The frenzy of activity surrounding the imminent departure of the Bennets in three days hence was certainly not a sight Mr. Darcy had ever wished to behold. Having risen early the previous morning, the gentleman and his friend had made a brief trip into Meryton, ahead of their morning call, to contract the services of several wagons which would be utilized in hauling the Bennets' belongings to Sidmouth while the family celebrated the holidays in Town.

With the arrival of the second Darcy carriage from London that very morning, transporting two additional footmen who would be charged with overseeing the relocation of the family's belongings, the drive at Longbourn appeared more like a tight London lane than the drive of a manor house. With the steady stream of callers continuing to come and go as Mrs. Bennet loudly and repeatedly lamented their looming departure, it was all more than the gentleman could bear.

As the last of the morning callers had withdrawn, leaving only Mrs. Bennet and her sister, Mrs. Phillips, to decry their pending separation, Mr. Darcy had been more than happy to follow the eldest daughters from the parlor, their more pressing task now lying in identifying and recording the list of items which the servants would be charged with packing. Lingering in the hallway so as to be clear of their way, Mr. Darcy allowed himself a moment to lean heavily against the wall, his head rocking back to rest against it as the pulse at his temples thundered uncontrollably.

As he listened to the soothing sound of the ladies' voices, debating which items they would be free to take, he counted once more the days until their departure, eagerly anticipating being once again ensconced in the calm and quiet of Darcy House with naught but the pleasurable company of his wife. Well, her and two sisters, that is.

Allowing his mind to drift, he reflected on a pleasant memory from Netherfield's library, which had occurred late the previous evening.

Resting beside the hearth, Mr. Darcy absently swirled his glass, gazing into the flames as he reflected on their evening with the Bennets. Where had Collins gotten to for those ten minutes? What was he doing while parted from the group? Damning the etiquette which kept forcing them into the man's company, he cursed the inability to cut the coward, to do so only inviting questions which neither he nor his wife wished to address. Therefore, left with no other option, he frowned at the prospect of several more days spent in the man's presence, praying that custom would not pull him from her side again.

With another pop in the fireplace, he sipped pensively at his Scotch, savoring perhaps a glass more than necessary for the evening but unwilling to forgo the opportunity to enjoy his friend's less-than-legal libations. Maybe once this mess with Collins was concluded, he could arrange for a wedding trip to his property in Scotland and retrieve for himself a bottle or two for Pemberley. Elizabeth, he hoped, being agreeable to such.

Almost as if summoned by the mere thought of her, Mr. Darcy turned at the unexpected sound of the library door opening; the candlelit visage of his wife crossing the threshold. Rising from his seat, he could readily detect her surprise at finding him within, and given her attire – wearing her nightclothes and dressing gown – he assumed she had been unprepared to encounter anyone at this late hour.

Expressing as much, she quickly apologized for disturbing him.

"No, tis no disruption at all, I assure you." And it indeed was not. This being only but the second opportunity he had thus far been permitted to see her in such an intimate state; the images from another world rising unbidden – but not truly unwelcome – in his memory.

Unaware of his thoughts, she sought to explain her unexpected appearance. "I am having some difficulty finding sleep and thought to perhaps pass the time with a book. I do apologize," she repeated, glancing nervously at her attire, "I had believed everyone to be retired or I would not have-"

"You are indeed correct," he interrupted, not wishing to hear her chastise herself for something in which he found such pleasure. "I am the only one who has not yet turned in." Gesturing vaguely with his glass, he explained his own purpose for still being about so late. "I was enjoying some of James' fine Scotch and the peace of his library."

Her smile a bit shaky as she sought to overcome her discomfort, though still not moving from the door as she jested, "I never would have believed you such a criminal."

Sighing, he replied dryly, "All men have their secrets, and I fear you have now uncovered mine. I do hope such a discovery does not incite any regret on your part in having chosen to wed such a scoundrel."

Rewarded with a laugh, he could see he was succeeding in his attempts to ease her discomfort. Schooling her features then into one of mock seriousness, she too sighed exaggeratedly, responding, "I suppose if this support for smuggling and imbibing in banned liquors is to be the worst of your crimes, I may not need call upon the vicar to seek an annulment."

"I thank you for such generosity in your forgiveness," he replied solemnly.

"Are there any other vices of which I should be aware?"

