Page 30 of Penned by Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #3)

Elizabeth

H er sister, for the first time in Lizzy’s memory, was wrong.

The days that followed brought with them a biting gossip throughout Meryton.

It was not about Elizabeth herself, rather that a young lady had been seen in an embrace with an unknown man in a field.

It was a warning, she thought; Wickham had shown the power of his words, that he was capable of spreading what he had seen just as easily as he had threatened.

There had been no word from Mr Darcy.

She had lain awake all night wondering what to do. She knew only that she would not allow herself to be defeated by Mr Wickham. Blackmail was a coward’s game, and she would not rise to it. If Mr Darcy would not aid her, then she would do it herself.

At breakfast, to the tune of Mr Collins droning on about something or other, Elizabeth cornered Lydia. She seemed to know a great deal of the militia’s habits, and Lizzy was certain that she would know exactly where Mr Wickham could be found at any given time of day.

“Why do you care?” Lydia replied. “You told me I could not have anything to do with him. Was that just so you could steal him for yourself?”

“No!” Lizzy replied, aghast. “No, not at all. Lydia, you must believe me, he is not a good man. I must speak with him; it is a matter of urgency.”

“Well, I know that he is frequently seen at the Cock and Bull of an evening. All the militia are. I am sure you could find him there.”

Lizzy wondered just how her sister had come to know that fact; there was a wicked gleam in her eye that aroused a great deal of suspicion within

“I cannot go to a public house!”

“I suppose not. Perhaps you could send him a letter, asking him to meet.”

“He would never agree.”

“Then perhaps I could send him a letter. He would recognise my hand.”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked in horror. “Have you often been writing to Mr Wickham?”

Lydia shrugged.

“And what if I have?”

Lizzy’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a response that would not cause Lydia to flounce off in a huff.

She needed her sister’s skills, and selfishly, she decided she would raise the subject of sending clandestine letters to unmarried men another day.

If all went well, Wickham would soon be gone from here and would no longer hold any sort of relationship with her youngest sister.

“Would you?”

Lydia tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes flicking up and down the length of Elizabeth’s body.

She was thinking; Lydia was the sort of person who could not keep anything to herself.

One could almost see the cogs of her brain whirring as she came to a decision.

Elizabeth braced herself to lose all of her belongings – she had already lost her gloves and bonnet, what were a few more possessions?

“For a price,” Lydia said eventually, a cat-like smile spreading across her features.

“What price?”

“You must give me your pin money until the end of the year.”

“Fine.”

“And I may borrow whichever gown of yours I wish for the Netherfield Ball. I think the white one with the pretty gold trim would do quite nicely, but I am not sure yet.”

“Yes, yes, fine.”

“Wonderful. Come, tell me what I must say, and I will see it reaches him at the earliest opportunity.”

Lydia led her to the small corner of the parlour where they composed their letters.

None of the women in the family spent a great deal of time on correspondence for so many of their family and friends were in Meryton itself.

The desk was only really used to write to Aunt Gardiner (and apparently whoever Lydia was writing to), for their other relatives all lived nearby, and as such was poorly stocked.

Lydia found a scrap of paper and a dribble of ink.

That would have to be enough, Lizzy supposed.

“Go on then.”

“It must sound like you,” Lizzy said. “You may write whatever you wish, as long as it conveys that you wish to meet with him.”

“Letters are so boring,” Lydia sighed. “Fine. Where will you meet him?”

“It must be somewhere that nobody sees us – but also I must not be too isolated. Perhaps you should come too, so that he might believe he is truly meeting with you.”

“Will you tell me what is going on?” Lydia asked impatiently. “I really do tire of all this mystery, Lizzy. If I am to be in on the scheme, at least tell me what the scheme is!”

“No.”

“Boring,” Lydia sighed. “Fine.”

She wrote the note, a simple missive asking that Wickham meet her at sundown in a clearing near Longbourn, and they sent it off with Mr Hill to be delivered. The whole thing felt excessively underhand, but Mr Hill did not even question why he was being sent to the barracks.

Elizabeth found Jane resting in their room.

“I have asked Mr Wickham to meet me tonight.”

“To what end? You cannot give him Mr Darcy’s diary.”

