His eye caught torn pieces of paper surrounding the dressing-table chair. Reaching down, he picked them up and patiently assembled them upon the table, finally reading Caroline’s note to Elizabeth, finally understanding what had happened.

“So this is what started the whole thing,” he sighed raggedly. “A nasty bit of revenge from a rejected woman.” He sat down heavily on the chair and reread the letter again.

I have to accept my own part in this. I kept the truth from Lizzy when I might have avoided this whole trouble by only being honest with her. I certainly was no gentleman; she was right about that. His disappointment with himself was tremendous, even greater than his anger at Caroline, but he would not lose his control again. Never. Least of all over that vain and silly trollop.

“William?” Lizzy raised her head upon hearing him enter their bedroom.

“Why are you awake? You are supposed to be resting.”

“I heard you sighing in there and grew concerned.”

“How are you feeling?” He took her hand in his and kissed her forehead.

“As if I’d been hit by a runaway carriage. Is everything all right? Good, then I need to see my son again.”

“He is beautiful, Lizzy.” Darcy picked the child up from the large cradle and brought him to her. “Have I mentioned that before?”

As she smiled, he lay down beside her, the baby nestled between them in her arms. “I am so sorry, Lizzy, for this whole evening,” he finally said. “What a mess I created with my temper. I will never forgive myself.”

“Oh, of course you will, at least you should, and probably sooner than I will consider appropriate.” She patted his arm lovingly. “Remove your boots, please, dear.”

She is feeling better. He laughed to himself as he pulled them off.

“William, you must stop whipping yourself. We will have many more fights before we are finally too old and infirmed even to recognize each other. When that time comes, we shall, hopefully, be polite acquaintances.”

He snuggled back into bed beside her. “I am normally such a sane, dignified gentleman of the world. Why is it that around you I completely lose my wits?”

“Your wits are merely the first of many sacrifices to come.”

The quiet warmth of the room and the strong bonds of love and family kept them quiet and content for a long while. Then, suddenly unwilling to delay a moment longer, he hugged her tight and said a silent prayer before delivering his long-overdue confession. “I found the letter from Caroline,” he whispered. “I never realized before how evil and cruel she could be. I must confess to you, Elizabeth, that I did see her at Netherfield, but only because she had tricked me into going there. She forged a message to me from Charles, saying he needed help with a problem. I thought it concerned Jane and didn’t want to stress you if it was something I could handle alone.” He scrubbed his face roughly. “So much for my consideration. Anyway, I left immediately upon learning of her deceit.”

Stunned for a moment, she said nothing. “But you could have told me, William. I would have understood.” She then remembered her sporadic pregnancy ravings and sighed. “… Or not. Well, perhaps it was best that you said nothing. But that trip was months ago. Why send the note now, when we are so vulnerable? Could she have deliberately timed the letter’s arrival?”

He could not speak for a long while. “If I thought that, I don’t know what I would do to her, can’t even let myself think. But I tell you we won’t ever again see or hear from her. I will have to tell Bingley the whole story, and you will need to confide in your sister Jane so that we can arrange our visits with them without coming into contact with Caroline. Is that all right with you, Elizabeth?”

She nodded. “I would never lose Jane through this. I think they will both understand. I hope so, at any rate.”

“Now, go to sleep. I’ll put the angel back into his cradle.”

Chapter 9

All around him, as far as he could see, Fitzwilliam saw babies, cooing babies crawling where there should have been the mutilated dead bodies of grown men. This was unacceptable. It was going to take him all night to collect these children and bring them somewhere that would be safe, and then who would feed them? He turned to his sergeant major, sorry to observe that the entire side of the poor man’s head was still blown away. He tried to help the soldier reattach the jawbone of his shattered face then pointed to the babies crawling between them, around them. The man nodded in silent understanding, and they both began to walk to the glacis surrounding the burning fortress.

Fitzwilliam was standing once again at the siege of Badajoz, and the constant pounding of the cannonade in his dreams gradually altered itself into ordinary knocking on their bedroom door, easily dismissed at first, but soon the unrelenting persistence grew closer and louder, and Richard awoke.