"Only perhaps the occasional money placed upon a game of cards or billiards with friends," he confessed.

Gasping in feigned offense, she cried, "I have married a smuggler and a gambler?! Oh, this will simply not do! I am indeed destined for the hedgerows!"

Both laughing outright at the imitation of a certain matron, they were no longer able to maintain their ruse, allowing a moment or two of silence to befall them once their laughter faded, she now clearly at ease in their situation.

"May I be of some assistance in helping you select a book?" He then offered, reminding her of her intentions in visiting the library at this late hour.

"I thank you." Describing the book for which she was searching – one which she had been reading but did not finish during her previous stay at Netherfield – he was able to quickly identify that which she was seeking. Retreating to the shelf where he believed it would likely be found, he chose not to share that he was well-familiar with the tome in question as he had, without her knowledge, stared at it quite frequently during their half hour of silence in Netherfield's library the year prior.

Accepting it, she thanked him again for his assistance, shifting slightly in her stance at the awkwardness of the silence that then befell them. "I believe I shall retire."

"Yes, I believe I shall as well." Offering to hold the candle for her, they withdrew from the library in silence, climbing the stairs with nary a word uttered between them. Arriving at her door, he had then returned her candle to her and retreated a step or two in a show of honoring her wish to say goodnight.

"I do wish-"

The gentle tap of slippers upon the stairs drew him from his thoughts at once, standing upright as he was alerted to the arrival of another. Looking to the stairs, he was not surprised to find himself greeting Mrs. Collins, arriving to assist her friends in any manner that she may. Exchanging a pleasant greeting, the lady of the house inquired after the gentleman's comfort, asking if she could offer him some refreshment as the ladies worked.

"I thank you, no." Citing the desire to be nearby should the ladies have questions with regards to the house in Sidmouth or the details of their relocation, he explained his preference to remain where he was.

"I am so very happy for you and Lizzy. Pray, accept my congratulations again on your marriage."

"I thank you. I am indeed the most fortunate of men."

"Shall you remain in London for the Season," she then inquired curiously.

"It is our intention," was all he would reply, still uncertain in his opinion with regards to his wife's friend.

"I do hope you shall still visit Hertfordshire often. I do so miss Lizzy, as I am sure you do your friend Mr. Pearce."

"The Season can be quite demanding of one's time. I am afraid we cannot commit to such at this moment," he answered a bit more sharply than he had intended, repulsed at the thought of returning to Hertfordshire any time soon.

Graceful in her handling of the awkwardness which followed, Charlotte made her excuses and continued in her path to the bed chamber just down the hall, discovering Elizabeth and Jane consumed in their work sorting through Kitty and Lydia's bonnet collection.

"We will need a cart just for all this," Elizabeth sighed, her frustration at her sister's extravagance evident. "Why must Mama continue to indulge her so?"

"Lydia is quite proud of her bonnets. They bring her great joy," Jane reasoned.

Pulling one from the shelf, Elizabeth released a gasp of indignity. "Why, this is mine!" In defiance, she then plopped the bonnet on her head and quickly secured the ribbons. "I shall just take this back to Netherfield with me today."

Laughing, Charlotte inquired after their progress and asked if there was some manner in which she may be able to assist. Being handed one of the lists thus far compiled, Jane asked her to review it and alert them to any items which may be in dispute.

"I am certain Mama shall wish for more, but we shall do our best to dissuade her," Elizabeth then assured.

Shaking her head, Charlotte declared, "It will be no bother. After all, this has been her home for so many years; we would not wish to deny her that which brings her joy."

"Mmmm, yes you say that now," Elizabeth quipped. "We shall see how generous you feel once she sees that which the footmen do not pack."

"Lizzy," Jane scolded, but the small smile she failed to suppress removed any rebuke from her warning.

"Jane," she teased back.

To be living with her sister this fortnight past had done wonders for Elizabeth's spirit. Having at one time been made to fear for her safety so, to now have Jane at her side, continually serving as a reminder that all were indeed safe from the horrors of King Street, had greatly eased her mind. And although the continuing threat of Mr. Collins was never far from their thoughts, the continued presence of her husband, even now lingering in the hallway, allowed for more peace of mind than she had thought possible.