“I do not even know what he wants with it, in truth. To publicise what he had written would serve only to implicate Wickham, and all else has no merit nor worth – it is simply Mr Darcy’s thoughts, and there is little to remark upon, save the dreadful incident.”

“I think he wants to embarrass the man,” Jane said softly. “It is not about what he could do with it, but simply that he has it. I am sure he will gloat to Mr Darcy, and that will be enough to cause upset.”

“You are right.”

“You must not give it to him, Lizzy. Such an action would be a terrible wound to a man as proud as Mr Darcy.”

“I have no plans to give Mr Wickham what he wants. I intend to see the diary returned to Mr Darcy this very day. I am going to depart to Netherfield at once. Will you come with me?”

“I will.”

“Thank you.”

She crossed to her side of the bed, removing the diary from its hiding place for the last time.

She ran her fingers over the smooth leather, and dared to lift it to her nose and inhale the warm, familiar scent.

When she brought it back down to her side, she felt Jane’s eyes upon her. She could not look at her sister.

“I urge you, Lizzy; be careful.”

“I will be.”

∞∞∞

They arrived at Netherfield just past noon.

Elizabeth clutched the diary tightly beneath her spencer, the leather-bound weight of it pressing against her ribs like a second heartbeat. Her gloves did little to steady her trembling fingers. Returning it was the only right thing to do.

The butler received them with polished courtesy, but the same could not be said of the mistress of the house.

“Good day to you, ladies,” Miss Bingley greeted, her tone clipped and cool. “We are not far from luncheon, so I’m afraid your visit must be brief.”

“We do not intend to stay long,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “I have come to return something to Mr Darcy.”

“Oh?” Caroline’s eyebrows lifted. “I did not know that Mr Darcy was in the habit of lending out his belongings.”

“It is merely a book from his private collection that he leant me during my stay here. I wanted to see it returned to him in person, for I have already tarried too long in seeing it back to him.”

“How very generous of him,” Caroline said, lips curving with insincere warmth. “I will see that he is summoned so this urgent exchange may occur. Tea, Miss Bennets?”

The invite was given so insincerely that Elizabeth almost laughed. It was clear that Caroline expected the invitation to be refused, for she had already made it plain that the visit was not to last long. Elizabeth opened her mouth to decline, but she found that Jane had begun to respond.

“Yes,” Jane replied with perfect grace. “Please.”

Elizabeth turned to her, briefly surprised. There was no trace of discomfort in Jane’s face—only composure. Gone was the soft deference that once made her an easy target. Elizabeth was grateful for it, because she herself felt anything but calm.

The butler was dispatched to retrieve the gentlemen, and the drawing room grew thick with polite tension. Mrs. Hurst and her husband were absent, and Caroline filled the silence with the occasional cutting remark, but neither Bennet sister rose to meet her venom.

The door opened at last.

“Good day to you both!” Bingley exclaimed, entering with his usual warmth. “This truly is a most pleasant surprise.”

Elizabeth rose and curtsied.

“Good afternoon, Mr Bingley. Do forgive us for our visit; it was quite my idea. Ah, just the man I was looking for.”

Darcy entered behind him. At once, she felt the air shift. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but his gaze flicked to her and lingered—on her hands, on her face. And perhaps, she thought wildly, on the secret she carried beneath her coat.

“May I have a moment of your time, Mr Darcy? Jane, would you accompany us?”

“Of course,” he replied instantly, and turned to lead her out.

Jane followed, silent and steady. When they reached the library, Darcy moved to close the door behind them. Elizabeth stepped forward.

“The door may remain open, and my sister will stand outside. Jane knows what I must say,” she said. “I had to tell her. Please, she will not tell a soul.”

“You needed someone to trust,” he said. “I understand.”

He gestured toward the hearth, and she stepped further into the room. The air was cooler here. Quieter.

“I have something for you,” she said softly, and removed the diary from beneath her coat. “I meant to return it long ago.”

He stared at it as if it were a dangerous animal, not a worn leather book. She held it out towards him, but he did not move to take it.

“I read it,” she continued. “I resisted for some time, and when I first read it, I tried to stop. I failed. You may hate me for it. I know I have no right to expect anything else.”

Darcy took the diary, his fingertips brushing hers. A silent pause passed between them.

