“I beg your forgiveness for that also.” He traced lines up and down her arm with his fingertips.

“For what must you ask forgiveness? You went beyond the boundaries most men would offer in a relationship such as ours. You tried to see me to Cheshire to be with my family. Only Nature’s full fury stopped us; I will never forget your kindness.” Cathleen caught his hand and brought the back of it to her lips.

Adam leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are a beautiful woman, my Dear—both inside and out.” He returned to his seat in the nearby chair before someone saw them acting like lovers, not cousins. “Can you tell me what you remember of your accident?”

Cathleen’s brow frowned in concentration. “I do not believe there is much to tell. Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh both entered the hallway about the same time as I.We all moved toward the top of the stairs. Mrs. Williams came last.When the widow opened her door, Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh paused to wait for the lady, but I continued on.When I started to descend the steps, I lost my balance.”

“Then any of you could have been the first one down the steps? I mean…Mrs. Wickham did not purposely hold Miss de Bourgh back or vice versa?”Adam attempted to visualize what she described.

“Mrs. Wickham was already in the hall when I left my room.” Cathleen tried to see the action in her head.

Adam reasoned aloud, “Really? I wonder for how long.”

Cathleen looked puzzled.“I assumed it was for only a second or two. It was time for the afternoon meal.”

“But it could have been longer?” Adam put together the pieces of the mystery.

“Miss de Bourgh came after I started for the dining room. I remember her coming from the right hallway, where your room is.”

Adam’s countenance turned grim. “Someone rigged a thin line of rope across the step. It was difficult to see it in the dim light. I suspect that you were not the intended victim, but purely an innocent bystander. Now, I am trying to determine who might have had the opportunity to do so.”

“You suspect Mrs. Wickham?” Cathleen tried to reason it out, but could not fathom the purpose of such a trap.

Adam’s voice spoke of anger—of regret—and of determination. “I suspect everyone until I know otherwise.”

Chapter 6

Fitzwilliam Darcy silently fumed as he oversaw the afternoon meal. Mrs. Reynolds had informed him of Lord Stafford’s request for a tray for himself and Miss Donnel. Darcy understood the man’s concern, but he did not relish the idea of pretending a disinterested calm before the rest of his guests. It was bad enough that in addition to the viscount and his mistress, three others had witnessed what was evidently an attempt to cause someone real harm. Between the recent disappearances, Georgiana’s nighttime “visitor,” and now this staged trap, Darcy’s nerves strained for control.

“I came down thirty minutes earlier,” Mr.Worth bemoaned missing the incident.“I took no note of anything unusual at that time.”

Mrs. Williams sipped her soup. “I pray Miss Donnel suffers no continuing injury.”

“My housekeeper reports that the lady has a badly bruised ankle and a sizable bump on the back of her head, but Miss Donnel should recover quickly,” Darcy assured everyone.

Georgiana offered, “I think it admirable that His Lordship sees to his cousin personally. I imagine that Edward would be as attentive for Anne or me.”

Darcy noted Elizabeth’s questioning stare, but he ignored her silent demand for answers. “Lord Stafford does seem most concerned. The family is suffering with the illness of a loved one, compounded by the inconvenience of being stranded by the storm.”

“I still say the man affects his cousin,” Lady Catherine remarked to no one in particular.

“It should be none of our concern,” Anne said evenly.

The fact that his cousin offered an opinion of any kind caught Darcy off guard. He had no time to intercept his aunt’s response. “One could hardly help but take notice,” Lady Catherine snarled. “And who are you to correct me? Since when do you censure me—your mother—the woman who suffered to bring you into the world?”

“And what a lovely world it is, Mother!” Anne stood suddenly, throwing her napkin on the table. “If you will excuse me, Fitzwilliam,” she mumbled as she rushed from the room.

“Well, I never!” Lady Catherine began.

