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“Perhaps it is nerves,” Elizabeth said, wiping at her face. “It is all changing so fast.” Yes, this Jane would believe. “We will not share this room or this house, or even our lives once we are wed.” Thinking on these facts made her even sadder.

Jane squeezed her. “It is true, but we will still visit. Let us not dwell on sadness when enjoyment is to be had.” Jane kissed Elizabeth’s cheek then stood to leave the room.

“By the way, did you know Mr Darcy is back? We can all spend the afternoon together.”

Mr Darcy was back. He would understand. He was her only hope.

Elizabeth walked to Netherfield after breakfast without telling anyone of her destination, and asked the footman for Mr Darcy. This was irregular in every conceivable way, she knew, but what choice did she have? She could only pray that for once the servants’ tongues would remain still.

She was escorted immediately into a small drawing room, one she had passed but in which she had never been received.

The walls were a pale pink and the furnishings were white with gold trim.

Instead of portraits, the walls were decorated with delicate landscapes, one of which she recognised as the hills between Netherfield and Meryton.

Considering the art calmed her, but the moment he entered, all composure was gone. Unable to contain her vast relief at his presence, she could only blurt out, “Mr Darcy!”

He stepped closer and looked her over, looking worried. Very kindly, he enquired, “What has brought you here at such an hour?”

His expression gave Elizabeth pause, wondering how she appeared—apparently as frantic as she felt or perhaps ill. He suggested that she sit. Unsure how long she might remain steady if she stood for much longer, she agreed, and sat on a cushioned chair, gripping the arms as he sat across from her.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he began, his eyes searching her face, “you have me worried. Is your sister well?”

“My sister?” she asked. “Jane? Yes, yes. She is well and elated at the prospect of the wed—” At the mention of a wedding, her lower lip trembled.

“I am in need of your assistance.” His brows drew together, and while she feared his disapproval, she could not allow her fear to impede her request. “You see, I am in— No, let me begin from the beginning.” She swallowed hard.

“I know that you and Mr Wickham have some shared unpleasantness in the past that has remained unspoken.”

Mr Darcy nodded tightly.

“I now understand I ought to have heeded your warning, but I was taken in by him.” She laced her fingers together in an attempt to keep her hands from shaking. “He— I do not—” A tremble overtook her.

“Did he harm you?” Mr Darcy enquired, sounding as though his anger was barely suppressed.

When she only looked at her lap, he sprang to his feet. “Did he…ruin you?”

Her head shot up. “No! No, nothing of that sort.” She desired to explain but found more words would not come.

Just then a servant entered with a tray of tea.

Mr Darcy looked like the interruption irritated him, but Elizabeth was relieved, for the business of pouring and sharing her preferences for cream and a bit of sugar allowed her time to gather herself so that by the time she had sipped and replaced the cup in the saucer, her equanimity was much restored.

Once the servant had departed, Mr Darcy asked, his lip curled, “What has he done?”

Her fingers drifted to her neck where light purple marks that she had hidden with some fichu were fading. Mr Darcy did not seem to notice them. “Our engagement has been broken.”

He let out a gusty breath. He rose then and pulled at his waistcoat. “I did warn you against him, yet you heeded none of my words. There is nothing I can do to help you in any of that. I am sorry.” He gestured to the door, but she did not make any move to depart.

She could not leave. Not before he knew the truth.

“I have business to attend to, Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr Darcy’s coldness had returned, it seemed. He turned his back and strode towards the doorway.

As he reached it, panic filled her. She could not let him go. She needed his help! She called out, “He is spreading rumours about me!” She felt a tremor begin within her and set the saucer down for fear that she might spill her tea. “About m-my…fidelity. Whether I am…chaste.”

That stopped his retreat. He turned to face her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Perhaps I ought to begin from the beginning of this…unpleasantness.”

He leant his back against the wall next to the door and nodded.

She said, “I rushed into an engagement with Mr Wickham, which you warned me against.” Though she noted his jaw set at this, she carried on.

“I thought all was well. It is difficult for men and women to truly know one another when time is so short and expectations for marriage—” She shook her head.

No, she could not blame her behaviour on expectation, for she ignored expectations when it suited her.

