Her father looked between them, concern etched into the lines of his face. “Tell me.”
Elizabeth began, her voice trembling only slightly. “It is Wickham, Papa. He has threatened to expose the truth about Tommy… unless we meet his demands.”
Mr Bennet stiffened in his chair. “Elizabeth! You have confided in Mr. Darcy?”
“I have. He already suspected.” As quickly as she could, she repeated the conversation from earlier.
Mr Bennet sat back, a serious expression on his face. “We will return to that topic later. But Wickham—what demands?”
“He wants ten thousand pounds,” Darcy said flatly. “And a letter from Miss Elizabeth ending our courtship.”
Mr Bennet went pale. “That snake,” he muttered. “That wicked, shameless—” He broke off, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I suppose I should not be surprised. Anyone who is desperate would take advantage of the situation.”
“It is worse than that,” Darcy continued. “I believe I know the child’s true parentage. I believe he is the son of my cousin—Anne deBourgh.”
Elizabeth watched her father’s reaction with growing unease. He blinked slowly, the colour draining entirely from his face.
“You believe this child is the heir to Rosings?” he asked weakly.
“I believe he is a Fitzwilliam,” Darcy said carefully. “I do not know whether Lady Catherine knows, or if it was kept from her. But Wickham… he knows. And he intends to use that knowledge to ruin you.”
Mr Bennet was silent for a long time. Then he looked at Elizabeth, pain flickering in his eyes. “And what do you expect me to do, Lizzy? Shall we run? Confess all? Send the child away?”
Elizabeth’s voice was barely a whisper. “No, Papa. But we cannot sit idly by. Wickham will not stop.”
Mr Bennet looked at Darcy. “And what would you have us do?”
Darcy’s expression hardened, his voice firm and steady. “We will beat him at his own game. When he names the meeting place for the money, we will be there. But he will not find you or your daughter. He will find me. I hold debts of his—enough to see him imprisoned. Once he is taken into custody, his threats will hold no power.”
Elizabeth felt something release inside her. The tightness in her chest, the icy grip of fear—it eased. She turned to look at Darcy, her eyes glistening. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped together, but there was no hesitation in his voice. He meant every word.
Mr Bennet stared at him for a long moment. “Why?” he asked finally. “Why are you helping us? We deceived you. Elizabeth deceived you.”
Darcy turned his gaze to her, and the intensity of his look made her breath catch. He then looked back at her father.
“Because,” he said softly, “a man can do no less for the woman he loves.”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled at his words. There was no hesitation, no flattery in his tone—only truth. Her father studied him with new eyes, his expression unreadable.
“And what then?” Mr Bennet asked. “What happens after Wickham is gone?”
Darcy’s voice gentled. “We will speak of that when the time comes. But my intentions, sir, are entirely honourable.”
Mr Bennet leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. “Very well,” he said. “We shall do as you suggest.”
Mr Darcy leaned forwards, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes steady on Mr Bennet. “Is there any way to know for certain? Some physical proof that might confirm our suspicions about the child’s parentage?”
Elizabeth glanced instinctively at her father. Their eyes met. For a moment, the air was still between them.
“The valise,” Mr Bennet said softly.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. She sat straighter. “I—I have it.”
Both men turned to her in surprise.
She stood quickly. “I found it in the attic a few weeks ago. It was tucked in a trunk at the far—buried and difficult to reach. I only went looking for it after…well, after Darcy's reaction to Tommy unsettled me. And when I hid it beneath my bed, I could not bring myself to tell anyone. I did not know what was inside and was curious. After my initial investigation, Jane had her megrim at Netherfield Park. I never finished going through the contents. I think I was afraid of what it might mean.” Her voice faltered. “It has been under my bed since.”
Mr Bennet opened his mouth as if to protest but then closed it again, merely nodding. Darcy said nothing at all—just watched her with calm attentiveness.