However, Darcy cut her remarks short.“I am sure,Aunt, that my cousin meant no harm. It could have been Anne or Mrs. Jenkinson or Mrs. Williams or Mrs. Wickham lying in that bed right now or even worse. Anne is sensitive; I beg you not to dwell on her unintended aspersion.”

His aunt said grudgingly, “I suppose, Darcy.

Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye. “Maybe Mrs. Jenkinson might see to Miss de Bourgh.”

“That is an excellent idea, Elizabeth. Mrs. Jenkinson, please send us a report on Anne’s recovery when you deem her settled.”

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Thank you, sir.” The lady gave Elizabeth a quick nod of gratitude and followed Anne to their adjoining quarters.


“Anne,” the older woman called as she came through their connected dressing rooms,“are you well?” Anne lay prostrate across her bed, clutching a lace handkerchief in her left hand—her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Mildred Jenkinson sat on the edge of the bed, lightly stroking Anne de Bourgh’s back. “Oh, Anne, my darling girl. I hate having you so distraught.”

Sniffles and sobs escaped as Anne buried her face into the pillow. “I cannot go back there!” she wailed.“I simply cannot return to Rosings.” She sat up suddenly to look at the only friend she had ever had. “If I return to Kent, I must accept never having any freedom until my mother leaves this earthly world. I cannot bear it, Mildred.”

Mrs. Jenkinson slid her arm around Anne’s shoulder. “We will think of something. Maybe Mr. Darcy can convince Lady Catherine to soften her reproaches.” Mildred rarely spoke honestly about what she observed in the de Bourgh household, but she knew that Anne would not chastise her for speaking aloud what they both thought. “Or perhaps the Darcys might extend an invitation for you to remain at Pemberley when Her Ladyship returns to Kent.”

Anne grasped at this hope. “Oh, Mildred, do you believe that possible? Even though Lieutenant Harwood may not be here, it would be heavenly to simply have the peace that Pemberley provides. I could learn to play the pianoforte at last. I have always wanted to play.”

“I know, my Girl.” Mildred tightened her embrace.

Anne closed her eyes as if picturing a different future. “And I could take a long walk if I chose or read a novel by Mrs. Radcliffe or paint a picture.There would be no one to say ‘She is quite a little creature’ or anyone to remark that I might become quite accomplished if I applied myself.” Anne sighed.

Mildred hesitated. “I must offer you a caution: Even Mr. Darcy may choose to accept Lady Catherine’s dominion over you.”

Anne refused to give up on her dreams. She wiped the tears from her face. “Help me to freshen myself. I must speak to my cousin immediately. If Fitzwilliam refuses to help, then I need to know before this storm lessens. I must have all my options present.” She rushed to her dressing room and poured fresh water in the bowl. Taking a folded cloth from the stack on the dressing table, Anne dipped it in the water and wrung it out. Dabbing at her eyes, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I hate the way my lids swell when I cry.” She pressed the cool cloth to her eyes and held it there. It was as if she washed away her troubles. “You will come with me, Mildred, when I speak to Mr. Darcy.”

“I am sure the gentleman would prefer not to discuss familial relationships in my presence.” Mildred watched Anne’s demeanor. She had noted the subtle difference in Georgiana Darcy now that she was under Mrs. Darcy’s care. She would like to see Anne earn some confidence of her own.

Anne came to kneel before her companion. “Oh, Mildred, you must come with me. I would not be able to approach Fitzwilliam without your support.” She took the older woman’s hand and brought it to her cheek. “You are my only true friend; you know my deepest secrets.”

Mildred Jenkinson stood, bringing Anne to her feet also.“Come, my Girl.You know I can never deny you.”


Forty-five minutes later, they sat with Darcy in his study. Mrs. Jenkinson appreciated the kindness that Mr. Darcy showed as he listened carefully to Anne’s plea for asylum. He made no commitment, saying that he would need to speak to Mrs. Darcy and to the Fitzwilliam faction of the family before he chose to involve them in what would likely be another tiff with Lady Catherine.

