Leaving Darcy’s guests to their own amusements, he made his way to the house’s empty wing. For a change, he would spend the night in a real bed. He would sleep in his clothes, something he did quite often of late.To secure the room, he wedged a chair under the door handle, setting the straight-back chair at a forty-five degree angle. He turned the key softly to lock the door. Finally, he slid a desk to block the door frame.All those precautions would give him time to escape if Darcy and his men discovered him.

He left the secret passage’s latch unhooked and the door slightly ajar, making it easier to shove it open, as well as setting the sword at ready. Then, as a diversion, he released the window’s locking mechanism. Finally, he crawled into the bed, tossing the counter-pane over him and cradling a pillow. He needed a night’s sleep. For a week, he had slept a few hours here and a few more there. The lack of sleep affected his ability to deal with Darcy’s household effectively.


He rested for three solid hours. Once James thought he heard someone in the hallway, but the noise moved away, and he drifted back to sleep; so when the key turned in the lock, he did not expect it, but it instantly alerted him. Jumping from the bed, he threw the linens aside. He had planned his escape carefully, and as he hurried toward the secret passageway, he paused only long enough to pull the shutters and the window open.

Krr-thump! His head snapped around at the sound of bodies hitting the barricaded door.

“Push!” He heard Darcy order his servant. He would have liked to stay and see Darcy’s face when he realized who the intruder was—but it was too soon. He still had scores to even and vengeance to exact, so he wedged his fingers into the opening and slid the fake door open far enough to fit his body through. Catching the lever on the other side, he swung the door into place and secured the latch just as Darcy and his man hit the door a second time—splintering the legs of the wedged chair and shoving the desk away from the opening.


Darcy and Murray hit the door a second time. Darcy heard the wood split and in the small opening he saw a flash of color move away from the bed and toward the far wall. As he and Murray put their backs into moving the furniture piled before the door, a rush of cold air swept through the opening. A loud click punctuated their efforts.

When the desk finally gave way, and he and Murray managed to squeeze through the narrow opening, Darcy’s anger took hold. Even before he made his stumbling entrance into the room, he knew they would find nothing.Turning around once and then once more, he took in the entire room. Other than the chair, desk, messy bed, and an open window, nothing was out of place. “Damn!” he hissed. “What the bloody hell is going on in this house?” Out of pure frustration, he forcibly flipped the desk on its side. If not for the heavy furniture, they could have cornered the intruder.

“I do not see anything outside, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Baldwin leaned out the window, looking for traces of the man’s escape. “I see no footprints in the snow.”

“I do not think the intruder went out the window.” Darcy’s eyes searched the walls. He motioned Murray through to the adjoining passage, although intuitively Darcy knew the footman would find nothing.

Moments later, Murray returned empty-handed. “I went all the way through the other room, Mr. Darcy. All the way to the outside hall. The only thing I encountered was Jatson, where we left him. He swears no one came his way. The man had to go out the window. Maybe he went up instead of down?”

“Our phantom scaled the icy walls and entered an open window of the tomb we have created on the upper floor? Absent supernatural powers, that is not possible, Murray.”

The footman shrugged. “Where else could he be, sir?”

“I wish I knew, Murray.” Darcy released the gun’s cocking mechanism. He would not need the weapon tonight. Earlier this evening, he and the viscount had discussed the possibility of the specter’s departure. Things had seemed to resume a normalcy as the day progressed. Georgiana had returned to the piano. Elizabeth and Lydia had taken on the alteration of one of his wife’s summer gowns for her sister. Mr.Worth and Anne had reportedly sat in the conservatory for hours. Mrs.Williams and his aunt, along with Miss Donnel, had played loo, while he and the viscount had taken up a closely matched game of chess. Throughout, his men had remained on watch, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and he had relaxed, thinking the worst over.

Now, he chased a ghost—a shadow. No wonder his people entertained the possibility of a haunting—of a shadow man taking up residency at Pemberley. If he was not a man of logic, Darcy thought he might believe in such legends himself. He simply hoped that warmer weather would make an appearance soon, releasing Pemberley from Winter’s icy death grip.