With the sisters and Charlotte chatting pleasantly as they worked, they soon made their way through the remainder of the Bennet bed chambers, ending in Mrs. Bennet's at the far end of the hall, the relocation to which had been a battle nearly lost when the Collins' assumed the master's chamber.

Cataloging their mother's personal items with ease, the task was soon made more difficult as they began to debate particular pieces of furniture or other such items. Knowing Mrs. Bennet would wish to take all of the furniture if she could, it was difficult to predict that which she would most desire to keep with her. After several minutes spent discussing the armchair situated beside the fireplace, Jane declared that she would discuss the matter with Mrs. Bennet herself, withdrawing from the room in order to do so.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Darcy then entered within a matter of mere moments, inquiring after any manner in which he may assist while Jane was occupied in the parlor. After assuring him such would be not be necessary, Elizabeth watched in curiosity as he then continued to linger about the doorway; his tall frame rendering the entrance rather small by comparison.

Finally realizing what he was about, her eyebrow quirked, an indication that all was well and he could remove himself from the room. Eager for the opportunity to be alone with Charlotte, she watched quietly as he, though hesitant to do so, did at last heed her silent request and withdrew to his place in the hallway once more.

Turning to their work, Charlotte could not help but jest, a small and knowing smirk on her lips, "Mr. Darcy is certainly never far from your side."

The cause for such closeness coming quickly to mind, Elizabeth elected not to comment, ignoring the slight flush she felt touching her cheeks.

"But then, such tends to be the ways of the newly married."

"Was that so for you and Mr. Collins?"

"For one of us, yes I suppose," Charlotte responded; the ladies sharing a knowing look before she smiled, declaring, "I am so very happy to see you, Lizzy. I have missed you terribly!"

"As I have you!"

"I was so worried when we had not had word from you, and I have had much to tell you."

Unable to maintain her friend's eye, Elizabeth briefly returned her attention to the list before her as she lied, "I had not realized how much of my time would be taken with the children. I do apologize for not writing."

"And I imagine your time in London must have been quite consuming as well," Charlotte teased. "For how could it not be with a suitor such as Mr. Darcy?"

Deciding not to rise to her friend's taunting, Elizabeth referenced the news Charlotte had alluded to.

Calling her friend's name, Charlotte waited until she had gained her full attention, the large smile adorning her face irrepressible. "I am soon to be a mother!"

Caught quite unawares at the receipt of such news, Elizabeth was uncertain in her response. That Charlotte was delighted was apparent, and she knew motherhood to be among her friend's greatest wishes. But that Mr. Collins would potentially soon be in possession of an heir to Longbourn, she could only but lament. Stammering briefly, she congratulated her friend and feigned pleasure as best she could in hearing such. "When do you believe the babe may be born?"

"It shall be in the spring."

Elizabeth then listened in pensive silence as Charlotte spoke for several minutes of her happiness and plans for the nursery, though she did not fail to miss her friend's absence of details with regards to which chamber would converted into such. With the closeness of her and Jane's chamber to the master's, she could only guess that was the one in question; Charlotte no doubt wishing to remain close to her child. The other implications of Charlotte's news, she chose to ignore all together.

"Does Mama know?" Though given that she had heard not a peep from Mrs. Bennet, who surely would have gone on at unexhausted length about such an unfairness, she predicted the answer correctly.

Turning from her friend, Charlotte shook her head, "No, we did not wish to upset her as she has been so worried with you."

Readily detecting her friend's unease, Elizabeth felt sympathetic for Charlotte, knowing that the announcement of such would only lend itself to more in-fighting between Mrs. Bennet and the Collins'. With their friendship having been strained by the growing feud, Elizabeth had perpetually felt caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place: on one side her mother, the other her lifelong friend.

Yes, removal of the Bennets would benefit all, though that did little to ease her concerns at leaving Charlotte alone with Mr. Collins. Feeling torn on what if anything she should tell her dear friend, there appeared not at all an option which would benefit them all. On one hand, it was not as if Charlotte had any choice but to remain with the scoundrel; what would knowledge of his crimes benefit when she had no other option? But then to not warn her, Elizabeth felt left her vulnerable to his deviousness.

Again the question of what consequences he would face began to plague her. Not that she was concerned for him by any means, but what they would mean for Charlotte and her future? And now the future of her friend's child, an innocent life not yet born into a world of such turmoil.

