“I do,” he confirmed, and found that he meant it completely. “Forgive me for asking, but I needed to hear it from you. And having heard it, I cannot doubt your word.”
Relief flickered across her face. She brushed the tear from her cheek with a quick, almost embarrassed gesture.
“Very well,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Then we have established that I am not aligned with Wickham against you.”
“We have,” he agreed, wanting to say more but unsure what to add.
Elizabeth moved slowly to the writing desk and withdrew a folded letter from the drawer. “I have been considering whether to share this with you.”
Darcy’s pulse quickened. “What is it?”
“The letter from Charlotte Collins,” she said, unfolding it. “She mentions that Lieutenant Wickham has been spotted in Kent, not three miles from Rosings Park.”
Darcy felt his blood run cold despite his fever. “Wickham? Near Rosings?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth handed him the letter. “Charlotte could not imagine what business he might have there, nor can I.”
Darcy focused his hazy gaze on Charlotte’s neat handwriting.
My dear Lizzy,
I hope this letter finds you well, though I fear the circumstances of its writing may add to your current difficulties. Mr. Collins has been most insistent in his accounts of your visit to us, claiming repeatedly that I never once left you unattended during your stay. While his memory of events may differ from my own, I find it prudent to support his recollection in public matters.
You must be cautious, Lizzy, for Mr. Wickham has been spotted in Kent, not three miles from Rosings Park. His presence here is most unexpected and, I confess, concerning given recent events in Hertfordshire of which we have received reports.
Mr. Collins speaks often of your situation, always with the deepest concern for your reputation and future prospects. His sentiments are, of course, influenced by his desire to please his patroness, whose opinions on the matter are quite fixed.
I remain, as ever, your friend,
Charlotte Collins
“This is concerning.” Darcy looked up at Elizabeth. “I should apprise Colonel Forster of Wickham’s location and send word to my aunt, although I doubt she would allow my cousin Anne to converse with him.”
“I agree.” Elizabeth gave a slight huff. “Lady Catherine is far too discerning to be taken in by George Wickham’s false charms.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll need to inform her of my concerns. Most urgently.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth picked up a pen, ready to do his bidding. And Darcy couldn’t help but realize what a true blessingshe was to him. The honesty, brutal as it had been, had somehow brought them closer, partners facing a common threat.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DARCY’S OVERTURE
“Colonel Forster will respondwith haste, I am certain,” Darcy said, struggling to maintain focus as the letters were folded and sealed. The effort of dictation had drained him more than he cared to admit, and the room had begun to swim at the edges of his vision. His shoulder throbbed with renewed intensity, the wound hot and insistent.
Elizabeth looked up from the writing desk. “You’ve overexerted yourself, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Johnson warned against?—”
“I am perfectly well,” he insisted, though the beads of perspiration on his brow belied his words. “These matters could not wait.”
Elizabeth rose, approaching the bed with her characteristic directness. “Your fever is rising again.” She pressed her palm to his forehead. “I should fetch Mr. Johnson immediately.”
“Later, perhaps.” Darcy caught her wrist as she withdrew her hand, the gesture surprising them both. He released her immediately, embarrassed by the impropriety. “I have one more request before you go.”
“Yes?”
“Would you ask Bingley to attend me? There is a matter I wish to discuss with him.”
Elizabeth hesitated, clearly torn between duty and his request. “You should rest, Mr. Darcy.”
