Mr. Worth came up behind Mrs. Jenkinson. “I think the lady very practical. She uses the ice to offset the heat of the cider she will soon drink.”

Blowing on the cup she held to cool it down, Anne added,“My companion is a very practical woman.”

“I bend to your wishes,” Mildred Jenkinson said and nodded her head in acknowledgment of their good-natured teasing. She reached for the tray’s last remaining cup, as did Elizabeth Darcy, who had just entered the room. She had given Mr. Baldwin orders regarding their guests’ cloaks, coats, and gloves. “Ah, Mrs. Darcy, please.” Mildred quickly withdrew her hand. “You must have the last cup.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Jenkinson.” Elizabeth gestured to the steaming mixture. “The cider is yours.You must take it—I insist.”

The older woman hesitated. “But it is your home, ma’am.”

Elizabeth knew how to put people at ease. “Please take it, Mrs. Jenkinson. If you do, I will have a legitimate excuse to send Mr. Baldwin for another cup of the hot chocolate that I so enjoy of late.”

“If you are certain, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Absolutely.”

Mrs. Jenkinson appreciatively took the offering and swallowed a mouthful of the spicy drink.“I have never tasted better cider,” she commented before taking another large sip.

“I told you the ice would increase your tolerance of the heat,” Worth announced.

Mrs. Jenkinson laughed at herself. “I suppose you correct, Mr. Worth.” She took a third sip and struck up a conversation with that gentleman about the many places she had visited with her late husband.

The exuberance of the party waned as the warmth of the room seeped into their bones.

“I believe I shall freshen up,” Mrs.Williams announced to those who sat nearby.

“That is an excellent idea,” Anne agreed. “Mildred, I am to our rooms.”

The lady lightly touched Anne’s hand. “I will be there in a moment, my Dear. I want to finish telling Mr.Worth about the late Mr. Jenkinson’s love of Denmark.”

“Take your time.” Anne squeezed the woman’s hand. “You so rarely have a chance to share your wonderful stories with someone other than me.”

Adam returned his cup to the tray. “I shall check on Cathleen.” He bowed and quietly left the room.

Within minutes, everyone had deserted the blue room for his or her own quarters. Everyone, that is, except Mrs. Jenkinson and Mr. Worth. The two seemed to have a real affinity for each other, and they chatted away in front of a full fire on that winter day.


“Mr. Darcy.” Murray stopped him in the front foyer before Darcy climbed the stairs for the evening. “Might I speak to you, sir?”

Darcy, weary from the day and from his constant worries, considered putting off the conversation until morning, but he indulged the man. “What may I do for you, Murray?”

The footman motioned Darcy to a private corner.“I-I have,” he stammered. “That is to say, sir—”

“Yes?” Darcy glanced toward the main stairs, needing to be with Elizabeth and a night’s peace.

The footman swallowed hard. “Well, you see, sir…I thought of something earlier, and Mr. Baldwin says I should tell you.”

Darcy’s full attention now rested on his servant. “Go on.”

“I thought you should know, sir, that I have spoken to young Lawson on three different occasions about not fulfilling his duties.”

“What do you mean, Murray?” Lawson was the one footman that Mrs. Jenkinson had not seen that day.

“The boy disappears for long periods of time, sir.” Immediately, Darcy wondered if Lawson was the one he had seen in the east wing. “I have addressed him twice. Plus, a fortnight ago I caught him in the music room with Miss Darcy. It was one of the evenings that your sister came down to play after everyone else had retired. We were having trouble with the fireplace in there, so I waited until everyone was asleep to clean it out.”

“Caught him in the music room with Miss Darcy?” Darcy’s rage rose quickly. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing untoward, sir. They sat together in the room on the music bench. I simply did not think it appropriate, sir.”

