“As you wish, Sir Phillip.” The lady turned to her jailer and offered him a polite bow of her head.“I shall await your pleasure, sir.” Evangeline Harwood entered the room—never looking back.

Behind her, Sir Phillip pulled the door closed and locked it from the outside. He motioned a footman forward. “No one is to enter this room unless Mr. Darcy or I give the order to do so.”

“Yes, sir.”


James hated the darkened passages and the stale air and the musty smell of mold and decaying animals. He would be happy to leave Pemberley’s dust-filled enclosure behind. Coming here had seemed a good idea when his friend had suggested it, but he preferred brightly lit parties with ladies in fine silks sporting low décolletages to decay and dampness. “Damn!” he cursed softly when he banged his knee against a jutting support beam, which had broken away from a cornice. “I am tired of being cold,” he grumbled. “Tired of cobwebs in my hair—tired of hiding away—tired of being absolutely quiet—tired of the sound of rats in the dusky shadows.”

He checked the openings to the many rooms accessible from the passageway. With the appearance of the magistrate and of Darcy’s cousin this morning, the activity in the house had increased. The men searched each room, and the women clustered together in tight-lipped pockets of dread.

Shoulders rigid, he made his way to the nearest peephole, a blur of unreality resonating through his mind. A flurry of color caught his immediate attention. Lydia Wickham swirled in place. “It is the most glorious of moments, Miss Donnel,” she declared boldly. “The officers choose their partners, and a kaleidoscope of colors unfolds as each lady’s skirts swirl in the dance—a continual swish to the quartet.”

Cathleen Donnel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mrs. Wickham took great pleasure in frivolity. “It sounds delightful. Now, if you will excuse me, I promised His Lordship I would begin to gather my things. He hopes to make his departure tomorrow.” Cathleen curtsied and left the room.

“But I did not tell you about the promenade,” Lydia called softly to Cathleen’s retreating form. She collapsed dejectedly on a nearby bench.“No one seems to care.” She understood how others might see her life as superficial, but it was the life she had. “I know nothing else,” Lydia whispered to the empty room—the depth of her ignorance and shallowness evident. Suddenly, tears of loneliness—held in check for months—welled up in her eyes. “George,” she moaned. “I wish you were here.”

James watched and listened. A bitter laugh bubbled in his chest, but he pushed it away.The irony of the situation played through his head. A man of improper title might have the lovely Mrs.Wickham with a wink.The girl was so one-dimensional that she would never recognize the man’s true intentions—would actually follow him without question. Noting her vulnerability, James imagined himself stalking toward her—a seductive determination his only weapon. He could easily tempt Mrs.Wickham now; she would take no care to note the difference. James would have to be willing to pay the price for interfering in his friend’s affairs, but triumphing over her would give him pleasure in more than one way.

James reached for the latch, but a slight movement stayed his fingers. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Wickham, but the Mistress wishes you to join her and Miss Darcy in the music room.” The maid dropped a belated curtsy.

Lydia Wickham shoved lazily out of the chair. “What could Lizzy want in the music room? She certainly knows I possess no such talent.”

“I no be knowin’, ma’am. Mrs. Darcy just be sendin’ me to find ye.”

“Oh, all right. I will go.”


“What do we do about Mrs. Harwood?” Darcy sat in the chair before the desk, a feeling of déjà vu returning. He had often sat there when his father still lived. At the moment, he wished for the peace he had known then even as his father had lectured him regarding his obligations. He ached to recapture those moments, but then he thought of Elizabeth—of the goodness of her heart—and of how she had made things right with Georgiana—and of how only in this time had he truly been happy. And he realized he never wanted to be anywhere but in this place—even with the evil, which surrounded him.

“When I leave, I will transport the lady to the nearest gaol.” A tone of resignation coloring his words, Sir Phillip added, “It is a crying shame that a woman might love a man to such a degree of distraction that she justifies an unjustifiable act in her own mind.”

“People have given themselves up to such perversions since the beginning of time—from the Bible to Shakespeare to our country’s history, we observe tragedy in everything we do. Only those few moments of love allow us to travel on in life; otherwise, we would all run screaming into the nearest mire—allowing the quicksand to suckle us into its darkness.”

The baronet scowled; the morass surrounding Pemberley went straight to its roots, and Sir Phillip wondered if the tree might finally be uprooted. At the moment, it appeared the Darcys were in way over their heads. The magistrate’s eyes burned with curiosity. “You must know, Darcy, that Mrs. Harwood is not your Pemberley phantom. Her demented reasons for doing away with Mrs. Jenkinson have nothing to do with the murders of your staff members, nor of the lieutenant. First, those were acts of force and of might. Neither of those words describes the lady. Pity, maybe. Shame, most definitely. Passion, absolutely. But not violence. Mrs. Harwood is simply a hard survivor of a difficult life.”

“Will the lady hang for this?” Darcy saw what the older man saw—a life to be pitied.

“More than likely.” Sir Phillip shifted uncomfortably. “I despise this part of my duties. Give me a rousing argument between neighbors over sheep in the garden, and I go happily into the fracas, but this type of matter is not open to human reason. No logic lingers in such cases—no one can explain the enigma of murder.”

Darcy pushed forward, banishing the maudlin atmosphere filling the room. “Yet, we must solve that puzzle, Sir Phillip, and we must do so before someone else in this house meets his Maker. I sent for you—for your expertise in this matter. I need your level-headed, no-nonsense reasoning to rid Pemberley of this pox.”

