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It was evident that the author wanted him to issue an invitation to Pemberley, which pointed to Caroline. But how would she have known the name they used to refer to Elizabeth? Had she been reading Charles’ correspondence?

Immediately, William took pen and paper, composing a letter to the Bingleys. He would enclose this missive. If indeed this letter was not from Charles, then someone else knew of their plan.

God forbid Caroline has found out about Elizabeth!

London

A Townhouse

Grosvenor Square

Wickham felt like a lowly servant as he waited, hat in hand, to see Count Stefano. The butler was not there to take his coat or hat, and even the maid who let him in had not offered to perform this most basic courtesy, turning up her nose as if in disgust. None of the servants, foreigners all, were civil to him. He would not have bothered to come at all if he had not lost all that he had accumulated in the last three months on one badly played hand in a card game.

Wickham could hear men shouting as he entered the house, and it had not subsided as he waited. He tried, but could not make out the words. Finally, the heavy doors to the parlour flew open and a well-groomed, older gentleman stormed out, marching towards the front door, without bothering to acknowledge him.

He watched in fascination as the man cleared the front door so quickly that he left it wide open and trotted down the steps to his waiting carriage. Being someone who envied the wealthy, Wickham noted that the waiting carriage was expensive, and the number of footmen suggested that the gentleman could well afford such luxury. Wickham was staring after him still when the count’s voice rang out from behind.

“Are you going to stand there and stare, or do you have business with me?” Wickham whirled about, speechless, and the count smirked at his discomposure.

“My father, Frederick Warren Stanton, Earl of Essex,” Stefano gestured towards the departing man. “It is too bad he only had the time required to make another demand, or I could have introduced you.”

Since no servants had appeared, the count moved to close the door while Wickham considered what he had learned. Knowing that he really should not ask, he nevertheless enquired, “Another demand?”

“He demands that I leave his beloved England and my dissolute ways behind!” The count laughed menacingly.

Softening only a bit, he continued, “I suppose he still cares enough to warn me that the Earl of Matlock may have figured out the puzzle of my many aliases, and it will not take him long to realise that I have returned to London. I should never have bothered with that de Bourgh woman.”

He fixed his glare on Wickham. “Remember, not all women are worth the things you steal from them.”

Wickham’s interest picked up considerably at the mention of Darcy’s uncle and cousin, not to mention the intriguing remark about his many names. But he barely had time to consider those things before Stefano turned around, heading in the direction of his study.

He called over his shoulder. “Come! I have work to do and only a short time to spare for your concerns.”

Reaching the room, he threw the door open and strode to the large mahogany desk, dropping wearily into his chair and propping his feet on the edge. “Now, what was it that necessitated your unexpected visit to my home today?”

Having followed him hurriedly, Wickham took the chair in front, barely seating himself before blurting out, “I have uncovered news of your wife.” At the count’s scowl, he added, “I believe it to be credible!”

He watched eagerly as Stefano’s feet hit the floor, and he leaned forward across his desk, his eyes narrowing. Wickham knew he had his full attention. “My sources say there is talk she did not die in the fire but was spirited away and could possibly be residing at her sister’s house.”

“Which sister?”

Wickham almost stuttered in his haste. “Jane Bennet—Jane Bingley, I mean.”

Stefano frowned, waving his hand as if dismissing the idea. “She lives in Meryton. My man specifically checked with her mother in that town. She firmly believes Elizabeth to be dead. If she were alive and tried to hide there, her mother would find out and pass the information to me.”

“Her mother?”

Stefano’s face became as hard as stone. “You are never to repeat any of this conversation. If my relationship with Mrs. Bennet should ever be ...” His voice trailed off, and his thoughts seemed to be in another place.

Almost immediately he recovered. “Nevertheless, I shall send my man to reassess your information. If anyone would dare to keep Elizabeth from me, it would be her sister Jane.”

“But why would—”

Wickham’s enquiry was interrupted. “Silence. You ask too many questions. I advise you of all you need to know.”

Wickham’s confusion made the count smile. “Let us just say that Mrs. Bennet was a great friend to me, whereas Jane Bennet, or whatever her name is now, was not.”

Pemberley