May I come in?”

“If you wish.” Exhausted by her emotions to the point of numbness, Elizabeth pulled the quilt more tightly around her shoulders, but remained sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Her aunt would understand.

Aunt Emmeline came in quietly and closed the door behind her. “I thought you might like a little company.”

“Thank you. I have likely been alone with my thoughts too long.” Elizabeth gestured to her portable writing desk that sat open on the floor next to her.

“You are writing letters?”

“Of a sort. Letters to the fire.” Elizabeth picked up the most recent page. “How about this: ‘Lord Matlock deserves to have his shriveled, deformed heart devoured by rabid rats while he still lives.’” She tore the strip of paper containing the sentence, stuck the end of it into the fire until it burst into flame, and watched it crumble in the ash. “The fire is a very understanding correspondent when I am angry.”

“It is always satisfying to watch something burn.” Aunt Emmeline fetched the stool from the vanity and sat down on it beside Elizabeth. “And you have great deal to be angry about.”

“Months ago, I asked a solicitor in Edinburgh for his opinion. He told me the contract was invalid because of my signature, but that I had no hope of prevailing against Lord Matlock. I just burned a letter to him, too.” Elizabeth wrapped her hands around her knees and gazed into the flames.

“Not helpful advice, though from what Mr. Hollings has said, having Mr. Darcy’s backing is important to winning against Lord Matlock. But the crucial question is whether you want that.”

Elizabeth leaned her head forward to rest it on her knees. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“To marry or not? To fight Lord Matlock or not?”

She sighed. “Part of me thinks the safest, simplest thing would be to marry Duncan MacLaren, although perhaps not at such a breakneck pace as we had planned, and forget Lord Matlock ever existed. Duncan is a good man, and I have spent days telling myself I could be happy with him. And if I do not marry soon, I must eventually face Lord Matlock.”

“What of Mr. Darcy?”

“I do not know. I have told myself so often that he could never be mine that I have never truly thought about what I wanted.” But she knew she was making excuses. “And his estate is a very long way from Edinburgh.” And there was nothing to be done about that.

“I know.” Aunt Emmeline shifted on the stool. “I will confess from a purely selfish standpoint, I would be happy to see you marry Duncan because you could still live with me much of the year and I have known him most of his life. I think he would try to make you happy, even if the clan would always come first for him. But I do not know that you would suit. He has only known you when you have been in significant distress. Has he ever seen you in high spirits? I think it might baffle him. You are strong-willed, too, and you need a husband who can meet your strength with his own. I do not know if Duncan is that man.”

“Yes,” she said resignedly. It was very much what she had concluded herself.

“Darcy could match your spirits, and he is clearly violently in love with you. But you would have to live with the rift in his family caused by your mere existence, and he lives so far away.” She hesitated and lowered her voice. “I worry whether he will someday wish you did not have an actress in your family.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I do not think so. If I have learned one thing about him, it is that his loyalties run deep. But part of me wishes I could just go back to how things were before. Living with you, running lines with Jasper, helping at the theatre...”

“But that would not be enough for you,” her aunt said gently. “It was good while you were finding your feet in Edinburgh and recovering from all you had lost, but the theatre is not your love. Sooner or later you will want a life beyond that, a home of your own, a family.”

It was true. Her aunt and Jasper were the center of her life in Edinburgh, not the theatre. Jasper would move on eventually, and her aunt was no longer young. Elizabeth’s glimpses of Edinburgh social life had not inspired her; having no acquaintances and the social disadvantage of her aunt’s acting made it seem unappealing compared to the welcoming, stimulating world of the theatre.

But the idea of living far from Aunt Emmeline broke her heart.

Who else did she have? Even if she reestablished contact with her own family, she could not imagine feeling the same closeness to her father again. Her mother had never liked her. Jane was married, as was Charlotte. Oh, dear, she had forgotten about Charlotte! Elizabeth groaned.

“What is the matter?”

“My friend Charlotte is married to Mr. Collins, the one who presented me with the contract. If we take action against Lord Matlock, that means exposing Mr. Collins as an extortionist. He deserves whatever punishment he gets, but poor Charlotte does not. What will she suffer when her husband is arrested as a common criminal? Where will she go? Who will support her? I want to punish Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine, but they will get off lightly while my dear Charlotte suffers.” She rubbed her forehead. “And that is not all. If I marry Mr. Darcy and my father is arrested, how will I live with my guilt?”

Mrs. MacLean sighed dramatically. “Lizzy, did you encourage him to say seditious things?”

“No, of course not! He did it to amuse himself.”

“Then if he is arrested for it, it is not your fault. You might have been the route by which it came to someone’s notice, but it was his choice, and none of your doing.”

“But it was none of my sisters’ doing, either, yet they will suffer for it.”

“They will suffer some embarrassment, true, and I imagine Mr. Darcy will have to give them dowries to make up for it. Fortunately, he can afford it.”

“I suppose so. I do not need to worry for their future as I did when Mr. Collins first presented that contract to me.” Elizabeth hesitated. “I understand that my father made his own bed and he must lie in it, but I cannot bear the idea of him imprisoned and hating me for my part in it.” Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes.

Her aunt lowered herself to her knees in front of Elizabeth and grasped her hands. “Lizzy, you must listen carefully to me. He is your father, and you love him. But if he blames you for something that is solely his own fault, then he is not worthy of your grief.”

“How can you say that when you still wish for his good opinion?” Elizabeth scrubbed her eyes.

Aunt Emmeline rested back on her heels. “Yes, I have wanted his forgiveness, although much less so since I have seen what he has done to you. But it was a different situation. He had reason to hate me.”

“For becoming an actress?” Elizabeth scoffed. “His fear of scandal never inspired him to stop my sisters from becoming hardened flirts and humiliating all of us.”

“Acting was the least of it,” her aunt said sadly. “I do not like to remember that time, but I think you should know the truth. You never knew our parents, your grandparents, but they were not kind people.”

“I know that. I have heard the rumors about ill-treated servants,” said Elizabeth.

“Servants could leave Longbourn if they were sufficiently ill-treated, but your father and I did not have that choice. I was six years older, and he was sickly and sensitive. I protected him as much as I could, taking beatings in his place, trying to give him the love he never got from our parents. I was more mother to him than our own mother ever was. And then I left, abandoned him to his fate, to what was no doubt worse mistreatment than ever. I felt terrible guilt over it, but what could I do? I was due to be married off in a matter of weeks, so I would not have been there to protect him anyway. But he was a child and he felt that I deserted him to terrible suffering. Yes, I would like his forgiveness, because I loved him dearly, but I also know that he is blaming me for the failures of our parents, not for what I did.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “That makes more sense. I wish neither of you had suffered so, but he should not blame you.” And her aunt was right. While she did not want to see her father suffer, she could not give up her own dreams to spare him the responsibility for his own foolishness.

“No, he should not. And he should have made his peace with me long since.”

It was an opening Elizabeth had been waiting for. “As you and Mr. Jack have done?”

Aunt Emmeline nodded vigorously. “Exactly.”

“He never told me of his connection to you, or that he had known you in Edinburgh. I learned of it from Nurse.”

“Ah, well, Jack has always been a strange one! But he is dear to me. Charlie always said Jack needed us to be his family, and he truly became a brother to me. Even when he had his own rooms in Old Town, he dined with us more often than not, and visited Timmy nearly every day. But when Charlie died, and then Imogen...” Her voice trailed away. “I am grateful to have him back, as difficult as he can be at times.”

“Timmy seemed very glad to see him.”

The older woman sighed. “Jack thinks Timmy should stay here when we return to Edinburgh. He says the city air is dangerous for consumptives, and I daresay he is right.”

“I imagine Timmy would not mind. He loves it here, though he will miss you very much.”

Aunt Emmeline shrugged. “He will miss you and Jasper more. Timmy was never particularly attached to me. He was always Jack’s boy more than ours. I have tried to do my best for him, but it has been hard when his presence is a constant reminder of Imogen’s absence.” She shook her head as if to clear it, and said in a stronger voice, “Come, Lizzy, you have a smudge of ash on your face. Let me wipe it off for you. The only question you need to decide now is whether you will come down for dinner. I would favor it for no other reason than poor Mr. Darcy will be frantic if you do not. And you need not worry about being pressured; I have told everyone, and particularly Darcy, that you are not to be troubled today with anything more serious than the weather and Walter Scott’s poetry.”

Elizabeth almost smiled. “Thank you, but even more than them, it is the servants I am afraid to face. They were so happy I was marrying Duncan MacLaren. They must be devastated now.”

“Do not fret. Duncan spoke to them before he left. He told them about the new mortgage, and that you have been threatened by an evil English aristocrat, and no one should blame you in any way.”

Now Elizabeth did smile, albeit ruefully. “An evil English aristocrat? They may even like me better for that. It makes me one of them. To think I once believed they would never have any sympathy for me!”

***

IN THE HOURS AFTER the solicitor left, Darcy painstakingly penned a letter. What if Elizabeth never forgave him for what she had suffered because of him? He intended to make certain Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock paid for this, but dreams of vengeance would not help Elizabeth. He needed to remain calm, and it was not easy, especially when he had no clue what Elizabeth might be feeling while she remained hidden in her room.

She finally reappeared just before dinner, quieter than usual and looking wan, but with no evidence of anger in her mien. Not that she had any particular reason to be angry with him; MacLaren had been the one to betray her secret, not Darcy, but he was still the source of her problems. But he could bear her anger if he must. As long as she did not think ill of him.

But she made a point of smiling at him, a weak smile that did not make her eyes light up, but definitely an effort at a smile. She was telling him something; he was certain of that. But it might simply be that she did not blame him for any of this.

Only time would tell. Patience was never one of his virtues, but Mrs. MacLean had made herself clear that his impatience could make Elizabeth push him away. Damn, he hated being patient! Would the letter he had written before dinner be too much pressure? She would not have seen it yet, of course, but he wanted to know her reaction.

Elizabeth chose to go in to dinner on Jasper’s arm, and sat between him and her aunt. No doubt the position in which she felt safest, but he wanted her to feel safe with him. But all he could do was to try to be a perfect gentleman in the meantime. At least it was easier since Richard and Jasper seemed to have declared a tacit truce since MacLaren’s revelations about their father, and were being carefully polite to each other. Darcy only hoped it would last when the ladies withdrew, given that MacLaren would not be there to enforce the peace between the Fitzwilliam brothers.

Jasper was certainly trying, working to keep to non-controversial subjects like Richard’s work at the War Office.

“It is better than being in the field under an incompetent officer, but I do not feel particularly useful,” said Richard. “If I must be in the Army, it could be much worse.”

“I never knew you did not want to be in the Army,” said Jasper. “I thought you loved having a commission.”

Richard choked on his port. “If you like mud and filth and living rough, killing people who are doing nothing more than trying to protect their own land, and following the orders of men who are barely capable of tying their own cravats, then the Army is fine. It was not bad when I was serving with Wellington, but for every Wellington, there are dozens of incompetents and thieves. I hate it. The only good thing about the Army is that it sent me to India. But then they sent me back here. Most of the officers would have killed to go back to England, so they sent back the only one who wanted to stay. Typical Army.”

“No, typical Father,” said Jasper cheerfully. “He pushed to have you sent back.”

Richard nearly dropped his glass. “What?”

“You did not know? He said something about having to call in favors to get you back.”

Richard’s hands tightened into fists. “Why? I was doing well in India. I loved it there.”

Jasper rubbed his eyes. “He was angry about something you had done there. Something about a woman. Someone inappropriate, I think. That is all I remember. I tried to stay far away from him when he was angry.”

Scowling, Richard jumped to his feet and strode to the window. He leaned one hand against the window frame and stared out into the dark, his glass of port seemingly forgotten in his other hand. He stood straining, like a race horse at the starting gate. “You should have told me.”

“I thought you knew. And you have always been the straight arrow who did what he wanted and protected the family name.” Jasper stretched out his legs and pulled them back in, a clear signal he was having trouble sitting still and trying to rein in his need to move.

Richard spun back to face Jasper. “I put in dozens of requests to return to India. Even tried to buy a commission in the regiment there, but that was blocked, too. Is he behind that?”

Jasper opened his palms. “I do not know. Probably. Unless there is some other reason the War Office wants you here.”

Richard exploded, “Damn him! I even asked him to help me get a transfer, and he said he had no sway at the War Office.”

“The Lord Chancellor has no sway at the War Office? Even I know that is rich,” said Jasper.

Abruptly Richard drained his port, drew back his arm, and hurled his wineglass at the hearth. It shattered explosively against the soot-stained stones. “Damn him to hell!” He sank into an armchair and buried his face in his hands.

The door cracked open to reveal Elizabeth. “Is something the matter?” she asked, her eyes on Jasper.

Jasper shook his head. “He is angry at our father, not me.”

Elizabeth’s tension seemed to ease. “Well, I cannot fault anyone for that. Pray forgive the interruption, gentlemen.”

“No, wait.” Richard raised his head, his expression tortured. He pulled out his watch, detached it from the fob, flipped open the back, and held it out to Elizabeth. “Do you remember when I showed you this?”

Elizabeth hesitantly took the watch and examined it in the light of candelabra. “Yes, at Hunsford. I remember that her name was as pretty as she is.”

“Sarojini. She is my wife,” Richard said heavily, as if the words were more than he could bear.

Jasper gaped. “You are married?” He jumped up to peer over Elizabeth’s shoulder at the portrait inside the watch cover.

“Not according to the church or English law, but by her religion. It was all that was allowed.”

“She has kind eyes,” Jasper said awkwardly.

“She is the soul of kindness.” Richard’s voice was barely audible. “I have not seen her for three years. My daughter does not remember me, and I have seen my son only in a portrait.”

Elizabeth said, her eyes wide, “I am so very sorry. I did not realize she was your wife.”

“I never told anyone here. No one understands. All I wanted was to get back to her. They said it would only be a year, and then two years, and now they say four years.”

Jasper said in a hushed voice, “Of course our father would think he had to stop it. Charles’s son is sickly, and Father would not tolerate a half-caste as a possible heir to Matlock.”

“That is why I did not tell him.”

Jasper shifted from foot to foot. “Darcy, long ago you offered to get me a position at the East India Company. Could you get one for Richard?”

Darcy tried to move his frozen mouth. He had known Richard had a girl with a child in India; he had even given him money to send for their upkeep, but Richard had never said anything about marriage. “I would be happy to. With his experience, they would be glad to have him even without my recommendation.”

“Not if it means angering my father,” said Richard grimly.

It was true. The East India Company would not go against the wishes of the Lord Chancellor without a very good reason. “Richard, if you wish it, I will provide an investment stake so you can start your own business in India.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shone with pride.

Richard passed his hand over his forehead. “I must think. The family name...”

“Take whatever time you like,” Darcy said. “The offer stands.”

Jasper said earnestly, “Do not make the same mistake I made, putting the family name before the one thing in life you need more than you need to breathe. Even if it means running away, you must be true to yourself.”

Richard stared at his brother as if he had never seen him before, and nodded abruptly. “I will. But there is something I can do first,” he said, his voice harsh. “Darcy, you cannot travel to confront my father. Will you trust me to work with your solicitor to put an end to his power over Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy said cautiously, “I do not wish to be the source of conflict between you and your father.”

“That no longer matters. He and I are finished, and by breaking his power over you, I strengthen my own position.” Richard wore his military officer expression. “He has played all of us against each other for years to maintain his own power. He cannot defeat us if we are united in rebellion.” His gaze took in both Jasper and Darcy.

Jasper nodded slowly. “Yes. He cannot hold against all of us.”

Elizabeth said softly, “I would be proud to have your support, Colonel. But before you leave, I hope you will find time to tell me more about your wife and children. They may be half a world away, but I would like to know who they are.”

Richard nodded jerkily, as if he did not trust his voice. He crossed to the sideboard and poured a new glass of port, the reflection of the candlelight trembling in the stream of wine. When he turned back to face them, his hand and his expression were steady. “Then let us discuss our strategy.”

***

THE GENTLEMEN MUST have had a great deal of strategy to discuss, for it was nearly an hour before they rejoined the ladies. Elizabeth, having left them just after Colonel Fitzwilliam’s revelations about his wife, had found it a difficult hour. Her aunt had immediately spotted that she was troubled on her return to the drawing room, but Elizabeth could only say that something had arisen that she did not feel at liberty to reveal. Her aunt had been eyeing her ever since, as well she might. It was one more shock on a day that had been far too full of them.

It was hardly surprising that Darcy, returning to the drawing room, looked as exhausted as she felt. After weeks as an invalid, the day must have been an impossible strain for him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s flushed face suggested he might have been medicating his distress with more port.

“I gather something has happened,” said Mrs. MacLean pointedly.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy, and then turned to his brother. “Jasper, will you explain it?” His voice was thick.

Jasper looked stunned at this request, shocked by the transition from disregarded and distrusted younger brother to spokesman. “Should I tell them all of it?”

The colonel nodded heavily, dropping into his favorite chair beside the enameled Indian chess set. He picked up the king figure, a rajah riding an elephant, and examined it moodily.

Jasper straightened into his King Henry posture. “We have a new plan. To avoid delay until Darcy can travel, Richard will accompany the solicitor to London and confront our father about his extortion in Darcy’s stead. Then he will sell his commission and return to India, which our father has tried to block, to his Indian wife and children there. The solicitor will make up a new will for me, leaving my estate to Richard’s son. When Richard says everything is ready, Darcy and I will both publicly acknowledge his family. If our father attacks Richard’s marriage, I will start acting under my real name – in London. Richard won’t tell anyone about my acting yet, just that I have a plan to humiliate the family if it becomes necessary.”

Mrs. MacLean said, “Why not start using your real name now?”

“I want to be an actor. I don’t want to be a sideshow, the earl’s son who acts,” said Jasper. “If it is needed as a weapon, I will do it, but I would rather remain Jasper Fitzpatrick.”

“A good plan,” Mrs. MacLean pronounced. Moving into hostess mode, she said, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I did not realize you had an Indian wife. Where is she from?”

“She lives near Burdwan,” said the colonel glumly. “Her father is a zamindar, a landholder. The local equivalent of a noble.”

“I know what a zamindar is,” said Aunt Emmeline sharply. “My late husband made his fortune in India.”

“Truly?” asked Jasper. “I had no idea! I thought you just liked Indian things.”

Mrs. MacLean patted his knee and laughed. “My love, we all know your world begins and ends on the stage of the Theatre Royal.”

The colonel asked, “Where was he stationed in India?”

A long discussion of India with a half-drunken colonel and an exhausted Darcy was more than Elizabeth could face, so she excused herself for the night, but she did not miss an intent, serious look from Darcy as she left.

In her room, she was relieved that Margaret seemed inclined to be quiet tonight, helping her undress and get ready for bed in near silence. When she was done, Elizabeth said, “Thank you, Margaret. That will be all for tonight.”

Margaret twisted her hands together. “There is one more thing, miss,” she said nervously.

“If this is a plea for me to reconsider marrying Duncan MacLaren, I do not wish to hear it!”

“No, miss. It is just that Mr. Darcy asked me to give ye a letter, and I dinna know whether you want it or if I should return it to him.”

She should have expected this, and not snapped at the poor girl. “A very proper question. I will take the letter.” It was not as if it could harm her reputation more than a broken engagement already would have.

Margaret held out the letter with a trembling hand. “I dinna understand what happened with your engagement, but it isna for me to question it.”

“I am sorry, Margaret. It has been a very difficult day, and I am short-tempered. You did nothing wrong.” It was all she could manage at this point. She took the letter, several pages by its thickness.

“Aye, miss. Thank ye, miss.” Still subdued, Margaret curtsied and left.

Elizabeth sat down on the bed, turning the sealed letter over in her hand, seeing her name written in the careful, close hand she remembered from her brief view of his letter after she had refused him in Kent. That letter had torn her life apart and changed everything. Would this letter do the same?

Her stomach seemed to have been invaded by butterflies. Nothing she had seen at dinner had indicated any loss of interest in her on Darcy’s part, so there was no doubt a proposal inside it, but what else was there? Anger over her failure to reveal her secrets to him?

Her sister Jane would tell her to wait until she was calmer to read it. Elizabeth had never been good at listening to Jane’s sensible advice, so she broke the seal and opened it.

My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,

Although you have never given me the right to address you so, it can come as no surprise to you that it is how I think of you, and a more formal opening would feel like an untruth between us. I pray you will forgive me the informality and understand it is the truth of my heart.

You can have no doubt about my reason for writing to you. I hesitate to count the number of times I have raised the subject of marriage to you, and it has become so fraught for both of us, thanks to the machinations of my family, that it seemed safer to approach you in writing this time. Too often I have unintentionally offended people through my poor choice of words in conversation; perhaps this will reduce that risk.

