“I may have a mad mother, but believe me Mr Wickham I am not mad enough to accept you and moreover I am not the easy target my young cousin Georgiana was.”
“Georgiana is a silly romantic child, Miss de Bourgh; she had no maturity to resist me or backbone to stick with her resolution, the plan to elope, and the strength to defy her brother. But she was sweet... unlike you my dear, for you are another story. I will enjoy breaking your resolve and humbling you a little.”
Anne laughed again, “If your charms failed with Georgina, because they did fail, did they not? Otherwise you would have succeeded in prying her away from under her brother’s protection and taken her away to Gretna Green. So, if your charms failed with such a silly, romantic, sweet child as you put it, how confident are you that you will succeed with me?”
“I have my ways; surely you are aware of what a man can do to a virgin like you to soften her resolve, are you not?”
“You are a fool if you think I am unprotected.”
“Who is here to save you, the Misses Bennets? Mrs Collins?” Wickham cackled. “I would like to see them trying.”
“No, Mr Wickham my Uncle Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam and your old foe Mr Darcy are all here. What do you think they would do to you if they heard you speaking to me like that?”
Wickham’s voice immediately became quieter and less assertive, “surely you bluff.”
“Do I?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy and they both nodded. They had heard enough. They moved around the shrubbery to where Anne was, the pair followed closely by Elizabeth and Charlotte.
As they entered the secluded area they saw Wickham trying to forcibly kiss Anne, grabbing handfuls of her skirt, lifting it to her waist while Anne kicked and screamed.
The Colonel immediately grabbed Wickham by the arm and twisted it pulling him from Anne roughly.
Darcy immediately went for his throat and grabbing him firmly almost lifted him off his feet. Wickham tried to yell but his airways had been cut off.
“Tell us again Wickham what you planned to do with Anne?” Darcy said with a low voice that sounded more like a growl. He was not screaming or blinded by rage. No, he seemed to be in complete control.
The same could not be said about Wickham who went green when the colonel took his sabre and winking at his cousin replaced Darcy’s hands at the miscreant’s throat with the tip of it.
“Go ahead Wickham, make one false move; I have been waiting these last ten years to run you through.”
“Richard, wait,” Wickham’s strangled voice said as he lifted his hands in surrender. “I was not serious; I would never hurt a woman.”
“No? What do you think you did to Georgiana? Do you believe that stuffing her young head with flattery, utterly romantic nonsense, convincing her she was in love with you then confessing in her presence that she was simply a bank account and a means to an end would not hurt her? What do you think that would do to a shy and innocent child?”
“Wait… I… I did not mean…” the sabre’s tip was pressed harder and Wickham simply whimpered having lost his ability to speak.
“Luckily for you Wickham, we have three ladies present, because trust me you rake; I would have gutted you like a pig had it been just Darcy and I here. You have them to thanks for your miserable life being preserved this day.” The Colonel then removed the sabre from his throat and took a pistol from his pocket instead.
Elizabeth watched the scene in utter horror. She who boasted about her ability to read a character was dumbfounded now as she realised how wrong she had been about both men: Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.
It seemed one had all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it.
So Mr Wickham was a dishonourable man, a cad who went around trying to compromise rich young ladies and worse still, he was not beneath using force to achieve his goal.
She felt utterly ashamed; until that moment she never knew herself. She felt like crying, not because she felt the loss of Mr Wickham’s friendship, which was a fable to start with, but because she felt how unjust she had been towards Mr Darcy. Mr Wickham had used her, her naiveté, to help him malign Mr Darcy’s name in Meryton while she had obliged him by doing it with gusto.
She fixed her eyes on Darcy, who looked back at her with tenderness. He did not seem resentful that she had been a complete idiot towards him in her defence of Mr Wickham.
However when she looked at Mr Wickham she felt a fury never before experienced rising within her. He attempted to chuckle, mocking her quite openly, when he noticed her anger. She took a couple of steps towards him and surprised everybody by slapping him most forcibly across the face.
A trickle of blood started to run down his chin from his mouth.
“Bravo Miss Elizabeth,” cried the Colonel, “take another one for me as well please.” And to everybody’s further surprise, especially Wickham’s, she did not hesitate and struck him again.
“Stop it you bitch.” He cried angrily.
“You cretin!” She said and looked as if she might strike him again.
