Page 2

Chapter Two

E lizabeth spent yet another restless night turning over and over in her mind how she might go about exposing Mr. Wickham’s character while concealing the source of her intelligence. She rose muzzy-headed at dawn and went for a walk to clear her mind, returning to Longbourn and entering the breakfast-parlour just as Lydia commenced her pitch to Mrs. Bennet.

“Mrs. Forster has invited me to Brighton as her particular friend! Can you imagine? All summer by the sea, with the officers’ quarters just a short walk away! Colonel Forster received his orders yesterday, and Harriet came to tell me directly after. We shall have such fun!”

“Brighton!” Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together. “How wonderful! What an opportunity, my dear Lydia! You must have a new bathing dress, and at least three evening gowns. Oh! And shoes – we must visit the cobbler immediately.”

“And caps, Mama! Harriet says the fashions in Brighton are quite different from Meryton,” Lydia added, practically bouncing in her seat.

Standing in the doorway watching cynically, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I’m afraid there has been some misunderstanding.”

All eyes turned to her, Lydia’s narrowing suspiciously; Jane’s face showing some relief. Had Jane been going to say something? Well, Elizabeth certainly would.

Mr. Bennet lowered the newspaper he had been hiding behind to look at her, one eyebrow raised quizzically. He expected entertainment, she could see from his expression, but she doubted he would particularly enjoy the scene that was about to ensue.

“What do you mean, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet asked, her voice sharpening with sudden concern.

“I happened to speak with Mrs. Forster yesterday at Lucas Lodge,” Elizabeth explained, coming to the table and taking her seat. “She mentioned her intention to invite Lydia to Brighton, and I took the liberty of expressing my belief that such an arrangement would be inappropriate, given Lydia’s youth and the... particular environment of a seaside military encampment. Mrs. Forster agreed that perhaps the invitation was hasty,” Elizabeth continued, meeting her youngest sister’s furious gaze. “She has withdrawn it.”

Mrs. Bennet’s mouth opened and closed several times before she found her voice. “Elizabeth Bennet! How could you presume to interfere in such a matter? Such an opportunity for your sister, for the family! To be known in Brighton society! The connections she might have made!”

“The connections she might have made are precisely my concern,” Elizabeth replied firmly, buttering her toast. “Lydia is but fifteen, and Brighton in summer, with a regiment in residence, is hardly the place for a girl of her age to form proper acquaintances.”

“What do you know of it?” Lydia spat. “You’re just jealous because I was invited, and not you! You’re determined to spoil everyone’s happiness because you have none of your own!”

“Lydia,” Jane interjected softly, “I’m sure Lizzy only had your best interests at heart.”

“She had her own interests at heart!” Lydia stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “She’s always thinking herself so clever, so proper, so much better than everyone else!”

“Lydia…” Elizabeth began, but her sister was beyond reason.

“I hate you!” Lydia stamped her foot with such force that the teacups rattled in their saucers. “You’re ruining everything!”

With that final declaration, she stormed from the room, and though Elizabeth expected to hear her run up the stairs and slam her door, instead it was the front door that slammed, Lydia’s form then visible running out of the gate and off down the lane towards Meryton.

Mrs. Bennet immediately dissolved into distress. “Oh, Lizzy, what have you done? Poor Lydia! My poor nerves cannot bear it!” She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth interrupted, rising from her seat, with a regretful glance at her uneaten breakfast, “I should speak to Father privately about this matter.”

She caught Mr. Bennet’s eye, and something in her expression must have communicated the seriousness of her concern, for he nodded almost imperceptibly and rose as well.

“Indeed, Lizzy. Let us adjourn to my study.”

“But Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet protested.

“I shall consider the matter carefully, my dear,” he assured her with practiced patience. “After I have heard Elizabeth’s reasoning.”

Once within the sanctuary of his book-lined study, Mr. Bennet settled into his worn leather chair with a sigh that spoke volumes of his reluctance to engage in family drama.

“Well, Lizzy,” he said, removing his spectacles to polish them with his handkerchief, “you have created quite the tempest this morning. Pray tell me what prompted this interference in your sister’s affairs.”

Elizabeth took a steadying breath. “I fear Lydia’s behaviour has grown increasingly wild of late, even by her usual standards. She has been flirting outrageously with every officer in Colonel Forster’s regiment, regardless of their rank or circumstances.”

“That is hardly news,” Mr. Bennet observed dryly. “Lydia has been making sheep’s eyes at red coats since the regiment arrived in Meryton.”

