Elizabeth inclined her head. “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy studied her closely, his expression tightening. “What has happened? Are you well?”
He dismounted at once.
“I am quite well, sir.”
He reached for her hand, turning her wrist gently. “There is a bruise.” His jaw set. “Miss Elizabeth, if any man has harmed you…”
Elizabeth glanced down at her wrist. “It is nothing. I had not even noticed…” She looked up again with a composed smile. “I am quite well.”
Darcy did not appear persuaded.
Millie spoke before Elizabeth could continue. “’Tis that soldier. He grabbed her wrist.”
Elizabeth gave her a reproving look, then turned back to Darcy.
His expression had altered completely. It was no longer merely concerned, but dark with controlled anger. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Pray tell me what occurred.”
“It was not so serious,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Wickham stepped onto the path and wished to speak with me. I required him to leave, and he did so.”
Millie remained silent, though her expression suggested she did not agree.
Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand slowly. “Would you allow me to escort you home? I should be far easier in mind knowing you arrived safely.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Thank you. I should like that.”
They set off toward Longbourn, Darcy’s horse following behind at a measured pace.
After a short distance, Elizabeth glanced back with a faint smile. “Your horse is very well behaved.”
“He and I have been together many years,” Darcy replied. After a pause, he added more quietly, “Miss Elizabeth, you are a remarkable woman. Yet if I may offer a small caution, while the militia remain nearby, it would be prudent to have a groom attend you when you go out on estate business.”
Elizabeth considered this. “You may be right.”
They soon reached Longbourn. Darcy paused near the side of the house. “I wonder if you might spare me a few minutes. There is something I have long wished to tell you. Is there somewhere we might speak privately?”
“Of course.”
They walked to the flower garden. The season had faded most of its colour, though a bench remained beneath the bare branches. Millie stood at a respectful distance, within sight but out of hearing.
Elizabeth sat. Darcy remained standing for a moment, then paced slowly before stopping before her. “Did Mr. Wickham speak to you of his history with me?”
“He mentioned that his godfather intended him for a living,” Elizabeth said. “But that after the gentleman’s death, the arrangement did not take place. I suggested he consult my uncle, who is in the law, or seek another opportunity. He did not appear inclined to either.”
Darcy nodded. “Mr. Wickham was my father’s godson, and my father held him in great regard. In his will, he expressed a wish that Wickham be assisted in establishing a career, and suggested that a living might be offered, should he take orders.”
He paused. “I had observed aspects of Wickham’s character that my father did not. I attempted to make them known, but his affection prevented him from believing me.”
“Such as?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
“Debts. Gambling. And the ruin of young women.”
Elizabeth’s expression stilled.
“Six months after my father’s death, Wickham returned. He had already been left one thousand pounds. He declared he had no intention of entering the church, and instead requested the value of the living.”
“And you gave it to him?”