Feeling her anger toward her cousin swelling once more, her ire now focusing on the damage he had done to his own family, her friend, and the Lucas' by extension, Elizabeth quickly made her excuses and removed herself from the room; her eyes seeking her husband as he loitered about the hall.

"Mr. Darcy, I feel as if I have been enclosed in doors a bit too long," she declared quietly as she approached. "I believe I shall benefit greatly from a turn about the gardens, if you would be so inclined?"

Nodding, he agreed at once.

Stepping from the house, Elizabeth breathed deeply in the cool December air, drawing in the calm and exhaling her disquiet. Wordlessly, they made their way to the gardens on the far side of the house, walking for several moments in silence as he patiently awaited her explanation.

"Charlotte is with child," she announced with little ceremony.

Halting in his path, Mr. Darcy turned to her in unabashed surprise; his expression mirroring her own thoughts on the matter. Saying nothing, he resumed his pace after a moment or two, his gaze taking in the scenery about him as his mind no doubt churned in response to such news.

"What will happen to her?" Elizabeth at last inquired.

"I do not know," he answered honestly. "I believe it all shall depend upon what happens to him."

"What will happen to him?"

It was a question which had plagued them all since the moment of her discovery, one which they had progressed little in answering. What could be done to bring a coward to justice without exposing his victim?

"I know not. The evidence we are able to uncover will determine the course along which we shall proceed. As you know, we suspect him guilty of theft, both from the Church and Lady Catherine. If there is enough evidence, we will be able to turn him over to the courts to be charged with grand larceny."

"But that is punishable by death!" Elizabeth declared rather loudly before quickly looking about her to ensure no one was nearby. Lowering her voice to just above a whisper, she begged, "Pray do not do so! Such a crime will leave poor Charlotte with nothing. And the babe-"

"Given his status as a land owner and parson, we should be able to argue for leniency, which is often the matter in such cases, and he will likely be sent to a colony to pay for his crimes with labour."

"But what will that mean for Charlotte? To be married to a known thief? And what of Longbourn?" Elizabeth could feel the panic rising as the reality of their intentions suddenly weighed heavily upon her.

"Perhaps she too will face punishment for her role in his crimes," he responded bitterly.

She now halting abruptly in her steps, Elizabeth turned to him in surprise at such an accusation, "Charlotte is innocent of all this!"

He too turned to her, his lack of concern for the welfare of her friend evident, "Are you so certain?"

"I am."

Growing agitated, he inquired crossly, "How could a woman be married to a man such as he and not hold the slightest suspicions with regards to his misdeeds?"

"Just as a man can live unawares of his wife's proclivities!" She shot back, though immediately feeling a sharp stab of remorse at drawing her husband's friend into such a disagreement. However, the point still remained as Charlotte was as innocent to her husband's crimes as James was to his wife's, though only one of them being offered the benefit of the doubt by Mr. Darcy.

Explaining as much, she countered before he could respond, "Can you not extend to Charlotte, whom I have known the whole of my life, the same graciousness you extend to your own friend?"

"The two are hardly equal."

"Yet we both are willing to avow for their honour, each of us knowing our friend better than we know one another," she reminded, one which he bristled at hearing. "I trust your faith in Mr. Pearce and his innocence in the scandal which has befallen him; will you not trust my faith in Charlotte's?"

Turning from her, his frustration palpable in the cold December air, he took a few steps hoping she would follow, wishing to move them further from the house as their heated exchange continued. "If my faith in James were misplaced, it would have little impact on myself. If however Mrs. Collins is not to be trusted, you are endangering yourself."

"You believe me so careless? So foolish?"

"I believe you too blinded by your loyalty to see it as such!"

"Just as you are too blinded by your disdain for Mr. Collins to listen to reason!"

"I fear I am hardly alone in such!"

"So you admit to being unreasonable?" She then asked coolly, feeling a fleeting moment of triumph as he undoubtedly failed to realize what he had said. She observed him pensively as he paused, clearly replaying their words over in his head.

His voice low, he responded, "Tis not what I meant."

Seizing a moment of calm in the mounting storm, Elizabeth closed the distance that had grown between them, her voice tinged with apology as she pleaded, "I know Charlotte to be innocent, and I wish to see her safe in whatever the outcome for Mr. Collins may be."

