Worth took a sip of his wine. “Sing for your supper, Miss Donnel?” he inquired jovially. As a solicitor,Worth considered himself a keen observer of humanity, for he met all kinds. As such, something told him the viscount and this lady held no blood relationship. He thought her “talents” lay elsewhere.

“It is not necessary to repay our hospitality,” Elizabeth interrupted, “but I would appreciate not being the only one to perform this evening. Please do join me.”

As usual, Lady Catherine wanted the last word. “Music! It is of all subjects my delight. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment in music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learned I should have been a great proficient; and so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply.”

Darcy watched as his cousin sank lower in her seat, trying to symbolically disappear. Obviously, Anne’s health had improved enough for her to sneak off to meet her lieutenant. Darcy had not yet had an opportunity to speak privately with Anne. When he had stopped by her room that day, she claimed a headache. He would need to give her a day or two before he could approach his cousin on her indiscretion. Darcy would not chastise her, though. He had mistakenly done so with Georgiana; now she struggled to gain her social confidence. Despite the fact that Anne held eight years on Georgiana, his cousin lived under Lady Catherine’s thumb. As such, Anne de Bourgh possessed little social confidence. Actually, he found her “rebellion,” so uncharacteristic, encouraging. Possibly, Anne’s indiscretion would be a turning point in her life. He simply wanted to guarantee that the man did not perform a farce in his profession of love. If Lieutenant Harwood’s affections proved legitimate, Darcy would not stop the man from pursuing Anne. His cousin deserved to know true affection.

“Let us not stand on propriety then. Shall we retire to the music room?” Darcy stood to end the conversation. Elizabeth followed him to her feet. She came to his end of the table to greet him. In reality, he should escort his aunt, but Lady Catherine’s ill breeding and high-handedness irritated him. “Come, my Dear.” He placed Elizabeth’s hand on his arm and led her from the room.


“Will you not come to bed, my Husband?” Elizabeth stood at the door of his study. United, they had weathered their first evening with their eclectic guests. Both she and Miss Donnel had entertained the group, and Georgiana finally agreed to play several solos-—with everyone’s praise. They had found the evening actually quite pleasant, with the exception of Lady Catherine’s continual remarks on the various performances and her many instructions on execution and taste.

“I have a letter to my solicitor,” he noted. “I shall join you by the time you finish your ablutions.” He smiled at her; he knew Elizabeth did not like to sleep alone. At Longbourn, she and her sister Jane had shared more than confidences.They often shared the same bed, needing each other’s company to feel complete. His wife had transferred that “need” to him. Of course, Darcy did not complain. Lying with her in his arms was exquisite. His loneliness—his own “needs”—found completion in her love.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and blew him an air kiss.A smile played across her countenance. “I shall wait up.”

He recognized that look—a love promise. “I shall not be long.”

Giggling, she dropped him a curtsy and was gone.

Darcy returned to his letter. In it, he asked Mr. Laurie to seek information on Wickham’s reported affairs, as well as the extent of the man’s latest debts. He also requested any details that Mr. Laurie might glean on Lieutenant Harwood’s financial soundness. Darcy did not fool himself into thinking that the letter would go out anytime soon:The snow had continued to fall all evening, covering everything in a thick layer of whiteness. However, he would have it ready for when the postal service started up again.

A tap at the door drew his attention away from his task. He raised his head and found Mr. Baldwin waiting patiently for his acknowledgment. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. Might I speak with you, sir?”

“Certainly, Mr. Baldwin. Come in, please.” He motioned to a chair, but the well-trained domestic refused with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. However, the man remained on alert, and Darcy quickly recognized his butler’s agitation. “What might I do for you, Mr. Baldwin?” He knew that for Baldwin to approach him, the matter must be significant. Darcy had, long ago, relegated management of the household staff to the man.

“As you requested, Mr. Darcy, I checked the rooms in the east wing myself.” He paused, searching for the words to explain the situation. “Sir, the room with the Chinese pattern…”

“Yes, Mr. Baldwin.”

“The mattress, Mr. Darcy…and the…the bed linens…they are missing, sir.”

Darcy’s expression showed his irritation. “What do you mean, Baldwin? Missing?”

“Missing, sir! As in not there…not in the room at all…not in any of the rooms, sir!”

