Lydia’s disposition brightened immediately. “You were always one, Lizzy, to quickly revive your spirits. I remember how all the young ladies in the neighborhood were drooping apace with the removal of the regiment from Meryton.You and Jane were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of your employments, while for us the dejection was almost universal.” Elizabeth wished Lydia would speak of something besides the time when Mr. Wickham resided in Meryton, especially for Georgiana’s sake, but a quick glance at Darcy’s sister showed an unexpected detachment. “So very frequently Kitty and I reproached your insensibility.”

Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head.

Before Lydia could take up her tale again, Georgiana interrupted. “Do you suppose, Elizabeth, that you might prevail upon our cousin Edward to stay long enough to join us at Bakewell?” The girl spoke with a calm confidence.“It would be advantageous to have an additional dance partner. Fitzwilliam does not care for my dancing with strangers.”

Elizabeth watched with amusement as Georgiana manipulated the situation. Darcy’s sister was taking on the hopes of every young lady. Elizabeth knew she would have to teach her formidable husband to release his tight grip on his sister’s future. “I most certainly will apply to the good colonel for the pleasure of his company. Perhaps if Miss de Bourgh tarries with us, we might also encourage Mr.Worth to attend. I suspect we will see a great deal of the man if Anne remains at Pemberley.”

“I think it romantic.” Georgiana sighed and flushed with color.

Lydia perked up with the prospect. “As a married lady, I can avoid society’s mandates for dancing with strangers.”

Recalling her sister’s poor behavior at the Netherfield Ball, Elizabeth cautioned, “We—none of us—will do anything that might bring shame on Pemberley or the Darcy name.” She took Georgiana’s hand in hers. “Yet, as your sister, I will see that you have an abundance of partners, and that your brother takes a less rigid stance.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” Georgiana squeezed her sister’s hand. She looked about shyly before whispering,“I have been to only one assembly, and I danced only twice, both times with Fitzwilliam.”

“Well, I promise a more pleasant evening this time.You have a big sister now, and I know what young girls like.”

“Plus, as a married woman, I, too, can serve as your chaperone,” Lydia offered.

“Thank you,” Georgiana said, covering the shock of Lydia Wickham being her chaperone. “Do you think, Elizabeth, with all that has happened at Pemberley that it might be a bit presumptuous of us to attend and make merry?”

“On the contrary,” Elizabeth asserted. “We will demonstrate quite impressively to Derbyshire for what Pemberley stands—for what the Darcys stand. None of what has happened here is our fault, and I will not have us hiding away as if we had guilty consciences.”

“There are times, Lizzy, when you sound very much like your husband!” Lydia exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled broadly. “I take that as the highest of compliments.” She placed her teacup on a nearby plate. “Now, Georgiana, I want you to fetch those new fashion plates from your dresser. Lydia, you are to bring the color board from the bottom of your wardrobe. It is my old one; I placed it there some time ago with other mementos from Longbourn.We will meet in Miss Darcy’s room in five minutes. Now, hurry, girls, we have party dresses to design.”


James’s fears raced as he observed the Pemberley staff hurrying about the halls, seeing to Darcy’s orders. He would leave the estate tonight, under disguise of darkness. A thunderous scowl crisscrossed his face. Just like young Peter Whittington, he wanted to be a part of this world—wanted acceptance. It was truly all he had ever wanted. However, fighting the system tired him, and at moments such as these, he simply wanted to run away—to escape to his self-imposed penal compliancy.

“These passageways are not your only prison,” he mumbled. “Your soul will rot in hell,” he mimicked what Father Bertram had told him only a few weeks earlier.“Damned for all time.” He hated the priest, but he religiously attended the man’s mass, drawn to the belief of redemption, but never finding it.

He chastised himself for the blind rage that often controlled his actions—the beast he could not tame. They brought it out in him—his mother—her extravagant ways—his father—a weak man. People, especially those at the university who thought him an abomination—the joke of his graduating class—some thought him a rich man’s bastard. He had tried to keep Peter from the same stigma, but the boy insisted upon pomposity to still the unspoken threats; yet, all Peter’s indulgent ways did was to irritate respectable society.

Because of the intended and the unintended snubs, James had developed his own defenses, so in many ways he understood the boy’s manipulations. He supposed his hardness and his foul temper were no more effective. He bit back an oath as he considered the futility of coming to Pemberley.

The sound of the turning latch set his pulse pounding. He stepped behind the screen as the door swung open. Georgiana Darcy crossed to her dresser and pulled open a drawer. She removed a large book and then stopped to look into the mirror.

“You!” she gasped before springing for the door.


James remained frozen, praying she would not see him, but as she stood, he knew the moment that Miss Darcy obviously recognized him. In the reflection of the mirror, the girl could see him standing not ten feet behind her.

Fear and panic followed the recognition, and she bolted to escape; but he reached her before she could signal the others. He caught her possessively around the waist, clamping his free hand over her mouth to squelch her scream. “Lovely Georgiana,” he whispered huskily into her hair as she squirmed against him to set herself free. “You are coming with me, my Dear.”

His words sent her into stupefied terror; she kicked and twisted and pushed with all her might, but James easily handled her alarm with brute force. “Play nicely, Georgiana,” he hissed roughly in her ear. “Do not make me do something we will both regret.”

James began to drag the girl toward the secret opening. Using his weight to press her against the wall, he quickly released her mouth long enough to flick the U-shaped lever locking the passageway.

Yet, before he could catch her mouth again, the room’s door flew open, and he knew he was in trouble.

