As the raised dais sporting a small writing desk rotated inward, he stepped into the airy room. He could get used to such luxury, but the likelihood of ever knowing the warmth of a place of his own faded a bit more with each passing day. Only one thing held him back—kept him from realizing his true potential. He had come to Pemberley to right a wrong. Looking out the nearest window, he took stock of the changing weather conditions. “It be tonight,” he said as he let the drape fall back into place.

He found a bowl and a ewer of water. He stripped off his jacket and searched the wardrobe for clothes stored in the cabinet. “Well, look here.” He pulled the shirt from the wooden hanger. “Thank ye, Darcy.” He removed the rough linen he had worn for the past week and threw it in the empty bag resting on the bedside end table. He poured water in the bowl, lathered up a cloth, and proceeded to wash his body as best he could. He would prefer a bath, but, at least, he could rid himself of the dust and the cobwebs clinging to his face and arms.

As silently as possible, he raised the smallest window, and then carefully carried the dirty water to it and dumped the water onto the frosty lawn. Then he refilled the bowl and applied the soap to his face. He returned to the dressing room and found a straight razor on the table. “Thank ye a’gin, Darcy.”

Taking the blade with him, he looked for a mirror. He found one and began to remove the bristly whiskers decorating his face. “I won’er when be the last time Darcy shaved his own face?” He made smooth, sweeping strokes along his cheeks and then wiped the blade dry on a towel.

He had just run the razor up the right side of his neck to his chin line when the room’s door swung open. In the mirror, he saw a man wearing what appeared to be an officer’s uniform. The man strode forward. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

For a split second, Gregor froze, thinking that being discovered meant he would not have to return to the cold passageways after all, and then survival instincts took hold. He spun, razor in hand, and caught the officer with a forearm across the neck.With his free hand, he slashed the blade along the exposed flesh, leaving a jagged cut from the man’s left ear to his Adam’s apple.

The lieutenant fought Gregor until his opponent made a second cut, and the blood poured forth over their hands, which were knotted together in a struggle. Then his opponent went limp, the front of his well-pressed uniform turning red with his own blood. Gregor stepped back and let the lieutenant slide to the floor.Without thinking twice, he rinsed his hands in the water. He grabbed a second towel, the bag from the end table, and the clean garments and sidestepped around the writhing body. After locking the room door, he headed toward the secret panel. Reaching the hidden lever, he glanced back once to see the military officer pull up to his knees before suddenly going very still. He knew it was a matter of time.Within a few minutes, the lieutenant would know his Maker. A loud click signaled that Gregor’s escape waited.


For well over an hour, the Darcys shared what they knew of the mysterious deaths. “It is almost as if there is more than one perpetrator,” Sir Phillip remarked. “My study of the law and my twenty years serving as a magistrate tell me that, usually, a murderer follows the same pattern in committing his crimes.These are very distinct wrongs. It makes very little sense.”

“I had hoped,” Darcy began, “that your years in this capacity would give you insights we others lacked.”

“I believe it is time I spoke to your guests.” Sir Phillip stood and moved to behind Darcy’s desk. “I plan to occupy your work area for a few hours, my Boy.”

“Certainly, Sir Phillip. Anything you need.” Darcy stood also. “With whom did you wish to speak first, sir?”

Sir Phillip settled in Darcy’s chair. “I think the viscount if you do not mind, Darcy. I am familiar with Mr. Worth—testified in more than one of his cases, but I am not aware of the viscount.”

“The man is right intelligent, although a bit of a rebel; I believe you will find His Lordship most helpful, however.” Darcy pulled the bell cord to call his servant. “In a short while, I have a meeting with my aunt, her daughter, and Lieutenant Harwood, so I will be engaged with a family matter for an hour or so. But Mrs. Darcy will be happy to serve you, Sir Phillip.”

“One thing I need both you and Mrs. Darcy to do is to become better listeners. Do not simply take what people say at face value. Someone in this household knows the truth of these mysteries, and I mean to find out who that is. We will succeed, my Boy. Never you fear.” Sir Phillip took out foolscap and began to sharpen a pen. Very businesslike, the baronet explained what he expected them to do. “Both the midday meal and the morning tea will also allow us some time to assess your guests. I realize that you previously searched for missing bed linens and candleholders, but we need to complete a different type of search.We must look through drawers and the wardrobe—examine papers—look in the ladies’ cosmetics. Someone has arsenic. Someone knows something you have missed because of your sense of propriety.”