“Close it.” He gestured toward the window. “Nothing to see here.” He walked about the room, letting his fingers trace the wallpaper, looking for something—he knew not what. “He just disappears—into thin air.” His fingers continued their journey.

The sound of a thud brought his attention to the hall.“What the hell!” he grumbled as they turned toward the door.


He heard the stirrings from the other side of the darkened passage. James would have liked to see the expression on Darcy’s face when he found an empty room, but for now he needed a distraction. He knew Darcy well, and he did not think the man would consider the window a viable exit. Darcy, he realized, would search until he found the secret door.

Therefore, he made his way to this wing’s other opening—one where the fire place hearth separated and swung inward. He left the secret entrance standing wide open and made his way across the shadowy bedroom. He eased the door open and blinked at the hallway’s muted lights.The one footman stood staring off in the direction of the open doorway. Quietly, he swung the door wide.Taking the sword that MacIves had stolen from the suit of armor, he edged forward until he stood less than two feet away from Darcy’s man. He raised the sword above his head and brought it down hard.


Jatson St. Denis stood at his post, watching the hallway. He wished to be a part of the assault on the room, but Mr. Darcy had told him to secure the hallway. He noted the struggle of the young master and Murray, but made no move to help them. Mr. Darcy had given him specific orders to guard the hall, making sure that no one exited the rooms in the vicinity of the one Mr. Darcy had entered. That was what he would do.

Within moments, Murray had opened the door of the adjoining chamber. Despite expecting it, Jatson had still flinched when Murray jerked the door from its frame and spoke to him.“Did you see anything?” the other footman demanded.

“No…no one. I be in this hall since I found the locked door. No one else come this way.”

Murray disappeared back the way he had come, but Jatson did not desert his post. He stood his ground even when he heard Mr. Darcy obviously take his frustration out on the bedchamber’s furniture.

Patiently, he waited for the next order from Pemberley’s master. His job paid better than any similar position in the area, and Jatson, whose wife had recently delivered a son, would do nothing to jeopardize his child’s future. They were saving for a small cottage. Deep in thought, daydreaming of his wife and child, at first he was unaware of danger until he observed the long, reflected shadows from the wall sconce. Someone stood behind him.

Jatson wanted to move, but he had heard tales of the Shadow Man all his life, and a small part of him-—the part that controlled his feet—believed the legends. His body stiffened as the shadow came closer.Then the phantom raised his hands above his head, and Jatson saw the image of a sword ready to exact justice, and he could no longer remain rooted to the spot.

Swiftly as the sword made its descent, he twirled around, knocking the weapon to the side.The intruder was closer than he had anticipated, and Jatson found himself stumbling backward against the wall. The sword found a home—his arm burned with the weight of the cut.


He raised the blade above his head and brought it down hard. But Darcy’s footman turned at the last second, as if the man knew his peril.The watchman staggered from the momentum, and the sword took a jagged chunk from the man’s arm.

Knowing he had only seconds to escape, James used the hilt of the weapon to deliver a blow across the side of the man’s head, knocking the footman to the floor. Dropping the sword, he fled through the bedchamber door, closing it quickly behind him and rushing to the open hearth. He swung the secret entry closed and grabbed the candle he had left on the inside step. Purposefully, he made his way to the lowest level.While Darcy tended the wounded footman, James would raid the cold cellar again in anticipation of a long day. Hopefully, he could find a loaf of Mrs. Jennings’s bread or a few boiled eggs. He would be enclosed in the secret passage until he was ready to make a stand against Darcy—maybe not tomorrow, but soon.


The sound of the thud brought Darcy’s attention to the hall.“What the hell!” he grumbled as he turned toward the door. “Jatson!” he called, seeing the footman lying prostrate upon the carpet runner. Darcy rushed forward, kneeling by his man. “Jatson,” he said again as he lifted his servant’s head. His hand came back covered in blood. “Murray, tear one of the sheets from the bed. Jatson needs a bandage.”

Murray rushed to the room they just vacated and returned with a sheet trailing behind him. He tore at the material, pulling off long strips.