He questioned Anne regarding Lieutenant Harwood, specifically asking whether the man offered marriage and asking about anything else she might know of him. “It cheered me to know the good colonel was the one who introduced you to Harwood. I trust Edward’s opinion of a man’s character.” Darcy spoke the truth—he did trust his cousin’s judgment. But he also paid Harwood an indirect compliment to gain Anne’s confidence. Attacking the man had gotten Lady Catherine nowhere.

“You would like the lieutenant, Fitzwilliam. One finds the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper. He is just what a young man ought to be: sensible, good-humored, lively, and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

“Then Harwood is of family?” Darcy still wanted to know more of the man than his cousin’s idealized opinions.The fact that Harwood had met Anne privately at an inn bothered Darcy.Theoretically, the man compromised his naïve cousin; he chose to learn more of the man because Anne needed protecting.

“The lieutenant is a second son; his brother Rowland will inherit. Robert has two sisters—one still at home and the other married to another officer in the service.”

Darcy steepled his fingers, deep in contemplation. “I see.” He paused before he added, “Anne, I am concerned, and I intend to learn more about the lieutenant. I want you to understand that I do so out of affection for you and not out of some mean spiritedness.”

Anne glanced at Mrs. Jenkinson, who sat obediently in the corner, pretending not to hear. “Mrs. Jenkinson will speak to my conduct, Fitzwilliam. I would wish that you feel free to ask her anything, and I release her to be completely truthful regarding what she knows of me and of the lieutenant.”

Again, Darcy weighed his words carefully. “I do not believe that necessary at this time, but I may consider it as the situation develops.”

“Thank you, Cousin, for listening to me.” She prepared to stand, but he motioned for her to remain.

“Might you tell me what you know of Miss Donnel’s accident?” He sat forward, interested in her account.

“I am unsure of what you speak, Fitzwilliam.”

“Simply tell me the chronological order of the events. Did you see anyone else about? Did Miss Donnel seem aware of what awaited her?” Darcy could not shake the feeling that as Miss Donnel made her living as an actress, the accident held more questions than answers.

“Mrs. Wickham and Miss Donnel were in the hallway when I left our quarters and joined them. When Mrs. Williams opened her door, Mrs. Darcy’s sister and I turned to greet her, but Miss Donnel continued. She came from the opposite direction toward the main staircase.

Impulsively, Darcy’s attention now fell upon his cousin’s companion, a woman to whom he had rarely spoken over the years unless during a game of casino or quadrille. He knew something of the woman’s respectability. Mildred Jenkinson had come to Rosings after losing both her husband and her child in a typhoid epidemic that hit her village in Oxfordshire some fifteen years earlier. A traveling carnival and a group of gypsies had reportedly spread typhoid to three communities in the midlands that summer before the disease was contained. Having traveled extensively with her husband, who served in a diplomatic position, the lady had the disposition and the qualifications to serve as his cousin’s companion. Anne turned to the woman for affection, and the woman protected Anne from Lady Catherine’s frequent censure as best she could. “Mrs. Jenkinson, you were in the hall when I helped His Lordship. Did you observe anything unusual?”

Brought to the center of attention, at first Mildred stammered. “I-I was a few sec-seconds behind Miss de Bourgh, sir, as I returned to her quarters for a shawl. Lady Catherine is most mindful of cold drafts.” It was the woman’s way of saying that Her Ladyship could be demanding, and she simply tried to anticipate her employer’s idiosyncrasies. “There was a man in Pemberley attire blocking the way, and when I could not reach her, I feared for Anne’s safety.” Mrs. Jenkinson paused before telling Mr. Darcy the rest. She was still a servant, even though she shared Anne’s confidences, and she preferred not to report poor service. Mildred did not wish to see the man lose his position.“I hesitate, Mr. Darcy, to criticize this man’s conduct.”