“Mrs. Forster is scarcely older than Lydia herself and seems equally enamoured with the officers and the excitement of military life, and her husband indulges her every whim. She would be no restraining influence. Rather, I fear they would encourage each other toward greater impropriety.”

“And in Brighton, away from even the modest constraints of Meryton society...” Mr. Bennet left the thought unfinished.

“Precisely,” Elizabeth confirmed. “If Lydia were to compromise herself, or worse, be compromised by an unscrupulous man, the consequences would extend beyond her own reputation. Jane and I, and even Mary and Kitty, would find our prospects diminished.” She bit her lips on the words, She has already damaged mine . This was not about Elizabeth; it was about safeguarding Lydia from the consequences of her own follies.

Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin as he considered her words. “You paint a troubling picture, Lizzy. Yet I confess, the thought of a summer without Lydia’s shrieks of excitement and dramatic proclamations holds a certain appeal.”

“Father,” Elizabeth said earnestly, kneeling beside his chair, “I know Lydia tries your patience. She tries all our patience. But we cannot abdicate responsibility for her behaviour simply because supervising her is tiresome. She is young and foolish, but her foolishness could lead to disgrace for our entire family.”

He regarded her for a long moment, the weariness in his eyes gradually giving way to reluctant resolution. “You are right, of course. You often are, much to my inconvenience.” He sighed and patted her hand. “Very well, Lizzy. I shall forbid Lydia to go to Brighton, even if Mrs. Forster should renew her invitation. Though I daresay we shall all suffer for it through the summer months.”

Elizabeth felt a profound relief wash over her. “Thank you, Father.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned with a rueful smile. “Your mother will hold you personally responsible for every tantrum and sulk Lydia indulges in from now until Michaelmas. Are you prepared for such a burden?”

“Better a burden of petulance than one of disgrace,” Elizabeth replied, rising to her feet.

Mr. Bennet nodded, replacing his spectacles. “Wisely said. Now, I suggest you make yourself scarce for a few hours. Lydia’s storms tend to blow themselves out eventually, but the initial gale is best avoided if possible.”

Recalling that she had not raised her concerns regarding Mr. Wickham, she turned back at the door, but Mr. Bennet waved her off. “Whatever else it is you want to talk to me about, Lizzy, can it wait another day? I wish to contemplate the familial discord about to commence without adding another burden today, if you please.”

“It can wait another day,” Elizabeth acquiesced. As she left the study, she was acutely aware that she had won only a partial victory. She had prevented Lydia from placing herself in a situation ripe for impropriety, but the underlying wildness of her sister’s character remained unchecked. The summer ahead promised to be a trying one indeed, but Elizabeth could not regret her intervention. Some prices were worth paying for the security of one’s family, even at the cost of temporary peace.

And at least she had another day to decide how best to approach her father about exposing Mr. Wickham.

The hours crawled by with excruciating slowness after Lydia’s dramatic exit. Elizabeth completed her interrupted breakfast and then settled herself in the small sitting-room and attempted to occupy herself with her needlework, but found her stitches growing uneven as her mind continually returned to the morning’s confrontation. She had acted out of genuine concern for her sister’s welfare and the family’s reputation, yet the memory of Lydia’s tear-streaked face and furious accusations left her with a persistent knot of discomfort beneath her ribs. From the window, she watched the lane to Meryton, waiting to see Lydia stomping back home, though try as she might she could not think of anything to say to her youngest sister which would make Lydia less resentful of her interference.

Jane joined her mid-morning, her gentle presence a balm to Elizabeth’s troubled thoughts.

“You mustn’t torment yourself, Lizzy,” Jane said softly, settling beside her sister with her own embroidery hoop. “Lydia will return when her temper has cooled. You know how she dislikes to miss meals.”

“I know you’re right,” Elizabeth conceded, setting aside her work with a sigh. “But I cannot help feeling that I might have handled the matter with more delicacy. Perhaps if I had spoken to her privately before intercepting Mrs. Forster...”

“And would she have listened?” Jane asked, her tone unusually pragmatic. “Lydia has never shown herself receptive to advice, particularly when it contradicts her desires.”

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “Your point is well-made. Still, I wonder where she’s gone. It isn’t like her to miss an opportunity to complain loudly and frequently about her mistreatment.”

“She has likely gone to Aunt Phillips to seek sympathy,” Jane suggested. “Or perhaps to call on Maria Lucas, who would listen with appropriate awe to tales of how cruelly she has been used.”

