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“Miss de Bourgh?” the servant ventured.

“Yes. That is the one.” He shivered. “She is probably as disturbed as my son. At least I got him out of the country before he could carry out his threat to take Rosings. Her mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would have seen him dead first. I was barely able to convince him to remove himself from England before Lord Matlock got word that he had depleted all the money from Miss de Bourgh’s accounts. Edward Fitzwilliam is very influential and not to be crossed.”

Stanton turned to study the scenery outside the window for a long time before lamenting, “Why did he have to return? And why to London? If word reaches Fitzwilliam…” He sighed.

“He was never one to listen, not to you, nor to anyone else. It is a wonder he is not involved in more trouble.”

Stanton met Mr. Scroggins’ gaze. “I am sorry to report to you that he is. I did not want to believe it, but he confirmed my fears today.

“He pays accomplices for stolen gold, silver and precious stones. He smuggles the contraband aboard the ships in which I have invested—those that sail to and from Italy, hiding the items inside other goods that are being legally exported. I imagine he can then sell the pilfered goods for a substantial amount on the Continent.”

“How did you find out?”

“The agent that I hired reported to me several days ago. Mr. Burger is an excellent sleuth—very expensive, but he uncovers the information that he is employed to find. He also stated that a man has been enquiring after Stephen in Town.” He dropped his gaze to his boots. “It may be some relative of one of the ladies he has ruined. I am amazed he has evaded justice this long.”

He sat silently as the carriage swayed back and forth, carrying them to his townhouse. Mr. Scroggins knew from his expression not to question him further. Frederick Stanton was lost in memories of a fair-haired boy who was always eager to be with his father, a boy who loved to ride with him across the meadows at Northgate. As always, his heart began to ache with regret. Perhaps if Maria had not abandoned their marriage and listened to her father’s pleas to return to Italy, Stephen would have turned out differently. As it was, his son was taken from him when he was barely seven, and he had not seen him again until he was twenty. It had caused an irreparable breach in their relationship.

Neither man brought up the fact that had Stephen’s mother not spirited him back to Italy the year he was nine and twenty, he now would have been residing in a place where he could not hurt anyone again—in Bedlam.

Journey from London to Pemberley

This journey home was unlike any William had made before. He was determined to lessen the travelling time by one day because he had decided not to give Elizabeth the herbal brew that kept her calm and sleepy unless it proved absolutely necessary and he was concerned that she would not adjust well to being on the road. They had left London at dawn in his best coach with a basket of food and drink—enough to allow them to traverse many miles, making stops only to change horses.

When they finally stopped at a small coach stop, he helped the women out so that they could stretch their legs and take care of necessities. He escorted Elizabeth inside before handing her off to Mrs. Drury and heading back outside to check their progress. A short while later, he returned to inform them that they were ready to resume their journey.

This course of action was repeated several times over the course of the day until they reached the inn William had chosen for their first night. The establishment was well cared for, provided hot baths, served adequate food and had several larger bedrooms available for those who had the means to pay for them. As weary as they were when they arrived, he was pleased that he had heeded Mr. Barnes’ suggestion that he send a servant ahead to arrange lodging and horses along the entire route.

It was not lost on William that Elizabeth was exhausted. She leaned heavily on him as he helped her from the coach. With her hand on his arm, they entered the inn, and she immediately froze as several men, all sitting around one table in a dark corner, stopped their conversation to gawk at her. Glancing in the direction of the men, William slid his free hand over hers protectively and looked back over his shoulder to nod at Mrs. Drury. She quickly moved up to stand next to Elizabeth, effectively shielding her on the other side. Thus, with Elizabeth in between, they moved to the inn’s desk.

“Mr. Darcy, how pleased we are to have you with us!” the proprietor, Mr. Gates, gushed. He glanced at Elizabeth and appeared to wonder if she were Mrs. Darcy. When no presentation was forthcoming, he recovered briskly. “As you requested, hot baths will be readied immediately, and I shall send dinner trays to your rooms. If you will follow Gertrude,” the innkeeper gestured to a plump young woman with red hair and freckles, “she will show you the way.”