You can also have no doubt of my fervent desire to make you my wife. I would like to say more about the strength of my sentiments, but I fear this may not be the right time. These last days must have been very trying for you, and were the circumstances different, I would wish to give you more time to regain your equilibrium before pressing my suit. Indeed, it seems almost cruel, if not indecent, of me to add to your burdens by asking you for a decision now, but as Jasper has likely told you, time may be of the essence here.

It would be unfair of me not to admit that there are differing opinions on the ideal timing of a potential marriage between us. Mr. Hollings believes the longer we are married, the more difficult it will be for Lord Matlock to create mischief. My cousin Richard, looking at the question from a tactical military perspective, agrees it would improve our battle position. Jasper sees both sides of the question, something he has always had a gift for, wishing for delay out of concern for your feelings, yet fearing his father’s manipulations and subtle tricks. Your aunt believes there is no reason to hurry, and has warned me that pushing you on the question raises the risk that you may refuse me altogether, a thought which terrifies me to the bottom of my soul. But I have decided to trust in your justice, that you would not rush into a negative decision merely out of dislike of my timing. At least I hope and pray that is the case, as I will never forgive myself if it proves otherwise.

You will have noticed I have presented everyone’s opinion but my own, and that is because I do not trust my own motivations. My greatest wish is to make you happy and my hope is to do whatever is most likely to improve the chance of a favorable response to my suit from you, both things that incline me towards keeping my silence for now. I also appreciate the arguments from Hollings and Richard for a quick marriage being safer. Still, how can I trust my judgment on the matter? I am but a man, and one who is violently in love, and my purely selfish desire is to have you as my wife as soon as humanly possible. How can I trust my judgment of Hollings’s arguments when they appeal so strongly to my baser nature? If I tell you we should marry immediately, I cannot say if it is for a valid reason or because of my selfish desires, so I will not press you either way.

And so I turn that decision over to you. I will abide by whatever you say. If you do not wish to marry me, now or ever, one word from you on the subject will silence me forever. If you are open to hearing my suit at some point in the future, but not yet, I will honor that choice. Should you be prepared to offer me more than that – but no, I do not dare even hope for that.

I cannot end this without expressing my profound regret over the distress which my notice brought upon you. It was never my intention to cause you any pain, and it grieves me deeply to know that I did, however unwittingly. I do not know how you have managed to be so kind to me when I brought such misery to you. Such generosity in your soul cannot help but make me love you even more.

No matter your response, I can never regret knowing you. I am a better man for loving you.

There is much more I wish to tell you, but in the hope of setting this in your hand yet this evening, I will stop now.

Yours, more than my own,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Margaret returned about an hour later, long after Elizabeth had dried her tears and washed her face.

Elizabeth closed the novel she had been failing to distract herself with. “Yes, Margaret?” She hoped it was a simple household matter, because she doubted her ability to answer any question more significant than whether there should be bacon or ham at breakfast. She certainly had no idea what to do about Darcy or Lord Matlock.

Margaret curtsied. “Forgive me for troubling ye again, miss. That horrid Colonel Fitzwilliam is asking to speak to you. He reeks of whisky, and he will not accept a refusal from me. What should I do?”

Poor Colonel Fitzwilliam! Hearing about his wife in India had softened Elizabeth towards him, and it was hardly surprising that learning of his father’s interference might lead him to imbibe to excess. “No need to worry. I will go out and speak to him.”

“Thank you, miss.”

A distraction from her own thoughts would not go amiss, either. Elizabeth tightened the belt of her woolen dressing gown, threw a shawl over her shoulders, and stepped into the outer sitting room. Margaret trailed behind her as a chaperone.

The colonel’s hair was tousled and he wobbled a little as he bowed. “Thank you for speaking to me.”

“Of course. Was there something you wish to ask me?”

“Not ask you. Tell you.” He blinked owlishly at her. “Forgive me. I am not quite sober. But if you love Darcy, you should marry him. Right now. Not because of my father, but because life is too short. Every moment together that you sacrifice for propriety or appearances or family name or what have you is one moment you will regret losing someday. Do not do it. Love’s the most important thing, don’t you know? Do not waste it.” He staggered, catching himself by grabbing the back of a chair. “Damn, I am as drunk as David’s sow. Four sheets to the wind.”

With a warm smile, Elizabeth held out her hand to him. “I thank you for your sage advice, Colonel. And I hope that when I am married to Mr. Darcy, you will permit me to write to your wife. I want her to know there is someone in your family who would welcome her acquaintance.”

To her astonishment, his eyes grew shiny. “She thinks I am never going back,” he said thickly. “Lots of Englishmen do that, abandon their Indian wives. She has never said so in her letters, but I know she is thinking it.” He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.

“Then she will have a very joyful surprise when you arrive at her door and tell her you will never leave her again,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Now go to bed, Colonel, and we will speak more in the morning.”

He bowed over her hand, bade her good night, and shuffled from the room.

She watched after him, shocked at herself. How had that happened? Without planning it, she had told him she was marrying Darcy. Apparently, sometime while her thoughts were still wavering, her heart must have made up its mind.

She would marry Darcy. Well.

A dreamy smile slipped across her face as she returned to her bedroom.

Chapter 18

DARCY DRANK IN THE sight of Elizabeth, who came to breakfast in a dress he had not seen before, a confection of rose muslin enlivened with colorful embroidery of spring flowers. It was more elegant than what she wore most days. Dare he hope it was for his sake?

She gave him a shy smile before filling her plate and then, miracle of miracles, coming to sit beside him. Warmth flooded him. It was true, then. She would have sat elsewhere otherwise.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” He tried to imbue the everyday words with all the love he felt for her. “You look lovely, a much-needed breath of spring this morning.”

“Thank you. There must be some spring magic in the air today. I had anticipated being greeted by grieving, miserable servants and finding you wearing your most difficult, proper expression to guard yourself from potential ill tidings, but instead everyone seems ready for celebration.” The teasing twinkle in her eyes, though, suggested this was not a mystery to her. “Dare I suppose the good colonel put a word in your ear?”

“Richard? I have not seen him this morning. But the maid who was polishing the upstairs floors and the footman who was shadowing Richard lest he fall down the stairs in a drunken stupor seem to have told everyone what you said. As for your servants, your steward has been holding forth to anyone who will listen about my suggestions for investing in the estate, and Jasper has been spreading the word that I am a generous landlord, so the servants are almost reconciled to the idea that you might choose me instead of MacLaren.” The number of shillings he had handed out to those servants brave enough to offer him their congratulations had not hurt, either, but it was a good investment in staff morale. “As for me, it taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself to hope before.”

She glanced around at the number of people in the room, all of whom seemed to be doing their utmost to look as if they were not listening eagerly. “Well, I do not think I have the heart to disappoint the servants two days in a row,” she said lightly. “So I suppose you may hope.”

His heart began to pound, filled to bursting with unreasoning joy. Elizabeth would be his! His hand, seemingly of its own volition, reached under the table to grasp hers, and she allowed him to intertwine his fingers with hers. Oh, heaven!

Now everyone was smiling at them, and he did not even care.

“There are a few details I would like to discuss in private,” she said softly. “Perhaps with no more than a few servants listening in.”

“Good luck!” said Mrs. MacLean with a broad smile. “The staff seem to feel every inch of this house needs to be cleaned and polished today. Especially those parts of the house nearest you.”

The two footmen standing by the side table exchanged guilty grins. Such behavior would never be tolerated at Pemberley or Darcy House, but today it seemed oddly endearing. Then again, nothing could cloud his joy today.

***

“I HAD BEST SIT HERE,” said Elizabeth, choosing a chair several feet from him. “I do want to discuss certain details, and if I am closer, I suspect my mind will not be on our conversation.”

Darcy gave serious thought to trying to dissuade her, but she was right. If she were within arm’s reach, words would be the furthest thing from his mind, and he might need his wits about him for this discussion. “Very well.” He hoped it would not be a long conversation.

“I realized last night that my one remaining qualm about marrying you has to do with my aunt. I worry I will never see her. Pemberley is four days’ travel from Edinburgh; London is a week at best; and she cannot leave Edinburgh for long because of the theatre.”

“You will miss her a great deal,” Darcy said softly. Of course that would be a concern for her.

“Before I met her, I never knew what it would be like to have a loving mother. I was always my mother’s least favorite, and she was happy to announce my faults to all and sundry. Even my father called all of us silly. I thought I did not mind until my aunt showed me what I was missing. I may have known her less than a year, but I have been longing for someone like her all my life.” She seemed to collect herself suddenly. “I would like to be able to visit her in Edinburgh from time to time.”

“If visiting Edinburgh is important to you, we will do it. In general, I spend part of the year at Pemberley and part in London, but I would not object to less time in London. In fact, it might make sense.”

She looked dubious. “How would it make sense?”

“Apart from avoiding my aunt and uncle? Purely as a financial matter. Keeping Darcy House open is expensive, and in the last day I have agreed to several very large expenditures – MacLaren’s mortgages and starting a business in India for Richard among them, and I would like to make some investments in the estate here if your aunt permits it. I also have the expense of Georgiana’s first season coming up in two years. There is enough money for all of it, but shuttering Darcy House until Georgiana’s first season would make it easier.”

“I did wonder when you made those offers! Ten thousand pounds a year sounds like an unimaginable fortune, but even that must have its limits. It was very generous of you.”

“It was the right thing to do. I spent the last week detesting MacLaren with every ounce of strength I possessed, but I truly admired what he did on your behalf. Few men I know would have done the same.”

Her smile showered him with warmth. “I am very glad you offered it, not least because otherwise I might have felt obliged to marry him anyway. I disliked this place when I first arrived, but I have developed a certain affection for the people here, and I would hate to see them suffer.”

His heart skipped a beat. Thank God he had made that offer!

“I was proud of you for offering to help your cousin start a business in India, and it did acquit you of any selfish interest regarding my inheritance.” Her eyes sparkled at him.

“Your inheritance?” He had no idea what she was talking about, but as long as she kept smiling at him, he was happy.

She picked up a small carving of an Indian elephant from the table beside her. “My late uncle’s business, which now belongs to Aunt Emmeline, is in Indian fabrics and objets d’art. It has been quite successful. They are always looking for representatives in India.”

He blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to him to wonder what her uncle’s business had been. “Oh. I have been rather single-minded, have I not?”

“Charmingly so. My aunt met her husband just after he first returned to England from India. He landed in London and decided to enjoy a visit there before returning to Scotland. Naturally, he went to the theatre, saw my aunt perform, and fell in love. It is a delightful story as she tells it.”

“I hope I will hear it one day.” He paused before plunging ahead. “Would a long visit to Edinburgh once a year be satisfactory? And naturally your aunt would always be welcome at Pemberley.”

“Thank you. That is very generous of you.”

She sounded so earnest that he could not help laughing. “Elizabeth, has it not yet occurred to you that I would agree to circumnavigate the globe if it would make you happy? I hope you will always tell me what you wish for, so I may have the pleasure of granting it.”

“You are the most generous of souls! And your letter touched me very much in how you tried to leave decisions to me. I know that is a struggle for you.” But her eyes were sparkling and her voice teased him.

“I do not deny that you may have to hold me in check on occasion,” he said humbly. “Are there other matters you wish to discuss?”

Elizabeth said hesitantly, “There is one thing I worry about. I do not know how well I will be able to step back into the role of a proper lady after all these months among theatricals. I will try, but it will feel artificial. I fear I may appear to be overly outspoken and heedless of propriety.”

“That does not trouble me. There will be times when we both will have to put on our proper manners, but they will not be frequent.” It might have worried the man he had been when they had first met, but not now. “But I do await with some trepidation your views on the timing of the wedding you have not yet agreed to have.”

That made her laugh, as he had hoped. Even better, she came to stand beside his Bath chair and took his hand, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, I will marry you,” she said softly.

Something indescribable rushed through him, relief, pleasure, triumph, and gratitude all mixed together with something that felt like silvery sparks of joy. “Thank you,” he breathed, though words were beyond inadequate. She was going to be his wife! He turned his head to brush his lips against the soft skin of her hand, breathing in her scent of lavender and soap. Elizabeth was his at last.

She caught her breath. That tiny sound unleashed a flood of need inside him, and instinct took over.

He tugged at her hand, caught her around the waist, and toppled her onto his lap. The Bath chair rocked back and forth precariously, but he did not care, not when her lithe, warm body was pressed on his thighs, and his arm encircled her. Yes, this was how it should be.

She stiffened and cried, “Oh! Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he murmured. The knife that stabbed at his ribs did not count. It was an infinitesimal price to pay to hold Elizabeth in his arms at last. And she had not objected apart from worrying that he might be hurt.

With his forefinger he gently turned her chin towards him. Out of some miraculous hidden reserve, he found the self-control to lower his mouth to hers slowly, giving her time to protest. He willed her not to make that protest.

Instead, her lips parted slightly, and she leaned forward to meet him.

God in heaven!

He brushed his lips up against the warm silk of hers, once, twice, and again, her breath mingling with his. When she did not draw back, he let his tongue tease her lips farther apart. Slowly. He had to go slowly. Elizabeth was an innocent, and he could easily frighten her by demanding too much too quickly. Just a quick taste of her and... But there was the sweetness of her tongue reaching out and meeting his, sending a powerful surge of desire straight to his loins.

Her tongue fenced with his as he explored her mouth. Good Lord, she might be an innocent but she clearly learned quickly! And he could feel her arch against him, the passion he had always sensed in her coming to life. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, closer to her, and closer to losing his mind. But the taste of her!

He had to slow this down, or he would lose control completely. Somehow he tore his mouth from hers and began to tease her face with kisses, his hands stroking the side of her neck. He let his lips follow his fingers, and Elizabeth moaned, tilting her head to allow him greater access. Over her pulse, down to where her neck met her shoulder, along her collarbone to the sensitive notch in the middle, and the sheer satisfaction of feeling her arch even further as he let his tongue play there.

She intoxicated him, and he ached with the need to make her his. Her response, so much like his dreams, and the round curve of her bottom pressing against him, sent desires spinning through him. His lips traveled lower, towards the promised land of her neckline, over the swell of her flesh. Her little whimpers drove him on.

He could not get enough of her. He needed more, needed to possess her. Later, later. For now he reclaimed her mouth, drowning in the passion of her, as his hand explored the virgin territory of her calf—

“Good God!” Mrs. Graham cried. “I thought my duties were ended when your aunt arrived.”

Elizabeth leaped off his lap, making the Bath chair rock furiously. “Forgive us,” she said. “We have just become engaged.”

“Well and good, but ye were engaged to another man yesterday,” grumbled Mrs. Graham. “Ye need to set a better example than that, lass.”

Elizabeth hung her head. “You are correct.” But there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

Mrs. Graham snorted. “Somehow I doubt ye were the one to start it. As for you, Mr. Darcy, I expect no apology, because I doubt ye have a single regret.”

Darcy managed to rein himself in from the wild current of desire still pulsing through him, but his happiness could not be suppressed even by a well-deserved scolding. “Not true. I regret being caught.”

Mrs. Graham gave a reluctant laugh. “Men! This is why I needed a holiday from my sons. And I do not trust either of ye, so I am going to sit in that corner.”

“Quite right,” said Elizabeth. “And I know you must be disappointed that I am not marrying your nephew. He is a good man, and he deserves a better wife than I could be to him.”

The older woman sniffed as she sat down and ostentatiously opened her book.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Let me see. Where were we? Oh, yes. Have you an opinion on the timing of the wedding?”

Elizabeth’s eyes were still dark with desire, but she sat in a chair a proper distance from him before looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I have dithered for hours over the advantages and disadvantages either way. This morning my maid Margaret gave me some very practical advice. She said that when I look back on this ten years from now, the timing will make no difference to me. There is no correct answer as to when to marry, only that we should do it. So if marrying soon will provide an advantage to the case against Lord Matlock, let us do it.”

“You will hear no complaints from me,” Darcy’s voice was almost a growl. “But I wish to leave no legal questions about our marriage. That means a signed settlement, a clergyman to perform the wedding, and witnesses. Specifically, my uncle would find it embarrassing to challenge the legality of a wedding witnessed by Richard. If we are to allow time to get Hollings back from Glasgow to do the settlements, we are looking at perhaps three or four days.”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow with a teasing glint in her eye. “Three or four days should be more than adequate for my preparations. But perhaps now we can have a little of the peace and quiet I am told is customary here in the winter. When I came here, my aunt told me I would be all alone because no one ever goes to the Highlands in winter. No one except you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, your sister, my aunt, Mr. Fitzpatrick, and Mrs. Graham, who was, to be fair, almost here already. A few days of quiet would not go amiss!”

***

THE NEXT DAY STARTED quietly enough. Darcy spent the morning meeting with Duncan MacLaren and the Kinloch House steward drawing up plans for the MacLaren lands. Now that MacLaren was no longer engaged to Elizabeth, Darcy could bring himself to allow that he was a sensible, decent fellow with a good head on his shoulders. A definite improvement from fantasies of the most expedient ways to kill him.

Afterwards they adjourned to the drawing room. There was no sign of Elizabeth or Jasper, who were no doubt off running lines. Mrs. MacLean, whom he was now supposed to call Aunt Emmeline, was reading while Georgiana practiced the harp under Mrs. Graham’s direction. When Darcy complimented her playing, she blushed and said, “It is only a simple piece, and having played a big harp helps.”

“Aye, but ye are making remarkable progress,” agreed Mrs. Graham.

“’Tis true,” said MacLaren. “And I do not say that only because it warms my heart to hear an English lass playing, ‘My Heart’s in the Highlands.’”

“Even if it was written by a Lowlander,” Mrs. Graham said with a sniff.

“Och, at least Robert Burns had the decency to fall in love with a Highland lass,” said MacLaren. “Miss Darcy, I made that list I promised you of local sights to visit. A few of them will not be accessible until spring, but you should still find plenty to interest you.” He handed a folded sheet of paper to Darcy. Another mark in his favor; he knew enough not to give it directly to Georgiana.

Georgiana’s eyes lit up. “I thank you. I hope we will still have the opportunity to visit Loch Katrine. I long to see it.”

“I would be happy to accompany a party there,” said MacLaren. “’Tis a lovely sight, Loch Katrine, even in winter. Perhaps we could go on the next fine day.”

The butler entered and offered Darcy a silver salver. “A gentleman to see you, sir.” His manner had become noticeably more formal since Darcy’s engagement to Elizabeth.

Surely Hollings could not have returned this quickly. Darcy took the card and read it, his eyebrows shooting up. “Are you certain he is here to see me?”

“He asked for you, sir.”

“Well, bring him in, and ask Miss Elizabeth to join us immediately. Pray tell her nothing is wrong, but that I must speak to her instantly.”

“Yes, sir.” The butler bowed and left, returning a moment later to announce Mr. Gardiner.

“Mr. Gardiner! This is indeed a pleasure.” Darcy held out his hand. “Forgive me for failing to rise. An injured leg, I fear.”

“I am glad to find you here. Your friend Ramsay was afraid he was sending me on a wild goose chase, and that you had mysteriously disappeared into the Highlands.”

“I must write him a letter.” Darcy had started one days ago, but had been too out of spirits to finish it. “I cannot imagine what on earth brings you here, but there is someone who will be very happy to see you.”

“Uncle!” shrieked Elizabeth from the doorway. She cast herself into Mr. Gardiner’s arms and burst into tears.

Mr. Gardiner held her and patted her back. “Lizzy, my girl! I hoped you would be here.”

Elizabeth finally pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I am so happy to see you! I cannot believe you came all this way!”

“I am a bit shocked myself,” Mr. Gardiner said. “But it is worth it all to see you again. I have missed you.”

“Do not say that or I will start to cry again! Mr. Darcy told me he wrote to you, but did not mention you might be coming.”

“He did not know. I only decided it after his last letter where he said you would not talk to him. My wife suggested you might be more willing to speak to me, now that Darcy had done all the hard work of finding you. But it appears that Darcy managed to catch up with you.”

“You might say so! But come, there is someone you must meet.” She took his hand and led him to Mrs. MacLean. “Aunt, may I introduce you to Mr. Gardiner, my mother’s brother, who has traveled here from London? Uncle, Mrs. MacLean is my father’s theoretically late sister.”

Mr. Gardiner bowed over Mrs. MacLean’s hand. “It is an honor, madam, and I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking such good care of Lizzy.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance. It has been my pleasure to have her companionship,” said Mrs. MacLean. “I hope you will stay with us here. We have a very special event happening in a few days which we would be delighted to have you attend.” She cast a significant look at Darcy.

“Yes, yes!” cried Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy and I are to be married, and I dearly hope you can remain here long enough to give me to him. Oh, I cannot tell you what that would mean to me!” Tears started to flow down Elizabeth’s cheeks again, but her eyes were bright.

“Wait, what is this?” Mr. Gardiner looked from Elizabeth to Darcy and back in confusion.

“Yes,” Darcy said proudly. “We just decided it yesterday, and with typical Scottish haste, intend to be wed as soon as the settlement papers are signed.”