These possibilities were logical enough to ease Elizabeth’s worry temporarily. When the bell rang for the midday meal, however, and Lydia’s place remained empty, the first real stirrings of concern began to take root.

Mrs. Bennet, who had spent the morning alternating between lamentations over Lydia’s lost opportunity and dark predictions about Elizabeth’s prospects for matrimony, grew increasingly agitated as the meal progressed.

“Where can that girl be?” she fretted, barely touching her food. “It is most unlike her to miss a meal. Mr. Bennet, don’t you think it strange?”

Mr. Bennet, who had emerged from his study with obvious reluctance, regarded his wife with mild exasperation. “Not particularly. Lydia is indulging in a tantrum, as is her custom when denied something she wants. I daresay she’s making a point of her absence to punish us all for Elizabeth’s interference.”

“But what if she has come to harm?” Mrs. Bennet pressed, her handkerchief fluttering anxiously. “What if she has twisted her ankle on the path to Meryton and lies helpless in a ditch?”

“Then I’m sure some obliging officer would have found her by now,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly. “Lydia has an uncanny knack for attracting red coats, even in the most unlikely circumstances.”

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, whose brow had creased with the first signs of genuine worry. “Perhaps I should walk to Aunt Phillips’ after we finish,” Elizabeth suggested. “Lydia may well have sought refuge there.”

“An excellent plan,” Mr. Bennet agreed, clearly eager to return to the solitude of his study and his books. “You see, Mrs. Bennet? There is no cause for alarm. Elizabeth will locate our wayward daughter and, no doubt, be treated to a thorough accounting of her sins in the process.”

After the meal, Elizabeth donned her bonnet and set out for her aunt’s house, her pace quickening as she left Longbourn behind. The walk to Meryton usually took less than thirty minutes, but Elizabeth found herself at her aunt’s door in barely twenty, her concern having hastened her steps.

Mrs. Phillips received her with surprise. “Lydia? No, my dear, I have not seen her today. Is something amiss?”

Elizabeth explained the situation as delicately as possible, omitting the details in favour of simply stating that Lydia had left the house in a state of upset and had not returned.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Phillips clucked sympathetically. “That girl has always been high-spirited. Perhaps she has gone to visit one of her friends? The Long girl, or maybe the Lucas family?”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth agreed. “I shall check with them before returning home.”

But neither Maria Lucas nor Sarah Long had seen Lydia that day. Reluctantly, Elizabeth made her way to Colonel Forster’s house, finding Mrs. Forster at home, fussing with a flower arrangement in her parlour.

“No, I have not seen Lydia today,” Mrs. Forster said with obvious regret, “I have been quite bored and should have welcomed her company. Do tell her to call upon me tomorrow, if you would be so good!”

Elizabeth made a non-committal response and took her leave, cursing Lydia silently under her breath. Where had the silly girl gone?

By the time Elizabeth had exhausted every possibility and turned her steps back toward Longbourn, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the fields, and her worry had blossomed into genuine alarm.

Upon her return, she found that Mrs. Bennet had taken to her bed with a headache, attended by Jane. Kitty and Mary sat in uncomfortable silence in the drawing room, while Hill moved about with her usual efficiency, preparing for dinner, though she looked a question which Elizabeth had to answer with a negatory shake of her head.

“No sign of her at Aunt Phillips’, nor with any of her friends,” Elizabeth reported to her father, finding him still in his study, though his book lay unopened on his desk.

Mr. Bennet’s expression betrayed the first real signs of concern Elizabeth had seen. “This is most unlike Lydia. However dramatic her tendencies, she has never before disappeared for an entire day.”

“I walked every path through Meryton, and visited every shop she frequents,” Elizabeth said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. “No one has seen her since early this morning, when Mrs. Long observed her walking briskly toward the village green.”

Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We must consider the possibility that she has done something truly foolish.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Elizabeth’s mind raced through terrible possibilities. Had Lydia run away? Had she sought out one of the officers in a fit of rebellion? Surely even Lydia would not be so reckless.

“Father,” Elizabeth said firmly, “I must beg you to help me look for her. The day grows late, and wherever she has hidden herself, I fear she may not have considered the impropriety – or the dangers! - of being abroad, alone, after dark.”

Mr. Bennet sighed deeply, the weariness in his eyes giving way to resolution. “You are right, of course. Let me fetch my coat and walking stick.”

