“My God, Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth rushed around her husband as he calmed his favorite horse. George Wickham lay, arms and legs akimbo, on a nearby grave, his head split open and a grayish blood seeping into the frozen ground. “He hit the tombstone,” she whispered to the stillness, as she reached out tentatively to touch her sister’s husband. However, the man no longer moved.

Darcy stood beside her. Lifting her gently to her feet, he pulled Elizabeth against his chest, allowing his wife’s grief to begin. “It is over, Sweetheart.” He held her to him. “Mr. Wickham can hurt us no more.”

The sound of fresh horses brought his head up, but only Stafford and Worth appeared. In silence, both men dismounted and joined them in the cemetery’s middle. Surrounded by marble and wood, dismay at what they had all suffered permeated the winter’s quiet. With a nod of his head, Darcy indicated for them to check the body. Worth did the honors while Stafford entered the church to set things aright. No one spoke. They had been through so much together in the past week that none of them needed words to know what to do.

“Are we taking Wickham back to Pemberley?” Stafford said at last.

Darcy still held Elizabeth in his embrace.“It is what Mrs. Darcy would want for her sister.”

Worth brought Vulcan alongside of the grave, so he and Stafford could load the body across the saddle. “Did you notice the epitaph?” the solicitor asked as they clumsily lifted Wickham to the horse.“’Tis fate that flings the dice, and as she flings, of kings makes peasants, and of peasants kings.”

“Wickham proved the folly of keeping bad company.” Stafford shot a quick glance at the Darcys. “As Ovid said, ‘The vulgar estimate friends by the advantage to be derived from them.’”


“Can you ride, Darcy?”Worth asked as he brought Demon forward.

Darcy bent his head to speak to Elizabeth. “May I take you up with me, my Dear?”

Elizabeth raised her head to look at him carefully. “Will it not hurt you?”

“It will hurt me more to have you out of the safety of my arms.”

Stafford suggested, “We should leave before the village comes to see what is going on.We are lucky no one seems to be home at the parsonage. I think we will need to construct a new truth out of this.”

“I suspect you are correct,Your Lordship. Now, if you and Worth will give me a leg up, we will take the back roads to Pemberley.”

“As you wish, Darcy.”

When Elizabeth had settled herself across Darcy’s lap, Stafford handed up his coat. “This may smell a bit better than the blanket your husband wears, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you, Lord Stafford, but I find the odor of horse flesh quite alluring.” She turned into Darcy’s warmth as he draped the coat around her.

Stafford chuckled. “If I ever find a woman with your mettle, Mrs. Darcy, I will be on one knee in a heartbeat.”

“I shall happily celebrate that day, Your Lordship.”

Epilogue

Two days later, the Pemberley family and trusted guests sat together in the same blue drawing room they had shared for the preceding fortnight. Of the havoc George Wickham had wreaked, Lydia suffered the most serious injuries—the bullet from the colonel’s gun going completely through her left shoulder, leaving a gaping wound in her back. However, in Elizabeth’s opinion, Lydia’s most difficult injury to heal would be her sister’s emotional state. Months of dealing with Wickham’s mental decline had left Lydia vulnerable.

Georgiana needed only a few well-placed stitches. Mrs. Reynolds’s diagnosis of Colonel Fitzwilliam proved correct. Doctor Miller removed the fragments of the bullet and of one of the colonel’s many medals and casted the colonel’s broken wrist. Elizabeth suffered only a grazing wound close to her temple, while Darcy had some muscle damage across his shoulder blade and along his spine.An elaborate bandage crisscrossed his back and chest, restricting his movement, which totally frustrated a man known to take pride in the actual running of his estate.

“Sir Phillip returns today?”Worth asked as he sipped a cup of tea.

Darcy replied, “The baronet will take Mrs. Harwood to Derby first, but he and I have decided to send her to a friend in Antigua with the stipulation that the lady never returns to England.There is a facility nearby, where she will be expected to serve her sentence helping some of the island’s many orphans.”

Worth’s contempt for the idea showed. “For the heinous crime she committed, it is more than the lady deserves.”

“We have been through this several times, Worth,” Edward warded off the solicitor’s objections. “It is the only way we can reduce the scandal.”

“I understand,”Worth grumbled, “but I do not have to like it.”

Elizabeth reached out and patted Worth’s arm. “We appreciate your and Miss de Bourgh’s approval of this plan. We comprehend the depth of your disdain for this alternative, but we need to protect Mrs.Wickham.”

“Of course, Mrs. Darcy. I did not mean to criticize. Miss de Bourgh simply loved her long-time companion dearly.”

“As I love my sister,” Elizabeth said quietly.

Worth verbalized no further objections on the subject. Everyone assumed he would soon declare himself for Anne de Bourgh, and when she accepted him, he would become head of that branch of the family. His counsel had become valuable to them as they decided how to handle the outrage associated with Wickham’s intrusion.

“It still galls me that Mr. Steventon knew of the passages and never disclosed the information to me, especially as we searched for an unknown intruder,” Darcy grumbled.

Edward inquired, “What did the man say when you questioned him on it?”

“He thought me to be aware of the ruins. Said because Mr. Wickham’s father served my own for so long that he assumed me familiar with the layout. It seems my great-great grandfather saw a need for escape if the estate was attacked. In the 1600s, it would make sense. I must take the blame, I suppose, for not familiarizing myself with the house’s history. I thought I knew it, however.”