Darcy would need to consult with Elizabeth. The last time he had confronted his sister regarding her speaking to a man while unchaperoned, he had done Georgiana more harm than good. His wife would know how to approach the subject without giving offense. “Would you tell Lawson I wish to speak to him before he goes off duty in the morning?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

“And, Murray, I do not want the boy to have access to my sister alone late at night again—maybe we should see about transferring him to Mr. Steventon now. I wanted to wait until he turned eighteen, but we should see to it sooner.”

“I agree, Mr. Darcy.” Murray took the safety of the family personally. “I am sure that nothing happened, sir,” he added.

Darcy glanced toward the stairs again. The phrase Georgiana, lovely Georgiana rang in his head. Could Lawson be Georgiana’s intruder? “Just let me speak to the boy first—I have some questions to which I require answers.”

Murray nodded and bowed and departed. Slowly, Darcy trudged up the stairs. He hated the disorder surrounding him at the moment. Maybe Mr. Baldwin is right, he thought. Maybe a curse besets this household. No other explanation seemed as plausible.


In the middle of the night, a light but persistent tapping brought Darcy to his wife’s bedchamber door. He almost expected to see Georgiana huddling in the dimly lit hallway—perhaps her night-mares had returned. Finding his cousin took him by surprise.

“Anne,” he whispered, trying to let Elizabeth go back to sleep. “What is the matter?”

Tears ran down his cousin’s cheeks. “Please come,” she pleaded. “It is Mildred. She is very ill. I cannot…I cannot lose her.”

Darcy shoved the door open. “Let me—” he began, but then Elizabeth slipped his shirt into his hand. “Lead the way,” he indicated, pulling the shirt over his head as they hurried through the hallway.

He heard Elizabeth behind them.When she turned toward the servants’ staircase, he intuitively knew that she sought Mrs. Reynolds for medical help. He followed Anne to Mildred Jenkinson’s small room. The woman’s gaunt figure thrashed about in pain. Darcy rushed over to steady her, making sure that her violent movements did not cause her to fall from the raised mattress.

“Light more candles, Anne,” he ordered as he touched the woman’s head, checking for a fever. “She is cool and damp to the touch. Bring a cloth and some water.” Darcy took the woman’s shoulders and repositioned her in bed.

Mrs. Reynolds, followed by Elizabeth, rushed into the room. Both women were wearing muslin gowns and robes, with their hair in long braids down their backs. He often considered how his housekeeper had taken on the role of Elizabeth’s mother some time ago, but this picture solidified the image. Mrs. Reynolds pushed him out of the way so that she could examine the woman.“Tell me what you know of her illness,” she demanded. She touched Mrs. Jenkinson’s stomach, and the woman recoiled in pain. “She has a tenderness in her lower abdomen.”

“Mildred ate so little at supper,” Anne barely whispered as she came to the bed’s end. She handed Darcy the water bowl and the cloth. “She said she did not feel well; we thought maybe she took an ague, being out in the cold so long today.” Elizabeth moved beside Anne, sliding an arm around the woman’s waist. “She took a tray in her room, saying she was chilled.” Anne caught the post for support, swaying in place.“Mildred never complains, so I knew that she was not well; I kept checking on her. She has been experiencing stomach pains for several hours. I came for you, Fitzwilliam, when she brought up her meal in the chamber pot I held for her.”

Darcy moved to where he could see the pot. He knew from his parents’ final illnesses that the contents of one’s stomach give clues to the illness. The yellowish tint of the congealed liquid in the pot told him that his cousin’s companion suffered greatly. Mrs. Jenkinson’s body shook with pain. “If I did not know better,” Mrs. Reynolds spoke for Darcy’s ears alone, “I would suspect cholera. I saw cases of it when I was a mere child, and this woman shows all the signs.”

He shook his head in denial, and the woman who had served him for six and twenty years swallowed her words.“Let us try some warm barley water to settle her stomach. Mrs. Darcy, will you ask Mrs. Jennings to send up some barley water and maybe some peppermint or ginger?”