As they prepared to leave, the dinner bell sounded, its cheerful tone a stark contrast to the tension in the household. Mr. Bennet instructed Hill to inform Mrs. Bennet that he and Elizabeth had gone in search of Lydia and would return as soon as possible.

The evening air was beginning to cool as they set out toward Meryton. For several minutes, they walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Mr. Bennet spoke, his voice uncharacteristically grave.

“I fear I have been remiss in my duties as a father,” he said, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I have indulged Lydia’s wildness out of a desire for peace, allowing your mother to encourage her worst tendencies without interference.”

Elizabeth, startled by this rare moment of self-reflection, chose her words carefully. “We have all contributed to Lydia’s current character in some way. I, perhaps, by dismissing her as too silly for serious guidance rather than attempting to influence her for the better.”

“You have always been my favourite, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet admitted, “because you think as I do. But perhaps that has blinded me to the needs of my less sensible daughters. Lydia, in particular, required a firmer hand than I have provided.”

Their conversation fell away as they entered Meryton proper. The village was quiet, most families having retired to their evening meals. They inquired at the inn, the milliner’s shop that stayed open late on market days, and even, with great reluctance on Mr. Bennet’s part, at the officers’ quarters.

No one had seen Lydia that day.

“Where else might she go?” Mr. Bennet wondered aloud, his concern now plain on his features. “We have checked every logical location.”

Elizabeth paused, a memory surfacing. “Mrs. Long said she saw Lydia walking toward the village green early this morning. We haven’t yet checked there.”

The village green was deserted at this hour, its benches empty save for one. There, huddled on a bench beneath an ancient oak tree, sat Lydia. Her bonnet hung limply from her fingers, her hair falling in disarray around her tear-stained face. She looked up as they approached, and Elizabeth was struck by how young and vulnerable her sister appeared in that moment.

“Lydia,” Mr. Bennet said, relief evident in his voice despite his attempt at sternness, “you have caused considerable alarm with your disappearance.”

Lydia’s chin jutted forward defiantly, though her lower lip trembled. “I don’t care. I hope Mama had a fit of nerves. I hope everyone was worried. It serves you all right for ruining everything.”

Elizabeth stepped forward, extending a hand toward her sister. “Lydia, it’s going to be dark soon. Whatever your grievances, this is neither the time nor the place to air them. Come home with us and have some dinner.”

“Why should I?” Lydia demanded, though she made no move to run away. “So you can ruin something else for me? It wasn’t enough to destroy my summer plans; now you’ve made it so I can’t even have a moment’s peace at home without everyone looking at me with pity or disapproval.”

“No one pities you, child,” Mr. Bennet said with a hint of his usual dryness. “Though your behaviour today has certainly earned some disapproval. Where have you been hiding yourself these many hours?”

Lydia sniffed, refusing to meet their eyes. “I won’t tell you. You’ll only scold whoever helped me.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of frustration. “Lydia, we have been searching for you all day. Mama is beside herself with worry. The least you could do is explain your absence.”

“It’s all your fault!” Lydia burst out, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she glared at Elizabeth. “Everything was perfect until you interfered. Harriet and I would have had such fun in Brighton, and who knows what might have happened? I might have met someone important, someone who would have…” She broke off.

“Someone who would have what, Lydia?” Mr. Bennet asked sharply. “Made you an offer? Is that what this Brighton scheme was about? Hunting for a husband away from your family’s supervision?”

Lydia’s silence was answer enough.

Mr. Bennet sighed deeply. “Come. It grows late, and this conversation is better continued at home.”

With obvious reluctance, Lydia stood and allowed herself to be led back toward Longbourn. The walk home was silent, punctuated only by Lydia’s occasional sniffs and the sound of their footsteps on the dusty road.

Upon their return, Mrs. Bennet’s effusive relief quickly gave way to indignation when Lydia refused to explain where she had spent the day.

“Enough,” Mr. Bennet said at last, after Lydia had refused once again to answer his direct question. “Your behaviour today has been beyond the pale, Lydia. You have caused your mother and sisters considerable distress, and you show no remorse for your actions.”

“Why should I?” Lydia retorted, though her defiance seemed hollow now, exhaustion evident in the droop of her shoulders.

“You are to remain at home until further notice,” Mr. Bennet declared, his tone brooking no argument. “You will not leave Longbourn except for church, and you will certainly not be permitted to attend your aunt Phillips’ supper and card party tomorrow evening.”