“Are you sure, man?” Darcy was on his feet, moving closer to his butler, as if that would bring back the missing items.

“Completely, Mr. Darcy. I looked myself. I searched every room in the east wing, as well as all the empty ones in the west wing. I even searched the servants’ quarters. I found nothing, Mr. Darcy—not a pillow or a blanket or even a sheet—nothing, sir.”

“How is that possible, Mr. Baldwin? A complete bedding set does not sprout wings and fly away!” Darcy’s frustration became more evident.

“I wish I had an explanation, sir. Where could it be? And why bed linens? None of it makes sense, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy paced the room—he disliked not being in control of his surroundings. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to take Murray and Hastings and search every room in this house—even those occupied by my guests. If they object, tell them that I have ordered you to inspect every window and fireplace flue to make sure that they can withstand the elements. Methodically move from room to room—none is to be left without inspection. I want to know the whereabouts of this said bedding. And while you are at it, look for the candelabra usually kept outside Miss Darcy’s room. Mrs. Darcy reports its sudden disappearance also.”

“Yes, sir. I will see to it personally, sir.”

His man waited, expecting Darcy to say more—to express his anger about the butler’s incompetence. “Just find it, Mr. Baldwin. Someone plays games in my house, and I will have none of it.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

“Extinguish the lights. I am to bed. Be sure that everything is secure.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

Too annoyed to even finish the letter, Darcy strode from the room. Only in Elizabeth’s arms could his anger be lessened.


They made love twice: The first time eased his dissatisfaction with the unexpected onslaught of intruders on his domain and with the equally unexpected disappearance of his household items.The second time Darcy brought her to completion, taking time to please her, slowly teasing Elizabeth with his ministrations.They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, sated. Elizabeth drifted into the early stages of sleep. Darcy watched her even breathing, as he did nightly. From their first time together, he had watched her—guarded her as she slept—amazed by how easily she gave herself to him.

He had spent a year in suspense, trying to win her love, although he had refused to even acknowledge the power she held over him. “By you I was taught humility,” he murmured softly as he lightly stroked Elizabeth’s cheek.

She turned in his arms, snuggling into his chest. Her hand reached up to cup his jaw line. Dreamily, Elizabeth mumbled, “I love the way you smell—sandalwood and my Fitzwilliam.” She breathed him in and returned to her sleep.

Darcy gently kissed her forehead and brushed her hair from her face. He closed his own eyes to dream of his wife and their life together. All his dreams rested in her.


Finally, deep in sleep-satisfied by their lovemaking and by the total trust he placed in Elizabeth, when the first scream came, it penetrated his subconscious, but did not register in his conscious mind. However, the second one pulled him from the depths of his dream and brought Darcy upright. He stumbled to the middle of the room.

“Georgiana.” Elizabeth’s whisper behind him sent him bolting from the room, a robe loosely wrapped about his form. Darcy slid to a halt at his sister’s door, her screams ripping out his heart.

Without knocking, Darcy shoved the door open to find a terrified Georgiana on her knees in the middle of the bed, clutching her gown to her as she shook with fear. She continued to scream, not seeing him—not understanding he was there. Candlelight reflected in the mirror told him that Elizabeth followed behind him, but he did not turn around. Instead, he focused all his energy on helping his sister.

“Georgiana,” he whispered as he edged forward. She no longer screamed, but she shivered uncontrollably. “Georgiana, I am here. Nothing will harm you.” Slowly, comfortingly, he took her into his embrace, holding her tightly to him. Cooing gently, Darcy whispered in her ear—told the girl how he would never let anything hurt her. Finally, her body relaxed.“Georgiana,” he said while watching Elizabeth use her candle to light the others.“Can you tell me what frightened you, my Dear?”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she sobbed. Darcy automatically pulled her closer.

“What is it, Darcy?” Lady Catherine demanded from the open doorway. Anne stood silently behind her mother.

Darcy did not look up; his attention remained on Georgiana, so Elizabeth took charge. “It is nothing, Lady Catherine.” She began to turn the woman from the room. “Georgiana simply had a girlish nightmare. Sometimes her fears act on her mind.” Elizabeth caught Anne’s arm to walk her to her guest room; she knew that Lady Catherine would follow. “We are sorry that your sleep was disturbed, Miss de Bourgh.”