Nor would she regale Mr Darcy with the thrill she had had in being near Mr Wickham, which, though replaced with disgust, she knew had been real, at least at first. “I thought you were prejudiced against him and could not understand the reason. He seems to fit into Society, and he is charming?—”

“Indeed.”

She noted his clenched fists and knew this conversation was causing him discomfort but had to proceed. “My mother, especially, was thrilled by the prospect of a daughter set to marry, and to an officer, no less. And all might have been well until he asked?—”

“For money?”

Elizabeth felt a frisson of dismay, knowing that Wickham was such a blackguard that Mr Darcy had scarcely had to know anything to guess the truth. “He has debts I am only now understanding he has accrued.”

“And?”

“He is demanding his debts be paid off if he is to honour our contract, yet there is no way the amount he demands can be accomplished by my father.”

“I warned you?—”

“Yes!” She was on her feet without realising it.

“I know you did. I—I must tell you… About my family’s situation.

” She pulled in a slow breath and sank back into her chair.

“Longbourn is not profitable and is, as you know, entailed. When I explained this, Mr Wickham flew into a rage. The things he said—I-I dare not tell you.”

Elizabeth looked at her lap, feeling his gaze upon her. “I called off our engagement, but he said that would not be enough. He added that if I did not pay, he would tell others that I was untrue, that I had had…that I was not?—”

“You need not say more, I understand.”

“Then, yesterday morning, Mr Denny—I believe you have met him—told me that Mr Wickham told him that I am… That I—” Elizabeth did not wish to say the words, but the full truth had to be out.

“He told Mr Denny not to share this yet, but that I had been with some of the officers. More than one. That I was… I cannot. Please do not make me say the rest.” She swallowed to try to move the lump from her throat, but it would not go.

Would he judge her? Would he believe Mr Wickham’s lies? Would he advise his friend not to marry dear Jane?

When she looked up, there was a look in his eyes she had not seen in the past. But before she could fully feel relief, his face turned red with anger. Was he cross with her?

“Wickham is despicable, plain and simple.”

“But what is to be done?”

He crossed the room silently and dropped back into the seat he had previously occupied. “Did you say that you broke things off? He could still sue you for breach of promise.”

“But he threatened to break things off with me first.”

“Threatened, but he did not do so.”

Elizabeth deflated. “I did not think anything but that I wished to be finished with him. As for the rumours, I did none of what he will say, but a woman cannot defend herself against such claims. I am powerless.”

“Your family’s reputation should protect…” He frowned, unable to finish the false assurances.

Elizabeth suspected he pictured her younger sisters gallivanting about, too loud, too exposed.

Anyone of consequence, as well as those of none, knew her father refused to rein in his youngest daughters.

Why not suspect that that neglect extended to the eldest two?

Would Mr Bingley break ties with Jane? Why would he not?

Throwing Jane off was preferable to sullying his reputation permanently even if it cost him money.

And the shame might kill one or both of her parents.

If her mother did survive the shock of two broken engagements, her nerves would suffer, and who could guess when she might recover or what torture she might inflict on her brood as their unwedded years passed?

Elizabeth groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I have ruined myself and everyone associated with me.”

When she looked up at him, Mr Darcy’s eyes were so kind upon her.

He looked as if he might fold her into his arms, and with a jolt, she realised that that was what she desired more than anything.

But he was her friend. Merely a friend. Surely, he was repelled by her story and the damage that was being done to her reputation this very moment while they sat in this perfectly appointed parlour gazing at one another.

“He must be stopped.” Mr Darcy rose. “I shall investigate the matter.”

“Investigate?” Elizabeth blinked rapidly. “You mean, enquire? You will speak to others about me?”

“How else am I to put an end to it?”

She had thought he would simply speak to Mr Wickham. The thought of the officers forming a negative opinion about her, and worse, spreading this gossip to her acquaintances here and even in town set her to crying again.

“Where is he now? Has he gone back to his regiment?”

She sniffled. “He did not say. He s-simply r-rode away.”

“Miss Elizabeth, I could escort you home, but I believe speed is of the utmost importance.”

“Yes, I daresay it is.” Elizabeth rose, knowing she ought to let him go, though wishing their time together might be longer.