“But Papa!” Lydia wailed, suddenly animated. “That’s not fair! Everyone will be there! All the officers…”

“The officers are precisely whom you should be avoiding at present,” Mr. Bennet interrupted. “My decision is final. Now go to your room and reflect on the consequences of your actions today.”

As Lydia stomped up the stairs, her sobs echoing through the house, Elizabeth felt a complex mixture of relief and guilt. Relief that her sister was safe, guilt that her intervention had caused such distress, however justified it might have been.

“You did the right thing, Lizzy,” Jane murmured, coming to stand beside her. “Though it may not feel like it now.”

Elizabeth nodded, watching as her father retreated once more to his study, his shoulders bowed with the weight of parental responsibility he so rarely assumed. “I hope you’re right, Jane. For all our sakes.”

Elizabeth adjusted her shawl as she entered her aunt Phillips’ crowded parlour, grateful for once that Lydia’s punishment would spare her sister’s characteristic exuberance. The evening stretched before her, promising the usual Meryton entertainments: cards, gossip, and the inevitable fawning over officers. She scanned the room carefully, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly when she failed to spot Wickham’s familiar form among the red-coated men clustered near the punch bowl. Perhaps fortune had smiled upon her twice this evening, with Lydia absent and Wickham likewise. She had still not had an opportunity to approach her father about Wickham; Lydia’s adventures the previous day had put Mr. Bennet entirely out of humour and he had shut himself up in the study all day with orders to Hill that nobody was to seek admittance unless they were bringing food or drink.

“Lizzy, my dear!” Mrs. Phillips bustled toward her, cheeks already flushed from excitement and perhaps a touch too much sherry. “How delightful that you’ve come. Though I must say, I was disappointed to hear that Lydia is indisposed this evening. She brings such liveliness to our gatherings.”

“Yes, Lydia is... resting at home,” Elizabeth replied diplomatically, unwilling to elaborate on her sister’s disgrace. “I hope I may bring sufficient liveliness in her stead, though I cannot promise quite her level of enthusiasm.”

Mrs. Phillips tittered, patting Elizabeth’s arm. “Oh, you are always welcome, my dear. Such conversation, such wit!”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led through the crowded room, exchanging polite greetings with familiar faces. The evening progressed much as she had anticipated, as dozens of such evenings had in the past. Mr. Phillips’ punch flowed freely, the card tables filled quickly, and the conversation fluttered from one local gossip to another without ever alighting for long on a subject of substance. Elizabeth joined a table for whist, partnering with Sir William Lucas against Maria Lucas and a young officer.

“Capital evening, is it not, Miss Elizabeth?” Sir William beamed, laying down a card with flourish. “Though I confess, I find myself missing your sister’s spirited presence. Young Lydia has such an infectious enthusiasm for our modest gatherings.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed, carefully selecting her next play. “Lydia finds enjoyment in nearly every social occasion.”

“Most particularly those graced by the militia,” Maria added with a sly smile. “I’m sure she is devastated to miss Colonel Forster’s presence this evening. And his wife, of course,” she added as an afterthought.

Elizabeth tensed slightly at the reference to Mrs. Forster, wondering if news of the withdrawn Brighton invitation had spread through Meryton’s gossip channels. “I believe my sister values all her acquaintances equally,” she replied, her tone discouraging further discussion on the matter.

“A shame she could not be present,” the young officer said tactlessly. “Miss Lydia is always jolly good fun!”

As the card game concluded, Elizabeth found herself gradually relaxing. The absence of both Lydia’s impulsive behaviour and Wickham’s unsettling presence allowed her to enjoy the simple pleasures of the evening without constant vigilance. She even indulged in a small glass of punch, feeling its warmth spread through her chest as she chatted with Lady Lucas about the latest letter from the Collinses at Hunsford.

After nearly two hours of cards and conversation, Elizabeth felt the need for a moment’s privacy. Excusing herself discreetly, she made her way from the crowded parlour toward the narrow passage that led to her aunt’s water-closet. The sudden quiet as she left the main rooms was a welcome relief, the sounds of laughter and chatter fading to a distant murmur.

The passage was dimly lit, with only a single candle on a side-table illuminating the way. Elizabeth moved carefully, her eyes adjusting to the reduced light. She had nearly reached the door to the water-closet when a shadow detached itself from the wall ahead, resolving into a human figure.

Her heart gave a sudden, unpleasant lurch as recognition dawned. George Wickham stood before her, his handsome features cast into sharp relief by the flickering candlelight.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice holding that familiar note of warm intimacy that had once charmed her so thoroughly. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here alone.”

