It was confirmation that whatever he knew, Wickham did not know the entail had ended. Whether he might have tried to make something of it if he had known Darcy could not say; the man must know that anything he did now would serve him ill, that the earl would not allow him to take control of Pemberley’s legacy, even if he had been inclined to allow it before. Thus, only one explanation for his actions remained.
“Extortion,” said Darcy. “You wish to hold me hostage and receive a sum of money to let me go.”
Clucking his tongue, Wickham looked at Darcy, his grin making him even more uncomfortable. “You are close, Darcy, but you do not see all the possibilities inherent in this situation. I have no interest in takingyouwith me, for you will be most difficult to control. No, I propose keeping your lovely wife company.”
The words settled between them like a curtain of thick fog descending into a low valley. Darcy had known, of course; Wickham’s purpose had been inevitable since the moment he entered the room. Try as Darcy might, he could see no way of preventing it unless Wickham gave him an opening to act.
“You see,” said Wickham, his tone conversational, “with Pemberley out of my reach, I have decided that I will take a payment for disappearing from your life forever. Your wife must be more precious to you than Georgiana—since your resources are not infinite, I shall offer to be magnanimous and only take double Georgiana’s dowry. If I am not mistaken, that sum is sixty thousand pounds.”
“And you suppose I will bow to your demands?”
The cold look with which Wickham regarded him was a stark contrast to his previous geniality, suggesting the man was more than a little mad.
“The consequences for not obliging me may be quite... severe, Darcy. If you pledge to pay me what I deserve, I will pledge to return your wife to you in the exact condition she was in when she fell into my care. If you do not, I cannot guarantee her status when I return her. There may be certain... complications—if you contemplate the consequences, you will come to the correct conclusion.
“Now,” said Wickham, his negligent grip on the pistol tightening, aiming at Darcy, “there will be no more talk.” Stepping to the side, Wickham turned the gun toward Elizabeth and said: “Do not concern yourself for modesty, Mrs. Darcy, for I will not look. Much.”
The comment amused him, for he laughed at his disgusting jest.
Elizabeth did not move at once, a glance telling Darcy that she was watching the man, loathing playing about her features. Trust was in that look, trust for him and his ability to thwart whatever Wickham planned. There was also determination, the will to ensure this caricature of a man failed in his unholy lust for wealth. The hesitation appeared to amuse Wickham, for he shook his head.
“There is nothing you can do but join me, Mrs. Darcy.” Wickham again turned the pistol back on Darcy. “If you do not oblige me, I can use this weapon on Darcy here, and I shall still get what I want.”
Elizabeth did not move at once, and Wickham did not speak again; rather, he appeared relaxed, as if he had everything under control, had no doubt of his victory. For the life of him, Darcy could not think of any way around doing as he asked. Refusal was not an option; Wickham was mad enough to do as hethreatened. Darcy would be no good to Elizabeth dead, and he knew the chances of Wickham escaping unscathed were almost nonexistent, not with the men who patrolled the grounds even in the dead of night. How Wickham had evaded them to reach and enter the house, Darcy could not say, but Wickham would find it difficult to escape.
“Mrs. Darcy, I tire of this,” said Wickham, his arm extending, pistol pointed at Darcy’s chest. “You will come with me at once, or I will deal with your husband, and then I will take you anyway.”
“The sound of a pistol firing would rouse the entire house.” Elizabeth’s voice, rising for the first time since the confrontation began, carried a hint of a tremulous quality, either in fear or anger. A glance at Darcy confirmed the latter, her gaze at the man before them filled with fury and precious little fear.
“Do you think that concerns me?” Wickham barked a harsh, cruel laugh. “I have infiltrated this house, knowing any misstep would end badly. I have nothing left to lose. If you do not come with me, if Darcy does not give me what I want, I may as well take my vengeance and be done.”
“Vengeance?” spat she, her voice dripping with disdain.
“Yes, vengeance. Against your class, against the world itself. It was nothing more than the cruelest chance that I was born the poor steward’s son rather than the son of the wealthy man. Youoweme this. Jameson Darcy owed me. The world is indebted to me, and I mean to collect on that debt.”
“Elizabeth, come here,” said Darcy, holding his hand out to his beloved wife. Wickham’s words had convinced Darcy that he was balanced on the knife’s edge of sanity and would do what he said he would. If they did not do what he wished, Darcy suspected they would both die in that room.
With a disgusted glare at the contemptuous man, Elizabeth threw back the blankets and gracefully stood from the bed,clothed only in her nightgown. Throwing the man a sardonic glance, she took a robe draped over a nearby chair and shrugged it onto her shoulders, cinching it at the waist. Then she accepted Darcy’s hand, and he drew her in close, Wickham watching them, a lascivious gleam in his eyes.
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Darcy,” purred he. “I have no interest in your body, though I commend Darcy for having excellent taste in women. Do as I say, and I will return you to him when he fulfills my demands—I dare say you will not even miss sixty thousand pounds, given my understanding of the Darcy wealth.”
“Should I go with him?” asked Elizabeth in an undertone while Wickham looked on.
“There is little other choice,” said Darcy, knowing he had only an instant. “I will find you.”
Elizabeth turned and looked into his eyes and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I know you will. I am not helpless either.”
Before Darcy could respond, Wickham interrupted them, appearing amused at their brief conference. “Now, Mrs. Darcy. Enter the passage behind me.”
With a final glance at Darcy, Elizabeth stepped away, her hand touching his until she moved beyond his reach. As she passed Wickham, she tensed, and Darcy thought she might lash out, hoping to knock the weapon from his hands, but she chose the better part of valor instead, moving to the open chasm in the wall. Wickham smirked and turned back to Darcy.
“If one hair on her head is damaged,” rasped Darcy, “future generations will speak of my vengeance in hushed whispers millennia hence.”
Wickham cocked his head to the side, the light in his eyes a sort of mad and frenetic dance. “Do not be melodramatic, Darcy. It is not in my best interest to harm her, and, as I told you, I havenothing against you. So long as you meet my demands, she will be well.
“Do not follow, Darcy,” continued the libertine as he backed toward the entrance. “You would not wish to... provoke me to do something unfortunate.
“Back away from the entrance!” commanded Wickham over his shoulder.