Looking past her shoulder as he considered her words, she could tell that he was still far from swayed in his opinion of her friend, but Elizabeth was not. She was certain of Charlotte's innocence and she would refuse to agree to any plan which would endanger her or her child so. Waiting patiently, she observed the slight twitching of his jaw as he mulled over her words.

Still avoiding her eye, he finally answered only with, "I shall take you concerns into consideration."

Far from satisfied with such an answer, her ire flared again. But not wishing to continue in the distasteful occupation of arguing with her husband, Elizabeth turned on her heel and made her way towards the house; he following silently and fully aware that their disagreement was far from reconciled.

***PnP***

Thirty-six hours.

Another thirty-six hours was all that Mr. Darcy would be forced to endure of Hertfordshire, both its Society and his wife's family, before returning to London. If he was guilty of electing not to acknowledge at that moment that the Bennets would be following them to Town, who could find fault?

Casting his eyes about the Phillips' drawing room, he once again lamented agreeing to attend his wife's aunt's card party. Surrounded by Meryton Society, he had spent the evening with little choice than to remain stoically silent as the whispers and giggles of tedious country gossip swirled about him. Having already established his disdain for their conversation during his first sojourn to Hertfordshire, very few attempted to engage him directly in dialogue beyond the polite congratulations on his marriage before removing to chat amicably – and at great length – with his wife; she being far more welcoming of their company than his own.

Since their argument – the first as a married couple – she had maintained her distance from him, engaging him in only the barest of coolly polite exchanges, though thankfully remaining vigilant of staying within his line of sight lest Mr. Collins attempt to approach her. It was an aspect of marriage for which Mr. Darcy had quickly discovered he cared little; her absence from his side already growing unbearable. An absence only made stronger as he was simply abandoned to Meryton Society without her good graces to act as his buffer.

Thankfully, James' agreement to attend the card party as well had offered some small measure of relief, as his friend balanced his social obligations with keeping his guest company. Espying the gentleman approaching, Mr. Darcy tilted his head slightly in appreciation for the relief.

"Quite the friendly crowd they are," James observed quietly, coming to stand beside his childhood friend and joining him in his quiet study of the room.

Humming nonchalantly in response, he took another sip of Mrs. Phillips' punch, again flinching slightly at the rather acidic taste of cheap wine which had been added quite a bit too heavily to the bowl.

"I am to understand Mrs. Darcy is still not speaking to you?" he jested, having quickly deduced that all was not well between the couple when they had returned to Netherfield the previous evening.

"I am afraid not."

"Dare I ask what you did to invoke such displeasure?"

"I insulted her friend," he admitted grumpily, "and by extension her." Although still not convinced in the wisdom of trusting Mrs. Collins', he had during the night replayed their conversation repeatedly. By about the thirtieth time, the realization of how his comments could be misconstrued struck him, and though not willing to concede to her point, he did wish to apologize for the insult.

"Oh dear, I am afraid you shall find quite the uphill battle ahead of you if you are return to her good graces."

Again, the gentleman from Derbyshire merely hummed in agreement, observing her pensively as she laughed with Mrs. Collins and her young sister.

"I dare not ask what insult you could find in Mrs. Collins. She seems quite pleasant, a lovely hostess." When his friend seemed unlikely to then volunteer the information, James decided to finally broach a conversation he had undoubtedly been wishing to raise. Seeing as no one in the room dared approach the taciturn gentleman, he ventured, "Perhaps the disagreement was centered more about the lady's husband than the lady herself?"

His back straightening slightly, he braced for the conversation ahead. He was no fool and readily surmised James' perceptiveness with regards to their interactions with the Collins'. Though too gracious to ask outright upon first detecting the issue, he knew his friend's inherent curiosity would likely get the better of him before they left for Town. And in truth, he would have been more than willing to engage his friend in just such a discussion were it not for the desire to protect the privacy of his wife.

"That would be fair to say, yes," he finally answered.

"I cannot say I blame you," James replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the parson with his glass. "I too would not wish to share the company of a prior suitor. … or latter," he added a bit more bitterly than he had probably intended.

"Sorry?" Mr. Darcy asked, looking to his friend in surprise.

Exchange a look of confusion, the last bit of his comment quickly forgotten, James inquired, "Do you not know?"

"Know what precisely?"