Elizabeth nodded and rushed from the room. Mrs. Jenkinson’s eyes flew open in terror. She fought to reach the edge of the bed. Darcy brought the pot to her as Mrs. Reynolds supported the woman’s body. Mildred Jenkinson retched repeatedly—her body convulsing. Blood and saliva seeped from the corners of her mouth; however, nothing but dry heaves came from her efforts.“Rest now,” Mrs. Reynolds whispered as she gently pushed the woman back against the pillows.

“Anne, come closer…my Girl.” The hoarseness of Mildred’s voice caused Anne to tear up again, but she went to sit by her only friend. With much difficulty, the woman offered Anne peace. “I will…see my…husband and baby girl soon.”

“No!”Anne pleaded, grasping the woman’s hand in hers, kissing it gently.

The pain caused Mrs. Jenkinson to contract, but she continued her farewells. “Find your heart …my Girl…let love…guide you.”A paroxysm shook her—and then a shudder released it slowly through her clenched teeth as the woman collapsed in a final peace. Mildred Jenkinson breathed her last breath.

Moments later, Elizabeth rushed into the room to find a terrible tableau. Mrs. Jenkinson lay lifeless on the bed, with a sobbing Anne de Bourgh lying across the woman’s body. Mrs. Reynolds stood with her face buried in Darcy’s shoulder as he lightly stroked the woman’s hair. Elizabeth gasped and froze like the others for a brief moment before she took charge.“Come, Anne,” she said and pulled her husband’s cousin into her embrace.“Let me take you from here.”

His wife’s voice brought Darcy out of his trance. He turned Mrs. Reynolds in his arms before catching Elizabeth’s eye. His wife mouthed “Georgiana,” and he nodded his agreement. He would not entrust Anne to her mother’s care this evening. Lady Catherine could not offer the compassion his cousin needed.

“Mrs. Reynolds,” he sat the woman away from him, “find Mr. Baldwin. Move Mrs. Jenkinson’s body to the other wing. I do not want it where it might remind my cousin of her loss. It is too cold and the ground too frozen to bury the lady right away. Clean this room from top to bottom in case of disease, although I do not suspect any such condition exists here.We will need to move Miss de Bourgh to other quarters and assign someone to be with her at all times.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She wiped her eyes on her gown’s sleeve.

“I will want to speak to everyone in the morning. Set up the main drawing room. We need to reach the bottom of this—the missing items, Miss Darcy’s visitor, Miss Donnel’s fall, a phantom footman, and now this.”

Mrs. Reynolds frowned in puzzlement. “Do you suspect foul play? Not at Pemberley, sir!”

“Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,” he murmured as he pulled the sheet up to cover Mrs. Jenkinson’s face. “Please send Mrs. Jennings to my study right away.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”


Nearly an hour later, Elizabeth found him in his sanctuary. He stood before the fireplace, his head resting on his arm as he leaned against the mantel for support. “I brought your robe, as well as stockings to warm your feet.”

Darcy glanced as his bare toes. “I hardly noticed.”

Elizabeth came forward to hold the robe for him. Absentmindedly, Darcy slid his arms into the sleeves. Going on her tiptoes, she straightened the material across his shoulders and turned him around to cinch the cloth belt in front. Darcy allowed his wife to address his needs, but he never saw her: He watched a scene of horror over her shoulder—seeing what no one else saw. “Come,” she pulled on his hand and led Darcy to a nearby wing chair. “Let me pour you a brandy.” Elizabeth found the decanter and a glass and filled it. Handing it to her husband, she ordered,“Drink this.”Then she dropped to her knees before him and began to cover his feet with stockings. “I brought your old dance shoes,” she explained. “I did not think I could wrestle on boots.”

Darcy sipped the drink, slowly becoming aware of Elizabeth’s tender care.“Anne?” he asked as his wife rested her chin on his knee.

“Mrs. Reynolds gave her something to help her sleep. She shares a bed with Georgiana.Your sister showed such mature compassion; I was very proud of her.”