“Well, my congratulations! That is marvelous news. Let me tell you, Lizzy, that in the little time my wife and I had to get to know your young man here, we were quite taken with him, not least because of his devotion to you. And I would be honored to give you away at your wedding. I cannot wait to tell your aunt with the news.”

“We may need to ask you to wait on that,” said Darcy. “We do not wish for it to be public knowledge yet.”

Mr. Gardiner straightened, a line forming between his eyebrows. “A secret marriage? I hope you have a good reason for it, for I do not like the sound of that.”

“We do have a good reason.” The joy had drained from Elizabeth’s face. “And you may not wish to participate in our wedding once you know the full story.”

Darcy said quickly, “My family opposes the marriage. They told Elizabeth that if she did not stay away from me, they would have her father arrested for sedition. That is why she disappeared.”

Mr. Gardiner’s jaw dropped, his expression thunderous. “That was why you left? That fool! I told him time and again not to take such stupid risks, and that he should keep his mouth shut or it would get him in trouble someday. No wonder he did not want me to know what happened to you!”

“You tried to stop him?” Elizabeth looked stunned.

“Of course! I even told him I was tired of him endangering me for his own amusement, and he stopped doing it in front of me. Foolish, foolish man!” He stopped and gave Darcy a serious look. “This does not make me think any too well of your family, either.”

“Neither do I,” said Darcy wearily. “But it is only two of them who object. My cousins and my sister approve of the match, and theirs are the opinions that matter to me.”

“But it is still true I am endangering my father by marrying Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “We have a solicitor working to protect him, but there is no guarantee. I will not blame you if you disapprove of my decision.” She bit her lip.

Mr. Gardiner furrowed his brow. “I do not know enough yet to judge, but I trust your judgment and good sense, Lizzy. I daresay Mr. Darcy has considered this carefully as well. But before all that, I want more than anything to hear what has been happening to you all this time.”

With some help from her aunt, Elizabeth related the story of her life in Edinburgh and her stay in the Highlands. When she finished, Mr. Gardiner said, “There is one thing I still do not understand. I see why you felt you had to go away, but why did you cut off all contact? You could have simply told us not to give your address to anyone under any circumstances.”

Elizabeth looked away. “That was my father’s decision,” she said quietly. “When I first heard the terms of the contract, I was furious, but it never occurred to me I would have to cut off everyone. I thought it would be enough to live in Scotland with my aunt for a few years, at least until Darcy married someone else, and that I could write letters to all of you, and perhaps my sisters might even visit. I thought my father might not take the threat seriously, and was prepared to insist I had to leave. But I was wrong. I have never seen him so shaken. It was as if I had handed him his death warrant. He said I could not return while he was alive, even if Darcy married, and that all contact must be severed. He would take no chances. I thought he would soften with time, and that he would write to me himself, but he never responded to the letters I sent him.” Her voice shook. “He made me vanish without a trace.”

“Not without a trace,” said Mr. Gardiner somberly. “Your disappearance changed everything. Not immediately, because at first we thought it was one of his games, but once it was clear he was serious, the family has never been the same. Even your sister Jane has been angry at him. We were not invited for Christmas or even for Jane’s wedding. Your father has become a virtual recluse. Thank God for Darcy! I cannot tell you how relieved we were to hear he had found you.”

Elizabeth gave Darcy an expressive look. “You were right to tell them,” she said softly.

***

THE NEXT DAY PROVED to be sunny and remarkably spring-like. Duncan MacLaren appeared at Kinloch House an hour after first light, proposing a trip to Loch Katrine. The words had barely left his mouth when Georgiana announced her willingness, with Jasper and Richard not far behind her. Mr. Gardiner, despite his recent travels, said he could not miss this opportunity.

Darcy’s happy vision of a quiet day alone with Elizabeth evaporated, though, when no sooner had the Loch Katrine party left than the solicitor arrived. After several hours of close work on the marriage settlements, the mortgage, and the details of approaching Lord Matlock, his head was pounding again. The concussion might be rearing its ugly head less often, but it was still there.

An hour’s rest settled his head enough that he could join Elizabeth and her aunt, but then the Loch Katrine travelers returned, full of excitement and stories. When the chatter began to make Darcy’s head throb, he retreated to the blessed peace of the study. He would hear their tales when they could tell them one at a time. Quietly.

Georgiana stuck her head in the door. “Oh, there you are. May I speak to you?”

“Of course.” Darcy set aside the book he had been contemplating reading. This would be a good opportunity to tell Georgiana a few things that had been on his mind. “I have been hoping for the chance to tell you how pleased I am with the changes I have seen in you. You are speaking more freely, and I have been glad to see you interacting with strangers. It will make your Season much more pleasant.”

Georgiana chewed her lip. “Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” She averted her face and said in a rush, “I do not want to have a Season.”

Not want to have a Season? He blinked at her in shock. It did not matter if she wanted it. He had not wanted to go to Eton. He did not want to go to any of the formal dinners he was invited to. He hated balls, but he went anyway. These things were duties, not pleasures, and she needed to understand that. But he could not say so.

He pressed the side of his fist against his mouth before the sharp retort could escape. All it would accomplish would be to send Georgiana scurrying off to hide and not say a word for days. But what could he say when the answer was so obvious? A Darcy was expected to go through these rites of passage.

Outside, above the frost in the windows, he could see Elizabeth and MacLaren walking together, clearly in some sort of conference. He felt a burst of jealousy, and then reminded himself he had no cause. Elizabeth was engaged to him now. What would she think he should tell Georgiana?

Elizabeth had not seemed to suffer for never having a Season, but then again, her absence from the London world did not excite any rumors. If Georgiana were not presented to society, questions would be asked and the ton would be abuzz with rumors about what was wrong with the Darcy chit that she had to be kept in hiding. The very thought made his teeth clench.

He still needed to say something. After carefully composing the sentence in his head, he said, “I would like to hear your reasons and what you think should happen instead.” That had sounded calm, had it not?

Georgiana burst into tears.

Devil take it! What had he done wrong? He would never understand her, no matter how hard he tried.

His sister mopped her face with her handkerchief. “I am sorry. I was so certain you would scold me.”

But why had that made her cry? Should she not be happy to avoid a scolding? Perhaps he would do better to say nothing at all.

She dragged a stool in front of him and perched on it. “I hate everything about the idea of the Season. I hate parties and balls, anywhere there are so many people, and all of them watching me to see if I do anything wrong. I hate the idea of dressing in finery to put myself on display like a doll for a potential husband who will not have the least notion of who I truly am. Any man I met there would expect me to go to more balls and soirées after we were married, because that is the only kind of man there. I would be miserable as a society hostess.”

“I see,” he said cautiously. “You hate balls and do not want to meet the sort of gentleman who attends them.” Ignoring, of course, that he attended some of the same balls, even though they were a sore trial to him.

“Exactly! That is not the life I want.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

This was easier. “What, then, is the life you want?”

She held her hands out in front of her. “Something like this, I suppose. To live in the countryside on an estate, to help people, like Duncan is always doing. To stay far away from cities and balls.”

“Duncan?”

She blushed. “Mr. MacLaren, I mean. It is so confusing when everyone has the same last name. I wish I had a clan, though. People who would accept me as I am and not try to find fault.”

Darcy suspected that was a strongly romanticized notion of clan life. “I have no objection to you choosing a life in the country, but I worry about the gossip if you are not presented, especially since my marriage will already have caused some scandal, as will my rift with Lord Matlock.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know,” she said hopelessly.

Surely there must be some way to satisfy everyone. “I would like to propose a compromise. If you will agree to have a come-out ball and to make your curtsey to the Queen, then you need not attend any other social events and may return to Pemberley if you choose. I know you would hate the ball, but do you think you could tolerate one in exchange for freedom from the marriage mart?”

“Oh, yes! If it is only one ball and the Queen’s Drawing Room, not year after year of soirées and balls, that would...” She gulped hard, as if trying to keep back tears. “That would be such a relief. Thank you. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Do not thank me too soon! We still have to convince Richard, since he is also your guardian.”

“I know he will listen to you.” She stood up and twirled around. “This is so marvelous!” Then her face turned grave. “That is why I agreed to elope with George Wickham, you know – so I would not have to have a Season.”

That was why? Good Lord. “Perhaps next time you could just talk to me rather than taking such drastic action.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I will, I promise. I am so glad we talked today.”

He caught her hand. “I am glad you are brave enough.”

She blushed. “That was because of Duncan – Mr. MacLaren, that is. I was telling him all about it, and he said I had to talk to you instead, and when I said I was too afraid, he said he was of the impression that you were a reasonable man and not a tyrant, even after you had a knock on the head. I realized he was right.”

Why did everyone confide in MacLaren? First Elizabeth, and now Georgiana. At least he had merited some praise from Saint Duncan MacLaren. To lighten the moment, he teased, “Well, do not set your heart on him. You are too young to be thinking about marriage.”

She giggled. “He said that, too.”

Startled, Darcy exclaimed, “You were speaking to him of marriage?”

“Oh, no, of course not! It was only a joke. When I said I wished I could live in a castle.”

More likely MacLaren had noticed her attachment to him and was making certain that it went no further. But did the damned man have to be so noble all the time?

***

THE NEXT MORNING THEY were all settled in the drawing room when Mr. Gardiner said to Aunt Emmeline, “I asked MacLaren the Younger if he would call here today to discuss a business proposition. I hope you do not mind.”

“Of course not,” said Aunt Emmeline. “What sort of business proposition, if I may ask?”

“I want to publish a guidebook for travelers who wish to visit this area,” he said. “My excuse to come to Scotland was to find a writer for such a book in Edinburgh, but instead I find myself in the heart of The Lady of the Lake country. When Mrs. Graham told me her husband was an innkeeper, we put our heads together and came up with some ideas that could benefit the entire area. I mentioned it to MacLaren yesterday, and he was quite interested.”

Mrs. Graham nodded enthusiastically. “We have already taken a few tourists to the castle and to Loch Katrine. If more visitors come, we could hire clansmen to be tour guides, since nae one knows the area better.

“Travelers would pay a pretty penny to be rowed over to a castle on an island,” agreed Mr. Gardiner. “It could provide employment and help the estate financially.”

The butler threw open the doors to the drawing room. “The MacLaren and Young MacLaren.”

The laird wore formal Highland dress, kilt and all. His grey hair was tied back in a neat queue, and he leaned heavily on a carved cane. This time Duncan MacLaren was similarly attired. Elizabeth half-expected them to be followed by a bagpiper, but she could not deny they had a certain presence.

Beside her Georgiana drew in a long breath, her eyes shining.

Mrs. Graham rubbed her hands together. “Och, so it is a formal visit, is it? Good to see ye are improved, brother.”

He glared at her. “’Tis a fine day, and this is clan business.”

She laughed. “Och, then, fetch the whisky and let us get started.”

Elizabeth watched with bemusement as the Scotswoman organized the discussion. Mr. Gardiner showed a guide to the Lake District his company had published and offered it to the chieftain. “It would be similar in nature to this.”

The laird paged through the book. “What would this guide do, apart from make money for you?”

Mr. Gardiner seemed completely untroubled by his reaction. “It would direct travelers to sites of interest, particular inns, and services such as tour guides, bringing business to the area and providing employment for your clansmen, and it would tell the story of this region.”

Mrs. Graham added, “You could charge the English to tour the castle, and use the fees to rebuild the wing that was destroyed.”

“Och, ’tis a long journey from London,” said Duncan MacLaren dubiously. “Would they truly come just because of Scott’s book?”

Mr. Gardiner nodded. “I cannot overstate how popular that book is. It has only been out for two years, but it has already sold more copies than any other book of poetry. Why, there were eight editions published in 1810 alone! Everyone is quoting The Lady of the Lake and talking about the romantic Highlands. Yes, they will come, as soon as they know where to stay. That is where this book comes in.”

Elizabeth said wryly, “Surely it is an improvement to have the Highlands called romantic rather than savage. And would it not be pleasant to have the English give you money legally?”

“Very pleasant,” said MacLaren the Younger.

The chieftain leaned forward. “What would you need us to do to make this guide a reality?”

“I need descriptions of places to see, especially anything connected to The Lady of the Lake. Vistas are always popular. Some history of the area, and stories of the people who live here. The writing need not be fancy; my writers in London will edit it. Perhaps some quotes from the MacLaren,” said Mr. Gardiner with a nod to the chieftain. “I will need to send an artist here to make engravings of the area. That will take time.”

Aunt Emmeline pronounced, “There is one other thing you need.”

“What would that be, madam?” asked Mr. Gardiner with an expression of polite interest.

“Someone who is a friend of Walter Scott who could ask him to write the preface,” she said smugly.

Mr. Gardiner’s eyebrows rose. “Are you such a friend?”

“I am. He is a great patron of our theatre.”

Mr. Gardiner beamed. “That, madam, would be enough to guarantee the success of our travel guide against any other.”

Georgiana timidly approached Mr. Gardiner carrying a sheaf of papers. “These are not very good, but if they could be of use to your artist, I would gladly spare them in order to help the people here.”

Mr. Gardiner examined her first few sketches and showed them to Mrs. Graham. “Are these recognizable?” he asked her quietly.

“Aye, easily. They are very fine, lass,” said Mrs. Graham.

Mr. Gardiner tapped his fingertips on the table. “You have an excellent sense for the picturesque, Miss Darcy. May I take some time to consider this? Your illustrations might allow us to put out a pamphlet about this particular area quickly while we are working on a larger book to include more of the Highlands, but I must consider whether that would be the wisest course.”

The MacLaren’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis clear why it would be in our best interest for you to feature our land in your guide, but I dinna trust a man when I dinna know what he has to gain from it.”

Mr. Gardiner raised his eyebrows. “Why, a better book which will interest more people and sell more copies. Any publisher can hire a writer to describe an area, as I had intended to do originally. But you can tell of your legends, the history of the land, and all the details that will make this place come alive to the readers and give them a greater understanding of this part of the Highlands. The book will be a practical guide for travelers, but it will also be read by many people who will never be able to make the journey. They want to know more than how wide Loch Katrine is and how tall each mountain is. They want us to make the land come alive for them, as Walter Scott made the story of The Lady of the Lake come alive. If you tell us what your castle means to you, then we can make it mean something to them. Those who travel here will come already enamored of Clan MacLaren, eager to connect to your history.”

“That is fair,” the MacLaren said grudgingly. He picked up the guide to the Lakes and began to look at it in more detail. “I will want to read this to see what your work is like.”

“I pray you to do so,” said Mr. Gardiner.

Duncan MacLaren said, “I will start on a more complete list of what people might like to see in the area, but before we conclude for today, I have a favor to ask of Miss Darcy. I think my father would greatly enjoy hearing you sing ‘My Heart’s in the Highlands.’ Would you be generous enough to perform it for us?”

Georgiana blushed. “Will you sing it with me?” she asked shyly.

He smiled at her. “If you wish, though he has heard me many times.”

Mrs. Graham picked up her harp. “Shall I play for ye?”

“Oh, yes, if you please,” said Georgiana.

Although visibly nervous, the girl gave a creditable performance, and it seemed to soften the heart of the gruff chieftain, since he gave her warm praise afterwards that made her eyes glow. But then Elizabeth saw Darcy, looking somber, gesture to a footman who wheeled him out of the room. Was he in pain? The footman turned the chair to the right, rather than going straight ahead towards Darcy’s room, so presumably that was not it.

Could he have been offended by the discussion? It was a reminder that her uncle was in trade, and not only that, he had dared to involve Darcy’s sister in it. Everyone else had been made so happy by Mr. Gardiner’s proposal, everyone except Darcy.

The wisest thing would be to say nothing. Perhaps Darcy would realize for himself that he had always known Mr. Gardiner was in trade. But what if it now seemed too much to him, an actress aunt and a tradesman uncle in addition to the trouble she had brought to his family? Her throat tightened at the thought. Unable to bear the idea, she slipped quietly from the room.

She found him in the study, his chair set before the empty desk, his head resting on his hand.

“What is the matter?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

He straightened. “Nothing.”

“Do you know how annoying it is when you say nothing is wrong when something obviously is? If you do not wish for your sister’s sketches to be used in the guidebook, you need only say so.”

“I do not mind her drawings being used,” he said tiredly.

“Or is it the reminder of my family’s connection to trade that you dislike?”

He shot her a disbelieving look before lowering his head onto his hand again. “No. If you must know, I am worried about Georgiana, but it has nothing to do with your uncle’s book. If anything, that may be a good distraction for her.”

“Oh.” How embarrassing. She had jumped to the wrong conclusion again. She sat down beside the desk and said in a more conciliatory tone, “Is your concern for her something you might wish to share with me?”

He rubbed his temple. “It is nothing you or anyone is likely to be able to help with. She has grown too attached to this place, and from experience, I know she will have a very difficult time when we leave. I fear she will go into a decline. It has happened before.”

Elizabeth eyed him. Did he realize it was more than just the Highlands that had won his sister’s heart? “Even though she has only been here a little more than a fortnight?”

“It does not matter. When Georgiana falls in love with something, it is immediate and she does not recover quickly. If she recovers at all. It happens rarely, and it has never been something unobtainable before. She will be miserable for months, if not years.”

“Truly? I am surprised. I would not have thought her prone to being demanding.”

Darcy closed his eyes. “She is not at all demanding. That is the problem. She will not complain or create a fuss. She will simply grieve quietly, pick at her food, and become hopelessly sad.”

“And you are certain she will have such trouble leaving the Highlands?” It seemed such an extreme reaction.

“I cannot be certain, but I recognize the signs. Seeing her pleasure in there – you do not know how unusual that is for her. She is already crying herself to sleep over the prospect of having to leave. She feels things deeply, and her few attachments are very strong.”

Elizabeth somehow managed to stop herself from asking whether quick attachments and unswerving loyalty were family traits. “That sounds like a difficult situation.”

He sighed. “There is no easy answer. I have already agreed to bring her back here in the summertime. That seems to have provided some relief, and I hope it has reminded her the Highlands will always be here for her to visit. I wish I thought that were enough.”

Should she say something more, or would that be trespassing? But she had never been any good at pretending things did not exist. “Do her feelings for Duncan MacLaren play some role in this?”

“I fear so. She has said nothing to me about it, but it is rather obvious. Even when he was engaged to you, she could not keep her eyes off him.” He hesitated. “I do not know what MacLaren thinks. I cannot believe he is oblivious to it.”

She took a deep breath. “He knows. He is worried about it.”

Darcy straightened. “He told you that?”

“Yesterday, after they returned from Loch Katrine, he asked to speak to me privately. He wanted my advice on how to handle your sister’s obvious tendre for him. He knows he should be discouraging it, but he likes her and does not want to hurt her by being deliberately unkind, so he asked if I would talk to her and explain why the connection is inappropriate.”

“Have you done so?”

“Not yet. There has not been a good opportunity.”

Darcy drummed his fingers on the desk. “I would have thought he would be delighted to have caught her interest, since he wants a rich wife.”

“He is no longer desperate for money, thanks to you, and he is aware she is far out of his reach. More importantly, he is anxious not to offend you after your generosity to him, and he knows full well you would not want him to raise his eyes to your sister.”

Darcy studied her. “Is there something you are not telling me?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Very well, I will tell you this, not because I think you need to know it, but to prove I am not keeping anything back. He finds your sister easy to talk to and could see himself falling in love with her, but he does not intend to break his heart over a woman he can never have.”

Darcy took a long, calming breath. “Georgiana is without question too young, but she could do worse than him.”

Elizabeth stared at him in shock. “Miss Darcy of Pemberley and a poor Highland chieftain’s son?”

“I know. I can hardly believe I said that. She could easily make a much better marriage, and I would prefer not to have her so far away, but he is the first man outside the family she has ever been willing to speak freely to. She barely even talks to Richard.”

“I suppose Duncan is easy to talk to,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “Are you worried something may happen between them? Something compromising?”

“Oddly enough, no. It is clear that MacLaren would slit his own throat before doing anything that might offend me, and Georgiana... well, after her past experiences, I do not think she would permit any man even the slightest liberties. I would not have permitted them to spend so much time together if it were otherwise. I am only worried about Georgiana’s unhappiness.”

She took his hand in hers. “It seems there is little to be done about it now. When we leave, either she will recover, or you will have to consider whether to permit her to make a ridiculously bad marriage – though, to be honest, it is no worse than the one you yourself are contracting, and perhaps it is better. He at least has no scandal attached to him.”

He tugged hard on her hand until she half-fell into his lap. “I am contracting the best possible marriage.”

Elizabeth laughed as she wound her arms around his neck. “To a disgraced woman with a broken engagement and an actress aunt and a mother from a family in trade?”

“To the only woman who can bring joy to my heart,” he said, and then he claimed her lips with his own. “And tomorrow you will be my wife.”

