Page 28 of Penned by Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #3)

Elizabeth

S he stared after Mr Darcy’s rapidly retreating form, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, her breath shallow as if the very air around her had been stolen.

Her bare hand - still tingling, aching from the heat of his touch - rose involuntarily to her lips.

They felt bruised beneath her fingertips, tender from a kiss she could not have imagined only hours ago.

Tears, unbidden and impossible to hold back, gathered in her eyes and spilled over, trailing down her flushed cheeks.

Slowly, with trembling fingers, she bent to retrieve her fallen glove and the diary - his diary - lying where it had tumbled in the grass. She pressed both to her chest, holding them as though they might still her shaking heart.

A rustle of movement came from the trees behind her.

“My, my, my.”

The voice slid through the air like a blade.

Elizabeth spun around, startled. Emerging from the edge of the trees was Mr Wickham. She scarcely recognised him without his red regimentals, for he was dressed instead in civilian clothes that looked travel-worn and poorly kept. His appearance was dishevelled, but his expression was smug, wolfish.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, stepping back instinctively.

“I was enjoying the show,” he said, his eyes roaming her face with a slow, lecherous interest. “Who knew Darcy had such passion in him?”

He began to walk towards her, and she held up a hand to stop him. She began to move, walking slowly backwards as he prowled closer.

“Leave me alone.”

“Now, now,” he said, mockingly wounded, “is that any way to speak to a man you’ve only just met? Where is your courtesy? We might have been such good friends, Miss Elizabeth. A pity.”

“No,” she said, voice trembling with fury, “we could never have been friends. I know exactly who you are - and what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?” he repeated with a hollow laugh. “My dear girl, we’ve hardly known each other a week. What could I possibly have done in so short a time?”

“You know what,” she said firmly. “I know what you did to Miss Darcy. And what you’ve tried to do to my sister.”

He tilted his head.

“Ah. Miss Lydia. Yes, she’s been rather... chilly of late. Quite unlike her earlier warmth. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

“You are despicable. My sister is young, and she does not know what she is doing. You, however, seem to treat such girls as toys to suit your whims.”

Wickham’s expression darkened.

“You speak of toys, Miss Bennet. I always was the selfish type, I’ll admit it. I never liked having my playthings taken from me. Darcy has done it – and, so I believe, did you.”

“Georgiana was not yours,” she snapped. “Neither is Lydia, or any other girl in Meryton you might set your sights on.”

She had heard he had become particularly close with the King family; no doubt for their daughter Mary.

“Perhaps not. You are deliciously careless with your virtue, Miss Bennet. Cavorting in the woods with a man. I cannot imagine what the good, moral folk of Meryton would say if they knew their precious Miss Elizabeth had been ravished under the very trees where she goes walking.”

Her cheeks burned hot with rage. How dare this man, a man who scarcely knew her, speak to her this way! Did he think his charm gave him permission to speak however he wished with impunity?!

“You are vile.”

“I see you have his diary.”

She glanced down at the book, still held tightly in her hand.

“It is my diary.”

“The thing about our dear Darcy, Lizzy, is that he is hopelessly boring. That diary comes from a stationary shop in Lambton, and he has purchased precisely that diary since I have known him. I am sure he is their best customer. The amount of drivel he is bound to write must fill dozens of the damned things a year. Perhaps with you as a little trinket to keep his bed warm, he will have a little less time to…”

Before she knew what she was doing, her hand flew at him, her open palm connecting with his cheek in a sharp, satisfying crack. He recoiled, eyes narrowing. She withdrew her arm at once, her hand stinging as she reeled at the gravity of what she had done.

“That,” he said coldly, touching the reddening mark on his face, “was very unwise.”

She did not flinch.

“You think you’re safe because Darcy fancies you?

” he hissed. “He will tire of you, just as he tires of every obligation that doesn’t suit him.

But I - I know how to make people listen.

What if a letter found its way to Lady Catherine de Bourgh?

To your dear Papa, detailing just what his daughter was up to in these woods.

Or even to the scandal sheets in London?

Think how easily your reputation could be destroyed, Miss Bennet, as well as that of sweet little Miss Darcy.

It would be a terrible shame; ruined before she even comes out.

One rumour. One well-placed suggestion. I have found words to be a most powerful weapon. ”

Her breath caught. He smiled at her silence, mistaking it for submission.

“Yes,” he purred. “I see I have your attention now.”

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered. “You would not dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I? I have nothing to lose, Miss Elizabeth. You, on the other hand... well. You and your sisters would be ruined. And as for Mr Darcy - he’d be forced to defend his honour. He might even fight me for it. And wouldn’t that be dramatic?”

She stepped back, her grip tightening on the diary.

“You will do no such thing.”

“Then give me the diary,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “And we forget this ever happened.”

“No.”

His smile disappeared.

“Everyone speaks of how clever you are, Lizzy. And yet, you are being very, very stupid.”

She turned and ran - her feet stumbling on roots, her breath catching in her throat, her vision blurred by tears and fury and fear. She did not dare look back.

When she arrived at Longbourn, Jane and Bingley were still walking in the garden, trailed by a reluctant Mary. At the sight of her, Jane surged forwards, breaking into a run. Lizzy could not say anything to stop her, for frightened sobs still bubbled out of her as she tried to regain her composure.