The baronet looked about shamefacedly. “Of course, Darcy. We must put our heads together to clear your name of this blight. Let us summon the viscount and your cousin.We will need all the raison d’être and common sense to be found in this house to create understanding out of iniquity.”

“If we want reason, then we should send for Mrs. Darcy also,” Darcy declared.

The corner of the magistrate’s mouth turned up in amusement. “You believe your wife capable of handling herself in a man’s domain?”

“Mrs. Darcy has at least as fine a mind as many of the men of my acquaintance, but my wife possesses something more important. She has a strong intuition—a way of choosing the right course—except where I am concerned, that is.” Darcy chuckled.

An eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Mrs. Darcy did not readily succumb to your many charms?” The baronet gestured to the room’s accoutrements.

“The lady also had the acquaintance of one Lieutenant George Wickham,” Darcy admitted. “It took her some months to see past the man’s natural affability and perceive his lies for what they were.”

The baronet nervously shuffled the papers he had left on Darcy’s desk. “Evidently, Mrs. Darcy’s sister lacks your wife’s ability to see beyond a handsome countenance. I noted a bit of melancholy in the lady’s demeanor.”

Darcy would not share Lydia Wickham’s story, but he said, “I cannot imagine living with Mr. Wickham to be an easy task for any woman, especially one of Mrs. Wickham’s exuberant nature. The lady’s husband, as you well know, is one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain.”

“I do not believe I have heard you speak so openly of Mr.Wickham’s wickedness before, Darcy. When he was a boy, I knew that he was a bad seed, although your dear father tried—supporting him at school, and afterward at Cambridge—most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education. And the elder Mr. Wickham…he never knew how to handle the boy. Whether to use the cane or offer a pat on the back.”

Darcy added to the story. “My father was not only fond of the younger Mr. Wickham’s society, whose manners were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and, hoping the Church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it.”

“How might one imagine a man such as George Wickham taking to the church?” The baronet took a sip of the tepid tea he nursed.

“As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner.The vicious propensities, the want of principle, which Mr.Wickham was careful to guard from my father, could not escape the observations of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which my father could not have.”

“Mr. Worth seemed chagrined to have brought news of Mr. Wickham’s continued debasement,” Sir Phillip added cautiously.

Darcy picked at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. “Mr. Wickham appears determined to bring shame to his own name.”

“And to yours, Darcy,” his father’s long-time friend cautioned.

“Elizabeth and I will distance ourselves from the connection by remaining in Derbyshire and by not acknowledging the connection unless absolutely necessary. We have discussed it and are in accord. Yet, I fear Mrs. Bennet will not be so astute. My wife’s mother is singular in her devotion to her daughters, especially to Mrs.Wickham.”

The baronet frowned. “And the lady’s husband? What of Mr. Bennet?”

“Elizabeth’s father will see the folly of supporting Mr. Wickham’s reputation, but he is not likely to rein in his wife. He prefers to take refuge in his library and to allow the world to pass by unbridled.”

“I pray for your wife’s sake that you are wrong, sir.”

Before Darcy could respond,Worth tapped on the door.“Might I rejoin you?”

Darcy motioned the man forward. “How is my cousin?” Unsurprisingly, Worth had excused himself when Sir Phillip escorted Mrs. Harwood to her chamber. He had privately asked permission to apprise Anne of the news, knowing she would need comfort when she discovered what they had all suspected.

“I left her in Miss Donnel’s care. Anne took the news better than I had expected. Of course, we all knew the truth before the lady’s confession. Miss de Bourgh insisted on speaking with her mother privately.”

“Anne has matured from this experience although I would have her learn less harsh lessons in the future.” Darcy’s gaze swung back to the baronet, relief spreading across his face. “You recall, Sir Phillip, how belabored Anne was as a child.”

“The girl withdrew under Her Ladyship’s ministrations, very much as Sir Lewis did. If Miss de Bourgh has opened herself to a touch more of society’s polish because of Lieutenant Harwood’s attentions, then I will find it in my heart to forgive him some of his sins.” He sighed deeply.

A quiet stillness surrounded them as the three men digested the ramifications of their discoveries. “I wish for my cousin to make a match—a love match—with a man whom she truly deserves and who truly deserves Anne. I wish her the same type of happiness I have found with Mrs. Darcy.” Fitzwilliam Darcy set his shoulders with determination.“Speaking of my wife, let me send for the lady, along with the viscount and Colonel Fitzwilliam.” He forced his voice to sound calm, but an agitation remained that shook him to his core.


“You sent for me, Lizzy?” Lydia Wickham breezed into the music room, bringing annoyance with her.

Elizabeth ignored her sister’s petulant attitude. “Yes, Lyddie. Please come join us. Allow me to pour you tea.” Elizabeth gestured toward a nearby chair and waited for her youngest sister to settle herself before she continued. “Miss Darcy and I slipped in here to be away from the baronet’s investigation. Truthfully, we have been having a serious discussion, and I had hoped to recruit you to our efforts.We need desperately to return a sense of normalcy to Pemberley as soon as it is possible to do so.We have allowed the bleakness of the storm and the mystery of the deaths to blacken our days. I will not permit evil to take over my household,” Elizabeth asserted.“Georgiana and I have decided to attend the Midwinter Celebration in Bakewell next week.We will make new gowns for the assembly and enjoy a day of winter crafts at the church. I know how you so love a social, and we must plan our lives after these days.”