Chapter 19

THE MORNING OF THE wedding finally dawned. Duncan MacLaren, Mr. Jack, and Mrs. Graham had come to Kinloch to help celebrate the occasion. The clergyman arrived late, a dour presbyter who made it clear he had no interest in helping the Sassenach, his presence owing solely to a special request from the MacLaren. The center of the drawing room had been cleared to make room for two rows of chairs and an improvised altar. A particularly intrepid servant had managed to find a few early sprigs of blackthorn and pussy willow to add a touch of color, but it was still a makeshift setting on a grey winter day, and an invisible storm cloud named Lord Matlock hovered overhead.

Darcy did not care about any of it. At the end of the day, Elizabeth would be his wife, and that was all that mattered.

Elizabeth’s eyes were shining. “I am so glad you are here to give me away,” she told Mr. Gardiner for at least the fifth time.

Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “You have done remarkably well at gathering family under the circumstances. Why, even if you had planned this well in advance, you might not have had so many guests on either side! Two cousins and a sister for Darcy, and an aunt and uncle for you.”

Darcy’s smile grew even broader. “I think Jasper should count as a relative on Elizabeth’s side, too.”

Jasper, perched on the arm of Darcy’s chair, said, “I certainly should! And once you are married, I will have a formal connection to Mrs. MacLean, distant though it might be. I wish my mother could meet her someday. I think she would like her. But what am I saying? My mother would never be willing to talk to an actress.”

“You might be surprised,” said Darcy. “Elizabeth, what would you think of inviting everyone to Christmas at Pemberley next year – your aunt and Jasper, the Gardiners, and any of the Fitzwilliam family willing to attend? Lady Matlock might well come, even if I have been disowned.” Lady Matlock would attend a house party in Hell if she thought it was her only chance to see Jasper. She would certainly talk to an actress if that was the price of contact with her son.

Jasper tensed, but then relaxed again. “I suppose by Christmas I might as well tell them the truth, if we have not had to expose it by then.”

The clergyman cleared his throat. “Are ye ready yet?” he said darkly, as if preparing to preside over a funeral.

Before Darcy could reply, the butler staggered into the room with a cry of pain. No, not staggered; he had been pushed by a short man in uniform, trailed by an elderly gentleman. Without thought Darcy tried to rise to his feet in protest at this assault on household staff; Jasper shoved him back down, apparently equally without thought.

Richard had already pushed his way to the fore. “Unhand him!” he thundered.

The short officer stuck his nose in the air. “This is official business. Do not hinder me.”

Richard appeared to grow several inches in height and breadth. “I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of His Majesty’s Army, and unless you outrank me, you will not lay hands on any person in this household without my permission, official business or not. Have I made myself completely clear?”

The officer managed to glare and salute at the same time. “Sir,” he spat out resentfully, releasing the butler’s arm.

The old man pointed a wavering finger at Mr. Jack. “That’s him, I tell you! He’s the one who robbed me! Arrest him!”

Mrs. MacLean stepped in front of the officer. “Kindly inform me the meaning of this outrage! This is a family gathering in a private home.”

The officer showed his teeth in a cold smile. “Forgive me, madam, but the magistrate has given me a warrant to arrest that man.”

She extended her hand regally. “I will see this warrant of yours.”

He dug in his pocket and sullenly held it out to her.

Mrs. MacLean read it and laughed. “Why, my good man, this warrant is for Auld Jack! That gentleman is Mr. John MacLaren, my brother-in-law, the youngest brother of the clan chief, and a fine doctor. He is not a spring pup, it is true, but he is certainly not ‘auld.’ Why, Auld Jack was terrorizing travelers here when I was a young bride and my brother-in-law was still a schoolboy.”

“Madam, I have my orders to arrest him for criminal activity,” the officer said stubbornly. “I must do my duty.”

Mrs. MacLean turned to inspect Mr. Jack. “Well, I will admit I find the way he ties his cravat to be a crime in itself, but not enough to throw him in gaol.” She flicked two fingers outward.

“His cravat?” cried Jasper in an outraged voice. “What of his waistcoat? Mud brown with puce embroidery and brass buttons. It hurts my eyes. No self-respecting highwayman would wear such a thing.”

“Many self-respecting doctors will, though,” said Mr. Jack mildly. “It is a useful color for hiding bloodstains, not to mention vomit and spittle.”

Jasper’s expression suggested he might soon produce vomit of his own. “MacLaren, you are spoiling my appetite, what little is left of it after the sight of that waistcoat. Kindly refrain from disclosing any further details of your medical practice.”

Mr. Jack looked down his beaked nose at Jasper. “Gladly.”

Jasper laughed. “Can you imagine that prosy bore holding up a carriage?” He jumped into the center of the room, one arm extended and his finger pointing as if it were an imaginary pistol. “Stand and deliver!” He raised his other hand to mime holding an open book. “And while you toss your valuables in the road, I shall read you a fascinating chapter from Herodotus, and afterwards you will answer my questions on how to treat disorders of the liver.”

“Herodotus?” asked Mr. Jack. “Surely you mean Hippocrates.”

Jasper gave an elaborate shrug. “Herodotus, Hippocrates, what difference is there?”

Mr. Jack raised his eyebrows. “Apart from one being a Roman historian and the other a Greek physician?”

“You see?” said Jasper to the officer confidingly. “A prosy bore. You would be doing us a favor by taking him away. He would be much more amusing if he were a highwayman. Why, I would give ten guineas to see him say, ‘Stand and deliver!’” He giggled at the idea.

“That will be enough, Jasper,” said Mrs. MacLean quellingly. “Officer, you are making a mistake. This is a wedding, and I can personally vouch for everyone here. If you do not believe me, perhaps you will believe Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is the son of the Lord Chancellor, the Earl of Matlock. Permit me to present his cousin, Mr. Darcy, Lord Matlock’s nephew, whose wedding you have just interrupted. Did I mention that the man you wish to arrest is a doctor? He was invited here today because he saved Mr. Darcy’s life. Perhaps you will wish to explain to Lord Matlock why you arrested the man who saved his nephew’s life.”

“He’s no doctor!” cried the old man. “He robbed me! Threatened me with his gun, he did!”

The officer shuffled his feet nervously. “Madam, I must do my duty.”

“By all means,” she said cordially. “But pray do give me your card first, and the name of your magistrate and the judge of your court, because I do not intend to be the one to answer to Lord Matlock for this travesty. He is not a good enemy, the Lord Chancellor.”

Richard growled, “I will be happy to inform him of the entire matter. He is always interested in judicial malfeasance. Your magistrate can look forward to a close examination of his actions.”

Blanching, the officer rubbed the brim of his hat. “I’m sure there is no need to trouble his lordship.”

“That is purely up to you.” Mrs. MacLean sounded bored. “Do your duty or not, but if you leave now, I will not press charges for your assault on my poor, aged butler.”

The officer looked helplessly at Richard’s stony expression, grabbed the old man by the elbow and strode out. The front door slammed.

No one moved for a long minute. Duncan MacLaren pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

Mr. Jack took three long strides to stand in front of Jasper. “A prosy bore, am I?”

“I have no idea, since I just met you,” said Jasper frankly. “Mrs. MacLean gave me the cue to improvise, so I did.”

A cold smile crossed Mr. Jack’s face, immediately replaced by a look of menace as he pointed a pistol straight at Jasper’s heart. “Stand and deliver!” he barked.

Jasper paled. “Be careful with that! It’s cocked!”

The older man lowered the barrel with a smile. “Of course it’s cocked. Have you ever heard of a highwayman saying, “Stand and deliver and pray wait while I cock my pistol?” He set down the pistol, spread his handkerchief on the small table, and carefully shook the gunpowder from the pan of the pistol.

Jasper’s eyes bulged. “But she said you were a doctor!”

“And a highwayman of sorts,” Mr. Jack agreed. “Very recently retired from the latter, thanks to your friend Darcy. Just in time, too, it seems. I thought I had shaken them from my trail when I moved back to the castle, but they must have had someone watching the hill fort. I stopped by there this morning to check on the lad who has taken my place.”

“Perhaps you had best stay away from it,” Mrs. MacLean said sternly. “Jasper, my love, thank you for that fine improvisation while I gathered my wits into a plan.”

Elizabeth exploded into laughter. “I cannot believe that you threatened him with Lord Matlock!”

“After all the difficulty that man has caused, he might as well be useful for once,” her aunt countered with satisfaction. “And I spoke the absolute truth. I could swear to every word I said on the Bible.”

Elizabeth wiped the corners of her eyes. “And what could be more typical of my life in Scotland than to have my wedding turned into a drawing room comedy?”

“And in a drawing room, no less,” added Jasper helpfully.

“Comedy, is it? Ye can marry without me, then!” The dour clergyman, quite forgotten during all this, grabbed his Bible and stalked towards the door.

Duncan MacLaren caught at his sleeve. “Pray do not leave.”

The minister glowered at him and spouted off in angry Gaelic in which the word Sassenach appeared frequently. MacLaren replied calmingly in the same language, but to no avail, as the clergyman stomped out.

“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. MacLean. “Did we scare him away?”

“Aye,” MacLaren said. “He was loath enough to marry two Sassenachs outside of a kirk in the first place, and I just might have forgot to mention Darcy’s connections or that there would be an English Army officer present.”

Darcy only cared about one thing. “How long will it take to find another clergyman?”

Mr. Jack said, “Days, most likely, if you insist on that foolishness.”

“We are not waiting for days,” growled Darcy.

“Well, then, let us get it done,” MacLaren said practically. “Miss Merton, will you be so kind as to stand next to Mr. Darcy? Who are your witnesses?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Gardiner,” said Elizabeth.

MacLaren nodded. “Right, then. Miss Merton, are you of marriageable age?”

“Of course!”

“Are you free to marry?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you wish to marry Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth took his hand, her eyes smiling. “With all my heart.”

“Darcy, are you of marriageable age?”

Good Lord, this was happening! “Yes.”

“And free to marry?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to marry Miss Merton?”

“I do.” There was so much more he wished he could say, but his heart was too full.

Richard grabbed his free hand and stuffed something into it. Of course, the ring! Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and slid it gently over her knuckle. Her fine eyes met his, and all the things he had not said were alive in the air between them.

“Then you are married,” said MacLaren in a matter-of-fact manner. “Do you wish me to write it out for you to sign? It is not legally necessary, but some people like it.”

Darcy could not stop gazing at Elizabeth. His wife. His wife! He would never tire of calling her that. “Yes, if you would be so kind. Documentation is good.”

MacLaren crossed to the desk, found a sheet of paper in the drawer, and began to write.

Mrs. MacLean, her eyes brimming with tears, embraced Elizabeth. “My dear girl, I am so happy for you!” She kissed Darcy’s cheek, just as she had a lifetime ago on Hogmanay. “I am proud to have you as my nephew.”

Then all the others came forward with their good wishes, Mr. Gardiner, Georgiana, Jasper, Richard, Mrs. Graham, and Timmy, for once without Bonnie Prince. Even Mr. Jack managed to be mostly polite. Darcy realized he was grinning foolishly, and that he did not care. Then it was the servants, giving their congratulations.

MacLaren held up the paper he had been writing. “‘This is to certify that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire and Miss Elizabeth Merton of Edinburgh, née Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire, did appear before me this first day of March in the year of our Lord 1813 and did state their intention to wed, both being of age and free to marry, and I did pronounce them married.’ Now we need your signatures and those of your witnesses.”

The footmen carried over the little table, and they each signed. Darcy watched Elizabeth’s hand move across the paper. It was a miracle. After all the misunderstandings, all his family’s interference, all the suffering, Elizabeth was his, and all was right with the world.

He had thought it would not feel like a real wedding without a clergyman reading the service over them, but he could not imagine anything that would make him feel more indelibly married than he did at this moment. Someday they would repeat their vows in a church, but he felt certain in his heart that God had been present and blessed their joining in matrimony.

***

THEY HAD FINISHED THE wedding breakfast the staff had laid out in fine festive spirit, and Mr. Gardiner was proposing a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, when the sound of a distant knock on the front door made them all freeze.

“Out through the kitchen, Jack,” said Duncan MacLaren quietly.

But before Mr. Jack reached the door, Big Tom the footman stepped inside holding a card. “Pardon for overstepping, but the butler is still being seen to below stairs. A Mr. Ramsay is asking for Mr. Darcy. Seems a pleasant Scottish gentleman.”

“Ramsay? Show him in,” said Darcy. He added to Mr. Jack, “A friend from Edinburgh. No one to worry about.”

Duncan MacLaren sighed. “No one ever comes to Kinloch House in the winter, and suddenly we have crowds knocking down the doors.”

Mrs. MacLean added, “Bring a fresh tea tray, too. I have worked up an appetite.”

Big Tom brought Ramsay directly to Darcy’s side rather than interrupting larger conversation by announcing him. Ramsay looked taken aback, as well he might. “Good Lord, a midwinter house party in the Highlands? I have never heard of such a thing.”

Darcy shook his friend’s hand. “It is a very long story. Forgive me for not standing.” He gestured to his leg. “I am glad to see you, but what brings you here?”

Ramsay said, “I got your letter and decided to check on that broken leg of yours myself. I do not trust country doctors.”

“Good,” said Darcy. “I would be happy to have your opinion. My current doctor has an unusual approach, to say the least.” He glanced over at Mr. Jack, who was kissing Mrs. MacLean’s hand.

Jasper laughed. “Yes, you should see Darcy’s medieval torture device!”

Ramsay stepped back to look at Jasper. “Why, if it is not my future son-in-law!” he said. “Matilda talks of you constantly, and she is memorizing a monologue to perform for you. I am grateful that you are a very good actor, for she will be crushed if you laugh at her five-year-old version of Lady Macbeth’s monologue.” He rubbed his hands together and said in a falsetto voice, ‘Out, out, damned spot!’”

Jasper shouted with laughter. “This I must see!”

Ramsay looked down at the brace on Darcy’s leg. “Good God, Darcy, what is that contraption?”

“That is the medieval torture device,” said Darcy. “The gentleman talking to Mrs. MacLean created it.”

“The one in the puce and brown waistcoat,” added Jasper helpfully.

Ramsay removed his spectacles and followed Jasper’s pointing finger. “Good God! Is that not Jack MacLaren?”

“I gather that is his name, yes,” said Darcy dryly. “He never actually introduced himself to me.”

“Well, if Jack MacLaren has been taking care of you, you certainly do not need me. I am very interested in hearing his explanation of your torture device, though.”

“You know him?” asked Darcy.

“I know of him. He is a brilliant doctor. He took the hardest cases, the ones no one else wanted, and he saved a goodly number of them. I have been to some of his medical lectures.”

“Medical lectures,” Darcy said blankly.

“He left Edinburgh a couple of years ago. I wonder why he chose to bury himself in the middle of nowhere.”

Darcy choked. “You will have to ask him.”

As Ramsay examined Darcy’s brace, Mr. Jack – Darcy still could not think of him as MacLaren the doctor instead of Auld Jack the highwayman – approached them. “Do not touch that,” he snapped at Ramsay.

Ramsay straightened. “I merely wished to see what you had done.” He stuck out his hand. “Ewan Ramsay, a friend of Darcy’s and a doctor in Edinburgh. I have attended some of your lectures.”

The former highwayman raised an eyebrow. “I imagine Darcy was surprised to hear that.”

“Rather,” said Darcy with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Ramsay continued, “Darcy had written to me about his injuries, and I decided to check on him myself, not knowing what sort of care he might receive here. If he had told me your name, I would have stayed at home.”

“It would not have helped,” drawled Mr. Jack. “That blow to his head left him confused enough that he thought my name was Mr. Jack after hearing some of the servants call me that. He also suffered from the delusion that I was one of the highwaymen who attacked him.”

“That would be one way to explain it,” Darcy said ironically.

Mr. Jack said haughtily, “I imagine Mr. Ramsay is well acquainted with the sequelae of severe concussion.”

“Of course,” said Ramsay, oblivious to the undercurrents. “May I be bold enough to ask about this brace? I have never seen such a thing.”

“It is makeshift, of course.” Without a word to Darcy, Mr. Jack tugged down the leg of Darcy’s sock to expose his ankle. “His injury is unusual in that both his tibia and fibula were fractured and displaced, the fibula some two inches above the lateral malleolus, and the tibia an inch higher. The usual sort of splint works well enough when only one bone is broken, but with neither to provide stability, even the smallest movement can displace them, and supporting any weight on it would be certain to do so. As you see, there are collars both above the knee and above the medial condyle below the knee, and the rigid shoe is the final fixed point. They are forced apart by these rods which are extended to provide traction and keep the bones straight and unable to grind together as he heals.”

“Ingenious!” exclaimed Ramsay.

“Torture,” said Darcy.

Ramsay laughed. “Darcy, do you know what any other doctor would have done with a double fracture? Amputated it.”

“Even with that device, there was some displacement when he was transported here and I had to set it again. It would be improved by adding stabilization rods in front and back,” Mr. Jack said critically.

“If it works, will you present the case?” asked Ramsay.

Mr. Jack cleared his throat. “I do not expect to return to Edinburgh in the immediate future, and I doubt the patient would agree to it. If you wish to show the technique, I would not object.”

“I am sure others would be eager to learn. Several of my asthmatic patients have benefited from your recommendation of concentrated tea.”

Clearly that conversation was going to continue for some time, so Darcy turned back to Jasper. “Would you be so kind as to cover my leg again?”

“Of course.” Jasper arranged the blanket over the brace. “Amazing, though. He truly is a prosy bore. I was just making that up.”

Elizabeth stood behind Jasper. “I do not think I have heard him say that many words in our entire acquaintance. I would have called him laconic at best.”

“Did you hear the part where he told Ramsay I thought he was a highwayman because of the blow to my head?” demanded Darcy.

Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose I should not be surprised. He does not lack for presumption.”

“No, and he still has that pistol in his pocket!” exclaimed Jasper.

“Whereas I am so accustomed to Mr. Jack holding a pistol on me that I would find it surprising if he did not!” said Elizabeth with a teasing smile. “But you need not worry; I have known him for weeks now and he has not yet shot me, despite great provocation.”

***

DARCY FRETTED. THIS was not how a wedding night was supposed to happen. He was supposed to go to his bride’s bedroom, not wait for her to come to his, but that was the least of his problems. He had been trying for two days to think how to explain himself to Elizabeth, and every explanation he had come up with was worse than the one before. Finally he had concluded the only thing to do was to remain at a distance and calmly explain that they could not consummate the marriage until his brace could be removed. He thought he could manage all of that except the calm part. Nothing about the concept of consummating their marriage made him feel remotely calm.

Then James opened the door to admit Elizabeth, who was wearing a silk dressing gown that clung to her every curve and a bewitching smile. “I hope I am not too early,” she said in a throaty voice as James shut the door behind her, leaving them alone together.

“You could never be too early.” Well, that sounded calm, even if it was completely nonsensical. But now he had to explain. “Elizabeth...”

She untied her dressing gown and let it slide to the floor, revealing a lowcut lace nightgown with pearl buttons up the front. He swallowed hard as all the blood in his body rushed downward. “There is something I need to explain to you.”

She arranged herself across his lap. “Yes?”

This was torture. “You are so lovely I cannot think,” he choked out, almost dizzied by the sight of her cleavage.

“My advice is not to think,” she said sweetly as she played with the knot in his cravat.

“But there are things we must discuss.” His traitorous hands, though, decided not to cooperate, not when they could stroke her cheek and caress her thighs.

She gave him a bewitching smile. “I cannot see why. There we are!” She held the two ends of his cravat in her hands triumphantly. “Wait, does it go all the way around your neck again? Good heavens, how do you ever manage to breathe?” She leaned forward to unwind it from his neck, leaving his lips in close proximity to her tempting neckline.

Darcy was unsure how he could breathe with the cravat gone. In a strangled voice, he said, “Mr. Jack says we cannot consummate our marriage yet.”

She took a delicate nibble on the side of his exposed neck. “He told me that, too, or rather he told my aunt and had her tell me. But she also made some suggestions for other things we could do.”

Now he definitely could not breathe. “She did what?”

Elizabeth ran her tongue along his collar bone. “Remember that she is a theatrical. They are not as prudish as polite society. You need not worry. She said you would enjoy it.”

He groaned. “I am sure I would. But you need not...” Why was he about to tell her not to do anything she did not want to when she clearly did want to do those things?

She began to unbutton his waistcoat. “Do not be silly,” she whispered as she feathered kisses across his neck.

Buttons. His hands knew what to do with buttons, too, and if they were married, there was nothing stopping him from disposing of those buttons on her nightgown. The sight of the buttons on the back of her gowns had been driving him to distraction for a year. Then he felt her hands slide inside his waistcoat, and he stopped thinking at all.

***

THE NEXT MORNING DARCY had the very great pleasure of lying back in bed and watching the maid dress his wife. He could never tire of seeing Elizabeth either undressed or dressed, but experiencing those everyday moments between Elizabeth and her maid was an unexpected intimacy. At first he worried that his attention would embarrass Margaret, but she was soon giving him almost as many saucy glances as Elizabeth was. And if he could only walk, he would throw Margaret out and drag Elizabeth back to bed.