Chapter 21

Using Georgiana’s lithe body as a shield, James spun around to face the intruder, his grip tightening around the girl’s waist and his right, gloved hand recapturing her mouth. He plastered her back to his chest, jerking her head to the side so he might see over her shoulder. A split second later, Georgiana’s visitor stepped around the screen and came into full view.

Lydia Wickham’s normally large, wide-set eyes grew even larger—shock and confusion playing across her face. “What-what are you doing here?” she stammered breathlessly.

Pulling Georgiana tighter to him to lessen her struggle, James gave Lydia the perfect smile. “I came to find you, Sweetest,” he said calmly.

“Find me?” She stood transfixed, trying to make sense of the scene playing out before her. “Why did you need to find me?”

“I missed you, of course, Darling. I always miss you when you are not around.”

A long heartbeat kept Lydia from responding, but finally she managed to ask the right questions. “What are you doing in Miss Darcy’s room? Surely, you did not expect to find me here?” Her hands fisted on her hips as she allowed the color board to slip to the floor.

James’s smile purposely grew larger. “You know how they are, Darling. Darcy’s men would not let me through the front door: I am not good enough for the great Fitzwilliam Darcy to entertain.” He gestured with a nod of his head to the dark opening standing ajar. “But I know this house. I had my ways of finding you.”

“You…you came through there?” Lydia pointed to the gaping darkness.

“Of course, Darling. No one can keep us apart, especially not the Darcys.” He edged Georgiana backward one step. “Now, Sweetheart, we must leave. Come along.”

“What are you doing to Miss Darcy?” Some of Lydia’s limited wits had returned.

James took another step toward his necessary escape.“She found me before I found you. She started to scream for help, but I could not let her set up an alarm. Not until we were safely away.” His voice held a practiced smoothness although he still wrestled with Georgiana physically.

“Truly?” Lydia whispered. “You came for me?” Her hands opened like a flower seeking the sun, and she reached for him.

“You know in your heart that I speak the truth.” Lydia stared mutely at him, weighing his words. “We must leave, Sweetest,” he said with some urgency.

“What about my things?” She asked tentatively, turning instinctively toward her room to retrieve them.

“There is not time,” he insisted. “We must leave now. Take Miss Darcy’s cloak, and we will send for the rest.You are aware that Darcy must not find me here. He will have me arrested for trespassing.”

Lydia looked closely at the obviously frightened Georgiana. “What of her?”

“I will tie Miss Darcy to the chair.” He pushed Darcy’s sister toward a straight-backed chair. “We will leave her for her brother to find.”

Lydia’s stubbornness took hold. “But what of Lizzy? I cannot just leave without saying farewell. And we planned to attend an assembly next week. We were to have new dresses made, and I promised to help chaperone Miss Darcy. Could we not just stay at Pemberley for a few days? I am sure I can convince Lizzy,” she whined.

James’s patience snapped. “You crazy chit! Darcy is never going to accept me in his house. He always hated me—the women preferred me to him—even with all his money and connections!” He spit out the words. “Now, do as I tell you and go through that door, or you will pay dearly for disobeying me!”

Lydia’s head dropped in immediate submission.“I did not mean to anger you,” she mumbled.“I just thought Mr. Darcy might agree to help us again. That is why I came to see Lizzy. If Mr. Darcy saw fit to help us, we could start over.”


Edward Fitzwilliam burst through the study door, followed closely by Viscount Stafford. “Darcy, look at this!” The colonel shoved a small portrait at Darcy.

The master of Pemberley fought the inclination to yank the offending item from his cousin’s hand. Despite his apparent outer calm, his body recoiled in disgust. “I am well aware of the picture, Edward. It spent many years suspended among several other miniatures over the mantelpiece in my father’s favorite drawing room. At Elizabeth’s insistence, I placed it in storage with other mementos in the room currently occupied by Mrs. Darcy’s sister. In fact, Elizabeth and I agreed recently that the lady might take it with her when she leaves Pemberley.” Darcy stood and walked away, unable to look at the image of his former friend without feeling contempt course through his veins.

Edward followed closely, shadowing Darcy’s steps. “That explains why we found it on the table next to Mrs. Wickham’s bed, but that is not what makes this miniature important.”

Darcy turned angrily on his cousin—the reminder of Mr.Wickham angering him even more during this difficult time. “What is it, Edward? Why is this bloody portrait suddenly so paramount in importance?” He grabbed the picture from Edward’s outstretched palm and threw it against the wall, watching with pleasure as the small frame splintered into a dozen pieces.

Edward caught Darcy by both shoulders, forcing his cousin to listen to him. Eye to eye, Edward held Darcy’s shoulders in a viselike grip.“Jatson—the footman,” he began, pronouncing the words slowly—ensuring that Darcy understood. “Mr. St. Denis swears the man in the portrait is the man with whom he fought outside the east wing chambers—the man who tried to kill him.”


Elizabeth stuck her head in Lydia’s room, but seeing no one about, she hurried along the hallway to Georgiana’s chamber. She had retrieved some lace and muslin swatches from her own sitting room before heading upstairs to join her sisters. Breezing into her new sister’s chambers in anticipation, Elizabeth came up short—her heart lurching in her chest. Coming through the bedroom door instead of the dressing room, she had no time to prepare herself for the terrible tableau performing there. Apprehension ricocheted down her spine. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” she demanded. Georgiana whimpered, but Elizabeth did not allow herself to look at Darcy’s sister. Instead, she made eye contact with the girl’s captor, daring him to make a false move. “You are not welcome in this house, sir. I suggest you take your leave before my husband finds out. Mr. Darcy will take a whip to you for touching his sister.”