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“We had all decided—Addie, Miss Elizabeth, and me—to let him think she was still taking the powders. So whenever Stephen was here, we would take note of his whereabouts and warn her when he came towards her rooms. We thought she could feign sleep if he went near her.”

“That makes no sense!” Richard said vehemently, causing everyone to jump. “What man wants a wife who sleeps all the time? What would be the sense in that?”

He became aware of William’s glare and softened his demeanour. “I am only saying, Cousin, that any man who wants a comatose wife is obviously not sane.”

“You are correct in both your assertions, Colonel,” Mrs. Browning replied. “Our plan began to unravel when he decided he wanted Miss Elizabeth to be awake, at least whenever he was in residence. About eight months after he brought her here, he arrived unannounced, as usual, and more irritable than I had ever seen him. I remember the strong smell of liquor on his breath when he gave me his instructions.”

William turned questioning eyes towards her, and seeing the dread on his face, she dropped her gaze. “He ordered me to stop administering the powders.”

She continued, barely audible. “Perhaps Elizabeth will tell you what transpired between them, if she recovers.” Glancing at William’s pained expression, she offered, “Never once did she confide in me—or Addie, to my knowledge—what happened during those times he was in her room.”

William stiffened now, holding on to the window frame to brace himself. “What do you know of the fire?”

“Very little actually. I had gone to visit my aunt and returned a day and a half later to find that several rooms in one wing had burned—parts of it were still smouldering. The servants who were still there were trying to salvage what they could from the ruins. I feel sure the entire house would have burned had it not been storming that night.”

“Elizabeth is terrified of storms.” The soft whisper did not seem to belong to the tall gentleman poised at the window, though those exchanging worried glances knew the truth.

Her eyes tearing up at his obvious pain, Mrs. Browning continued with some difficulty. “I immediately sought word of my Cliffton and was told that he was well and at my sister’s home. When I enquired about Miss Elizabeth, I was informed that she had perished in the flames, along with Addie. Addie’s little girl had survived and was being cared for by another servant, and there were other servants missing, some found later in the rubble.”

At the mention of Elizabeth’s death, William sunk into a chair, his head propped on one arm, a hand covering his face.

“But,” she quickly explained, “my nephew arrived directly afterward to inform me that Cliffton had spirited Miss Elizabeth to my sister’s home under cover of darkness. Her lungs had been injured by the smoke, and she suffered some burns, but her head wound was her most serious injury. The local physician is a kindly old man we have known and used for years, and when I explained her circumstances, he treated her in secret.

“We pretended one of the bodies found in the rubble was Miss Elizabeth, though I knew it to be another young servant who had no family. That girl is buried in Elizabeth’s grave in Meryton.”

“I saw her grave,” William offered with barely controlled emotion, causing Richard to ponder how on earth his cousin had kept secret so deep a devotion.

“As you are aware, once we were confident Miss Elizabeth would survive, we set out to locate the sister she had mentioned—Jane.”

William nodded. “Yes. The Bingleys were most appreciative of your kindness towards Elizabeth and them, and you can rest assured, I will forever be indebted to you.”

“There is no debt, young man, as we are all very fond of Miss Elizabeth.” The truth of her statement was evident in the faces now observing him. His blue eyes shined as he looked around the room, offering, “Then I thank each and every one of you.”

Mrs. Browning sat up straighter and took a deep breath, trying to gain her composure. “Now we come to my reason for asking you here today. I mentioned that the steward is here now, but a few weeks before he came, a strange little man arrived. He carried a letter of introduction from the young master. Mr. Chaney, he called himself. He said he was supposed to prepare an estimate on the cost of repairs, and he asked many questions, but not many were pertaining to that purpose. He wanted a list of everyone who died in the fire and where they were buried. After I gave him the list I had falsified, he specifically questioned me on my claim that Miss Elizabeth died in the fire and was buried in Hertfordshire, near her family. I do not think he believed me.”

Richard and William exchanged worried glances.

“My friends tell me he spread quite a bit of money around town, trying to loosen tongues. I cannot vouch for everyone who works at Northgate, other than those I trust. I fear that someone could have learned the truth and passed it on to him. Before he left, he made it clear that he was not convinced that all the people who died had been accounted for, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.”

“So it begins,” William muttered to himself, glancing to see everyone’s eyes on him. “I cannot let him find Elizabeth.” No one replied, each knowing that the undertaking would be easier said than done. Even Richard did not reply, as he was already mentally engaged in planning how to help his cousin.

Suddenly, Mrs. Browning exclaimed again. “Oh! I almost forgot. Arthur, bring me the chest!”

The red-haired boy hurried out of the room, and the housekeeper’s voice became a little more animated. “I discovered a small chest belonging to Miss Elizabeth in the room the young master frequents when he is at Northgate. I knew when I saw it that it was hers, as it had arrived with her and was usually left in her room. I peered inside, just to be sure, you understand.” She looked about to see everyone nodding in approval. “And Elizabeth’s Bible was on top, so I knew it was her property. I thought it might bring her some happiness to have returned the few small items that belong to her.”

At that moment the door flew open, and an elderly woman shuffled in holding a crying child of about two and a half years of age. William’s first thought was that the child was the image of Georgiana at that age. In fact, he reflected, if she stood next to a portrait of his sister as a child, it would be difficult to tell them apart. Her hair was light blond, and though her eyes were filled with tears, they were obviously light blue.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Gertrude, but she will not be comforted. I thought you might—”

Mrs. Browning reached for the child, pulling her into her lap and kissing the top of her golden curls. The child leaned into her chest, instantly quieting and closing her eyes. “Never mind, Clara. I have spoiled her.” With a smile and a wink, she dismissed the other woman, who retreated into the room from whence she came.

She spoke quietly, stroking Millie’s hair. “Gentlemen, this is Millie, Addie’s child. Addie was just a young girl when she came to Northgate. I trained her to be a maid, and she served as Miss Elizabeth’s personal maid while she was at Northgate. You will remember that Addie,” she stopped realising the child might hear, “well, you know the results of the fire already.” She rubbed the child’s back protectively. “Millie has been living here since the woman who took her in had to move back home with her parents.”

“A maid with a child?” Richard ventured, almost afraid to ask but curious just the same.

“Yes. She was taken advantage of by a heartless cad, who paraded about as a valet for Lord Stanton. I would not dismiss her, though I did influence the old master to rid himself of that vile man!” She sighed heavily. “In any event, we are all too old to begin raising children again, and Millie needs to be with a young couple.”

Suddenly, a solution to her problem came to mind, and William almost withered as she turned a penetrating gaze on him. “Mr. Darcy, did you mean it when you said you were indebted to us?”