The paper trembled in her hand.
“He’s denying the entire encounter. That insufferable, arrogant—how dare he!” She balled up the letter and threw it at Wickham, bouncing off his chest.
“I am so deeply sorry,” Wickham said, retrieving the letter with careful concern. “I had hoped that confronting him might produce some acknowledgment of his behavior, perhaps even an apology. I never imagined he would respond with such… such calculated cruelty.”
“Cruelty?” Elizabeth laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “He calls me a liar, Mr. Wickham. He suggests I am so desperate for male attention that I would invent a proposal from whole cloth.”
“It shows a shocking want of character,” Wickham agreed, his voice soft with sympathy. “I deeply regret causing you this distress. Perhaps I should not have interfered.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, collecting herself with effort. “You were right to show me this. I had not thought even Mr. Darcy capable of such dishonesty.”
“Lizzy?” Jane silently glided to her side, her face filled with concern. “Surely there must be some misunderstanding?—”
Her elder sister was soon followed by Lydia, bounding over with an expression of curiosity.
“What are you two whispering about? Is it a secret?” She snatched playfully at the letter in Wickham’s hand. “Is that a love letter, Mr. Wickham? Are you proposing to Lizzy?”
“Lydia!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her nerves already frayed to breaking.
Wickham smoothly pocketed the letter, his smile gentle but strained. “Nothing so momentous, Miss Lydia. I was merely sharing some unfortunate news with your sister.”
“What news?” Lydia demanded, undeterred. “Is it about Mr. Darcy? Lizzy has been in a terrible mood ever since she told us about his ridiculous proposal.”
“Lydia, please,” Jane intervened, sensing Elizabeth’s distress. “This is hardly the time or place?—”
“But I want to know what’s in the letter,” Lydia protested loudly, drawing the attention of those nearby. “Was it from Mr. Darcy? Did he write to apologize for being such an insufferable bore?”
Lady Lucas and their mother, along with Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Goulding, abandoned their card game. Sir William strode over, pipe in hand, and the other militia officers quieted from the billiard table, glancing over with attentive postures.
“Lizzy, what’s happened?” Mrs. Bennet fluttered over like a mother hen. “You look distressed. Have you bad news?”
“Nothing is the matter, Mama.”
But Wickham, with what appeared to be reluctant nobility, stepped forward. “I fear I must take responsibility for Miss Elizabeth’s distress. I have shared some rather disturbing news regarding Mr. Darcy’s character.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice sharpened. “What has that odious man done now?”
“Mama, please. It’s nothing.” Elizabeth pleaded. She looked to Wickham, whose expression held genuine regret.
“I fear I have created a difficult situation.” Mr. Wickham held a gallant air of contrition. “I took the liberty of writing to Mr. Darcy after Miss Elizabeth confided in me about his insulting proposal. As a gentleman, I felt compelled to demand an explanation for his inexcusable behavior toward your daughter.”
The drawing room fell silent as every conversation ceased. Wickham’s fellow officers had drawn near. Even Mr. Bennet dropped his protective book cover and took a position near his wife.
“And his response?” Sir William prompted.
Wickham glanced at Elizabeth, receiving her resigned nod before continuing. “He denies the proposal entirely. Claims it never occurred.”
A collective gasp went up from the assembled company.
“Never occurred?” Mrs. Bennet shrieked. “But Lizzy told us everything.”
“He calls it a fantasy,” Elizabeth said, finding her voice at last. Her initial mortification had burned away, leaving only righteous anger. “He suggests I invented the entire encounter due to my ‘limited prospects and lively imagination.’”
Another gasp, followed by a chorus of indignation.
“The nerve of the man!” Mrs. Phillips exclaimed.
“The absolute villain!” Lydia shrieked.
