Page 10 of Mr. Darcy’s Honor (Darcy and Elizabeth Forever: Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

“Perhaps,” Wickham agreed with apparent sadness, “but at least I am not a bastard who abandons women to face society’s judgment alone. I offer marriage, legitimacy, and a father’s protection to an innocent child. What do you offer beyond denials and character assassination?”

The image of Elizabeth bound to this man—bearing his children, enduring his cruelties, trapped in a marriage based on lies—sent a wave of protective fury through Darcy that dwarfed his anger at the slander.

“I will not pay a single shilling to propagate your lies,” Darcy declared.

“You may not acknowledge your child now,” Wickham said, “but when your son is born and bears those distinctive Darcy eyes, will you still deny him? Will you abandon your own blood to a life of shame when simple acknowledgment could secure its future?”

“Enough,” Darcy snapped authoritatively. “You will leave now, Wickham, or I will have you removed.”

“I will leave,” Wickham agreed. “But this matter is far from resolved. Miss Elizabeth’s condition will become known to all of Hertfordshire within weeks. What will you say then, when your denial is contradicted by the evidence of her expanding waistline?”

The crude reference to Elizabeth’s body—whether the pregnancy was real or imagined—was the final provocation.

“You will answer for this slander,” Darcy said, each word precise and cold as ice. “Choose your second. Tomorrow morning. Oakham Mount. Dawn.”

The challenge hung in the air, its meaning unmistakable. Dueling had been illegal for decades, yet the code of honor recognized it as the ultimate recourse when reputation was at stake. A shocked murmur ran through the assembled guests.

Wickham’s eyes widened slightly—he had clearly not anticipated this development—but he recovered quickly.

“You challenge me over a matter of simple truth? Very well, Darcy. I accept. Though I wonder what Miss Elizabeth will think when she learns you would rather kill me than acknowledge your child.”

“My second will call on you this evening,” Darcy replied, ignoring the barb. “Now get out.”

With a stiff bow that managed to convey both defiance and mock respect, Wickham turned and strode from the terrace.

The silence that followed was absolute. Every guest stood frozen, torn between social propriety and human fascination with the drama they had witnessed.

“A duel?” Mrs. Long ejaculated. “How utterly barbaric!”

“And illegal,” Sir William added, finding his voice. “As a magistrate, I cannot condone such actions, Mr. Darcy.”

“Then I suggest you leave now, Sir William,” Darcy replied coldly. “So that your legal sensibilities will not be further offended.”

Bingley quickly intervened. “Ladies and gentlemen, I believe the musicians are prepared in the drawing room. Shall we adjourn for some light entertainment before dinner?”

Sir William Lucas and Mr. Goulding immediately took charge and herded the stunned guests toward the house, leaving only Bingley and Darcy on the garden terrace.

“Darcy,” Bingley began, his voice low and urgent, “you cannot seriously intend to meet Wickham. Dueling is?—”

“Illegal, yes,” Darcy cut him off. “Yet necessary.”

“But over such an obvious fabrication! No one of sense could believe?—”

“Believe what?” Darcy demanded. “That I proposed to Elizabeth Bennet? That I compromised her virtue? That I fathered a child and now refuse to acknowledge it? Which part strikes you as too fantastic for the gossips of Meryton to embrace?”

Bingley’s eyes hardened. “I know the proposal occurred. Miss Elizabeth admitted it to me herself. She wept with remorse for having spoken of it to anyone, called it her greatest regret that she treated your private declaration as ‘an amusing anecdote to be shared.’”

Darcy stared at his friend, the bitter retort dying on his lips.

“The child is clearly Wickham’s fabrication,” Bingley continued firmly, “but you created the conditions for this slander to flourish when you denied the truth. Miss Elizabeth has already paid dearly for her indiscretion. This new accusation will destroy what little remains of her reputation.”

“But what if Wickham did father a child?” Darcy’s heart lurched at the boiling jealousy and despair.

“Then Wickham is no gentleman, and he deserves to face you tomorrow,” Bingley said with surprising firmness. “He’s taken advantage of her vulnerable state, exploiting her distress at having wronged you. I saw how she blamed herself.”

The suggestion sent a fresh wave of fury through Darcy’s chest. The image of Wickham and Elizabeth together—her turning to him for comfort, him exploiting her wounded pride—was more than Darcy could bear.

“Then I will provide for the child should I injure Wickham tomorrow,” Darcy declared. “He must be made to pay for his crimes.”

“I will act as your second,” Bingley said. “Though I wish you would reconsider. Wickham is not worth risking your life over.”

“This is not about Wickham,” Darcy replied. “It is about truth. About honor.”

“Honor,” Bingley echoed, a strange note in his voice. “Tell me, Darcy—did you propose to Miss Elizabeth at Hunsford?”

The direct question caught Darcy off guard. The weight of the lie he had maintained these past weeks suddenly felt unbearable.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I did propose to her. And she refused me most decidedly.”

Bingley’s eyes widened—not at the confirmation, which Elizabeth had already provided, but at Darcy’s willingness to acknowledge it at last.

“Then why deny it?”

“Pride,” Darcy said bitterly. “She wounded my pride in ways I had never experienced. The manner of her refusal was… most cutting.”

“So you punished her with your denial.”

It was not a question, and Darcy did not treat it as one. “My judgments regarding the Bennet family still stand,” he said firmly. “Elizabeth’s indiscretion with Wickham only confirms their lack of propriety and restraint.”

He paused, then added with visible effort, “However, I was mistaken about Miss Jane Bennet. Her behavior has been entirely proper—perhaps excessively so. I wrongly interpreted her reserve as indifference to your attentions.”

Bingley’s face registered shock at this unexpected admission. “You’re saying that Jane?—”

“She cares for you,” Darcy said stiffly. “Elizabeth claimed as much during her refusal, and her assessment appears to be accurate. Miss Jane Bennet should not be judged by her family’s impropriety or her sister’s situation.”

“So you were wrong about Jane,” Bingley said slowly. “Might you not be wrong about Elizabeth as well? Might she be as much a victim of Wickham’s manipulations as you believe yourself to be?”

The suggestion was disturbing. If Elizabeth was innocent—if Wickham had manipulated her as he had once attempted with Georgiana—then Darcy’s cold denial had played directly into his enemy’s hands.

“I will duel George Wickham for his insult to Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy declared. “Whatever passed between us, she does not deserve this calumny.”

“I will act as your second,” Bingley replied. “But I ask you to consider that perhaps neither you nor Elizabeth is the villain in this affair. There is only one true enemy here, and he just left to prepare for tomorrow’s duel.”

With that, he turned toward the house, leaving Darcy alone with thoughts more turbulent than the gathering storm clouds.

The duel would be a simple matter. Darcy was a skilled marksman, and Wickham, for all his bluster, had never shown particular proficiency with firearms. A flesh wound would be sufficient to satisfy honor.

Yet Bingley’s questions lingered, undermining Darcy’s certainty. Had he allowed pride to cloud his judgment? Was Elizabeth another victim rather than a co-conspirator? The possibility that his pride had blinded him to her innocence was too painful to contemplate.

He would write to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, detailing the truth. If the duel went poorly, at least one man of integrity would know the truth, both of Darcy’s proposal and of Wickham’s character.

He would send Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley tonight with the letter. Wickham’s invasion of Netherfield was reason sufficient, and his sister need not know about the duel.

And he would provide for Elizabeth Bennet, should everything go wrong.