But it was probably just as well he could not. Elizabeth was likely sore after all the effort and creativity she had put into proving Mr. Jack wrong. And her aunt deserved a medal for giving good advice. The Order of the Garter, perhaps. Elizabeth’s garter, to be precise.

Elizabeth was watching him in the mirror as Margaret put the finishing touches on her hair. “And what are you smiling about, Mr. Darcy?” she asked teasingly.

“Untrustworthy medical advice,” he said.

She stood up, came to the bed, and leaned down to kiss him. “Mr. Jack always said I was singularly incapable of following instructions.”

He caught the back of her head with his hand and proceeded to kiss her much more thoroughly. When he finally released her, they were both breathless. “My compliments on your disobedience,” he said softly.

She gave him a wicked smile. “I do enjoy being disobedient.” She blew him a kiss as she left, followed by Margaret.

As soon as they were gone, James appeared, carrying a blessedly familiar bowl. “Ice pack, sir?” he asked in his soothing voice.

“Yes.” He had not needed the ice packs in the morning since his first days at Kinloch House, but James was always one step ahead of him.

James tucked a towel behind Darcy’s head before taking a thick cloth stuffed with packed snow from the bowl. He placed one on Darcy’s forehead and another across the top of his head.

Darcy closed his eyes as the cold began to spread relief through his skull. “Good idea,” he said thickly. “No need to tell Mrs. Darcy, though.”

“Of course not, sir.” James sounded mildly offended at the very notion.

Some things were well worth a headache in the morning.

Chapter 20

THEY SPENT ANOTHER fortnight at Kinloch House, less of a honeymoon period than a house party. Richard had left for London the day after the wedding, but there was still a plethora of activity. Every day had some combination of visitors huddled together over plans for the new book with frequent outings to the castle and various local sites of interest. Duncan MacLaren seemed to spend even more time at Kinloch House than when he had been engaged to Elizabeth. If he was not playing tour guide, he was helping with guidebook writing or running lines with Jasper. Mrs. MacLean, whom Darcy was now supposed to call Aunt Emmeline, spent hours visiting with Mr. Jack and the MacLaren. Georgiana grew increasingly proficient on the harp and often Darcy would hear her singing Scottish ballads when she was alone. He knew trouble was coming, but he could ignore it for now.

He would have expected himself to resent how much of Elizabeth’s attention was distracted by other people, but after a few days of marriage, he had learned to conserve his limited stamina for the nights when he had Elizabeth to himself. So he was content to spend his days watching his Elizabeth slowly emerge from the cocoon of tight misery that had hidden her true self for so long, listening to her laugh and hearing her tease the others. And on those occasions when her fine eyes filled with shadows and worries, he was the one she came to for comfort. What more could a man ask, apart from the removal of a medieval torture device, the ability to walk, and to have a full day free from pounding headaches? But even that was slowly improving.

The journey to Edinburgh, when Mr. Jack finally gave his grudging approval, started smoothly enough. Elizabeth shed a few tears over parting with Timmy, full of promises to write and to see him again in a few months. Georgiana was silent as their carriage pulled away from Kinloch House, but Darcy saw her dabbing the corners of her eyes and gazing sadly out the window, as if desperate not to miss her last sight of the Highlands.

But within a few miles, it was clear that the trip would prove most difficult for Darcy. The one-day drive turned into three days as the movement of the carriage set his head throbbing and stomach revolting, and after the first day, his valet begged Elizabeth and Georgiana to ride ahead in a separate carriage because their presence kept Darcy from admitting when he needed to stop. Darcy was too miserable even to argue. When he finally reached Edinburgh, it took three days of lying in a quiet, dark room before Darcy could tolerate a simple conversation. Clearly he would not be going to London in the near future, so he could do nothing but await word from Richard and Hollings.

By the time his head began to clear, Georgiana was already well settled in at Mrs. MacLean’s house. She was subdued in her brief visits to his bedside, but he was uncertain if she was attempting to be quiet for his sake or whether it was a sign of the decline he was expecting.

Finally he summoned the strength to ask Elizabeth about Georgiana.

Elizabeth hesitated, clearly wondering how much of the truth to tell him. “We have tried to distract her. I took her to Edinburgh Castle, and she has been to the theatre each night to see Jasper perform. I know she is not yet out and so should not have been at the theatre, but it would have broken her heart to be denied the opportunity to see him. I have conscripted her to run lines with Jasper to keep her mind occupied. She has played the pianoforte a little, but it seems to make her sad, so I have not pushed her. Today I am taking her to a harp-maker’s shop to purchase an instrument.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“As you predicted. Quiet, picking at her food, speaking only when spoken to. I have reminded her we will return to Kinloch House in the summer, and that seems to cheer her briefly.”

Darcy winced at the thought of another journey. Ramsay had reassured him that his difficulty with travel would improve with time, but the prospect filled him with dread. “It is not a good sign that she is avoiding the pianoforte. Did MacLaren say anything further to you about her?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I know he does not see a future for them; that is clear. Apart from that, I would say he likes her more than he is comfortable with.”

“Is he still coming here next week to finalize the mortgage?”

“As far as I know.” Elizabeth smiled suddenly. “I shall tell Georgiana that I think he would very much enjoy hearing her play the pianoforte when he visits. Do you think that might inspire her?”

“It is worth a try.” Darcy closed his eyes.

“My poor love!” Elizabeth kissed his forehead. “I wish I had some power to make your headaches better.”

“You do make them better. I am simply tired of being an invalid.” And he was endlessly grateful James had agreed to stay on as his valet. The young Scot might have a great deal to learn about wardrobe management, but this setback would have been hellish without his soothing voice, inventiveness in ensuring Darcy’s comfort, and skill with ice packs. The staff at Pemberley were going to be horrified at the idea of a wild Highlander serving as his valet, but they would have to learn to live with it. “What else has happened while I have been lying here?”

“Jasper and my aunt are busy with the theatre, of course. My uncle Gardiner is on his way back to London after a successful meeting with Walter Scott, and he is happy about the progress on the travel guide. I am pleased because I discovered my uncle is writing some of the passages for the book himself, something he had not done for some years. And we received a letter from Timmy today, complaining about Mr. Jack’s deficiencies as a Latin tutor compared to you.”

“And you?”

She squeezed his hand. “I have missed you more than I could have imagined. I am so glad to be able to speak to you again!”

Two days later, Darcy’s recovery was enhanced by a visit from Ramsay who announced that it was time to remove his medieval torture device and replaced it with a standard splint. “Just for some extra support while you are learning to walk again,” Ramsay said, carefully packing up the torture device for future reference.

With a walking stick in each hand, Darcy took five wobbling steps before collapsing into a chair. “Good God! What is wrong with me?” he demanded.

“Nothing that a little exercise will not fix,” said Ramsay. “Jack MacLaren is a genius. Anyone would have told you that a double break like that could never heal.”

Still, when it became clear Darcy would not be traveling again for some time, he suggested to Elizabeth that perhaps they should find lodgings of their own rather than imposing on her aunt indefinitely. Elizabeth responded by fetching Mrs. MacLean. “Aunt Emmeline, my foolish husband is worried because we will be imposing on your hospitality longer than we had planned.”

Mrs. MacLean raised her eyebrows. “That is utter nonsense. This is Lizzy’s home, and therefore yours, for as long as you wish. I would be perfectly happy if you stayed forever. I wish Pemberley were not so far away.”

“So do I,” said Elizabeth, her voice hitching. “I will miss you so much when we go there.”

Darcy said quickly, “I hope you know you are welcome at Pemberley any time for as long as you like, and should there ever come a time when you no longer have the constraints of the theatre schedule, we would be honored if you would consider making your home with us.” He meant it, too. Even after only a brief time living with her, he understood what Elizabeth had said about the comfort of having a loving parent.

Mrs. MacLean’s eyes filled with tears. “You are very kind, but pray do not say that unless you mean it.”

Elizabeth jumped up and put her arms around her aunt. “We do mean it. We have discussed it at length, and nothing could make me happier. If I did not know how important the theatre is to you, I would be insisting upon it.”

Her aunt dabbed her cheeks. “My dearest girl! The theatre filled a need for me after Imogen’s death, but I am growing too old for the rigors of the full season, and there are fewer roles I can play. If it were not for training Jasper, I would have already told Siddons this season would be my last.”

Now Elizabeth’s eyes were teary. “If that is what you truly wish, I dearly hope you will make your home with us.”

“I will consider it. I want the freedom to spend more time at Kinloch House, too. But Jasper will still benefit from my support for a time, and I must admit it is exciting to have a hand in training an actor of his caliber.”

“And you are very fond of him,” Elizabeth teased. “How is it he is now calling you Aunt Emmeline?”

Her aunt laughed. “I told him he could because it was too difficult to explain why my niece’s husband’s friend lived in my house.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “In truth, it was clear he was terribly jealous that Darcy was now my nephew while he could claim only a distant connection, and I am perfectly happy to have another nephew, even if it is only honorary.”

“Whatever you decide, you must come to Pemberley at Christmas, since we are inviting both Jasper and the Matlocks to celebrate the season of peace on our neutral ground. Jasper will need his honorary aunt then. My sister Jane and her husband will be invited, too, and I know she will wish to meet you.”

“You may depend upon me,” her aunt pronounced.

“Timmy must come as well, of course, if Mr. Jack will spare him,” added Darcy. “We have many dogs at Pemberley who need Timmy just as much as Bonnie Prince does. They simply do not know it yet.”

***

DUNCAN MACLAREN ARRIVED in Edinburgh the following week. Despite clearly making an effort to pay no particular attention to Georgiana, MacLaren fooled no one, especially after the first evening when Georgiana played a concerto on the pianoforte, and he stared at her like a lost soul seeing his hope of salvation. “I had no idea you had such a remarkable ability, lass,” he said afterwards. “I have not heard such a performance since I was a boy in school.”

Georgiana glowed as she showed him the new sheet music of Scottish songs she had purchased. “I am still learning these,” she said shyly.

Darcy exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. Later, after they retired for the night, she asked him, “Are you certain you wish to do this? What if she recovers from her infatuation once she is back in England?”

He pulled her into his arms. “I wanted to marry you when I had only known you a fortnight, but I knew I could not make such an unsuitable match. So I told myself I would forget you once I left, or perhaps from time to time I would think back on you fondly. But I could not forget you. You were in my mind every minute. I dreamed of you. I kept seeing glimpses of young ladies who looked like you, and I would feel bereft when I realized they were not you. I would think of things I wanted to tell you, and then be physically ill with the knowledge I would never tell you them. I felt numb to everything, only wanting you, needing you. But I told myself I would forget you in time.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath catching in his throat. “Then I saw you in Kent, and I realized I could never forget, not ever. But I fought myself over your unsuitability, battled myself until when I finally gave in to the need to propose to you, I said all the wrong things. When you refused me, I felt like something inside me had died. I could see no point in living. Food tasted like ashes. Finally I went home to Pemberley, and for the first time, I could breathe without feeling it was an enormous effort. That was when I realized I did not care whether you were the most unsuitable woman in the world. Without you, I would have only half a life. I will not put Georgiana through that. Perhaps they will grow apart over the next two years and end the private understanding, but I will not let her suffer as I did out of a misplaced sense of pride and my duty to the family name. Let them start their lives together with joy, not misery.”

Elizabeth caught his face between her hands and kissed him, her eyes wild and shiny. “I do not deserve you,” she choked out. “Not because of your wealth or your birth or your estate, but because of who you are. I am proud of you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“But I just told you all the mistakes I made,” he protested.

“That is why I love you,” she said. “And now I am going to show you how much.”

***

“WHISKY OR PORT?” DARCY asked MacLaren the next evening. He waved to the servants to leave, waiting for them to close the study door behind them.

“Whisky, if you please.” MacLaren turned pale. “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all.” Darcy poured two drams of whisky and handed one to MacLaren, who still looked worried. “I wanted to speak to you about Georgiana’s horse.”

Now he just appeared puzzled. “Bucephalus?”

“Yes. An odd mount for a 16-year-old girl, would you not say?”

“You cannot mean to separate them! She adores that horse.”

“I would sooner attempt to jump over the moon than to separate them. Has she told you the story of how she got him?”

MacLaren sipped his whisky. “I do not believe so.”

“When she was eight years old, I took her with me when I visited a stable to examine a horse I was thinking of buying. Even then she never missed any opportunity to see horses. I spent some time checking over the horse and decided against buying him, but before we left, Georgiana dragged me to a different stall to show me another horse. I laughed when I saw him. He looked even worse then. He might not have been the ugliest horse in England, but he came close. They were using him as a workhorse because he would not let anyone ride him. His shoulder muscles on one side had wasted away, and his coat had scabs and bald patches on his back and rump. She begged me to buy him. I have never seen her look at anything that way before, with her heart in her eyes.”

“And you did?”

“Of course not. I explained why he would not do. She cried all the way home and was so miserable that my father eventually went to see the horse. He said no, too, and laughed about it. Georgiana was a biddable child and not one to complain, so she accepted it. I went off to my last term at Cambridge, and when I returned, Georgiana was a shadow of herself. Her nurse told me she was crying herself to sleep, but no one knew why. I sat down with her and asked what was wrong, and she told me she was missing Bucephalus. She had met him precisely twice and never seen him outside his stall. The next day I rode back to London, only to find he had been sold. It took me nearly a week of traveling to track him down and buy him, and more than a year for his shoulder to heal and his coat to grow back. They have been inseparable since.”

“You are a very devoted brother.”

“I want her to be happy.” Darcy set down his whisky and said deliberately, “I have never forgotten that look on her face when she showed me Bucephalus. It is the same way she looks at you.”

MacLaren choked on his whisky, spluttering and coughing for over a minute. When he was finally capable of speech, he said in a strangled voice, “I have never behaved inappropriately to Miss Darcy, nor have I spoken to her in any way that I could not speak to my own sister.” He coughed again. “I know she is far above my touch, too young, and that she should marry a wealthy aristocrat. I know my place.” He almost managed to hide his bitterness.

“I agree she is far too young.” Darcy was beginning to enjoy himself. “Her marital prospects are nearly limitless. The son of an impoverished Scottish chieftain should not even enter into consideration. On the other hand, she deserves the finest thoroughbred mount, and I spent most of a quarter’s allowance to buy her the ugliest horse in England.”

MacLaren fingered his whisky glass nervously. “I do not know what to say.”

“I am raising this issue because I am in a dilemma on account of Georgiana’s nature,” Darcy said. “She is still biddable and not one to complain, so she will accept it if I tell her I am not willing to let her marry or enter into an engagement at sixteen. However, I am equally unwilling to let her cry herself to sleep for months on end, and I would like to see her finish a meal again without having to threaten her into eating it. Therefore, as a compromise, I am willing to allow you to write to each other, with the caveat that I will sometimes open and read your letters before giving them to her. When she is eighteen and has been presented to society, if she wishes to go ahead with a formal engagement, I will not stand in her way. This understanding would have to be completely secret, so that if she decides to break it, her reputation is untouched.”

The younger man stared at him as if he could not believe his ears. “What does Miss Darcy say to this prospect?” His voice was almost steady.

“I have not presented it to her.” Darcy watched him closely. “Perhaps I might be wrong about your interest in her.”

He chewed his lip. “You are not wrong. If she wishes it, I would be happy to accept that arrangement. More than happy.”

“You do not look happy.”

MacLaren exhaled slowly. “That is because I am about to say something I know I am going to regret.”

That was unexpected. “What is that?” Darcy asked in a clipped voice.

“I think...” MacLaren paused. “I think if she wants to become engaged at eighteen, you should insist on a year-long engagement, even if we both fight the idea.” He hit his forehead with his fist. “I cannot believe I said that,” he groaned.

Despite himself, Darcy was impressed. “Out of curiosity, why do you suggest that?”

“Apart from being an idiot?” MacLaren actually smiled. “It is what I would demand for a clanswoman who wanted to marry outside the clan, and I do not want to be a hypocrite. More importantly, I do not want her to have any regrets about her decision, and eighteen is still very young.”

“I agree,” said Darcy. “When I said I would allow her to enter into an engagement at eighteen, I had a long one in mind. But I respect you for volunteering for it. I notice you have not asked about her dowry.”

MacLaren laughed like a man just freed from prison. “Her dowry? I have never given it a thought, as I have never considered the possibility that she might marry me. But it does not matter, since it would be put aside for her and our children. I expect to be pumping every penny from the estate back into it for many years, so she should have her own income to spend on whatever luxuries I cannot provide for her.”

“That is fair. I prefer to speak to Georgiana about this before you do,” said Darcy.

MacLaren tossed back his whisky with an incredulous grin. “I cannot believe this! If this is a dream, I hope I do not wake up.”

“Well, not a word to anyone until I have spoken to Georgiana,” Darcy cautioned.

***

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Georgiana sat across from him, perched on the edge of her chair. “Is something the matter?” she asked nervously.

“Nothing at all. I merely want your opinion on something.”

She relaxed visibly. “What is it?”

“It has not passed my notice that you have developed a strong affection for the Highlands. How does that song go? ‘My heart’s in the Highlands; my heart is not here?’”

She blushed. “Yes, well, it is a special place, and I wish it were not so far from Pemberley.” She sounded listless.

He swirled the brandy in his glass, wishing Elizabeth were there. “I wondered if your heart might not only be in the Highlands, but more specifically in whatever vicinity Mr. Duncan MacLaren might be.”

Her cheeks bloomed scarlet. In a choked voice, she said, “I... I think he is an admirable gentleman, but that is all he can ever be. I know my duty. If you are afraid I will try to elope again, you need not worry. I have learned from my mistakes.”

“That possibility had not even crossed my mind,” Darcy said gently. “My concern is for your happiness.”

She dropped her head, her hands folded so tightly that her knuckles showed white. “I am too young, and he is not an appropriate match.”

“Time will cure your youth, and when you are twenty-one, you may marry whomever you choose.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “That is five years from now, and by then he will long since be married to someone else!” Her words tumbled out quickly, as if the thought had been haunting her.

“Georgiana, I just told MacLaren I would not object if he approached you about having a private understanding. Just an understanding, nothing more, until you are eighteen, and then a long engagement. I do not believe he is a sort of man who would look at another woman if he had an understanding with you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He asked you for my hand?”

“No; I raised the question to him. He thought he could not aspire to such a match. But I think there is a very happy young Scotsman outside waiting to speak to you.”

***

GEORGIANA SEEMED TO be dancing on air after that. Spring had arrived, both inside the house and out. Apart from his frustration over the slowness of his recovery, the only storm cloud on Darcy’s horizon was Elizabeth’s worry over her father. Unfortunately, he could do nothing to help with that apart from waiting for word from London.

The solicitor proved to be a punctilious correspondent, sending a short account every day with his progress. Wickham was proving difficult to find, having fled his regiment some months earlier owing to debts of honor. Mr. Bennet had, as expected, refused to speak to Mr. Hollings on learning that he was Darcy’s solicitor, so the next step was to approach Mr. Collins.

One morning the post brought two letters. Darcy selected the envelope with Richard’s scrawl on the front first, leaving the one with Hollings’s small precise hand for later. He cracked the seal and began to read. The first sentence made him straighten in shock.

“What is the matter?” Elizabeth cried.

He held up his hand as he scanned the letter. “A surprise, that is all. Collins says Wickham forged my uncle’s signature.” Of course. The one thing that had never made any sense was that Lord Matlock would put his hand to such a damning document. It would hardly be the first time Wickham had forged a signature. He had practiced on Darcy often enough.

But relief warred with caution. If Lord Matlock had no part in the contract, then perhaps there need not be a family split and all the repercussions that would come with it. His uncle would accept Elizabeth as his wife.

Or would he?

No. It was a given that his uncle would disapprove of his marriage. If he had thought threats would have stopped it, he would have made them. He had still deceived Richard and kept him from his Indian wife. He might not have committed the particular crime of signing the document that had damned Elizabeth, but he was still a danger. More so, perhaps, if the document could not be used as proof of extortion.

Elizabeth’s hand was over her mouth. “It was not him?”

“He did not sign it, so your father may never have been at risk.” Darcy turned back to the letter. “Or he might have been. Collins has gone back and forth on his story about whether Lord Matlock made the threat and was just too clever to put it in writing. He says Lady Catherine called on Lord Matlock, so most likely he knew something, even if he did not sign.”

He picked up the letter from the solicitor and jumped to the end of it. “Hollings says Richard is furious and plans to confront Lord Matlock, and he is accompanying him in the hope of providing a mitigating influence.”

Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “But why is Richard angry now if his father never signed it?”

“God alone knows, but sometimes strange things make Richard lose his temper. Or perhaps he only now feels safe enough to confront him. We will have to wait for the next letter to learn more.”

