Cathleen Donnel put into words what many others were thinking, “You defend Lieutenant Harwood’s actions? His attempted seduction and ruination of a lady?”Adam took note of how her bottom lip trembled, and he realized he needed to let her go—she deserved better—deserved to return to her family a lady, not his mistress. He wondered if he felt the guilt that Harwood would never know.

“It would seem to me that the lady participated willingly. By her mother’s own words, Miss de Bourgh followed Lieutenant Harwood to Liverpool. If she misjudged the man—if she knew so little of the world as to not see the man’s true nature—then perhaps Miss de Bourgh learned a valuable lesson at the lieutenant’s hands.”

“A lesson the vulgarian hoped to make profitable,” Lady Catherine hissed.

Darcy cleared his throat, silencing them all. He had been carefully observing their interactions, doing what Sir Phillip had instructed him to do—be a good listener. “Did you know Harwood previously, Mrs.Williams?”

“Why would you make such an assumption, Mr. Darcy?” She turned quickly away.

“When he first arrived, you slipped from the room before I could introduce you,” Darcy thought aloud.

Mrs. Williams stood slowly, pressing her skirt’s wrinkles. “As I am assured that my opinions are no longer welcome at Pemberley, I shall beg Mr. Darcy for the comfort of a coach into the village. Perhaps the lieutenant might serve as my escort. His presence, I assume, is no longer required. If the gentleman’s scheme has failed, he will likely be most eager to take his leave. As I am not as naïve as many of my present company, I will have no qualms in sharing a coach for the five miles into Lambton.”

“Surely, Sir Phillip, you have no intention of allowing Mrs.Williams to leave Pemberley until she truthfully answers my nephew’s question,” Lady Catherine declared.

“Never fear, Your Ladyship. No one will leave until both Mr. Darcy and I have the answers to many questions.”

“I know my rights, Sir Phillip.You may not detain the lieutenant or me, as no crime has been committed. Intention is not action, sir,” Mrs.Williams asserted.

“And what of my dear Mildred’s death?” Mrs. Williams’s frame overshadowed Anne’s, but Darcy’s cousin demanded an answer as she shot to her feet.

Mrs.Williams made a move toward the door, but Stafford blocked her retreat.“Am I accused once more?” she asked incredulously.

Worth took up the cause.“By your own words, you disapproved of Miss de Bourgh’s companion and of Her Ladyship’s daughter. You arranged the cups of hot cider, and I venture to say if we searched your room, we would find arsenic among your cosmetics, although I recall your most vehement denial of the traditional use of arsenic as part of a lady’s beauty secrets.”

Darcy noted how the lady recoiled when Worth mentioned searching her room. He instantly regretted not having searched specifically for that beauty item after Mrs. Jenkinson’s death. Now, he clearly saw the fault in his helter-skelter efforts. Thankfully, Sir Phillip understood the intricacies of searching for the truth.

“I will allow no one access to my private quarters,” the lady declared.

Darcy countered, “As this is my house, madam, I doubt you could keep me out.”

“When we finish here, Darcy,” the baronet summarized,“you and I will do just that. We will also search the other rooms—under my supervision, of course.” His businesslike tone instilled confidence.

“Of course, Sir Phillip.”

“Might we return to the issue of Robert Harwood?” Edward interjected.

Mrs.Williams’s composure slipped. “What of the lieutenant?”

Sir Phillip sat straighter, aware of the importance of his announcement. “The lieutenant has lost his life.”

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth gasped, turning her face into Darcy’s shoulder, seeking his immediate comfort.

Every other eye in the room drifted to a discomposed Mrs. Williams. “That is impossible!” she asserted. “I spoke to him only last night.”

Her admission silenced the room. “When might that have been?” Darcy’s eyes eagerly assessed the crumbling aplomb of the defiant naval widow. “As I assumed last evening’s meal to be the first of your acquaintance with Harwood, I would be most interested to know when you might have had the time for a private conversation.”

“As would I,” Sir Phillip moved up beside Mrs. Williams. “You will have a private conversation with me, madam.” He took the lady’s arm to lead her from the room.