“I do not hate you,” he said at last. “How could I?”

“You should.”

“No. I should have kept it more securely. I was careless. With my thoughts, with my words, and with you. That is what I regret.”

A silence fell.

“I have sent a letter to Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth said. “Well, Lydia sent it to him. He believes he will be meeting her tonight. I intend to speak with him and solve this once and for all.”

He cursed under his breath.

“Forgive me. But you leave yourself exposed. Meeting a man like that, and at night…You have put yourself in terrible danger.”

“I know. But he’s dangerous no matter what I do. If I had ignored him, he might have gone to my father and asked him for money, or something else I do not wish to think about. This way, at least I control the terms.”

Darcy exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair.

“I fear Mr Wickham will have the upper hand.”

“Which is why I came to you. To ask for your help.”

He looked up, startled.

“I do not mean to ask for protection,” she said quickly. “But I cannot fight him alone. I know so little of him, but he threatens my good name. Well, I suppose it is not so good anymore. I admit to what I have done, Mr Darcy,”

“To what we have done,” he corrected her. “Continue.”

She felt her cheeks heat.

“My sisters have too much to lose. I know... I know you were once well acquainted with him.”

Darcy nodded once, jaw tightening.

“Then we face him together.”

She blinked.

“You mean to come?”

“I will not allow you to confront him alone. I know him too well. He is not merely cruel—he is clever. Manipulative. And now that he’s desperate, he’s dangerous.”

Elizabeth stepped closer, heart pounding. “If he sees you, he might flee. And then he’ll strike elsewhere—when no one expects it.”

“Then we must strike first.”

A pause.

“I have proof,” he said. “Letters from his debtors. Names. Amounts. Promises broken. I have written to Colonel Forster already—Wickham’s discharge is imminent.

It appears that I am not the first to raise concerns about his behaviour.

That is what I have been occupied with these past few days.

I ought to have come to you, or sent word but…

Bingley said that you were distraught. I had to set things right before I saw you again.

That is my fault; I took liberties. I was careless. ”

“You did nothing that I did not consent to,” Elizabeth whispered. “You have truly done all this to assure my safety?”

“I’ve done nothing compared to what I should have done,” his voice was low. “For Georgiana. And now for you.”

She met his eyes.

“And what of Georgiana? He told me he would write to your aunt, or to the scandal sheets. What if he does not speak of us, but of her?”

“If Wickham tries to sully her reputation,” Darcy said, “I will stop at nothing to ruin him. I will see him sent to Australia, I will see a noose around his neck, I no longer care.”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened.

“I’m sorry. I think I made him angrier. I spoke with such revulsion…I wanted him to feel it, to know that he did not scare me. But I am scared, Mr Darcy.”

Darcy took a step closer.

“I will keep you safe, Miss Elizabeth. I swear it.”

A long silence hung between them.

“Mr Darcy, I…”

There was a knock at the door. Both sprung apart.

“Sir,” the butler said. “A Mr Wickham is here to see you.”

With one concerned glance towards her, Darcy instructed the butler to see Mr Wickham to the library.

Elizabeth wondered what the rest of the house would make of this unusual visitor.

She stepped forward and peered around the door, but could not see Jane.

She hoped only that she had not gone too far, for she was not sure what would happen next.

She took some solace that, now, they had privacy for whatever was to occur.

Mr Darcy moved closer to her, staring down at her from his great height. She met his gaze without hesitation.

“If you wish to leave, Miss Elizabeth, now is your chance.”

“No. I will not run from him.”

He looked at her, and for the briefest of moments he held out his hand to her. She did not pause before taking it in hers, her heart racing as he squeezed her hand gently.

“Thank you,” he whispered, letting go of her hand. "You do not need to be here, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said quietly. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back. "I am certain that I can handle this alone—"

"No,” she said, her voice firm. "I have as much a part in this as you do. It is my name he tarnishes. My family’s future he plays games with. I do not appreciate having others act on my behalf."

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded once.

"I see."

"Miss Elizabeth," he said at last, carefully, "I wish to apologise for what happened, and for what I allowed to follow."

"Later," she said, eyes still fixed on the door. "There are things I must say as well. But not now. Let us finish this first."