“I understand, Sir Phillip.” Darcy looked about uncomfortably. “My men and I are at your disposal.”

Elizabeth and Georgiana gathered the cups and placed them on the tray.“I shall inform the kitchen of the extra setting, Fitzwilliam. Do you suppose Her Ladyship will take tea with us?”

“Possibly we should apprise Lady Catherine of Sir Phillip’s presence,” Darcy whispered.

“I will see to it. Come, Georgiana.” She caught the girl’s arm. “I will speak to Lady Catherine. Might you check on Miss de Bourgh?”

The girl nodded, but she was lost in her own musings.Taking a closer look, Elizabeth realized the agitation Darcy’s sister portrayed. “What is it, Georgiana?”

The girl stopped suddenly and looked alarmed. She stammered, “I-I just re-remembered where I have seen Lieutenant Harwood before. It is something I have been unable to release since meeting the lieutenant yesterday evening. He was the man by the cottages that first day, the one leaning against the tree.”

Darcy was by her side, supporting her weight against his body as she swayed in place. “Are you sure, Georgiana?”

“Absolutely, Fitzwilliam.The lieutenant has been close by since before the snowstorm. He lied about riding in from Liverpool in the past two days.”

Chapter 17

Darcy turned Georgiana to him. “Do not repeat what you just said aloud where anyone else might hear. You must not share this information with the others. It is imperative that it remain among only we three and the baronet.”The girl looked frightened, but she nodded her understanding. “No one, Georgiana,” her brother insisted. “Especially not our cousin.”

Elizabeth touched his hand lightly, letting him know how his intensity affected Georgiana. “Our sister will do your bidding, my Husband,” she whispered softly. “Georgiana understands the sensitivity of your dealings with the lieutenant.”

Darcy blinked twice to restore his composure. “I beg your forgiveness, Georgiana. I do not question your loyalty.”

“I will be careful, Fitzwilliam.”

“I know, my Dear.” He gently cupped Georgiana’s cheek. “I have always trusted you.”

“Come, Georgiana,” Elizabeth encouraged the girl. “We must set the stage for your brother’s negotiations with your family.”

Darcy caught Elizabeth’s hand as his sister started away. “You two are to stay away from Harwood,” he warned.

Elizabeth acknowledged his caution with a slight shake of her head. “I shall protect Georgiana.”

“I want you safe also,” he murmured. “You are my life.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. He often said the most startling things at the most unexpected times. Her eyes shimmered, and her lower lip trembled. His earnestness completely captured her. She nodded and offered him a full smile before exiting the room.


Lady Catherine reluctantly accepted Elizabeth’s invitation to join the household for tea. She still had offered her nephew’s wife no apology, but she kept a civil tongue in her head and prayed it would be enough to pacify Darcy. The thought of deigning to admit her wrongdoing did not sit well with Her Ladyship.

“Sir Phillip,” she said in acknowledgment of the man, who stood upon her entrance.“I am pleased to see you again after all these years.”

The baronet clicked his heels together before bowing in her direction. “Catherine Fitzwilliam de Bourgh, you are as beautiful as ever.” He kissed Lady Catherine’s fingertips.

“And you, Sir Phillip, are a perpetual liar.” She swatted at his arm with her gloved hand. “Come, sit beside me so we might speak of our days at Matlock.”

“As you wish, Your Ladyship.”


Soon the room filled with congenial company; Sir Phillip spoke often to Lady Catherine, but Darcy carefully noted how much more often, and with some degree of stealth, the man’s eyes drifted to the others enjoying the midmorning’s refreshments. Sir Phillip looked at each of them—listening to their words—trying to deduce what each was thinking. Darcy followed the baronet’s eyes with his own, trying desperately to observe in his guests what the magistrate saw—looking for something he had not seen previously.

Darcy’s gaze fell upon Mrs. Williams. She looked down at her lap, appearing deeply exhausted. When had she become so tired looking? Dark circles rimmed her eyes—charcoal smudges telling tales of no sleep—or of a guilty conscience, perhaps, or of twisted lies. Evelyn Williams did not stir—did not speak—simply stared unrelentingly at her teacup.