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She was still staring solemnly out towards the sea, and before Cecile could speak, she enquired, “Do you suppose that ship is the one to take me from Fitzwil—” Her voice cracked as unbidden tears came, and she took a ragged breath, trying to recover. “From England?”

Cecile turned to find the ship that Elizabeth had indicated, shading her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand. She hoped that Elizabeth would not ask the name of the ship on which she was to sail to the Americas, as no passage had actually been purchased.

“I cannot tell for certain. There are too many ships in port. It could be any one of them, or it could already have docked, I suppose—or none of these at all. The ship to the Americas could yet be at another port in England picking up cargo. I understand it does not leave for at least a week.”

“Oh ...” Elizabeth said desolately, the tears sliding from her eyes despite her best efforts to stem them. She swiftly wiped them away with the backs of her hands. “I hoped to sail right away. If he finds me, he will not allow me to leave.”

“The count?”

“William ... Fitzwilliam.”

Cecile frowned at the mention of the man she had coveted for so many years. “If I may be bold enough to ask, did you deceive Fitzwilliam as the rumours say?”

Elizabeth did not hesitate to answer, though she continued to stare out to sea. “Do you really think anyone could delude him? He is the most intelligent man I have ever met.”

Cecile considered the proclamation. “Then, pray tell, how could you have married someone like Stefano or have convinced Fitzwilliam to help you hide from the man?”

“It is a story too long to tell, but know this—I did not marry the count of my own volition. As for Fitzwilliam, he and I have known each other for many years. At one time we were ...” Her voice faded away. “But when my sister told him of my escape from Stefano, he offered to help me.”

“The count was so cruel that you had to flee?”

“Apart from the fact that I despise him, he is a cruel drunk and thinks nothing of striking anyone who disagrees with him. I was kept a prisoner, first with draughts and afterward, with locks. I was not allowed to see or hear from any of my friends or family. He threatened to kill anyone who dared try to see me and to kill me if I escaped.”

“And yet you were a virtual prisoner at Pemberley, not allowed to leave there or be out in society.”

Elizabeth’s countenance grew wistful. “For Fitzwilliam Darcy, I would gladly be a prisoner ... for his love. He is the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known.”

“Yet, you were willing to leave him.”

“To keep him safe from harm, yes, I would do anything.”

Cecile stammered, not understanding such devotion. “Yes, well, he certainly did not offer such kindness to me. True, he was civil, always the gentleman, but certainly never overly kind, nor did I see any extraordinary gentleness in his nature.”

Elizabeth turned dark eyes on the woman who had tried to secure Fitzwilliam for herself. “He shows his true nature only to those who are well acquainted with him.”

“Nonsense!” Cecile declared. “I have known him for years—he practically courted me for a time—and he has never been warm or very caring. Duty and honour are all that concern him. He has apparently duped you into thinking he is something that he is not—a romantic. You would do well to remember that all men are consumed with satisfying their own desires and cannot be trusted. Take my word for it.”

Elizabeth’s knowing smile made Cecile uncomfortable. “Then you do not know him, or you would not say such things.”

Indignantly twirling around to return inside, Cecile called over her shoulder. “Our trays have been delivered. Come inside and eat if you wish, or you may stay out here and sigh wistfully over a man who exists only in your imagination.”

Elizabeth watched her go with mixed feelings. Talking about William had renewed her longing for him tenfold. Moreover, now that she was close to leaving him forever, it was bittersweet to know that he had shown a side of himself to her that no other woman, including Cecile Preston, would ever know. Taking a deep breath and willing herself not to cry, she turned and entered the sitting room.

Liverpool

Evening

As the coach made its final approach to the villa that Stefano’s father had purchased years before, the two men inside were equally glad to be parting company—or at least pleased not to be in such close proximity any longer. The house would provide ample space so that they would not have to see each other unless they wished to do so. During the trip, they had almost come to blows on several occasions, though each had refrained when recalling his greater agenda—Stefano’s desire to capture Lizzy and Wickham’s desire to collect his reward.

Now, as they halted outside the small but pleasant country house just outside of town, Wickham began to take notice of the number of servants who milled about. Including the men on the coach, he knew that the count had at least seven servants and perhaps more inside. Though a few were women, maids and such, the majority seemed to be guards—men who looked as though they could handle with ease any disturbance. A little nervous about how he would collect his money should the count decide to deceive him, Wickham pushed the fear aside.

If he tries to swindle me, I shall go to Darcy and offer to tell him where to locate the woman and the count. I just imagine he would be willing to pay the same price to get this woman back and avenge his pride.

Stefano had no more than climbed out of the coach, before he began laying out his plans as they walked up the steps. “I shall arrange for some warm water to be sent to your room at once. Get dressed immediately, as I shall expect you to call on the inn and retrieve my wife.”

Wickham looked at the man as if he were mad. “I cannot call on them at this late hour nor expect them to remove themselves to this house tonight. It would be better to wait until the morning. Besides, it would cause much less notice if they voluntarily quit the place in the morning.”

Stefano was not happy, but on closer deliberation, agreed with Wickham’s judgment. “Very well, but first thing tomorrow, you will fetch my wife. Do you hear?”