“I did,” replied Elizabeth. “But if you suppose I have any interest in Mr. Darcy, you are mistaken.”
“Then you have defamed me for some mischievous reason of your own.”
“Or maybe I have warned my neighbors to take care when dealing with a man of whom they know nothing.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Wickham, keeping his temper, though Elizabeth was certain he was seething, “I do not take kindly to those who slander me without cause. You should think twice before you cross me, for I shall not tolerate it.”
“And I am not afraid of you, Mr. Wickham,” retorted Elizabeth. “You use your shallow charm to recommend yourself, but I am certain stripping away your veneer of polite manners would leave a snake slithering in the grass for all to see.”
The man’s expression darkened. “Perhaps it would be best not to make such statements.”
“Then shall we test your goodness, Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth glared at him, not yielding an inch. “Shall we canvass the merchants in Meryton to see if you have amassed debts? If there are no debts, that will prove Mr. Darcy’s account faulty—you wish to clear your name, do you not?”
It was nothing more than a flicker, but it was there, in the back of his eyes, the apprehension of discovery. Though Elizabeth had not doubted Mr. Darcy’s account after the initial shock had worn off, she had never been more certain that Mr. Wickham was what Mr. Darcy claimed. Then the apprehension dissolved to be replaced by menace. The man stepped forward, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought he might lose command of himself in her aunt’s sitting-room.
“Perhaps it would be best if you did not make such accusations, Miss Elizabeth. Speaking falsehood often redounds on the head of the liar.”
“Except that I dispute who between us is the liar.”
The grin that bared his teeth reminded Elizabeth of a feral dog. “The truth can be a difficult thing. What you should also recall is that I have your youngest sister wrapped around my finger—if you do not wish to bring ruin upon you all, you will recant and leave me in peace.
“Do you know the regiment is to depart soon?” asked he in a more conversational tone before Elizabeth could react to his threat. “Mrs. Forster is a favorite of our dear Lydia. She has raised the possibility of Lydia traveling to Brighton with her for the summer. What mischief do you suppose Lydia could find there?”
Now furious, Elizabeth did the only thing available to a young gentlewoman in the face of such effrontery—she raised her hand and struck him sharply across the face.
The slap echoed throughout the room, halting conversations and drawing whatever attention was not already on theirconversation. As those in the room gasped and stared, Mr. Wickham, whose head had snapped to the side by the force of her blow, turned back, the malign light of fury now unhidden. Elizabeth was not about to allow him to speak again.
Instead, she moved past him toward the center of the room where others would hear her, turned, and fixed Mr. Wickham with a glower that should have melted him where he stood. Mr. Wickham followed her movement, his dark scowl now visible to the room, though he appeared to have no notion of what she meant to do.
“You, Mr. Wickham, are a bounder and a libertine, a poor excuse for a man unfit to wear that uniform that rests on your shoulders. How dare you threaten my family? How dare you threaten my sister with ruination? You may be assured that Colonel Forster will hear of this—given what I know of him, I doubt he will be amused.”
“Be silent, virago!” demanded Mr. Wickham.
“I shall not!”
Elizabeth glared at him, then turned to the rest of the room.
“This foul degenerate has threatened my youngest sister with ruination, and me with consequences for crossing him. Mr. Wickham fancies himself a Lothario, though I daresay the comparison flatters him, for he has not half the charm he believes. He is a debtor, a seducer of women, a gamester—a man who cares nothing for others so long as he slakes his unholy lusts.”
“Here, what do you mean?” demanded Mr. Denny, pushing his way through the crowd of onlookers. “Why do you speak this way to my friend? I have known him for years and have never seen such tendencies.”
“Do you know him well, Denny?” asked Mr. Chamberlayne, stepping forward to support Elizabeth, to the surprise of many.“By your own account, your acquaintance with Wickham was slight. Do youtrulyknow him so well as you claim?”
Mr. Denny colored a little, but before he could speak, Jane spoke to support Elizabeth. “Whether Mr. Wickham is all these things, I have no direct knowledge, but I heard him threaten Lydia and my family. By that alone, I suspect he is not a moral man.”
Voices rose around them, officers arguing with each other, townsfolk speaking in support or condemnation. The tumult settled a moment later when Uncle Philips stepped into the breach.
“Elizabeth, is this true?”
“Mr. Wickham’s threats were unambiguous, Uncle,” said Elizabeth, never removing her harsh stare from the fuming Mr. Wickham. “As for the rest, perhaps we should investigate.”
Elizabeth’s glare turned mocking. “Well, Mr. Wickham? I am certain you want to clear your name. Shall we ask the merchants about the state of your accounts? If we investigate and there is nothing, you will prove Mr. Darcy a liar, and me a simpleton trying to gain a wealthy gentleman’s attention by believing his implausible tales. Do you wish to test the theory?”
The way the officer’s eyes darted about, he was now realizing she had put him into an untenable situation. If he agreed to approach the shopkeepers, he would be revealed, but remaining quiet or protesting would make him appear guilty.
“As I thought,” said Elizabeth, not allowing him to speak again.
Then she turned to the rest of the officers. “I would watch Mr. Wickham if I were you, for he will have no compunction at all about stealing away like a thief in the night if you do not. Then, of course, you will be left with his debts and whatever debts of honor he has accumulated.”
