“Oh, happily,” Mr Wickham said smoothly, never even glancing at Elizabeth. “For a price.”
Elizabeth gaped. Was this man—whom she had believed a friend, at least, if not a suitor—threateningextortion? What if she had been abducted? What if she hadneededrescue? Apparently, all she could expect from this…this villain, was more trouble.
Darcy did not appear surprised at Mr Wickham’s coercion.
“You may toss your lies and allegations at me all day long. I could not care less for the accusations of a worm. One note of caution however: say one more word which implicates or alludes toanyone elseofanythingexcept the highest standards of comportment, and you shall be very sorry indeed.”
Darcy had not raised his voice—although with the patrons all so silent, he could be easily heard. Nevertheless, and despite the softness of his tone, Mr Collins took another step back. Mr Wickham, however, managed a laugh—although she was certain she heard the tension in it and saw the shifting of his feet, as if he were tempted to bolt.
“Who am I to accuse you, my good man? I see nothingwrong with a bit of bed sport with a willing female—and all females are willing at heart, are they not? If you have finally shaken a few feathers from her stingy little tail, ’tis all well and good. I require only a few pounds to forget what I witnessed here.”
Darcy moved so quickly, Mr Wickham never saw the punch coming. One moment, the vile man was standing, taunting—the next he was on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, his face a wreck of damaged cartilage. He scrambled to his knees, attempting to rise, spewing curses—but Elizabeth had had enough.
“You contemptible vermin!” she hissed, going at once to Darcy’s side. “This is myhusbandwhom you accuse. You are unworthy to be standing in the same room with him! It is fortunate indeed that he began with a warning knock—a little tap, really, and only a small portion of the anger and disgust he rightly feels for you.”
Mr Wickham sat back down on the floor, looking at her and then at Darcy in astonished disbelief. She heartily wished she had the strength to punch him herself.
“B-but…you cannot be married toher!” Mr Collins cried. “You are betrothed to Miss Anne de Bourgh!”
Darcy gave Mr Collins a look such as Elizabeth never hoped to receive, taking a threatening step towards him. He scurried from the room.
Darcy turned to her then, his expression immediately gentling. She held out her hand and he took it, tucking it in the crook of his arm, his dark eyes fathomless.
She glanced at her mother, who appeared strangelysatisfied. “How could you, Mama? Howcouldyou? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, and I hope you are—but regardless of whether you feel any guilt or regret, I will never agree to receive you after the trouble you have caused my husband. You may tell my papa…” Here, her breath hitched.
Darcy would be well within his rights to cut her off from all her family, and certainly to distrust them—they had forced his unwilling hand. Perhaps in time, she could convince him of the goodness of the Gardiners; she hoped he was not unreasonable. But she would not blame him if it required some years—indeed, she was very fortunate he did not hateheralong with them. “Tell Papa to quit taking that awful tonic, and he will likely be well in no time at all. And Jane…”
She could not manage a message for Jane. She would burst into tears and might never stop crying if she thought too much of her sister. “I will write to her,” she said. She looked up at…at her husband. “Shall we?” she asked.
He nodded soberly.
Together, arm in arm, they walked from the room.
CHAPTER 8
Elizabeth maintained her dignified countenance until the heavy inn door shut firmly behind them and they had walked several steps into the darkness beyond it. Suddenly she stopped, forcing Darcy to pause with her, and looked up at him.
“I have no idea where I am going,” she said.
“I was following your lead.”
She burst into laughter. “That is not at all wise, sir, when I have been out of my head for most of the day. I suppose your belongings are still at the inn?”
“A few bits and bobs only. Oh, and my man is there, awaiting my return. I suppose he might begin to wonder, if I did not.”
She shook her head ruefully. “Let us turn back, then.”
“I would never dream of spoiling such a perfect exit as you provided us. I will send someone to fetch him, and my coachman as well.”
“It is long past dark, and unfair to drag them out,” she worried aloud.
“Probably the innkeeper would insist upon our departure regardless—engaging in fisticuffs in his taproom is frowned upon, I am certain. My men will understand, once they know Wickham is in the vicinity. Besides we are a mere couple of hours, give or take, from town, and doubtless they would prefer to have their own beds.”
Which they could have had long ago, had they not had to deal with me and my illness, she thought. The fact that Darcy’s entire contingent would want to remove him from Mr Wickham’s vicinity was no longer surprising.
Matching words to action, he gained the attention of a stableman, who promptly ran to do his bidding. People had a way of doing that, she noticed. In fact, it seemed like no time at all before once again, they were ensconced in his carriage, rumbling along the pavement. Moonlight flooded the vehicle, lighting the interior and yet Darcy remained cloaked in gloom.
Elizabeth had more questions than answers, but for some reason was reluctant to break the silence between them. He sat across from her, a large, silent, dark silhouette; with almost surprising boldness she heard herself burst out with the last words she had ever thought to utter.