“Lizzy! Whatever has happened? I thought you were upstairs. Oh, you are frozen! Come, upstairs. Forgive me, Mr Bingley, but I must see to my sister. Are you well, Lizzy?”

“I am well. Mr Bingley, I must ask you a favour.”

“Of course. Is there anything I might do to help?”

“I need you to relay a message to Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “I need you to return to Netherfield at once.”

“To Mr Darcy?” Mr Bingley asked, his brow furrowing. “Of course, but why?”

“Tell him…tell him…” Elizabeth faltered.

She could not tell anyone what had happened, for that would mean betraying Georgiana Darcy’s secret. She did not know what to do, her head was reeling and her world felt as though it had shifted around her.

“Tell him Mr Wickham saw.”

She left with the briefest curtsey, charging into the house. She heard Mr Bingley calling after her, and she was aware that her sister’s voice joined his. She did not stop, walking through the hallways until she almost collided with their unwelcome visitor.

“My dear cousin,” Mr Collins began. “How wonderful it is to…”

“Not now, Mr Collins. Please, not now.”

“Lizzy!” Jane’s voice followed her as she charged upstairs.

She retreated into their shared bedroom, pacing until her sister placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Lizzy, this must stop! What has happened?! You look dreadful, and you are scaring me.”

Lizzy threw herself down onto the bed, burying her face in the mattress as she tired to regain her composure. She felt Jane’s soft, soothing touch on her back. She relented, rolling onto her back and staring up into her sister’s worried face. She did not deserve her compassion!

“I have made such a mess of things. A terrible, terrible mess.”

“Whatever has happened cannot be so bad.”

“It is. It is.”

“Does it have something to do with Mr Darcy?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can think of no other reason you would ask Mr Bingley to deliver a message to the man,” Jane said gently. “Please, Lizzy - there are no secrets between us. Whatever it is, tell me. Unburden yourself.”

Elizabeth did not speak at first. Her lips parted, but the words would not come; not until the silence grew unbearable.

Then, as though a dam had broken, the story poured out of her in a tumble of hurried, uneven words: the diary, the temptation, her theft, Darcy’s confession, the kiss, the shame; and finally, the encounter with Wickham.

She watched as Jane’s expression shifted with each word - first confusion, then shock, then horror. By the time Elizabeth reached the end, Jane had gone deathly pale, her knuckles white where her hands lay tightly clenched in her lap.

“Say something,” Elizabeth whispered.

“I... I do not know what to say,” Jane replied, voice barely audible. “I think I need a moment to understand it all.”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “Please, Jane. Say you do not hate me.”

“Hate you?” Jane blinked, stricken. “Oh, Lizzy, no. I could never hate you. Not for anything in the world.”

“I have done so many terrible things. I read a man’s private thoughts. I lied. I gave in to feelings I swore I would never have. I let myself want him. I still want him.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then, to Elizabeth’s astonishment, Jane asked—very quietly, almost embarrassed:

“What was it like?”

Elizabeth stared.

“Jane!”

Her sister flushed pink, clapping a mortified hand to her mouth.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked. I do not know what came over me.”

A startled laugh escaped Elizabeth’s lips, sharp with disbelief.

“You… you shocked me.”

“I shocked myself,” Jane said, covering her mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

But Elizabeth was still smiling, though her eyes brimmed with emotion.

“It was...” She hesitated. “It was wonderful. And I hate that it was. I hate that it felt so perfect, because now it feels… ruined. Spoiled by what came after. By Wickham. By my own guilt.”

Jane reached for her hand and held it firmly.

“Then it was real.”

Elizabeth looked at her, startled.

“It was real, Lizzy. That’s why it hurt so much. That’s why it matters.”

“It does not matter. The whole thing is ruined – and a fantasy. We would never do well as husband and wife. We are too different. I do not like him!”

“Though I saw little of you both at Netherfield, whenever you encountered him you returned to me changed. I was too fatigued to remark upon it before, but now…I do not believe you hate him so much.”

“The things he said about us…”

“He wrote those in the sanctity of his own confession, Lizzy. I am certain that if he were to read your diary, if you were to keep one, he would find much of the same.”

“None of this matters, Jane! What are we do to about Mr Wickham? He is a danger to me, to all of our reputations, but also to Miss Darcy.”

She had told Jane only the barest of details of what Wickham had done to Georgiana, and even that had been enough to portray the true nature of the man. Jane sat in silence for a time, the weight of the confession heavy in the air.

“I do not know,” she said softly when she eventually spoke. “We could tell Colonel Forster of his true character.”

They had made the Colonel’s acquaintance several times, and Lizzy found him to be the most honourable of men.

She was sure that if she spoke with honesty of the man’s reprehensible actions, action would be taken against Wickham.

But what then? If he were removed from the militia and left without occupation or income, surely he would only become more of a danger.

“Yes, perhaps,” Lizzy said dully. “I feel hopeless, Jane.”

“I’m sorry for it. All be well, I swear it. Nobody will believe a word he has to say against you, for you are most dearly loved.”

“It does not matter if they believe it or not – he will not be lying. I have done everything he might accuse me of. I could ruin all of us with my own madness. Not even Mr Collins would have us then.”

“Oh, spare me,” Jane sighed. “We will stay here, all day, and concoct a plan. We will see this dreadful man toppled, Lizzy, I promise you that.”

Lizzy smiled weakly. Her sister had never once let her down when she promised to do something. In this case, however, she feared that Jane's promise would be impossible to fulfill.