chaos and simultaneously pass as slowly as a snail through a peculiar mix of events. Cathleen boldly stepped forward, only to find herself tumbling through the air, banging against the railing and support wall, before coming to a stop on the landing eight steps below. Her scream of surprise and pain echoed off the walls.
As one, Lydia’s and Anne’s heads turned to behold a flurry of muslin and lace wrapped around Cathleen Donnel’s legs while she fought for control—arms flailing.They watched and squealed, both terrified and mesmerized.
Evelyn Williams saw the woman take the first step—observed the horror on Cathleen Donnel’s face, but she could not move quickly enough to make a difference. Pushing against Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh, Evelyn tried to prevent the accident, but this was impossible. Her scream joined Cathleen’s in a cacophony of sound.
Adam Lawrence strolled casually along the hallway. At least, Pemberley offered a refined sophistication. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor—neither gaudy nor uselessly fine—with less of splendor
and real elegance than the furniture found in many homes he visited. He and Cathleen could be stranded in a run-down inn right now. Lawrence decided that even with the inconvenience of Darcy’s terms for his stay, this was decidedly better.
However, just as he turned the corner to the main hallway, Adam heard her—heard Cathleen scream. Immediately, he reacted, shoving his way past a stunned Anne de Bourgh to catapult himself down the carpeted steps to reach a crumpled and twisted body on the landing.
“Cathleen,” he pleaded as he moved her hair away from her face. “Speak to me. Come on, Sweetheart.” When he cradled her head in his hands, a groan told him she was conscious.
Darcy replaced the pen in its holder. Unable to find the original, he had rewritten the letter to Mr. Laurie. He had retraced the events leading to Mr. Baldwin’s recent evening visit to his office, and Darcy knew that on that evening he had not folded the letter in preparation for posting. He left it lying on his desk. And so for an hour today, he had moved everything in this room, carefully looking under and behind furniture.The letter was nowhere to be found, another spoke in a wheel of mystery.
He was deep in thought, so when the initial scream came, followed closely by a choir of dismay, it took him by surprise. Instinctively, he ran toward the noise, afraid that it signaled a problem for Elizabeth or Georgiana. Taking the steps two at a time, Darcy quickly covered the distance, and discovered a very upset viscount comforting his mistress as she lay writhing in pain on the landing.
“What happened?” Darcy asked as he knelt beside Adam Lawrence.
Lawrence did not look up—his concentration was on the woman as he began to check for broken bones.“I am not certain—I heard a scream.”
Darcy looked up to see three women staring down at them. “Might any of you speak to what occurred?” He stood slowly to survey the area.
“I saw Miss Donnel lose her balance,” Evelyn Williams said. “But I could not reach her in time.”
Anne stared in disbelief at Miss Donnel. “I do not believe that either Mrs.Wickham or I can add anything, Fitzwilliam.”
Mrs. Jenkinson had followed Anne de Bourgh from the room. She had returned to their adjoining chambers to retrieve a shawl for the woman she admired and respected. Mrs. Mildred Jenkinson had served as a companion to Anne de Bourgh since before the girl turned sixteen, nearly twelve years earlier. As much as possible, she shielded Anne from Lady Catherine. Her Ladyship was a difficult employer, but Mildred stayed because she thought that otherwise Anne might crumble in submission to her mother.With Mr. Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, Lady Catherine had become harder to predict. In her anger at her nephew, Her Ladyship often lashed out at the
As one, Lydia’s and Anne’s heads turned to behold a flurry of muslin and lace wrapped around Cathleen Donnel’s legs while she fought for control—arms flailing.They watched and squealed, both terrified and mesmerized.
Evelyn Williams saw the woman take the first step—observed the horror on Cathleen Donnel’s face, but she could not move quickly enough to make a difference. Pushing against Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh, Evelyn tried to prevent the accident, but this was impossible. Her scream joined Cathleen’s in a cacophony of sound.
Adam Lawrence strolled casually along the hallway. At least, Pemberley offered a refined sophistication. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor—neither gaudy nor uselessly fine—with less of splendor
and real elegance than the furniture found in many homes he visited. He and Cathleen could be stranded in a run-down inn right now. Lawrence decided that even with the inconvenience of Darcy’s terms for his stay, this was decidedly better.
However, just as he turned the corner to the main hallway, Adam heard her—heard Cathleen scream. Immediately, he reacted, shoving his way past a stunned Anne de Bourgh to catapult himself down the carpeted steps to reach a crumpled and twisted body on the landing.
“Cathleen,” he pleaded as he moved her hair away from her face. “Speak to me. Come on, Sweetheart.” When he cradled her head in his hands, a groan told him she was conscious.
Darcy replaced the pen in its holder. Unable to find the original, he had rewritten the letter to Mr. Laurie. He had retraced the events leading to Mr. Baldwin’s recent evening visit to his office, and Darcy knew that on that evening he had not folded the letter in preparation for posting. He left it lying on his desk. And so for an hour today, he had moved everything in this room, carefully looking under and behind furniture.The letter was nowhere to be found, another spoke in a wheel of mystery.
He was deep in thought, so when the initial scream came, followed closely by a choir of dismay, it took him by surprise. Instinctively, he ran toward the noise, afraid that it signaled a problem for Elizabeth or Georgiana. Taking the steps two at a time, Darcy quickly covered the distance, and discovered a very upset viscount comforting his mistress as she lay writhing in pain on the landing.
“What happened?” Darcy asked as he knelt beside Adam Lawrence.
Lawrence did not look up—his concentration was on the woman as he began to check for broken bones.“I am not certain—I heard a scream.”
Darcy looked up to see three women staring down at them. “Might any of you speak to what occurred?” He stood slowly to survey the area.
“I saw Miss Donnel lose her balance,” Evelyn Williams said. “But I could not reach her in time.”
Anne stared in disbelief at Miss Donnel. “I do not believe that either Mrs.Wickham or I can add anything, Fitzwilliam.”
Mrs. Jenkinson had followed Anne de Bourgh from the room. She had returned to their adjoining chambers to retrieve a shawl for the woman she admired and respected. Mrs. Mildred Jenkinson had served as a companion to Anne de Bourgh since before the girl turned sixteen, nearly twelve years earlier. As much as possible, she shielded Anne from Lady Catherine. Her Ladyship was a difficult employer, but Mildred stayed because she thought that otherwise Anne might crumble in submission to her mother.With Mr. Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, Lady Catherine had become harder to predict. In her anger at her nephew, Her Ladyship often lashed out at the
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