His voice low, James leaned in a bit closer to his friend, his cheeks growing a bit pink as he realized his error. "I have been made to understand that Mr. Collins had asked for Mrs. Darcy's hand in marriage last autumn, but she had rejected his offer."

Quickly his eyes sought his wife in the crowded drawing room, discovering her to now be engaged in a game of whist with her cousins and youngest sister. Quietly he listened as James summarized the tale he had been told quite repeatedly by a displeased Mrs. Bennet, who never failed to lament as loudly and frequently as she could that Longbourn could have remained in the family had her daughter not been so reckless as to lose the gentleman's affections.

"I had not been made aware of it," Mr. Darcy finally explained. "Bingley and I left Hertfordshire before such had occurred."

Allowing their conversation to lull for a few long moments, James quietly asked, "I do not mean to pry-"

"Yes, you do," he attempted to jest, though his tone fell flat as his mind churned to process all he had learned.

"I apologize. You do not wish to speak of it, and I fear I have clearly caused enough trouble for you this evening. I believe I shall find a place at a card table."

Before his friend could go, however, Mr. Darcy stopped him. "That is not necessary." His purpose for retaining him being twofold: one that he did wish to speak with his good friend about his predicament to some degree and the other merely being the desire for company.

"I find I cannot but hold contempt for a man who would send his own gentle-born cousins into servitude to strangers in order to support his extravagance and mismanagement of his property."

Shocked to hear such about his neighbor, James looked to his friend in genuine concern before quickly resuming his own mask of indifference, as he did not wish to draw attention to their conversation.

"I was not aware Longbourn was in such a bad way."

"It will be if he continues to drain it of its resources so. Even with five cousins in service, it would not salvage the estate after too long."

Turning his attention first to Mrs. Darcy, he observed her pensively for a few moments, watching as she lost a hand to Lydia Bennet, before then casting his glance to Mr. Collins, who was sitting in silence beside his wife's parents. "Mrs. Darcy seems to love Longbourn quite a bit and would be greatly saddened to see it lost."

Humming in agreement, Mr. Darcy then explained his desire to remove his wife's family from the property before such could occur, determined to see them settled in a home of their own where they could live free of such concerns.

"That is very generous of you, Darcy."

"They are my family now."

At this James could not help but smile faintly as he observed, "Derbyshire is also quite far from Hertfordshire and your wife's aunt and cousins."

"Not nearly far enough."

***PnP***

Two hours later, Mr. Darcy stepped from the hot and sweltering atmosphere of the Phillips' home, drawing a deep, cleansing breath as he greeted the night. Even air tainted with the foul stench of horse manure and other such waste was preferable to that of the cramped and overcrowded drawing room of his wife's aunt. Or rather, at least as far as he was concerned at that particular moment.

Pleased to discover his carriage already situated and awaiting them, Mr. Darcy glanced behind him to ensure the rest of his party lagged not far behind, finding he held little desire to linger over laborious goodbyes. Discovering Elizabeth and Jane to be engaged in conversation with one of their neighbors, he quelled his long-suffering sigh and was at least relieved to soon be joined by James, the men standing in relative silence as they awaited the ladies. Gratefully, both were pleased to discovered they need not have long to wait.

Escorting the ladies to the carriage, Mr. Darcy was mildly surprised to discover Mr. Hawes standing beside his team, his usual perch at the reins vacant. Handing the ladies into the carriage, he then acceded to the servant's subtle request, approaching the head of the horses where they would be removed from the hearing of others.

"Yes, Hawes?"

His head dipping in a bow, the driver's voice was low as he inquired, "I was hoping I might be able to have a moment of your time, Sir, upon our return to Netherfield."

The concern incited by such an unusual request began to swell rapidly within the gentleman's chest. Uncertain as to why, Mr. Darcy felt the need to glance beyond the shoulder of his man, spotting the Collins' carriage stationed not more than five yards away; Mr. Higgins resting in his place at the reins. And though the man appeared to pay little mind to them, his attention directed towards the door of the Phillips' house as he awaited his employer, Mr. Darcy could not help but suspect he was indeed paying quite close attention to that which was occurring before him.

Returning his attention once more to Mr. Hawes, he nodded his head rather sharply, answering, "Of course." His response clear to both.