Chapter 19

James took a chance by crossing the main hall of Pemberley, but his recent forays had provided no new information. He had been aware when Darcy and the others had found the maid’s body—he had known of the viscount’s returning to his mistress’s room—he had enjoyed the play the Pemberley guests performed for their own amusement—he had observed the chaos following Mrs. Wickham’s discovery of her tattered belongings and Darcy’s anger when his wife had suffered an injury.What he did not know was what had occurred when Darcy’s household had found the soldier’s body. The lieutenant’s entry into the bedchamber at the wrong moment had been a most unfortunate development.

Now, just as with Peter’s “soiled” articles, they expected James to right the mistakes of his newest partner, Gregor MacIves. He could not remove the body, but he could ascertain what Darcy intended to do next. He remained in the shadows, partially hidden by the palms and the marble busts—the door to the linen closet ajar so he could hide if necessary.

Finally, the door to the blue drawing room swung open, and the guests poured forth. James turned his back and edged toward the closet, pretending to polish a nearby framed mirror. He knew the aristocracy’s tendency to not actually see the household servants in attendance. He would be safe from close scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the usual clusters of people split to attend to their own diversions:Worth and Miss de Bourgh, the viscount and his mistress, and Darcy and his wife. But the group had added two new players.

Miss Darcy and Lady Catherine exited the drawing room on the arms of a military officer. When the trio passed him, James recognized the man immediately: He was Darcy’s cousin Edward Fitzwilliam. Three years James’s senior, the second son of the Earl of Matlock had never approved of James’s manipulations.They had disagreed often over the years, but James had never feared the colonel. He feared Darcy, however. Although the colonel possessed fighting skills, he did not possess Darcy’s quick mind. Yet, forewarned was forearmed in all matters, and James was glad to have knowledge of the officer’s presence. He wanted no surprises.

The last from the room was the prudish widow, tears streaming down her face. Instinctively, James slipped through the closet door before anyone could notice, but he left it open enough to observe the final pair.The widow leaned heavily on the arm of a nobleman. Again, James knew the familiar countenance, although he had not seen the man in nearly a decade. Sir Phillip Spurlock had served the neighborhood for some twenty years as the local magistrate. James had run aground of the man as a youth for foolish pranks on two separate occasions—three, really. With the first two, old Mr. Darcy had intervened and lessened James’s punishment, before anyone else became aware of his shenanigans. For the third, Darcy himself had taken the blame and suffered a beating from his father.

“Mr. Darcy.” The magistrate pulled the Master of Pemberley to the side, where others could not hear—but close enough for James to listen.“Please have several of your men ready to search the Pemberley bedchambers when I have finished with Mrs.Williams.”

“Yes, Sir Phillip.” Darcy paused briefly. “Besides the arsenic, for what else do we search?”

Sir Phillip lowered his voice further.“For anything of significance.”

When they had moved away, James eased the door open and headed toward the nearest secret passageway. He kept his head down as he passed one of the lower maids; luckily, no one else seemed about. He supposed Darcy had sent many on the magistrate’s errands.“Darcy took the blame for me once, a long time ago. I wonder whether he might care to do another good turn—this time, for my friend Gregor,” he murmured. He swung the door open and entered the candlelit tunnel, waiting for the obligatory click to secure his hideaway.


“Your shoes, Mrs.Williams,” Sir Phillip commanded softly.

She stopped her progress into the room.“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Your shoes, madam—remove them.”

The lady looked about, confused. “Whatever for?”

“You will be detained here—in this room. I cannot secure every exit, but without your shoes, I do not believe you will have the means of an escape.The weather has improved, but a five-mile trek to Lambton is not likely without the benefit of footwear.”

Incredulity set in. “You are serious, sir?”

“I am.” They held each other’s stares—a match of wills. Finally, Mrs. Williams stepped out of her day slippers. Sir Phillip bent to pick them up.“I will leave them with the footman outside the door. Make yourself comfortable, ma’am. I will return for you shortly.” The baronet turned on his heels to make his exit.

“The lieutenant’s body?” she said softly. “Is it with the others?”

Sir Phillip stared at the lady with renewed interest.“Not as yet. I wish to inspect the room once more before we move him.”

Mrs.Williams did not respond in turn, but gave just a slight nod of her head. She sank, exhausted, in a nearby chair and buried her head in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Sir Phillip waited to see if she would offer an explanation, but when none came, he left the room, instructing Darcy’s man to keep the door locked unless given an order to open it by Mr. Darcy, the colonel, or himself.