“As if it were all some jest.” Mr. Wickham was drained. “Miss Hampton’s brother arranged a hasty marriage to save the family name from scandal.” His eyes were shadowed with genuine anguish. “Three women, Miss Bennet. Three women I know personally. And now…”
He drew in a deep breath that made his shoulders rise and fall, his expression pleading. “Now I hear that Darcy is pursuing you. You who would naturally appeal to his taste for conquest.”
“You think I am his next victim?” Elizabeth’s chin lifted.
“I fear it, Miss Bennet. When your sisters told me, I knew I could not stand by and watch another innocent woman be hurt by him.”
His hands lifted, then dropped, a gesture of helplessness. “I know what you must think of me. A stranger, speaking against a man of such consequence. You have every right to dismiss my words as jealousy or bitterness. But I could not live with myself if I said nothing and you suffered for my silence.”
Elizabeth’s throat was tight.
“Miss Bennet, Darcy uses grand gestures to attract his prey. Meaningful attention. The appearance of deep devotion. How else would he convince a woman of your intelligence and caution to trust him?”
He drew closer. “I have seen his capacity for single-minded pursuit when he wants a woman. Right now, he wants you.”
Elizabeth’s vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. “I do not know what to believe.”
For a moment, he looked genuinely defeated. “Then do not believe me. I would not expect you to take my word alone.” He stepped even closer. “Miss Bennet, when you see him next, ask him. Ask him directly about Miss Olivia Mason, Margaret Smythe, and Constance Hampton. See how he responds.”
His hands lifted, palms up. “A truly innocent man would have nothing to hide.”
“And if he denies knowing them?”
“Then he is lying, because I know for certain he knows all three. I have been to Rosings Park multiple times. I have seen him interact with them personally.”
He held her gaze, unflinching. “You deserve better than to be another conquest, another notch in his campaign of pride.” He reached his hand out to her, then dropped it back to his side. “Guard your heart, please. That is all I ask.”
11
Elizabeth stood frozen, watching Mr. Wickham go. Her breathing was shallow, controlled. Her hands clasped so tightly together that her nails bit into her palms.
She could not fall apart. Not here, where anyone could see. Yet, the moment Mr. Wickham disappeared around the corner, her carefully maintained composure cracked. She reached out blindly for support, and Charlotte was there immediately, catching her arm.
“Lizzy! You are as white as a sheet.”
“I need…” Elizabeth could not draw enough breath past the tightness in her chest.
Three women. Three hearts broken by the man she loved.
“Tell me what he said,” Charlotte demanded. “All of it.”
The story poured out in broken fragments. The pattern. The names. The courtship and abandonment. The pride and conquest. The game. With each word, Elizabeth heard how absurd it sounded. How Gothic. How impossible.
And yet, Mr. Wickham was convincing.
“You are shaking,” Charlotte said once Elizabeth finally fell silent.
“I do not know what to believe. He seemed so sincere, Charlotte. The way he spoke—he was genuinely troubled by what he was telling me.”
“Or he is an excellent actor.”
“Perhaps.” Elizabeth pressed her hands to her face. “But what if he is not? What if it is all true and I have been blind? I was wrong about Mr. Darcy once before. What if I am wrong about him now? What if I am seeing only what I want to see?”
Stepping away from Charlotte, she stiffened her arms at her sides. “It is equally possible that I know the truth about Mr. Darcy. That Mr. Wickham is lying. That the loss of the connection to the Darcys motivated him to act against the current master of Pemberley.”
Pacing in front of her friend, she said, “I have known Mr. Darcy for a month. During that time, we have spent considerable time together.” She gasped. “Charlotte, if he enjoys a challenge, why did he not target Jane? She is beautiful and sweet like the three ladies Mr. Wickham mentioned, and she showed Mr. Darcy not one iota of interest. The same with you, dear friend. You practically ignored him at the assembly.”
“Me?” Charlotte scoffed. “Even knowing he might be a rogue, if he showed me interest, my mother would have us in front of the altar before he could be properly introduced.”