Returning to his party, Mr. Darcy settled quickly into his seat; the return to Netherfield seeming interminably long as the gentleman could think of little to contribute to the conversation of his companions, who were enjoying what appeared to be a pleasant discussion of the evening. His eyes fixed out the window, he dared not look at his wife, concerned she may readily detect that there was something amiss.

At last coming to a halt before the grand house, Mr. Darcy quickly debarked, turning to assist his wife and sister before requesting of his friend, "Mr. Pearce, I will be but a moment; would you be so kind as to escort the ladies into the house?"

A genial smile lightening his countenance, the gentleman replied that it would be his very great pleasure.

"I do hope all is well," Elizabeth then asked. Turning to her, he could see his attempts not to alarm her had failed; her brow now creased with worry.

"Yes, Hawes just wishes to discuss with me a matter with regards to one of the horses," he reassured. "I shall not be long."

Though by no means convinced by his answer, she did accede to his request, allowing his friend to escort she and Jane into Netherfield while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hawes retreated to stand beside the carriage horse furthest from the house.

"What is it, Hawes?" He inquired once they were alone. With his features trained in stiff indifference, he masked his mounting apprehensions as he observed the coachman draw what appeared to be a letter from his coat.

"Mr. Higgins handed me this while we awaited you, Sir. He said it was a matter of some urgency and to not delay in delivering it to you."

Taking the letter from the man's hand, Mr. Darcy then inquired after anything else Mr. Higgins may have said, turning the packet of pages this way and that as he was assured that those were the extent of the man's words. Turning it once more in his hands, he could not make out the seal on the letter, noting only that it had been broken. Though knowing the answer but still seeking reassurance to such, he then inquired after Mr. Hawes handling of the letter. "And you have not read it?"

"Of course not, Sir. The seal had already been broken when it was handed to me. Mr. Higgins will be able to attest to that."

Nodding thoughtfully, Mr. Darcy thanked his man for his service, and though his mind was reeling, he remembered himself enough to reassure the driver that he trusted his accounting of the events. "Speak not a word of this to anyone."

Bowing his head in receipt of his orders, he pledged, "Of course not, Sir."

Sending the man off to attend to the carriage, Mr. Darcy made his way quickly into the house, tucking the letter firmly into the pocket inside his waistcoat. Once gaining the entrance hall and passing his overcoat and beaver to the footman awaiting him, he had barely crossed the expanse of the hall before encountering James, who was emerging from his study.

"Are Mrs. Darcy and Miss Bennet in the drawing room?"

"No, they declared their intentions to retire and have retreated abovestairs," James answered, then offering, "Would you care for something to drink? A game of billiards, perhaps?"

"No, I thank you. I believe I have reached the extent of my tolerance for entertainment this evening. I believe I too shall retire."

Bidding each other a good night, Mr. Darcy then climbed the stairs as quickly yet gracefully as he could, retreating to his chamber and pulling the envelope from his pocket as soon as the door was closed. Hearing Mr. Fletcher's presence in the dressing room, he dismissed the servant, claiming that he was not ready for his services. Quickly opening the sheets, he devoured its contents quickly.

The first contained a note from Mr. Higgins, reading:

Sir,

I have enclosed within these pages two matters of great importance. The first you shall find is a recreation of several pages of the household ledgers, in which I discovered several discrepancies as well as entries which make little sense with regards to my knowledge of the household business. Such information was particularly requested by my employer G—, and I trust that you shall be able to get this information to him far more quickly than I.

The second is a letter I was charged with posting this very morning by the master of the house. Having been instructed by my employer to read any missives leaving the house, I broke the seal – as you will surely have noticed – and consumed it contents. Given the troubling nature of the information contained therein, I believed it of the utmost importance to deliver the letter in its original state and to not post it as I had been instructed. If after reading the missive, you disagree, I shall be most willing to reseal the letter and post it as soon as may be.

I await further instructions.

Your servant,
H—

Holding little concern at the moment with regards to the ledger pages, Mr. Darcy shuffled quickly to the referred missive; a heavy weight settling in his chest, squeezing the breath from him as the full implications of the words before him struck:

Madame,

I write to you in a state of great confusion and concern! I know not if you are aware, but my cousin has returned to my home, much to my great surprise and dismay! It was my understanding that once turned over to you and our transaction complete; she would not be free to return to L—again, let alone to arrive as a married woman! A woman now in the possession of a prestigious gentleman of the First Circle, whom I shall not dare to name in this letter. I write to you in request of the series of events which have allowed these possibilities to occur!

