Both men turned.
Wickham recovered first. “Miss Elizabeth – this is hardly…”
“Do not,” she interrupted. “Do not presume upon my former patience.”
Darcy stared at her, but she did not look at him.
“If you so much as repeat that insinuation,” she continued, advancing one step, “I shall ensure that no respectable household in this neighbourhood admits you again.”
“Miss Elizabeth…” Darcy began.
Wickham laughed lightly, incredulous. “You?”
“Yes, I. All I need do is inform my mother that you intend to ruin Mr. Darcy’s sister’s reputation, and you would find yourself unwelcome even at the inn. Mr. Darcy has become a favourite with my mother, you see.” She stepped toward Darcy, aligning herself with him.
“This is all a misunderstanding, Miss Elizabeth. Nothing more.”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But I think you have outstayed your welcome here. You should leave before I call my father.”
A beat of silence.
“You have already found one father unwilling to trust you this evening,” she said. “You may test how many others are equally cautious.”
Wickham’s expression altered – not fear, but calculation. “You would defend him?”
“I would defend what is right,” she answered. “And I will not have you trade upon a lady’s name for profit.”
Wickham looked from one to the other. “This is not concluded,” he said at last.
“No,” Elizabeth replied. “It is.”
For a moment, it seemed he might persist.
“Leave. Now.” Darcy ordered him.
Wickham looked at one, then the other. Then, with a shallow bow, Wickham withdrew, his step measured, his smile restored.
Silence settled in the library. For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Elizabeth became suddenly aware of the room – the quiet, the closed door, and Mr. Darcy beside her with an expression she could not immediately interpret.
The anger that had carried her into the room began slowly to recede. “I believe,” she said at last, with a faint exhale, “that I have interfered.”
Darcy did not answer at once. He went to the window and looked outside.
Elizabeth found herself saying, “I had no intention of listening. I merely passed the door and heard… enough.” She paused. “And once I heard your sister’s name,” she added more quietly, “I could hardly pretend I had not.”
Darcy turned and regarded her steadily. “You were not meant to hear it,” he said.
“No,” she admitted. “And I suspect you would have preferred that I had not.” A trace of colour rose in her cheeks now – the first sign that the moment had begun to weigh upon her. “I fear I have taken a liberty,” she continued. “One that was not properly mine.”
“No,” Darcy said. “He had no right to speak so,” he continued, his voice controlled once more. But you should not have been drawn into it.”
Elizabeth met his eyes then. “I defended a lady who was not present to defend herself.”
Her answer hung between them for a moment.
Elizabeth drew a small breath. “If I spoke too freely,” she added, “you may attribute it to temper. Mr. Wickham has tried my patience before, but tonight he exceeded it.”