***

DARCY WAITED ANXIOUSLY for the next post, but it brought nothing from London. Nor did the following day, nor the day after that. Elizabeth stoutly insisted she was not worried by the silence, but her face showed lines of strain, and when she thought no one was looking at her, her expression was bleak. Tears came easily to her eyes over everything and nothing, and she seemed uninterested in her food.

The silence grew more ominous by the hour. Richard might be too busy or too angry to write, though that was unlikely given the gravity of the matter. But Hollings had been like clockwork with his daily reports. If he was not making them, it was because someone had stopped him. Had Lord Matlock found some excuse to have him arrested? Still, Richard would have written to tell him that. Surely Lord Matlock would not imprison his own son. Not for a crime, at least, but he might have held him incommunicado, and that was quite bad enough.

Dammit! He needed to ride to the rescue, and instead he was trapped in Edinburgh, slowly re-learning how to walk on legs so weak they could carry him no farther than from one room to the next. Ramsay said it was nothing to worry about, just the result of months of disuse, but it was still frustrating. He could ride only until it made his head start to ache, usually only a quarter hour.

Richard was in trouble, and Darcy could do nothing to help him, dammit.

On the fifth day, he sent expresses to Mr. Gardiner and to his butler, Hobbes, asking them to make quiet inquiries about Richard and Hollings. What was the use of having so many acquaintances in the ton in London when none of them would dare anger Lord Matlock?

But whatever else went wrong, he had Elizabeth beside him, and that made all the difference. And the constant chaos of life in the theatrical household served to distract him from his worries, too.

***

BREAKFAST WAS ALWAYS served late in Aunt Emmeline’s house in keeping with the schedule of the actors, so arriving at breakfast long after the others did could be particularly egregious, or, in the case of the newlyweds, particularly embarrassing. But what was Elizabeth to do when her new husband turned those intent dark eyes on her while she was dressing, and she could feel the thoughts behind them, and guess what sensations he was wishing to induce in her? Certainly anyone would understand her decision to send her maid away and be very late for breakfast.

No one even noticed. Georgiana was preoccupied with Duncan MacLaren, Jasper was pacing the room studying a script and occasionally stopping for a bite of toast or sip of coffee, and he paused only long enough to thrust another copy of the script into Elizabeth’s hand. The pressure of playing lead roles every other night was beginning to tell on him, so Elizabeth took it graciously, set it down at her place at the table, and filled her plate before glancing at it.

“Lovers’ Vows?” she asked. “This is not on the schedule.”

“It is now.” Jasper gulped down his coffee. “Just got word. Special request from Lord Granton. Lord President of the Court of Session. Siddons cannot refuse him.”

“Who are you playing?”

“Anhalt.” Jasper reached past her, opened the script, and pointed to the line.

Georgiana said, “Pray let me do it until Elizabeth has a chance to eat.”

Elizabeth gratefully handed her the script. “I thank you.” As she broke open her roll and began to spread jam on it, she felt Darcy’s boot rubbing against the side of her slippers. She smiled affectionately at him. Who would have thought the sober Mr. Darcy she had met at the Meryton assembly would trade surreptitious caresses under the breakfast table?

The footman entered and offered a salver to Darcy. “The messenger is waiting for a response,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me.” With a frown, Darcy took a bite of bacon, broke the seal of the note, and began to read it.

He stopped chewing as his eyes moved across the first line. He read through it once, twice, carefully folded it, placed it in his pocket, and patted it as if to make sure it was secure. A muscle twitched beside his eyes. He slowly lifted his coffee cup, seeming to study it for a minute, and finally sipped it. “Tell the messenger to inform the sender that I will be there in an hour.”

“No, no, your line should be, ‘Again you misconceive and confound me.’” Georgiana told Jasper.

“Right,” Jasper said in his own voice before returning to character. “Again you misconceive and confound me.”

Elizabeth asked Darcy quietly, “Is something the matter?”

Darcy’s eyes flicked towards Jasper. “Not at all. Would you be able to join me in paying a call after breakfast?”

“Of course. Whom are we visiting?”

Darcy hesitated. “The Ramsays.” It was an obvious prevarication, and he gave her an apologetic look.

“Very well.” What was the mystery? She rubbed her slipper against his foot, but got only a distracted smile in response.

Georgiana had gone to stand next to Jasper as they ran lines. Darcy turned to MacLaren. “What are your plans for the day?”

MacLaren said, “Your sister mentioned an interest in walking up to the castle.”

Darcy frowned slightly and lowered his voice. “I would be obliged if you were to quietly persuade her to an activity which keeps her off the streets of New Town.”

MacLaren’s eyebrows rose. “I will see what I can do. Perhaps a ride to Arthur’s Seat.”

“An admirable idea.” Darcy touched his finger to his lips to indicate silence.

Elizabeth’s curiosity was high as they returned to their room to prepare for their outing. It rose even more when Darcy sank back into a chair and rubbed his forehead. “What was that note?”

He looked up at her. “I hardly know how to tell you this. It appears Lady Matlock is here and wishes to see me.”

She froze. “Lady Matlock? Your uncle’s wife? What could possibly bring her to Edinburgh?” Now the silence from Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed even more ominous.

“I do not know,” said Darcy darkly. “I cannot recall her ever traveling so far north, so I must assume it has to do with us.”

There was no point in trying to hide from it. She might not be able to win against Lord and Lady Matlock, but she would fight them every step of the way. “Are you certain you wish me to come with you?”

“Without question. You are my wife, and I will not hide you. But we should go quickly. She does not like to be kept waiting.”

Elizabeth glanced in the mirror. She was wearing a simple day dress, not at all what she would choose to call on a countess, but it would have to do. She would not be ashamed of who she was.

Chapter 21

THERE WAS A LONG GRAND staircase at the Customs House where Lady Matlock was staying in a guest suite. Darcy eyed it with distaste and then grimly began to ascend it, one slow step at a time, leaning heavily on the banister and his walking stick.

“We could ask her to come down,” said Elizabeth.

“No.” By the time he reached the top, his legs ached and he was out of breath.

A servant showed them into a private parlor where Lady Matlock was awaiting them. “Darcy, how delightful that you are on your feet again. Richard told me about your injuries.”

Narrowing his eyes, Darcy demanded, “What have you done to Richard?”

Lady Matlock looked as placid as if he had asked about the weather. “Richard? Why, nothing. I imagine he will be here in a few days. Would you care for tea?”

“I would care to be told the truth,” Darcy said, his words clipped short. “Richard went to confront your husband nearly a fortnight ago, and I have not heard a word from him since.”

“And what an unpleasant contretemps that was,” complained Lady Matlock. “Richard is perfectly well, and of course he has written to you since then. But your lovely wife is not the only person who can intercept letters when it suits her purpose.”

“You? That was why I heard nothing? It was you?” His hands clenched into fists.

“Manners, my dear boy. Surely you do not expect me to let Richard handle communications of this nature when he is out of control. These problems need to be solved, not worsened by his injured feelings.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened. “Your ladyship, I withheld Colonel Fitzwilliam’s letters to save my father’s life. What was your reason?”

Lady Matlock tilted her head. “My daughter’s engagement negotiations are at a delicate stage, my youngest son is missing, and the government is tottering. Richard may mean well, but when he is angry, he can be a loose cannon firing on a powder depot. The collateral damage could be substantial.”

“Missing letters create damage, too. I have spent days believing my father to be in grave danger.”

Lady Matlock lifted the teapot and began to pour as if nothing remarkable had been said. “Your father is perfectly well, too. The entail on his estate has been broken, and he has a new will leaving it to your next sister. I believe her name is Mary.”

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “The entail is broken? Impossible.”

The older woman sighed delicately. “Difficult, but not impossible. It was Richard’s idea. He said you were fond of Mrs. Collins and would not want that annoying husband of hers to be arrested for her sake, so I offered him the choice between being prosecuted or breaking the entail. After a ridiculous amount of bluster, he chose to break the entail. Darcy’s solicitor felt Mr. Bennet might not make the effort to have a new will drawn up, so I declined to leave until he had done so and signed it. Milk or sugar, my dear?”

“Milk,” said Elizabeth in a strangled voice.

“Two sugars for you, Darcy? Here you are. Richard also managed to find your former valet keeping company with none other than George Wickham, who had apparently suggested he apply for the position with you and forged his references. They are both under arrest and awaiting trial.”

“Wickham’s friend?” It was a surprise, but also made perfect sense. Damn Wickham. “That explains a great deal.”

His aunt nodded. “As for Richard, he will be leaving in a month on a special assignment to India, and he has agreed to keep the matter of his marriage private until after his sister’s nuptials. I have encouraged him to speak to his wife about returning here for the sake of the children, as their future in India will be quite limited.”

At least she was acknowledging it was a marriage.

Elizabeth said determinedly, “I wonder why so many Englishmen go to India for the opportunities it offers if the futures there are so limited.”

Lady Matlock offered her a slice of almond cake. “Opportunities there are nearly limitless for those with two English parents. Sadly, those with only one English parent are barred from serving in the East India Company, the government, or even from holding land. Those children will never be trusted by either side in India. That is why most English officers now send their half-Indian children here to live. Richard knows this, and I cannot understand why he has failed to act on it already.”

“Perhaps he thought Lord Matlock would not acknowledge his marriage,” said Darcy bluntly. “At least his children are legitimate in India.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes narrowed. “Darcy, it may have passed your notice that I do have some very slight influence over my husband. Richard should have brought his concern to me. He ought to have done the same with this little matter of yours. I am quite cross with him.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “I will acknowledge your very slight influence over your husband, similar to Beau Brummel’s very slight influence over men’s fashions, but Richard had no reason to think you would support him in this.”

The countess turned her gaze on Elizabeth with a quiet sigh. “My dear Mrs. Darcy, it is my fervent hope that your influence may someday convince your husband that, in the natural order of things, mothers love their children. Would I have preferred to see Richard married to an Englishwoman? Yes, because I would wish his life to be an easy one. But since he has married an Indian woman, I will do my best to make that work and to provide opportunities for my grandchildren. My youngest son ran off last year because he was so unhappy with his life, and I have not heard a word from him since. I do not intend to allow that to happen to my remaining children.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. Given how tearful she been recently, Darcy tried for a quick change of subject. “So you have resolved matters for Richard, Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Collins, and your daughter’s engagement. Dare I assume you have a plan to save the government?” he asked lightly.

She gave him a severe look. “Some idiocy is beyond even my ability to amend, but I am planning a ball to take place here Tuesday next. If you have other fixed plans, pray be so kind as to change them.”

Either the concussion was rearing its ugly head again, or his aunt had said something completely nonsensical. Certainly his head was starting to ache. “You will have to forgive me if I fail to understand how a ball in Edinburgh will support the government.”

She beamed at him. “It is to celebrate your marriage, of course. Given the government’s current unpopularity, that foolish scheme of Lady Catherine’s could bring down my husband and perhaps even the Prime Minister. Threatening a poor innocent girl, tearing her from her family, falsely accusing a landed gentleman – why, the papers would love to get hold of this story and use it to destroy your uncle. Sooner or later someone will give it to them.”

Elizabeth said slowly, “And, since some people might question whether his signature truly was forged, you must show it to be untrue by demonstrating your utter delight at welcoming me to your family, even going so far as to travel all the way to Scotland and arrange a ball for us.”

“Very insightful, my dear. By the by, Darcy, if Lady Catherine somehow manages to smuggle out a letter to you, pray ignore it. My husband has had her declared incompetent. She is now under his guardianship and forbidden to leave Rosings under pain of being sent to Bedlam.” She related the tale as if there were nothing unusual about an earl’s sister being reduced to such straits. “Now, do tell me all about your wedding.”

Darcy began to relax as Elizabeth managed to relate a summary of their marriage that was mercifully devoid of magistrate’s officers and highwaymen.

Towards the end of the visit, Lady Matlock said quietly, “Darcy, I was most grateful to receive your letter about Jasper.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

Darcy said hastily, “I thought you would want to know my friend had reported that Jasper was well.”

“Have you heard anything further? Do you know if he plans to return home?”

Darcy said carefully, “Jasper? I doubt even he knows his own plans.”

She nodded sadly, and said to Elizabeth, “Forgive me. It is terribly rude of me to discuss someone you do not know. My youngest son ran off last year and I have been sick with worry about him. Darcy has always been the one he turns to in times of trouble, and now I do the same in hope of news of my son.”

Elizabeth said in a slightly choked voice, “Darcy has mentioned Jasper to me with fondness.”

“I am glad of that.” The countess fell silent.

“Your ladyship,” said Elizabeth with sudden determination. “I wonder if I might persuade you to join us tonight while we attend a play at the Theatre Royal. We are very proud of our theatre, and it would give me great pleasure to show it to you, and to have the opportunity to become better acquainted with you.”

When his aunt looked taken aback at this rather forward invitation, Darcy added, “I hope you will consider it. Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle have been patrons of the theatre since it began, and it is the center of Elizabeth’s life here. I would be most grateful if you would consider it.” Hopefully she would hear this as a plea for her to lend her aristocratic imprimatur to the theatre. “And I would add to the desire to spend more time together. Elizabeth was given such a very poor impression of our family owing to Lady Catherine’s extortion, and I am eager for her to have the opportunity to see that you are different.”

“Oh, very well. But if I go to the theatre, I expect you to have a smile on your face during the entire ball,” said Lady Matlock severely.

“Madam, we have an agreement.”

***

AS THEY CROSSED THE vestibule of the Theatre Royal, Lady Matlock said, “I hope this performance lives up to your expectations. I have seen Romeo and Juliet a great many times.”

Elizabeth said, “I daresay this will be a most memorable experience for you.”

Darcy steeled himself. It was now or never. “Did you know Jasper always had a particular dream of what he wished he could do, if he were free to do anything in the world?”

“Of course,” said Lady Matlock with a smile. “He wished he could be an actor.” She stopped suddenly and her smile disappeared.

Darcy had never seen that look of naked pain on his aunt’s face before. He found himself unable to speak.

“Exactly,” said Elizabeth briskly. “Tonight you will not only see him act, but you will also step into Jasper’s world. We will be watching the play from the actors’ box. I hope you will not mind if I introduce you as his aunt, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, since that is the name he uses, and he has told everyone here his parents are dead.”

“Whatever you wish,” said Lady Matlock faintly.

Elizabeth added, “While we are on the topic of shocking behavior by family members, I should mention that my aunt is playing Lady Capulet.”

“Your aunt?”

“Yes. Astonishingly enough, I met Jasper through my aunt, long before Darcy came to Scotland. It is a very small world. Here we are.”

Darcy held open the curtain to the box as his aunt and Elizabeth walked through. There were several other people there tonight, as well as Mr. Siddons. Perhaps he should have insisted on a private box after all.

Elizabeth did not hesitate. “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, may I present to your acquaintance Mr. Siddons, our theatre manager and the son of the great Sarah Siddons? Mr. Siddons, Mrs. Fitzpatrick is our Romeo’s aunt.”

Mr. Siddons said, “You must be exceedingly proud of your nephew. He is one of the most talented actors I have had the pleasure of working with.”

Elizabeth said with a smile in her voice, “This will be the first time Mrs. Fitzpatrick has seen her nephew perform.”

Mr. Siddons smiled widely. “You are in for a treat, then. I hope you brought several handkerchiefs. I have seen grown men weep at his final scene.”

Elizabeth held up her bulging reticule. “I am prepared, although I must say that Jasper does not always make me cry these days. Of course, I have watched him do it dozens of times.”

Lady Matlock asked Darcy quietly, “Does he know I am here?”

“No,” Darcy whispered. They had warned Mrs. MacLean, but not Jasper. “Elizabeth thought it might affect his performance. He was planning to tell you at Christmas, but it is better for you to see him perform first. You will understand better afterwards.”

The look she gave him suggested she would have words with him afterwards, too. Would she be as affected by Jasper’s performance as everyone else, or would she only see the potential scandal? Had this been a terrible mistake?

He had to do what he could for Jasper’s sake. “He has been living on his salary of two pounds a week since July. He blacks his own boots. He spends every spare moment practicing his lines. No drinking, no petticoat chasing, no gambling. He lives for this.”

Her lips tightened. “Have you known about this all along?”

Darcy leaned closer to her. “Not at all. I came to Edinburgh to look for Elizabeth. I was shocked to discover him here.”

The curtain began to open. Now it was up to Jasper.

***

JASPER HELD UP ROMEO’S vial of poison, his expression agonized. “Here’s to my love!” He quaffed the liquid, dropped the vial, and clutched his chest. “O true apothecary, thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.” He pressed his lips to Juliet’s, gasped and slowly collapsed.

Elizabeth stole a look at Lady Matlock. At first glance she appeared to be unmoved, but there were tears sliding down her cheek. That had to be a good sign.

Elizabeth tiptoed out of the box and quietly made her way to the backstage door. No one noticed except Darcy, who was expecting it. The audience’s attention was riveted on the stage.

She stole through the door and down into the wings. On stage, the prince brought together Montague and Capulet, while the bodies of Romeo and Juliet lay behind them. She waited through the last few speeches and the thunderous applause. After the final curtain call, Elizabeth caught Jasper’s hand. “I must speak to you.”

He followed her off stage. “What is the matter?”

She said, “Nothing. You made your mother cry.”

He glanced from one side to the other and lowered his voice. “Is this Richard making trouble? If he wrote and told you that, don’t believe him. My mother never cries. Not ever.”

With a broad smile, Elizabeth said, “You are in for a new experience, then. I assure you, she cried over Romeo’s death.” She pulled him after her.

“Wait! My mother is here?” His voice rose until it was practically a squeak.

She looked back over her shoulder. “Yes. We found out today she was in Edinburgh and brought her here to see how brilliantly you act. Now come, or the audience will catch us and we will never reach her!” She had to tug him along, but he did not resist.

He stopped short outside the actors’ box. “I cannot do this,” he moaned.

“Of course, you can.” Elizabeth raised his hand as if he were holding a sword. “Once more unto the breach. Say it.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Once more unto the breach.” He pulled aside the curtain as decisively as King Henry would have.

Mr. Siddons announced, “And here is our Romeo himself!”

Lady Matlock looked up with astonished, red-rimmed eyes and cast herself against her son’s doublet-covered chest.

Jasper appeared too stunned to speak at first, but finally murmured, “Mother, I am all over greasepaint and sheep’s blood.”

Lady Matlock stepped back without urgency and took hold of both his hands. Her voice tremulous, she said, “You have done it. You have found your wings.”

“Once more unto the breach,” murmured Elizabeth.

Jasper straightened his shoulders. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Lady Matlock’s smile glowed.

Mr. Siddons cleared his throat. “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, may I offer a word of advice? Under all that greasepaint, your nephew is as white as a sheet, waiting on tenterhooks to hear your opinion of his performance.”

Lady Matlock cast a puzzled glimpse at Darcy.

Elizabeth pointed at Jasper. “That nephew.”

“Oh, yes.” Lady Matlock managed to don a regal air despite her red eyes and the blotches of sheep’s blood on her dress. “Until tonight, I have not shed a tear in public since I was four years old. I complained all the way here about their dragging me to see Romeo and Juliet which I have seen a dozen times with the best actors at Drury Lane and Covent Garden. You outshone them all.”

Jasper’s smile bloomed into brilliance.

Darcy managed to find his voice. “This has been a surprise for both of you. Perhaps you would like a few minutes together before Jasper has to prepare for the second play.”

Jasper swallowed hard. “Yes, but first I must tell Mr. Siddons something in private. He gave me this opportunity, and I want to tell him the truth.”

“What?” asked Mr. Siddons. “Oh, that. I do not care if your father is the Prince of Wales or a gin-soaked beggar in the gutter. All I care about is whether you can act. As it happens, you can.”

Jasper raised his chin. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Siddons held up a finger. “Actually, I do care about one thing because I have money riding on it. Are you the son of a rich tradesman, an aristocrat, or someone else?”

Lady Matlock said in her haughtiest voice, “Jasper’s father is in the House of Lords.”

“Ha! I win!” Mr. Siddons exulted, rubbing his hands together. “Jamieson thought you were a nabob, but I said that lad is an aristocrat down to his bones.”

“Anyone who has seen him play Henry V could have told you that,” pronounced Aunt Emmeline from the entrance to the box. She was still dressed as Lady Capulet, but had scrubbed off her greasepaint. “Jasper, my boy, you should be backstage changing your costume. Lizzy, why do you not bring your guest back to the house until Jasper is done? I will be along shortly, as I am not in the next play.”

Lady Matlock said, “That is kind of you, but I would prefer to watch Jasper perform.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He will not be able to focus now that he knows you are here. That is why we did not tell him.”

Jasper shot her a look of profound relief.

***

ON THE WAY TO AUNT Emmeline’s house, Elizabeth said, “Your ladyship, I must beg your forgiveness for my unmannerly insistence on taking you to the theatre tonight. I truly do know better, and only my affection for Jasper, and the hope that it might be easier for him if you were to see him perform, could make me behave in such an odd manner.”