“Wickham must have known of the passageways because of his father?” Stafford thought aloud.

“One can only guess.” Darcy still showed signs of irritation. “His secrets died with him.”

“And what of your sister, Elizabeth?” Edward changed the subject. He sat beside Georgiana on a nearby settee—their fingers barely touching on the cushion between them.

Elizabeth watched with some amusement as Darcy eyed his cousin’s forwardness and his sister’s acceptance. It had taken her several hours the previous evening after Edward presented himself to Darcy to even consider a union of the two.


“Georgiana is not ready,” he insisted.

Elizabeth laughed softly.“Of course, our sister is ready. Women are born ready to marry.”

“You were not,” he accused.

Elizabeth snuggled into his right side. “I was born to marry the most honorable man to grace this earth. It was not my fault he came to me disguised as a pompous prig.” She stroked along his chin line as she spoke.

Darcy chuckled. “He was testing you, my Dear.” He lightly kissed her fingers. “Trying to see if you would recognize Love when it called upon you.”

“I was quite blind to what he offered, and I regret the time we wasted coming to an understanding.” She turned his palm over and kissed it.

“Do you really believe this is what Georgiana wishes?”

Elizabeth kissed his cheek. “Your sister has spoken of no one else for months. Have you not seen it? Have you not heard it? At Christmas, Georgiana bought Edward a gold-tipped walking stick with his initials engraved on the handle—quite a personal and expensive gift for a man she sees only every couple of months. Besides, would you wish someone less respectable for Georgiana?”

“I would wish her a Season in London as my parents planned.”

Elizabeth sat up straight, where she might meet his eyes. “I love Georgiana, but a Season would be a daunting experience for her. She is too unassuming, and despite her handsome appearance and her generous dowry, can you honestly believe that Georgiana could find a more suitable match in disposition? Edward would protect her and love her. It that not what you wish for our sister?”

“He is nearly fourteen years her senior,” he objected.

“You are eight years older than I.”

He sighed in exasperation. “What shall I tell them?”

Elizabeth knew Darcy would put Georgiana’s happiness above his own misgivings. “I suggest a compromise of sorts. Accept an understanding between our sister and Edward, but deny them an official announcement until her next birthday, at the end of the summer. In the meantime, we expose Georgiana to other young people in the neighborhood to see if any other young men pique her interest. If not, then you will know her constancy and can accept their union with a glad heart.”

“How did you become so wise?”

“Remember…I married that honorable man. I have learned empathy and compassion from him.” She settled back into his embrace.

Darcy closed his eyes and thought of the exquisite happiness he held and how he had come so close to losing her.“And you have taught me about loving completely. Compared with you, I am a mere novice.”


Darcy’s voice brought Elizabeth from her musings. “There is no way to hide Mr. Wickham’s attacks on this house, for too many people have knowledge of it.Yet, Sir Phillip has graciously allowed the Darcy family to put its own twist on the events. As the baronet said, it would serve no purpose to ruin the good names of everyone involved. So, for the record, Mr. Wickham invaded my home with the purpose of ridding himself of his wife.There is truth in the tale. Besides finding the letter I wrote to Mr. Laurie regarding Harwood and Wickham, we discovered a journal of sorts in the antechamber, which was kept by the one known as Peter Whittington.” Darcy still could not reconcile how one man could actually be four. “It chronicles his attack on Lucinda Dodd, Gregor MacIves’s fight with Lieutenant Harwood, and James Withey’s discovery by young Lawson. It also describes in some detail George Wickham’s contempt for Mrs. Wickham’s spending habits, his growing gambling debts, their lack of financial soundness, and his plan to free himself of his wife and blame it on Pemberley. It appears that Mr.Wickham used the letter to imitate my handwriting—planned to use the forgery somehow to better his scheme.”

“We have not discussed Mr. Wickham’s treachery with my sister,” Elizabeth barely whispered. “It will break Lyddie’s heart when she knows the truth.”

Darcy squeezed her hand, telling Elizabeth they would see this through together. “I have written to Mr. Bennet,” he continued the tale. “I have told him the truth, but have asked him to conceal it from the rest of the family. He will propose a trip to Pemberley under the guise of celebrating Elizabeth’s upcoming confinement. When the Bennets arrive, we will explain the events to everyone. Mrs. Wickham will benefit from her mother’s ministrations, and it will allow the news to trickle into Meryton and not be bemoaned loudly by Mrs. Bennet’s nervous nature. As Mr.Wickham has a less-than-stellar reputation among Meryton’s residents, few in Hertfordshire will find our explanation lacking. In fact, many will expect some such perfidy. I have no fear of the locals learning of the whole truth by their usual methods of Mr. and Mrs. Collins and the Lucases. Lady Catherine will repeat what I tell her because Anne’s reputation is intrinsically entangled in Wickham’s story.”

“How do we explain Harwood?” Worth asked. “Can we leave Miss de Bourgh’s ruination out of the story?”

Darcy recognized the man’s concern: Worth would make Anne his wife, and a man protects his family. “It will be quite an exaggeration, but we shall say that both Lawson and Lucinda discovered Wickham disguised in the Pemberley livery, and he killed them so that he would not be found out. Unfortunately, with Harwood, a complete prevarication will be necessary. We have stated that, as a friend of my cousin, Harwood saw Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to Pemberley when he realized that the storm delayed Mr. Worth. Like the others, Harwood discovered Wickham in the house, and he lost his life defending our home against an unknown intruder.”