“Enough, Mother.” Wickham’s voice had lost its jovial edge. “We have work to do, and Mr. Darcy clearly wishes us gone with all possible haste.” He turned to Elizabeth with renewed charm. “Miss Bennet, I’m so delighted to meet you here. Might we continue our conversation? I shall be pleased to escort you back to Lambton. I’ve procured a room in Mr. Rumsey’s residence.”
“Miss Bennet is a guest at Pemberley and will be returning with me,” Darcy interjected. “We have matters to discuss regarding the estate.”
Elizabeth glanced at him with a mixture of irritation and something that might have been amusement. “Indeed, we do. Though I am perfectly capable of stating my own intentions, Mr. Darcy.”
“Of course.” He inclined his head, acknowledging her point while maintaining his position.
“Another time, then,” Wickham said, his smile fixed. “Though I wonder, Darcy, when you became so attentive to Miss Bennet’s movements? One might almost suspect?—”
“One might suspect a great many things without evidence, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth interrupted coolly. “As Mrs. Wickham has aptlydemonstrated. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we should return to Pemberley before breakfast. Mrs. Wickham, I wish you well in your new residence.”
Darcy glared at Wickham to ensure he understood. “Miss Bennet is under my family’s protection.”
“How admirable,” Wickham replied. “Though one wonders what obligations might arise should Miss Bennet’s… circumstances change.”
“Miss Bennet’s circumstances are of concern only to those who care for her welfare,” he said. “Good day, Wickham.”
He offered Elizabeth his arm with formal courtesy. She accepted it without hesitation, though he sensed the tension in her slight frame as they walked away from the cottage to where he had tethered his horse.
“Perhaps the path through Pemberley woods would provide a more pleasant return journey,” Darcy suggested, not willing to share the same lane as Wickham and Rumsey.
“And afford us privacy for whatever lecture you’ve undoubtedly prepared regarding my recklessness,” Elizabeth observed, though without rancor.
“I had not planned a lecture.” He helped her mount Maximus, conscious of the brief contact as he steadied her foot in the stirrup. “Merely conversation without Wickham’s unwelcome commentary.”
“Very well. Though I reserve the right to point out that you followed me without invitation, which some might consider equally presumptuous.”
“Duly noted.” Darcy took the reins, leading the horse along a path that would circle back to Pemberley through more scenic routes. “I trust your search was not entirely fruitless?”
“Entirely so, I’m afraid.” Elizabeth sighed, gazing out at the woods around them. “Martha Wickham has either concealed whatever evidence she possesses or fabricated its existence altogether. I found nothing resembling a hiding place that hadn’t already beenthoroughly emptied. As I’m sure you already know, since you were watching me.”
“I was ensuring your safety,” he corrected, though he felt heat rise in his cheeks.
“How long?”
“Long enough to observe your… thorough methodology.”
“And long enough to determine that I was in no immediate danger before Mr. Wickham’s arrival.”
Darcy found himself in the uncomfortable position of being caught in careful surveillance. “I was exercising caution.”
“You were spying,” Elizabeth said, though her tone held more amusement than accusation.
“I was protecting,” he countered.
“From what? Hostile books? Dangerous fireplaces? Or do you not wish me to discover the truth?”
The sky, which had been threatening since dawn, chose that moment to fulfill its promise. A spattering of raindrops fell through the leaves above them, gentle at first but quickly gaining intensity.
“We should seek shelter,” Darcy said, eyeing the darkening clouds. “There’s a gazebo by the lake not far from here. We can wait out the worst of it there.”
Elizabeth nodded her agreement, and he quickened their pace, leading Maximus through a copse of beech trees and emerging onto a small rise overlooking Pemberley’s lake. The gazebo stood on a slight promontory, its white-painted wood stark against the steel gray of the water.
Darcy secured Maximus under the partial shelter of a large oak nearby, then joined Elizabeth in the dry sanctuary of the small structure.
“Now then,” Elizabeth said, her gaze direct and uncompromising. “Pray, enlighten me about your rationale for protecting me from the truth.”
The rain intensified, a wall of water separating them from the world beyond their small sanctuary. Darcy found himself grateful forits isolating effect, creating a momentary pocket where truth might be spoken without consequence.