In addition to her return and marriage, I have been given cause to believe that the gentleman to whom she is now married maintains some knowledge with regards to our dealings. Pray, Madame, can you explain how this too has come to pass?

Your guidance in this matter is desperately in need! When you approached me with this scheme, it was your assurance to me that the nature of our dealings would never be discovered! Yet here I am, trapped in a household with my cousin and her husband, - as well as my own wife growing suspicious - and cannot hope to foresee what they may do this this information!

I await your prompt reply.

W. Collins

Drawing a sharp breath, the vice about his chest tightening further still, he crumpled the pages tightly in his hand, his desire to cast them to the flames in his ire all-consuming. Pressing the back of his tightly clasped hand to his lips, he began to pace before the fire, his mind spinning, his thoughts a jumble as he debated what he should do.

That the letter never reach London was paramount. Any attempt to alert the Madame to their marriage, and therefor Elizabeth's whereabouts, must be avoided at all costs, that he knew. The letter would remain in his possession and Mr. Higgins instructed to intercept any and all others. However, the threat now posed by their discovery could not be ignored. Once again calling into question his willingness to allow Elizabeth to accompany him, he cursed his inability to dissuade her. Her countenance that morning in Mr. Gardiner's study rose once more in his mind, her eyes shimmering with tears, her words ringing in his ears: my husband.

He could not deny her. He could never deny her.

But even as he cursed himself, ruminating on how much safer she would be had she remained in London, memories of her battle of wills with Mrs. Bennet came to mind. He had lost count how many times now the matron had wavered in her decision, Elizabeth and Jane continually having to divert her when she began to renege on her agreement, their soothing ways inevitably swaying her into agreeing once more. Never would Mrs. Bennet have been convinced to leave Longbourn with her daughters without the tireless efforts of the eldest Bennet sisters.

Thinking on his wife, he was soon reminded of her expression as she had stood in Netherfield's drive, questioning his intentions to remain with Hawes following their return. She had sense something was amiss, of that he held no doubt. But would it benefit her to remain ignorant or stand before the truth as he was now? Either way, he had to admit she would be unlikely to rest.

Grappling with the conundrum for several minutes more, he eventually arrived at a decision. Though by no means convinced it would be best – as he did not believe such an option to exist in a situation such as this – he was resolved to his choice. Folding the letter up and tucking it once more in his waistcoat pocket, he turned to the door.

His steps light, practically silent in the hall, he moved quickly towards his wife's chamber, pausing for a moment before raising his hand; his knock upon the oak door brisk. To his surprise, the door opened before him swiftly, revealing his wife still dressed from their evening, her eyes wide as she regarded him. To his even greater surprise still, she stepped quickly from the door, clearing the way so he could enter; the door closing quietly behind him.

"What has happened?" she asked at once; her countenance etched with concern, begging for understanding.

Briefly summarizing the events of the evening, he soon was presenting her with the letter. Intently he watched as she devoured their contents, her countenance growing increasingly pained as she read her cousin's letter to the Madame.

Turning from him entirely, she retreated to the window, her posture stiff, her head bowed. Despite her back to him, he could see that her eyes had not strayed from the page. After several moments, she echoed his thoughts with regards to its fate: it could never reach London. Nor could any other.

Agreeing, he reiterated his thoughts with regards to their next steps, "I believe it now paramount that we leave Longbourn as soon as may be; it is clear that any delay is not possible. I shall alert your uncle to these events upon our arrival in Town so that he may act accordingly to protect your mother and sisters while they remain in London."

He could see her nod in response, but she said little else for several long moments; the silence only serving to deepen his concern for her.

"He speaks of me as a business transaction," she observed, the quiet steadiness of her voice in the stillness of the room unnerving, his concern for her well-being now swelling uncontrollably.

"Elizabeth?"

Finally, after a long and tenuous silence, he observed in apprehension as the sag of her shoulders lifted, the tightness of her posture straighten as she lifted her head from the pages. Turning to him, he was startled by the hardening of her features: her jaw set, her brow tight. Were it not for her eyes, brightened with tears that she would not yet shed, he would have felt hard pressed to recognize her. When at last she spoke, he was prepared for neither her words nor her tone.

"We have his confession."