Page 70 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

A trace of admiration entered his expression. “Your distinctions are as sharp as his.”

“Do not use him to avoid the point.”

Wickham bowed. “I shall correct it.”

Elizabeth left him with no confidence that he would.

At Netherfield, the story arrived before dinner.

Bingley heard it from a neighbor who had called on business, and repeated it to Darcy with more anger than sense. They stood in the library, where Darcy had been reading a letter from Stewart.

“The man claimed you saw Miss Elizabeth among the sheep and announced that Longbourn was unfit for a gentleman’s daughter.”

Darcy folded the letter. “Who claimed it?”

“He would not name his source.”

“Then he had none worth naming.”

Bingley paced to the window. “He said the story came from Meryton.”

“Most stories do.”

“This one concerns you.”

Darcy watched the rain run down the glass. “It concerns Miss Elizabeth more.”

Bingley stopped. “Then you know what happened.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“The gate failed, several sheep reached the lane, and my horse took alarm. Miss Elizabeth directed the dog while I blocked the road.”

“That sounds less scandalous.”

“It was less scandalous.”

“What did you say to her?”

Darcy remembered Elizabeth’s hand on the gate and the change in her face when he spoke of duty, labor, and men who should have prevented the need. What he had meant as concern came out as judgment.

“I said she should not have been required to perform the task.”

Bingley considered him. “I can see how she might misunderstand.”

“This was no misunderstanding. Someone chose to stretch the truth.”

“Wickham?”

Darcy’s silence answered.

Bingley turned to his friend. “You cannot let him use Miss Elizabeth to continue his grievance.”

“What would you have me do? Deny words I spoke?”

“Explain them.”