Lady Matlock, apparently beginning to recover from her shock, said, “You are quite forgiven, especially since you care about Jasper. I will admit it gave me some concern about the sort of wife Darcy had found himself, and I am glad to learn it is not characteristic of you.”

“I thank you. You would have learned of his acting soon in any case, but this seemed the perfect opportunity to let you see what he has accomplished,” Elizabeth replied.

Darcy chuckled. “That, and because my lovely wife felt guilty when she saw how worried you were about Jasper, knowing she had seen him a bare hour earlier.”

“Well, yes,” Elizabeth admitted.

Lady Matlock patted her hand. “It was good of you, my dear. I am very glad you took mercy upon me.”

After their arrival at the house, Lady Matlock retired briefly to take advantage of the services of a lady’s maid. When she arrived in the drawing room wearing one of Aunt Emmeline’s shawls, she said, “This has been an instructive evening. Your aunt’s maid seemed completely unsurprised to be faced with removing greasepaint and stains from sheep’s blood. I doubt my own maid could have done as well.”

Elizabeth smiled. “It is a hazard of the actor’s trade. I will warn you that greasepaint stains are almost impossible to remove completely. Even Jasper complains of it, and he almost never complains.” She spread her hands. “Darcy and I have spent hours discussing the Jasper he knew and the one I know, and it is impossible to believe we are talking about the same person. He is so very sunny-natured and content here.”

Lady Matlock’s social mask slipped. “He was a sunny child, full of life and affection for everything, until the world became too much for him. Once he was in the schoolroom, he seemed to fail at everything he put his hand to, and the joy slowly seeped away from him. When he despaired, I used to tell him he would find his wings someday and soar over his troubles.”

“He did,” Darcy said. “It is fragile, though. After I first found him, the slightest hint of haughtiness or disapproval or even formal manners would bring back sullen, angry Jasper in the blink of an eye. If you find my manners when he is present to be sadly deficient, that is why.”

Lady Matlock inclined her head. “I thank you for the hint. Tell me, was it a coincidence tonight’s play was Romeo and Juliet?”

“It was just what was playing tonight, and one of Jasper’s best parts,” said Elizabeth. “He only plays a few leading roles so far, but it is a mark of his unusual talent that such a new actor should be playing them at all.”

“I see. I wondered if it might be a suggestion that our family should avoid playing the Capulets to the theatre’s Montagues.”

Aunt Emmeline chose that moment to enter. “An excellent interpretation, and I wish I could claim it. Alas! It did not cross my mind. I am sorry I could not be here to welcome you on your arrival. Jasper will be here in another hour or so.”

“Am I to understand that he lives here?” asked Lady Matlock with a hint of disapproval.

“Yes, he rents one of the bedrooms. For theatricals, there is nothing unusual about this arrangement. I often host visiting actors.”

“He was fortunate to find such a pleasant place to live,” the countess said pointedly.

Aunt Emmeline laughed. “It was not only good fortune. I was once a gentleman’s daughter and I remember my first acting job. I had no idea how to find a room to rent or how to manage my needs on a pound a week. I recognized how overwhelmed he was when he arrived, and thought I could make his transition a little less painful. I have not made it too easy for him, though. He has to care for his room and his clothes himself. The servants do not help him.”

“It was kind of you. Is it true, then, that everyone recognized he was a gentleman?”

“Oh, yes. It is not the first time this has happened in the theatre. Most do not stay long once they discover it is hard work. Jasper is perhaps unique for both the prominence of your family and the depth of his talent. That makes it a knotty problem.”

Lady Matlock sighed. “Mrs. MacLean, may I ask you a very frank question about his position?”

“Your ladyship, I am a theatrical. You may ask me anything you wish.”

“How long can Jasper expect to have a position at the theatre here?”

“Why, as long as he likes! He is an excellent draw, and Siddons is very pleased with his work. Normally an actor with his talent could expect to move to Drury Lane soon, but Jasper knows he would benefit from more seasoning here. Siddons and I both cut our teeth at Drury Lane, and we have been working with Jasper to pass on our training.”

Lady Matlock nodded. “That will help.”

Aunt Emmeline said, “From that, I must ask you a very frank question in return. Do you intend to stand in the way of Jasper’s acting?”

The countess tipped her head to one side as if debating how to answer. “I have no desire to deprive him of what he loves, but it cannot be hidden forever. I could weather the scandal, but it would be more difficult for my husband and our other children. The timing is poor, with my daughter newly engaged, the government on shaky footing, and what will certainly be some scandal about Darcy’s wedding. Once Frederica is wed next year, it becomes a matter of my husband’s position. Of course, the current government may have fallen by then, or even by next week, so that may not matter.”

“What if you did not hide it?” Aunt Emmeline asked. “Not now, but later, when he has more training. Invite everyone you know to his performances. Hold a recital where Jasper and Sarah Siddons perform scenes together. Walter Scott is already fond of Jasper. He could introduce Jasper to London as his protégé. Show everyone how proud you are of him, and I would wager there will not only be no scandal, but that he will be the toast of the town.”

Lady Matlock tapped her forefingers together thoughtfully. “There may be something to that. Still, it will be difficult to convince society we are proud that our son is an actor.”

“Not just any actor,” declared Aunt Emmeline. “The finest young actor of his generation, whose name will be remembered when we are long gone.” She lowered her voice. “Do not underestimate the appeal to ladies of a handsome, brilliantly talented actor, especially given his breeding. They will flock to him in droves and fight for the honor of having him attend their social gatherings – but not if you are ashamed of him.”

“I will consider it. If he can avoid entanglements with actresses, it will be easier.”

“Your ladyship, Jasper lives to act,” said Elizabeth. “I have not seen him look twice at any woman. Apart from Miss Ramsay, that is, who is five years of age and madly in love with him.”

Darcy added, “He is a very different man now than the London ne’er-do-well.”

“There is still one problem ahead,” said Aunt Emmeline. “Jasper is going to hate being famous. He enjoyed his anonymity here, and he is already uncomfortable when someone recognizes him on the street and praises him. I have no solution for that, though. He cannot act as well as he does and remain unknown.”

Lady Matlock’s eyelids drooped. “Jasper, I fear, is unaccustomed to praise from strangers.”

“He will have to learn to accept it, for he will receive a great deal of it. Lizzy, her ladyship might be interested in seeing Jasper’s scrapbook. More properly I should call it the scrapbook that Lizzy has been keeping for Jasper, since he never took the time to do it for himself.”

Elizabeth fetched a large journal. “It contains the broadsheets for his plays and such notices as have appeared in the paper. His first review is my favorite.” She opened the book and struck a declamatory pose. “‘Tonight a new shining star has appeared in the bright firmament over the Theatre Royal when Mr. Fitzpatrick, who has provided consistently creditable performances in numerous minor roles, stepped into the role of Henry V, bringing such transcendence to his character as to convince all the audience that the great Lancastrian king himself strode across our humble stage; and every gentleman in the audience was ready, nay, eager to charge after him unto the breached wall of besieged Harfleur.’ That is just the first sentence. The second is even longer and more laudatory.” She handed the journal to Lady Matlock with a smile.

***

JASPER FINALLY ARRIVED an hour or so later, standing tall but with an unreadable expression. “This is quite a surprise,” he said.

“That was my fault,” said Lady Matlock. “I went to some trouble to arrive with no warning, but it was Darcy I meant to take by surprise, not you. I had no idea you were here.”

“No, it was my fault,” said Elizabeth. “Once I learned she was here, I realized it would be very hard to keep your presence a secret. If she was going to discover your secret anyway, I wanted her to know what a fine actor you are first.”

“I am not blaming anyone. But I am also not going to stop acting.” He raised his chin defiantly.

“I am not asking you to stop acting,” said his mother gently.

Jasper looked taken aback. “You aren’t?”

She shook her head. “Not if it makes you happy. It might be best if it could stay a secret for another year or two, but I see no reason you cannot continue as you are.”

“You don’t?” Jasper’s dazed look turned dark. “But Father will. He’ll stop me.”

“Pray give me a chance to speak to your father before you give up on him. He will be arriving here in a few days, and I believe I can bring him around.”

Jasper straightened into his King Harry posture. “No. I prefer to tell him myself.”

“Are you certain?” Lady Matlock asked.

“I am a grown man. I love and respect both of you, but he has no power over me in any way that matters. If he disowns me, so be it. If he causes me to lose my position at this theatre, I will find another one beyond his reach. I do not care about being an earl’s son nor about wealth. I am an actor, and I cannot be anything else. Nothing he can say will change my resolve.”

“Bravo!” cried Aunt Emmeline. “Your ladyship, your son has played many roles, and in playing them, they have become part of him. He knows what it is to be a doomed lover in Verona, and what it is to be a king. And a king outranks an earl.”

Darcy stared at his cousin in astonishment. Jasper had always allowed his mother to protect him from the worst of his father’s anger. But the changes this year had made in him went far deeper than blacking his own boots.

And it was not just Jasper. All of them had changed. A year ago, Darcy had been horrified by the degradation that marrying Elizabeth would bring. Now he could not be prouder of his wife, and he scorned the society that had taught him to look down on people like the Bennets. He was more comfortable with the theatricals, tradesmen, and Highlanders than he had ever been with London society. He was perfectly happy to allow Georgiana to forgo a Season and a grand marriage. Richard had finally admitted his own secret marriage and was going to return to India as he had always wanted. Elizabeth had changed, too, learning to stand up for herself and claim the life she wanted. Perhaps there truly was something magical about Scotland. Each of them had found their way here on their own, and all of them had been changed by it.

Lady Matlock studied her son, apparently seeing that change for the first time. “You are correct. You no longer need my protection, and I am proud of you for it. But perhaps you need not choose between your family and your acting. You underestimate me if you think I will simply accept anyone’s dictum that you cannot be both a Fitzwilliam and an actor.”

Jasper’s unwontedly sober mien broke into a grin. “If anyone can accomplish the impossible, it is you. But this is indeed impossible. And I am happy as Jasper Fitzpatrick.”

“You may remain as Jasper Fitzpatrick, but do not burn your bridges to Jasper Fitzwilliam quite yet. I do not wish to lose my son.”

“Yes, mama,” Jasper said with an excess of patience. “Lizzy, is something wrong?”

Elizabeth started awake. “Forgive me. I must have dozed off. I do not know why I have been so tired of late.”

It was true. She had been difficult to rouse the last few mornings despite taking naps in the afternoon. Darcy had thought nothing of it, but falling asleep at a social gathering was completely unlike Elizabeth. Something must be wrong.

Lady Matlock turned to Aunt Emmeline. “How long have they been married?”

“Long enough. Almost two months,” said Aunt Emmeline pointedly.

What could cause excessive sleepiness? Surely Elizabeth could not be developing consumption! God could not be so cruel. “I will send for a doctor first thing in the morning,” he said, intending to brook no argument.

“Because I am sleepy?” Elizabeth looked amused. “He will laugh at you.”

“Your wife does not need to see a doctor,” said Lady Matlock. “She needs to talk to her aunt.”

The two older women smiled at each other smugly.

Jasper said, “You should go to bed, Lizzy. I have far too many lines to learn tomorrow, and I need you to be well-rested.”

***

TWO DAYS LATER, DARCY eyed Jasper as they stood outside the Customs House for their first meeting with Lord Matlock. His cousin had refused Darcy’s offer to borrow his valet to spruce up his clothing and shine his boots, saying that Jasper Fitzpatrick had no business trying to dress like Jasper Fitzwilliam. At Matlock House, he would have been sent around to the servant’s entrance.

As if Lord Matlock was not going to have enough to object to already when Jasper told him about his acting! At least his fury with Jasper was likely to divert his attention from Elizabeth, whose pale face showed her dread of this first meeting. Only Mrs. MacLean looked completely at ease.

The butler led them through the marble entrance hall to a large parlor filled with a dozen or so fashionably dressed people.

Darcy stopped short. This was supposed to be Jasper’s opportunity to confess to Lord Matlock. What had his aunt been thinking to have strangers at this meeting? Good God, this was going to be a disaster.

Lady Matlock came forward to meet them. “I am so delighted you are here!” She turned to the crowd. “Pray permit me to present to you the reason that brought us here: my nephew, Mr. Darcy, and his new bride. We are so pleased to welcome Mrs. Darcy to our family, especially as she has Scottish connections! I hope you will all attend the ball we are giving in their honor. I also have the pleasure of presenting Mrs. Darcy’s aunt, Mrs. MacLean, and an old friend of ours, Mr. Fitzpatrick, both of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh. My dear friends, we are most honored today to have with us Lord Granton, the Lord President of the Court of Session.” As she proceeded to introduce the rest of her guests, the names of the various Scottish notables slipped past Darcy as soon as they had been mentioned. He was too aware of Lord Matlock scowling at them like Vesuvius about to erupt.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick! As I live and breathe!” Lord Granton pumped Jasper’s hand enthusiastically. “And Mrs. MacLean. This is an honor, a great honor. Lady Matlock, you told us you were inviting family members, not our theatrical royalty!”

“To us they are family, of one sort and another,” said Lady Matlock graciously. “Mr. Fitzpatrick went to school with our boys and practically grew up at Matlock House. I had never seen him perform until Mr. and Mrs. Darcy invited me to your delightful Theatre Royal, and I am still all astonishment that the boy who climbed the tallest tree at Matlock could magically transform into Romeo!”

“Well, you have stolen a march on me, your ladyship. I am a great patron of our theatre, and when I heard you and his lordship were coming, I asked for a special performance of Lovers’ Vows for you to attend so you could see our fine actors. And here you have known our Mr. Fitzpatrick all his life, and Mrs. MacLean is your in-law!” He shook his head in amused disbelief.

His elegantly dressed wife held her hand out to Jasper. “I feel as if I should curtsey to the floor and call you King Harry.”

“You honor me,” said Jasper, his face white as a sheet.

It was a good thing all eyes were on Jasper and Mrs. MacLean, since otherwise they might have noticed that Lord Matlock looked on the verge of apoplexy.

“I had not expected anyone here to know our guests,” said Lady Matlock, evincing an air of well-bred surprise. “I knew my dear husband would want to see Jasper and meet Mrs. MacLean, and since they are performing in the evening, this was the only time they could come. How charming that so many of you know them!”

Lord Granton chuckled. “We know of them, but this is a particular privilege because Mr. Fitzpatrick never accepts invitations to social events. My wife has a veritable collection of notes of apology from him saying he is too busy learning his roles to take time for entertainment.”

Darcy resisted the temptation to stare at Jasper. His cousin’s acting had earned him invitations from the most powerful man in Scotland?

Mrs. MacLean turned up her palms. “You must forgive poor Mr. Fitzpatrick. He is dreadfully shy, poor boy, and only comes to life on stage.” She clapped her hands, as if suddenly struck by a delightful idea. “I know! You must recite for the company, dear boy!”

“Recite?” Jasper asked in disbelief, as if she had asked him to sprout wings and fly around the room.

“Oh, yes, if you please!” cried Lord Granton. “It would be such a treat for us.”

Jasper opened his mouth and closed it, like a fish out of water, and then seemed to collect himself. He strode over to a footman and conferred with him briefly.

A few minutes later, the guests had moved to one side of the room. On the other, Jasper, holding an old cavalry saber one of the servants had managed to locate, transformed into King Harry, his motions quick and decisive. His voice echoed as he cried, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends!”

He finished the speech with a lithe leap onto a loveseat. With one foot perched on the back as if he were scaling the ruined walls of Harfleur, he held the saber high. “The game’s afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’”

He held the pose as his audience applauded enthusiastically. His sword still in the air, he turned slowly to face his father and made a slight inclination of his head, a king acknowledging his subject. Then he lowered the sword and suddenly became Jasper once more.

Everyone in the room gathered around him, heaping him with praise. Everyone except Lord Matlock, of course. Mrs. MacLean was solicited to recite as well, and obliged with Lady Macbeth’s monologue. Afterwards Lord Matlock lumbered over to them. “Acting, is it?” he said.

Jasper straightened. “Yes, sir,” he said calmly. “It is my calling.”

“You must tell me all about it later.” It was the public voice of the Lord Chancellor, not Jasper’s father. That must be why Lady Matlock had arranged this spectacle. Lord Matlock would not allow himself to rise into a fury in public.

Now Mrs. MacLean began to exert herself to charm Lord Matlock. Apparently no blood was going to be shed today. That was a relief.

***

AFTER HALF AN HOUR, Lady Matlock approached Darcy and Elizabeth. “I am so glad you joined us, my dears.”

“I thank you for inviting us. It has been most illuminating and diverting.” Elizabeth was only just beginning to believe they would all survive the visit. And now that it was all but over, it even seemed slightly amusing.

“I am glad you have enjoyed it. Darcy, pray take your lovely wife to the small sitting room. The footman will show you the way. There is someone who wishes to speak with you there.”

Darcy bowed. “I am at your service, madam.”

Outside the drawing room, Elizabeth asked, “Dare I inquire what that was about?”

Darcy’s stern expression broke into a smile. “Richard, or I miss my guess. He must have arrived later than the others, and my aunt would not have trusted him to play the proper role in her little drama.”

“I suppose not, if she is accustomed to him fighting with Jasper. Their new alliance may be an even greater surprise to them than our marriage was.”

His eyes lit with warmth that made her wish they could be alone. He nodded to the footman who opened the door and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.”

The room was filled with familiar faces. All the blood rushed to Elizabeth’s feet. Her father. Her sister Jane. Bingley. And, yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Then Jane’s arms closed around her.

“Oh, Lizzy! I am so glad...” Jane’s voice broke as her shoulders began to shake.

“Jane, dearest, do not cry, I beg you, or I will start to as well!” The ready tears were filling her eyes.

Jane’s tremulous smile lit up her face. “My dearest Lizzy! But how is it that you are married to Mr. Darcy? His letter to Bingley said you were marrying an actor.”

“Oh, that.” Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, who was shaking the hand of a nervous-looking Bingley. “I had forgotten completely about that. It was a bit of calculated misdirection. There was nothing to it. But what brings you all the way to Scotland?”

“Lord Matlock, of course,” grumbled Mr. Bennet without taking a moment for a greeting. “He sent the good colonel to force me to come to his blasted ball, and Jane, fearing for my sanity if I were trapped in a carriage for week with your mother, volunteered to accompany me in her place.”

Of course he had not come to Edinburgh voluntarily. Why would she have thought that even for a minute?

Elizabeth could not avoid looking at him forever. Was he shorter than she remembered? The year since she had left had not been kind to him. There were new lines around his eyes and his cheeks sagged in a way they had not before.

He had hurt her, had thrown her away as if she were no more than a worn-out nightshirt, and never bothered to write. But he was still the father who had laughed with her, teased her, and given her his favorite books to read.

And he was clearly not going to say anything more. It was easier for him to leave the work of a reconciliation to her, and he would ignore her aunt. He always took the easiest way, and she had always allowed it. She had no choice then, dependent on him for a roof over her head and food to eat, with no one to stand up for her.

Now she had friends who would stand beside her in a fight, friends she had earned, like Jasper and her aunt. The staff at Kinloch House would put salt in his coffee and put clammy sheets on his bed because she had won their loyalty when they had begun by resenting and fearing her. Duncan MacLaren would defend and protect her as an adopted part of his clan. And she no longer had to rely on her father for a roof over her head and food to eat.

Was that why her father had refused her aunt’s original invitation for Elizabeth to live with her? Because it would make her independent of him instead of being forced to tolerate his choices? A flush of sudden understanding filled her.

She could chart her own course instead of floundering in her father’s wake. Why should she tolerate his ridiculous feud with her aunt, when she had seen Aunt Emmeline face down the magistrate’s man to save Mr. Jack, and she had just watched Lady Matlock masterfully orchestrate an entire roomful of powerful people and bend them to her will?

She might forgive him someday, but she would never allow him to control her again, even if it might mean losing him forever. Decisively, she turned to the footman. “Mrs. MacLean is with the other guests. Pray ask her to join us.” Holding out her hands to her father with a smile, she said, “How good it is that we are together again, and how happy I will be when you and Aunt Emmeline have made up your ancient quarrel over things that happened years before I was born!”

He grimaced and made a small huffing sound, but he took her hands. “If it is so important to you, I will strive to be polite to your precious aunt, even if I am not certain I approve of the influence she has had on you.”

She let laughter bubble up in her voice. “I daresay you can do better than that, and since Lord Matlock will insist on a great show of family harmony, you might as well take the credit by being forgiving and magnanimous before he forces you into it.” She squeezed his hands. “And I look forward to hearing about all the books you have read since I saw you last.” There; she would do that much for the sake of family peace, but she would never forget how her father had abandoned her without a word. How different he was from Darcy, who had risked everything to follow her!

“There would have been more books to tell you about, had it not been for all the nonsense of Jane’s wedding,” he grumbled. “At least I was spared from endless discussions of lace and ribbon for your wedding.”