Amanda’s eyes, however, had blinked wide open immediately with the certain knowledge of what was happening. “Don’t say a word,” she whispered into his ear. “Ignore her. Please.” They heard someone call his name. It was the morning of their third day at Pemberley House, their departure delayed for many reasons—contentment at being together finally, complacency over their success at escaping, minor difficulties in obtaining just the right coach, passage to the Continent becoming intermittent, ruled by the weather. Besides, no one had bothered them. The sense of urgency had diminished.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam. It’s the nursemaid, sir. Mr. Darcy is at the dressing-room door and says he must speak with you immediately. There are some people outside, sir.” She sounded anxious.

Fitzwilliam scrubbed his eyes with his hand to force the sleep from them. He heard Darcy in the distance bark an order down to someone on the first floor, sounding angrier and more urgent now. “I must see to him, Amanda. Darcy would never be pounding on our door like this if it wasn’t important.” She attempted to stop him, but he patted off her hand and was pulling on his smallclothes, breeches, and shirt before she could say anything more.

He walked quickly across their bedroom, pulling open their door.

“Excuse me, please, Colonel, for disturbing you like this, but Mr. Darcy is that insistent.”

“Yes, that’s quite all right. I understand. If you would, bring the child in here to his mother.” He turned toward Amanda to give her some instruction, but his breath caught at the sight of her. She stood in the corner of the room, looking small and petrified. He smiled faintly at her and then whispered to the nurse as he passed, “Please close the door to the bedroom after I leave.” She nodded in understanding.

***

“What has happened?” Richard watched as Darcy stormed past him into the sitting room. Plainly about to explode with anger, he turned around at the table before the fireplace, his hands on his hips. Richard raised his hand to stay him, giving a quick glance at the closed bedroom door. “And please keep your voice down. I don’t want Amanda unnecessarily alarmed.” It was a moment before Darcy could calm himself enough to speak.

“I’ll tell you what has happened.” Darcy moved closer. “The world has gone mad. That’s what has happened. There are at least a dozen hideous-looking Bow Street thugs out there—poor old Winters was nearly struck by one of them. They tried to force their way into the house, the bastards! Luckily, my hideous-looking thugs are bigger and so managed to keep the scoundrels out. But here’s the thing—I believe they are demanding the boy be brought out immediately. I overheard someone exclaiming loudly that the child had been kidnapped, if you can imagine a mother being accused of that! And a crowd is quickly gathering. Evidently, the entire area has suddenly decided to use a good woman’s personal tragedy as diverting entertainment.”

“Damn it! I am so sorry to have brought this to your doorstep. I should have known. Blast, we should have left yesterday.”

“The point is that we must shield Amanda and the boy. I cannot permit a child to be taken from his mother, most especially a member of my own family, and they are both part of this family now.” Darcy was storming back and forth before the fireplace, pounding his fist into his hand.

“You know you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Oh shut up. Now, how do you want to handle this?” He sat down on the edge of the desk, his arms folded before him. “I was informed that there is a clerk of the court present with some sort of legal document to deliver, probably a court order. I say we present a type of combined front of bullshit, intimidate the man enough to buy some time, perhaps even turn the crowd against him until we locate someone who can return to override any immediate custody order he may have.”

“Well, we outfoxed footballers four years our senior at Harrow, we should be able to bluff our way through this.” Fitzwilliam began rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Bloody hell, this is entirely my fault! Amanda tried to warn me about the woman’s vindictiveness, but I thought she was overreacting. Never imagined the old witch would take this to the courts! I’ve been expecting her footmen to come first with her demands. Damn, I suppose I should have listened, taken this more seriously. If only we had more time!”

“Have you heard anything from the lawyers? Surely, now that you are her husband, she’ll have more standing in the courts.”

“As a matter of fact, I have Drake and Poole working on something very promising.” He placed a bare foot on the seat of one of the chairs, resting his forearm across his knee. “But they must request a review by parliament. You know how it is, with all the lawyers involved and then the mind-boggling slowness of the House of Lords—this could drag on for some time. Shit! Well, if he does have a court order, we have little choice in the matter. The boy shall have to be returned. Oh God, this will break Amanda’s heart. She obsesses over that child, is terrified of being separated from him for even the smallest moment.”