William nodded his acquiescence and began to guide Elizabeth towards the stairs. Gertrude, who was not only round but short, had to run to get ahead of the party. As she assumed the lead, she occasionally cast glances back at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. She had been enamoured of the handsome gentleman since she had come to work for her uncle, Mr. Gates, at four and ten years of age. That year, the object of her admiration was a dashing fellow of one and twenty. She knew his exact age because she had overheard Colonel Fitzwilliam, who often travelled with him then, remark about his upcoming birthday.

As the years passed and Mr. Darcy had not married, she began to pretend that he had not taken a wife because he secretly admired her. It was only whimsy, but it gave her something to dream about amid the dullness of her existence. Barely a fortnight ago, Gertrude had been thrilled to see him again after a two-year absence, but his appearance tonight, with a beautiful woman in tow, caused only disappointment. As she guided the party up the stairs, her mind raced. Had Mr. Darcy married? She tried to determine if the lady wore a ring, but gloves covered the evidence. Sighing heavily, she faced forward knowing that the way Mr. Darcy looked at the young woman, her flight of fancy had been just that.

Reaching the second landing, she guided them down a little-used corridor lined with larger rooms. Stopping in front of the first door on the left, she barely lifted her eyes to address the gentleman she had long admired. “We have reserved this single room,” she informed him, and then she motioned to the right side of the hall, “and these two rooms, which are connected. They share a small dressing room with a sitting area in between.”

Without replying, William motioned for the footman following them to put his trunk in the single room on the right, then signalled the other footman with a slight nod of his head to carry the remaining trunks into the suite on the left hand side. After the footmen had carried in the luggage and departed, he led Elizabeth into the suite.

“You and Mrs. Drury shall occupy these rooms.” He glanced to see Elizabeth’s reaction, and from the corner of his eye caught sight of Gertrude standing just inside the room. Annoyed, he turned to direct her elsewhere. “Please have a bath prepared right away.”

Gertrude took a few steps towards the hallway door, stopping when William’s attention focused on Elizabeth again. As he led her into the small sitting area, Gertrude turned and slipped closer to the door through which they had exited, quite envious of his tender words to the young woman she now envied.

“Elizabeth?” William raised her face with one finger under her chin, waiting until she looked up. When she did, he smiled warmly and could not help but cup her face with his hand. “The small table in the corner will suffice for you and Mrs. Drury to have your dinner. After you bathe and eat, you must go to bed, as we will leave early. Mrs. Drury will leave all the doors open between your rooms so she can hear if you call her. I shall be just across the hall. Do you understand?” She did not respond, but he was encouraged by her serene countenance.

Gertrude was fascinated. She had never heard any man speak to a woman so lovingly, and she was sure that she would never enjoy the experience. Sighing heavily, she turned and ran into Mrs. Drury. Elizabeth’s companion had taken longer to come up the stairs and had observed the maid’s eavesdropping. Gertrude coloured and practically ran from the room.

Observing the servant’s hasty exit and frowning in disapproval, Mrs. Drury debated mentioning it to Mr. Darcy, but seeing that he was talking to Elizabeth, she thought better of it. The man had enough to worry about as it was.

~~~*~~~

George Wickham could not believe his eyes. Fitzwilliam Darcy with a woman—and a beautiful one at that!

He had been seated at a table with a few inebriated men when the Darcy party entered the inn. He liked to provide plenty of liquor, as it was much easier to relieve drunks of their valuables. One of the men made a bawdy remark about the woman with Darcy, causing the rest to laugh uproariously. Wickham, however, did not join in the laughter as he was engrossed in studying the Master of Pemberley and the lady close by his side. The dimly lit corner provided enough cover to prevent his being recognized as he took in the woman’s fine figure and lovely face. And as she turned towards Darcy, he felt his ire rise.

He could have had such a woman, had George Darcy provided for him as he had promised that he would. Suddenly, a new thought emerged from his hatred. Perhaps he left me more than the meagre three thousand pounds I was given, but Darcy withheld it. I could certainly believe it of the bastard!

Observing the obviously devoted couple anew, he searched his memory, trying to remember if he had heard or read that his old friend had married or was even engaged. With his new enterprises claiming his attention, Wickham had been too busy to keep up with London society. Smiling, he considered for just a moment that the woman was a whore. The smile vanished just as quickly as the thought that provoked it.