The door clicked open behind her. “Mrs. MacLean,” intoned the footman.

Elizabeth dropped one of her father’s hands to reach out to her aunt. “Aunt Emmeline, look who is here! Now we can all be together at last.”

Aunt Emmeline said carefully, “Welcome to Edinburgh, Thomas.” Her tight grip on Elizabeth’s fingers hurt.

Mr. Bennet’s mouth twisted, but the look in his eyes suggested a certain relief. “Hello, Emmeline. I understand Lord Matlock has decreed we are to be friends.”

“I suppose that is as good a reason as any,” her aunt said briskly. “Come, let us sit down. I am parched for some tea.”

Elizabeth smiled. “First, Aunt, I must beg leave to present my dearest sister Jane, whom you last saw when she was four years old, and her husband, Mr. Bingley. Jane, this is our aunt, Mrs. MacLean.”

“I am Aunt Emmeline to you, my dear! You are every bit as beautiful as Lizzy told me. I am so glad you are here, and I hope you will grant me the opportunity to show you Edinburgh.”

Elizabeth let her aunt take the lead in keeping the conversation flowing. She sank back in her chair between Mr. Bingley and her father to bathe in the pleasure of being among her family once again and feeling the warm support in Darcy’s gaze from across the circle. For so long she had thought it impossible that she would ever see her father or Jane again. Even now it might never be the same, since she was no longer the same girl who had lived at Longbourn and tamely submitted to her father’s will, but it was good to have them all together, her old family and her new one.

***

THEY HAD WALKED TO the meeting with Lord Matlock, but it had started to drizzle and Darcy insisted on getting a hackney for the return to the house and helping Elizabeth up into it. “It has been a long day already, and there will be more yet to come now that your aunt has invited your family to dinner.”

Elizabeth leaned against his shoulder. “It will be tiring, it is true, but I want to spend as much time with Jane as I can. I imagine Father will want to return to Longbourn as soon as the ball is over, but I hope to persuade Mr. Bingley and Jane to remain for a longer visit.”

He put his arm around her. “An excellent idea. I will speak to Bingley about it as well.”

“Were you able to make up your quarrel, then? I saw you go off with him alone for a few minutes.”

Darcy nodded. “He apologized for not believing me. It is odd looking back on what a simplistic sense of honor I had then. I blamed him for failing to trust me even though I had hidden my motivations from him. I think I have a better understanding now.”

“I am glad. I do not want to lose Jane again. It was hard enough to leave her for this short a time, and heaven knows I need to rest if I am not to fall asleep in my soup at dinner.”

He frowned. “I am deeply concerned about this fatigue of yours. This is quite unlike you. I must insist on calling a doctor tomorrow.”

She straightened and looked up at him archly. “My love, surely you cannot be unaware of the usual reason why recently married ladies suddenly become sleepy all the time.”

His cheeks grew hot with mortification. “I had not realized my nightly attentions to you were so tiring. I will restrain myself in the future.” Why had she not told him he was exhausting her?

She laid her fingers on her lips. “If you dare to restrain yourself, I shall be very cross! My beloved idiot, I am tired for the same reason that I keep bursting into tears and the bodices of my dresses are growing tight.” She watched him expectantly, a small smile playing about her mouth.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Her tearfulness had been because of her worry about her father, but what did that have to do with her bodices? Now that he thought about it, he had noticed a slight change in how snugly certain parts of her fit into his hands. She had been picking at her food, too, so perhaps she was worried about gaining weight. “I have no complaints about how you fill your bodices. None at all.” Perhaps that would reassure her.

She laughed outright. Taking his hand, she placed it on her lower abdomen. “If my suspicions are correct, this part of me will start to swell soon, too. And some months after that, we will be needing a nursery. That is why I am tired.”

He sucked in a deep breath. Could it be? Somehow he managed to choke out the words, “You are increasing?”

Her smile widened. “It is too early to be certain, but the signs are there. Enough so that both my aunt and Lady Matlock reached that same conclusion without a word from me.”

A child. Elizabeth was carrying his child. Their child. He could not comprehend it.

His utter astonishment must have shown, as she said in a teasing voice, “This is a natural consequence of marriage, you know.”

“I know, but...” But there were no words. He gathered her in his arms, heedless of the hackney windows allowing any passerby a full view, and showered her face with kisses. “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!”

She snuggled into his arm. “I am glad you are pleased.”

“Pleased? Delighted! Overjoyed!” He could not believe the reversal of his fortunes. Not long ago he had despaired of having Elizabeth as his wife. Now she was carrying his child! Then it struck him. “You should have told me! Here I am, dragging you all over Edinburgh when you should be resting. I am so very sorry, my love.”

She swatted at his hand. “I am with child, not ill. I admit to some concerns, most seriously that someone will say something particularly kind to me in the midst of the ball in our honor and I will burst in tears in front of everyone, but apart from needing more sleep, I am perfectly well, and require no special treatment. Apart from frequent kisses and reassurances that you adore me, but I know I may rely on you for that.”

He took both her hands in his and pressed kiss after kiss to them. “You may depend upon me. But I hope you will not have regrets that this has happened so quickly.”

“My love, you do find the strangest things to worry about, but if I did resent it, I would know precisely who to blame for my present situation.” Her eyes sparkled at him.

“Me?”

She laughed, her face alight. “No, Mr. Jack. He told me not to consummate our marriage so quickly. What could I do but disobey?”

Epilogue

LONDON, TWO YEARS LATER

Duncan MacLaren’s London valet bowed to him. “Mr. Scott is calling,”

“Show him in.” Duncan was still in shock at the very notion of having his own valet, much less a haughty Sassenach, but Darcy, Georgiana, and Lady Matlock had joined forces to insist upon it. They had been right; Duncan could not have managed the unexpected demands of the Season without him.

He had planned only to attend Georgiana’s presentation ball. She had begged him to attend, saying she could face it with more equanimity if he were there, and he could not deny her. He expected to be shunned by the London ton as a savage Highlander. To his shock, everyone had crowded around him, eager to make the acquaintance of a real Highland laird straight out of The Lady of the Lake. The next day he was deluged with invitations to society events. Walter Scott had a great deal to answer for!

Poor Georgiana had been horrified when he told her he would be attending all of them, but she had taken it like a true Highlander when he said, “Aye, lass, I must. I know you dislike such things, and I dinna expect you to attend, but if society will welcome me, I owe it to the clan to be an ambassador and build goodwill for the Highlands. Anything that can bring more travelers to the glen will help us all.” Mr. Gardiner’s guide had already proved a success in attracting tourists. The MacLaren clansmen were in demand as tour guides, and the Grahams were building a second inn to accommodate the influx of travelers.

Georgiana had straightened to her full height. “If the Highlands needs an ambassador, I will be by your side.” And she had been. For the sake of the Highlands and Clan MacLaren, Georgiana had overcome her shyness and dislike of the ton. She had even allowed a portrait to be made of the two of them to go in the next edition of the guide, along with the etchings made from her drawings.

Walter Scott strode in energetically. “There you are. I have been looking everywhere.”

“These are my lodgings,” Duncan MacLaren said mildly. “But I have only a few minutes before I must dress for the theatre.” Jasper Fitzpatrick’s first appearance at Drury Lane, to be precise. And he would see Georgiana there. An involuntary smile rose to his lips.

“Good thing I caught you in time. Do you have the Garb of Auld Gaul with you?”

Duncan gave him a sidelong look. “The kilt? Aye, my father insisted I bring it for when I call on his auld friends here. Wearing it once was more than enough. Everyone stared and pointed.”

“Good. You will wear it tonight,” Scott pronounced.

“To the theatre? You jest.”

“Not at all. I need a true Highlander to tell the Prince Regent that the blood of the Highlands runs in his veins.”

Duncan exclaimed, “Are you out of your mind? I know you were invited to dine with him last night, but what in God’s name happened?”

Scott gave a smug smile. “I learned he is enamored of the romantic Jacobite cause after reading my novel Waverley, and I seized my opportunity. I told him he was also a Jacobite by virtue of his descent from King James, and that Scotland needs him to be our Scottish prince.”

Duncan stared at him. “You truly are out of your mind!”

“Nay, laddie, ’tis our chance to make certain Scotland remains a country in its own right rather than just the north of England, as some of these English fools believe.”

“Aye, and well I know it! I hear it every day when I am out in society. Half of the ton has caught Highland mania from your books, and the other half superciliously insist Scotland no longer exists.” And Duncan tried to listen to it all patiently, and then to remind them that things can be strangely misrepresented at a distance.

“That is why you will help me to convince yon fat Prinny to value Scotland. He is coming to Drury Lane tonight at my suggestion, and you are invited to sit in his box. He wants to hear the opinion of a Highlander, not a Lowlander like me.”

Duncan held up his hands in horror. “Och, nay! I have lived this long by keeping my head down. It is bad enough that Lord Matlock is aware of my existence. No royalty for me! There must be hundreds of Highlanders in London you could take instead of me.”

Scott snorted. “Assimilated, all of them, sounding as English as Prinny himself and doing whatever they can to hide their heritage. Nay, I need a true proud Highlander, and Prinny is expecting you by name. Look at it this way – if Fitzpatrick’s debut creates a huge scandal, you and your kilt will be a good distraction. All you need do is sound Scottish and tell him he is the true Jacobite prince Scotland is waiting for.”

Duncan groaned. “My father would flay me alive if he knew.”

“Aye, but you and I, we understand reality. We canna earn the respect of the English by ignoring them. A wee compromise may serve us better.”

***

ELIZABETH’S SATISFIED smile told Darcy the play was going well. She had taught him that the silence during the play was a better indication of its reception. He had never heard a London theatre so quiet as when Jasper was on stage, and there was a satisfying roar of applause at the end. It was still possible the ton would reject Jasper, but his London acting career appeared to be off to a solid start. And the clapping and cheers only grew louder as Jasper came out for a solo bow, first to the audience, and then an elegant full court bow to the Royal Box, with the natural grace that only came from being raised to mingle with royalty.

Elizabeth jostled Darcy’s elbow. “Stand up,” she hissed, half-pulling him to his feet.

“What?”

“Prinny is on his feet!” She reached forward to tap at Georgiana’s shoulder and gestured to her to stand as well.

Other people were noticing now and rising to their feet, the applause even louder now. It seemed to go on and on until finally some dancers came out for the interval performance. Darcy leaned back and closed his eyes in sheer relief. Whether or not society accepted Jasper Fitzwilliam back, no one would be able to cut the Matlocks or the Darcys for their connection to him now that Jasper Fitzpatrick had the royal imprimatur.

The sound of Elizabeth’s sharp indrawn breath caught Darcy’s attention. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

“He is in the Royal Box!” she squeaked.

“Duncan? Of course he is.” And in full Highland dress no less. Darcy had seen Georgiana stealing glances at him all night.

“No, Jasper!”

Darcy grabbed the opera glasses and peered across the theatre. Good God! She was right. There was Jasper in full costume, speaking earnestly to Prinny, who must have commanded his presence. After a minute, the Prince Regent threw back his head and laughed uproariously, clutching at his belly. What had happened?

Prinny said something, wiping his eyes, as Jasper pointed across the theatre towards Lord Matlock’s private box. Prinny beckoned regally, and Lord Matlock rose to his feet, bowing an acknowledgment before leaving his own box. All played out in full view of the cream of London society, the theatre itself turning into a stage.

“Oh, dear,” said Elizabeth with laughter in her voice. “This was not part of the plan. Lady Matlock will not be pleased.”

Darcy said philosophically, “Jasper had no choice, once Prinny sent for him. They would have met before, so he had no choice but to reveal his identity. Anything else would be perilously close to lying to the future king.”

Her fine eyes sparkled at him. “Well, I look forward to hearing the full story later.”

***

JASPER SPRAWLED ON the fainting couch, his arm across his forehead. “What a laugh! Then Prinny summoned my parents, still chuckling, and forbade them from stopping me from acting. Forbade them! My parents! I have never seen such a look on my father’s face.”

MacLaren retorted, “I still canna believe you told him that my uncle was a smuggler! After all I have done to keep his activities secret, you announced it to the Prince Regent himself, of all people!”

Jasper shrugged. “It was Scott who brought the Wee Bruach whisky, not I.”

“But you were the one who recognized it by the taste and connected it to me, and that is when Prinny asked me to send him more! Now I get to choose my crime - disobeying the Prince Regent or sending him illegal whiskey!”

With a laugh, Jasper said, “There will be no difficulty. Did you think that brandy he was serving was not smuggled? Once you are supplying Prinny, the excise officers will conveniently look the other direction. Just think, your uncle is now the unofficial smuggler to His Royal Highness!” He collapsed into laughter.

Elizabeth said quickly, “How did you like performing at Drury Lane?”

“Exciting. So many excellent actors, even in tiny roles! But I miss the Edinburgh theatre. That was like family, and so much less drama backstage. All those gentlemen wooing the actresses! I had forgotten what it was like here.”

“Well, tomorrow you will be performing at your mother’s soirée where she will reveal you to the world, or at least those few people who did not hear what happened tonight,” said Aunt Emmeline. “That will be a different kind of drama.” She sounded a little wistful.

“Are you sure you will not take part?” Jasper coaxed. “I would love to have you acting beside me.”

Aunt Emmeline laughed. “And stand in the shade of your talent? No, thank you. That is all behind me now. Imogen’s grandmother must be above criticism.” She had abandoned both the stage and the name MacLean after the birth of her first grandchild. When Darcy and Elizabeth had told her they planned to name their baby after her if it was a girl, she had grown teary and begged them to consider Imogen instead. “My Imogen adored little children and would have liked nothing better,” she had said, and they had been happy to agree. Aunt Emmeline had utterly devoted herself to baby Imogen from the moment of her birth, to the point where her nurse occasionally complained of having little to do. It was heartwarming to see this new side of Aunt Emmeline, who was now once again proudly Mrs. MacLaren.

Soon there would be another baby for all of them to love. This one would be born at Pemberley in the summer. And then next winter Duncan MacLaren would officially become part of the family when he married Georgiana, unless Darcy decided to relent and permit them to marry earlier. After their utter devotion over the last two years, no one thought it even remotely possible Georgiana would change her mind.

Darcy gazed around the room with pleasure. His instincts had told him that marriage to Elizabeth would make his life complete, but he had never pictured how it would include building a family around him. For so long, Georgiana had been all he had, and she was so much younger that he still felt alone much of the time. Elizabeth had brought him Imogen, who was not only the most beautiful but easily the cleverest toddler in England; the motherly presence of Aunt Emmeline; and MacLaren, the younger brother he never had. Because of Elizabeth, he had regained the cousins he had lost, too: this new and happier Jasper, and Richard, no longer with half his spirit left behind in India, was again the content cousin Darcy had depended on in his youth. Richard’s lovely Sarojini had become a friend to Elizabeth, and their children adored Imogen.

And then there was Elizabeth, his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, the center of his life and the guardian of his heart. She had taught him to laugh and to love, to value that which was honest and true over that which was fashionable and powerful. The road to winning her had been a hard one, but by God, it had been worth it.

Elizabeth looked up at him, a slow smile warming her face, as if she had guessed what he was thinking. And now he could look forward to the other part of the gift she had given him, her beloved self. Their family was a great satisfaction to him, but soon they would all leave or retire for the night, and he would be alone with Elizabeth again. That was the best part of all.

Historical Notes

MY DEPICTION OF SIR Walter Scott’s poems and novels playing an enormous role in changing the popular view of Scotland and the Highlands is true to history. After Scott published Waverley in 1814, the Prince Regent invited him to dine with him in London, and the discussion I’ve portrayed in the Epilogue really did take place, sans Duncan MacLaren and Jasper Fitzpatrick. Scott later encouraged Prinny, by then King George IV, to visit Edinburgh in 1822, and stage-managed the visit to promote the rebirth of ancient Scotland and the Highlands using pageantry and his theatrical connections. Scott was a tremendous patron of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, making appearances to read his poetry and later writing plays for them, although not by the time of this story. Scott did not become a baronet until 1820, which is why he is simply “Walter Scott” rather than “Sir Walter Scott” in this book.

George IV’s visit to Edinburgh was the occasion that established the tartan as a symbol of Scotland, and one of the king’s first requests in Scotland was to try some Glenlivet, which was then an illegally brewed Highland whiskey.

Very few kilts appear in this story for the simple reason that they were rarely worn during this period. Kilts were common wear in the Highlands until the Jacobite rebellion, after which they were proscribed by the English in the Dress Act of 1746 which made the ‘Highland Dress’ illegal with severe punishments. This act was not repealed until 1782, by which time an entire generation of Highlanders had grown up without ever seeing or wearing a kilt, nor did they possess any. Only a very few took the trouble to return to what seemed like a hopelessly old-fashioned form of dress. The kilt did not regain popularity until after the pageantry of George IV’s visit, when kilts were required dress for the Grand Ball held by the peers of Scotland. Scott reminded those who attended “that the king had ordered a kilt and set the condition that, unless in uniform, ‘no Gentleman is to be allowed to appear in any thing [sic] but the ancient Highland costume.’ At this, lowland gentlemen suddenly embarked on a desperate search for Highland ancestry (however remote) and a suitable tartan kilt from the Edinburgh tailors, who responded inventively. This can be seen as the pivotal event when what had been thought of as the primitive dress of mountain thieves became the national dress of the whole of Scotland.” Even most Highlanders had to borrow kilts from soldiers in Highland regiments, which had retained them as part of their uniform even during the proscription. (Wikipedia, Visit of King George IV to Scotland)

I confess to bending history when I referred to Elizabeth wearing a tartan scarf that established her as a MacLaren. The idea of particular tartan patterns ‘belonging’ to particular clans was a Victorian invention. Prior to that, certain colors of plaids were more common in particular areas than others owing to the availability of dyes, but there would have been no ‘MacLaren plaid’ in 1813. This erroneous concept has become so common in historical fiction that excluding it would risk drawing reader disbelief, so I used it anyway.

The Highland segment of this book is set in the Trossachs in the vicinity of Loch Ard, a region which borders the territory of the actual MacLaren clan, as opposed to my fictional one. I chose to fictionalize the MacLarens because they were considered landless and chiefless at the time, giving me more latitude with creating my fictional MacLarens. Today you can still find an island in Loch Ard with the ruins of a castle on it, although it was Castle Murdoch rather than Castle Lochard, and it was uninhabitable in 1813. Locating a castle on an island, as was also the case in The Lady of the Lake, was common in the Highlands; there were three of them on Loch Lomond alone.

Thank you for joining me on my exploration of Regency Scotland!

About the Author

ABIGAIL REYNOLDS MAY be a nationally bestselling author and a physician, but she can't follow a straight line with a ruler. Originally from upstate New York, she studied Russian and theater at Bryn Mawr College and marine biology at the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole. After a stint in performing arts administration, she decided to attend medical school, and took up writing as a hobby during her years as a physician in private practice.

A life-long lover of Jane Austen's novels, Abigail began writing variations on Pride & Prejudice in 2001, then expanded her repertoire to include a series of novels set on her beloved Cape Cod. Her books have won multiple awards and several have been national bestsellers. Her most recent releases are Mr. Darcy’s Enchantment, Conceit & Concealment, Alone with Mr. Darcy,  Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections, and Mr. Darcy’s Journey, and you can find her other books listed on her Author Page at Amazon. Her books have been translated into seven languages. A lifetime member of JASNA, she lives on Cape Cod with her husband and a menagerie of animals. Her hobbies do not include sleeping or cleaning her house.

Visit Abigail’s website at Pemberley Variations

Acknowledgments

AS ALWAYS, IT TAKES a village! Special thanks go to my amazing critique partners Susan Meyers and Shannon Rohane, not only for making this a much better book, but also for keeping me from giving up on it when I really wanted to. Nicole Clarkston provided essential equine information for the description of Georgiana’s horse. My boatload of beta readers found an even larger boatload of errors in the final draft, and my thanks go to Jennifer Altman, Nicole Clarkston, Debbie Fortin, J. Dawn King, Susan Mason-Milks, Rena Margulis, Dave McKee, and David Young for their helpful feedback which improved the book tremendously and reduced the number of typos and inconsistencies. My German translator, Nicola Geiger, deserves a gold medal in Spotting Missing Conjunctions and Prepositions. I can’t thank all of you enough!

Also by Abigail Reynolds

The Pemberley Variations

What Would Mr. Darcy Do?

To Conquer Mr. Darcy

By Force of Instinct

Mr. Darcy’s Undoing

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World

Mr. Darcy’s Obsession

A Pemberley Medley

Mr. Darcy’s Letter

Mr. Darcy’s Refuge

Mr. Darcy’s Noble Connections

The Darcys of Derbyshire

The Darcy Brothers (co-author)

Alone with Mr. Darcy

Mr. Darcy’s Journey

Conceit & Concealment

Mr. Darcy’s Enchantment

The Woods Hole Series

The Man Who Loved Pride & Prejudice

Morning Light