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“It is a mess. This man Wickham was the godson of a George Darcy.”

Elizabeth tried not to flinch, but she was not entirely sure she was successful.

“George Darcy was married to the daughter of the Earl of Matlock, the sister of the current Earl, the one you have met and whose wife helped you during the season. And their younger son, the Colonel, has been calling here at Napier Hall. This Darcy bloke is dead and Wickham claims he got Darcy’s daughter to agree to elope with him, despite her knowing he was the son of a steward.”

Elizabeth’s momentary start about the name Darcy was lost in the news of the connection to the Colonel and the Countess. Any signs of being upset would be attributed to this connection. But this last news refocused her.

“The young woman is named Darcy, is that right?”

Elizabeth heard Miss Bingley’s voice, ‘how is dear Georgiana?’.

“Yes, a Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

Elizabeth could hardly think; a cold rage was burning through her body.

“Ask one of the grooms to saddle a horse please, as quickly as possible. You will accompany me, two grooms trailing us. I have much to think on.”

“At once, my Lady.”

--

“It will be a long ride today lads. She has her thinking face on, her angry thinking face.”

They all knew what Jones meant. They were off within ten minutes. But Elizabeth noted nothing about the passing of time. All she could think of was Mr. Darcy’s face as he stood in the corridor at Netherfield Park, saying nothing as he allowed Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley to ruin her life. After the passage of an unknown amount of time, she turned to Jones. The question came out of the blue.

“Did he say when he attempted this elopement?”

“The spring and summer of the year ’11.”

It could not be any worse. Less than six months after his sister agree to elope with the son of a servant, Fitzwilliam Darcy had stood there with a blank face and a silent voice. Elizabeth discovered that she could loathe the man even more than after his insult at the Assembly.

Her mind was all over the place. Did she need to cut the connection with the Countess of Matlock? If she did not, then it was inevitable she was going to hear news about him. It might not be a daily update but it was not going to be once a year either. She was now worried that if she ever met him again, she was going to take one of Jones’ pistols and shot the swine.

But just as with the letter to Mr. Collins, written the night before she was banished from Longbourn, Elizabeth briefly contemplated ensuring that Miss Darcy was ruined. But as then, when her conscience would not allow her to send the letter she retrieved and burned, so this pointless revenge died stillborn within a minute. Miss Darcy had made a monumental error of judgement, one that would haunt her, and her family, for the rest of her days. Elizabeth was not going to make the matter worse.

For the last hour the phrase ‘her blood boiled’ had applied. Gradually it cooled off. She needed to think about all the entangled connections she had with the extended family of the Earl of Matlock. And most pertinently, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth knew the importance of the invitation. What was not being said, yet asked at the same time.

As to her own situation, she was safe, her very overt security had seen to that. The two deserters were dead, or soon would be, and they would disappear without trace, assumed if anyone cared to check to have managed to sneak off to the New World. She was unlikely to ever met this Miss Darcy, and would now quietly work to ensure that.

She would not spurn the Countess, that would raise too many questions, but Elizabeth would not be in Bath much over the rest of the summer. She would also avoid London both during the autumn and during the following winter. Steering clear of the eldest son would be straightforward. He would not be invited out to Napier Hall. She had no desire to spend additional time with an entitled, tone-deaf misogynist. Which even in her angered state she knew was overstating it. But the point held. And finally, however much she wished it was not so, her time with the Colonel was over. He was the second of Miss Darcy’s guardians, and she would not make him choose.

The decision was made in that moment, by her. There was no future for them.

Hurst was dead, Miss Bingley was gone, but the impact of that dreadful night at Netherfield Park still cast a shadow over her life. The first man that she had felt a connection to, tentatively seeing if there was something there? Gone.

Which left Darcy.

“Let us return to the Hall. I wish this matter dealt with tonight.”

Thomas Jones knew what she meant.

An hour later two seats had been placed in the middle of the stable yard, a sign this was not going to be a short conversation.

“The second man, this Wickham, has died. He was a seducer from a young age, and has several natural children scattered around the country. But his tastes have gotten darker and he has raped and murdered. Most recently, he and the other man Denny killed two travellers on their way here. We did not immediately believe his story but he appears to have won at cards, from a soldier about to ship off overseas. It is that marker that has provided him with accommodation over at Saltford.

“A young serving maid at one of the inns, identified your carriage. But you were only identified as living out here, a widow, and they thought you were only lightly guarded. They were going to snoop for longer but they spotted the Colonel on the road into town. He is the cousin of this Miss Darcy, and is one of her two guardians. This led them to attempt the robbery last night. They knew nothing about the Hall, the estate or you. All they saw was the chance for some easy money. That deals with them as thieves and villains.

“Before I talk about the messy part of this, I would like your permission to spread a lie about them.”