Elizabeth instinctively took a small step backward, her body recognising danger before her mind fully processed it. “Mr. Wickham. I was unaware you were in attendance this evening.”

“I arrived late,” he explained, moving forward to close the distance she had created. “Colonel Forster kept us longer than anticipated at the barracks. But I would not miss an opportunity to enjoy Meryton’s hospitality, or to see you again.”

There was something different in his manner, Elizabeth realised with growing discomfort. His eyes held an unusual brightness, his movements less precisely controlled than was his custom. The faint smell of spirits reached her, stronger than could be accounted for by Mrs. Phillips’ punch alone.

“How fortunate for you to arrive in time to enjoy the entertainment,” she said, attempting to keep her tone light while edging toward the safety of the main rooms. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just returning to the party.”

Wickham stepped sideways, blocking her retreat with an ease that sent a chill down her spine. Elizabeth froze, disliking that she felt suddenly like a rabbit cornered by a fox.

“Why such haste?” he drawled lazily. “We have scarcely spoken since your return from Kent. I had begun to think you were avoiding me.”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth lied, searching for any excuse that might extricate her from this increasingly uncomfortable situation. “I have simply been occupied with family matters.”

“Ah, yes. Family matters.” Something hardened in his expression. “I understand you have been quite... protective of your family’s interests recently. Particularly regarding your sister Lydia’s prospects.”

This intelligence disturbed Elizabeth deeply. Had Lydia confided in him? Or had Mrs. Forster mentioned Elizabeth’s intervention? How much could he have overhead, at Lucas Lodge? She did not think he had been close enough to hear their conversation in the garden.

“I fail to see how my family’s private affairs could be of interest to you, Mr. Wickham,” she said, her voice cooler now.

“Everything about you interests me, Elizabeth,” he replied, reaching suddenly to grasp her arm just above the elbow. His fingers pressed firmly into her flesh, not enough to bruise but with sufficient force to make his control of the situation clear.

Alarm flared through Elizabeth’s chest. “Sir, you forget yourself. Please release me at once.”

Instead of complying, Wickham used his grip to guide her – no, force her – toward a door on the opposite side of the passage. With growing horror, Elizabeth realised it was her aunt’s bedroom, a room kept separate from the areas designated for the evening’s entertainment.

“Mr. Wickham, stop this at once,” she demanded, her voice sharper now as fear began to eclipse indignation. “This behaviour is entirely inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” He gave a soft laugh that held no true humour. “You seemed to find my company quite appropriate when I shared tales of Darcy’s misdeeds. You were eager enough for my attention then.”

Before Elizabeth could formulate a response, he had opened the door and manoeuvred her into the darkened bedroom, closing the door behind them with an ominous click. The room was illuminated only by moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting everything in silvery shadow.

“This is beyond improper,” Elizabeth said, fighting to keep her voice steady as panic threatened to overwhelm her composure. “If anyone were to discover us here…”

“Then they would assume what most of Meryton already believes,” Wickham interrupted, his voice taking on an edge she had never heard before. “That the clever Miss Elizabeth Bennet has a particular fondness for a certain lieutenant.”

“You are mistaken,” Elizabeth insisted, attempting to step around him toward the door. “Whatever impression I may have given previously, I assure you…”

Her words were cut short as Wickham’s hand came up to grasp her chin, fingers pressing into her flesh hard enough to hurt. The shock of the contact silenced her more effectively than any words could have.

“You played your part well, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his face now uncomfortably close to hers. “Leading me to believe my attentions were welcome, encouraging my confidences, only to turn cold without explanation. Was it something Darcy said while you were in Kent? Did he spin some tale to turn you against me?”

The invasion of her personal space sent waves of distress coursing through Elizabeth’s body. She felt her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, her heart pounding so violently she was certain he must hear it. Never in her life had she experienced such a profound violation of her boundaries, such a complete dismissal of her consent.

“You are drunk, Mr. Wickham,” she managed, trying to twist away from his grip.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Always so quick with your judgments, Miss Elizabeth. So certain of your own superiority. Perhaps it’s time someone taught you the consequences of toying with a man’s affections.”

Before Elizabeth could process his words, Wickham pulled her roughly against him and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was nothing like the romantic encounters she had imagined in her more fanciful moments; it was an invasion, a claiming, a punishment. His lips were hard against hers, his tongue pushing for entry into her mouth, the taste of brandy overwhelming. One hand held her head in place while the other gripped her waist with bruising force.