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She laughed bitterly. Darcy winced to hear her sound so sardonic.

Elizabeth’s laugh had always been free and joyful.

Wickham’s selfishness was already tainting the innocence of her spirit.

“Then I wonder why you continue to try to absolve yourself from guilt.” She looked away from him, refusing to even meet his gaze.

He could feel his chances slipping away.

“Miss Bennet, please listen to me. I came here today to not only apologise for what I said at Netherfield, but to warn you against Mr Wickham. He is not what he seems.”

“Oh? I am sorry, Mr Darcy, but I do not believe you. You have been caught in your injustice, and now you seek only to pass along the blame.”

“That is not what I do. Mr Wickham is not safe for you. He is not an honourable man.” Darcy let out a frustrated growl.

“To be frank, Mr Darcy, I do not know why you came here today. I know you disapprove of me — you think I am not even good enough to marry Mr Collins, for goodness’ sake. Why should you care what happens to me?” Elizabeth continued to glare at him.

Darcy almost groaned. Despite her quick wit and keen intelligence, she was na?ve when it came to men.

If Elizabeth could have misunderstood his intentions that night so badly, of course she could not identify Wickham as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He took a step closer, then another, until they were only inches apart.

Elizabeth held her ground, no doubt thinking he meant to berate her.

“I do care. I have cared since we first met, Miss Bennet,” he said desperately.

“I am sorry, but once again, Mr Darcy, I do not believe you.” She backed up a few paces. “Give me one good reason I should believe the poison you have been spewing about Mr Wickham.”

“Because I love you, Elizabeth,” he said more loudly than he had intended. “I want you to be my wife.”

Elizabeth could not have looked more shocked if he had told her he had found a way to go to the moon. She placed a hand on the back of a chair to steady herself. “What?”

Darcy raked a hand through his hair. “I love you, Elizabeth. Most ardently. I went away from Hertfordshire because I thought I could forget you. But I cannot. I am in agony, day and night. All I can do is think of you.” He stalled for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

But his words came rushing out in the most undignified manner possible.

“When I saw you with Mr Wickham last night, I was struck to the heart. He is not safe, I tell you. There is no doubt that he only wants to use you. He is a greedy, unscrupulous, blackguard that wants nothing more than to get his hands on your inheritance.”

Elizabeth’s face was unreadable. “I…see.”

Should he even try to defend his actions?

No, it didn’t matter what she thought of him, only that she knew the truth about Wickham.

But even if he told Georgiana’s story, would Elizabeth hear it, or only think he was making up stories to get her to leave off her acquaintance with Wickham?

His heart thudded against his ribcage. He neared once more, and when she did not move, he took courage and took another cautious step toward her.

He was so close to her now that he could have reached out and enclosed her in his arms. “I will not discuss the slights that are so offensive to you. Let me only say that I know Mr Wickham tried to convince another young lady to run away and elope with him last year, so he could get his hands on her fortune. My prime reason for coming here today was to save you from the same dishonour, should he try to convince you to do the same.”

Elizabeth turned so suddenly that Darcy stumbled back, nearly upending the chair behind him. “So you want me to marry you instead?” She shook her head. “What am I to make of this story, Mr Darcy?”

“It is not a story. It is the truth,” he said, his voice as calm as he could muster.

He could see now that she would not listen. She crossed to the other side of the room, holding the door open. “Then allow me to share one more truth. I cannot marry you. Though sensible of the compliment of your affections, the information you have shared with me makes it quite impossible.”

Darcy straightened, cut to his core. “That is your answer, then?”

“It is,” Elizabeth replied. “If what you have to offer me is love without respect, I do not want it.”

Darcy looked at her, unable to speak. It could hardly have gone worse.

She did not even know the full story of Georgiana’s harrowing experience with Wickham, or how painfully personal the man’s crimes had been.

He had failed miserably, but perhaps she would give him one last chance to tell her what he knew.

At that moment, the maid entered with the tea service. Elizabeth looked away, thanking the girl. When the maid had gone, Elizabeth pinned him with a stare. “I must ask you to go, Mr Darcy. There is nothing left I have to say to you.”

“If I may just —”

“Now, please, Mr Darcy.”

To so direct a dismissal, there could be no protest. Darcy looked down at the floor.

“Forgive me, madame, for taking up so much of your time.” He started toward the door, stopping just before it.

Darcy turned and gave one last, longing look at the woman he loved before leaving the house without another word.