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Elizabeth held up a hand. “I have. I lost myself in—” She drew in a breath to summon the courage to utter the name. “—Mr Wickham’s company. And now, to my shame, our engagement is broken.”

“Your shame? Perhaps it will be embarrassing, but I am mightily glad to hear that. He seemed a schemer, and I did not like him. I am relieved you can find someone more suitable.”

“Even if I never marry at all, which just might be the case, it will be better than a life spent with such a man,” she said. “I only wish I had seen in him what others did!”

Elizabeth flung her arms around Charlotte and squeezed, nearly knocking them both over, which set them to giggling.

“Charlotte,” said Jane, “come to our house. We have missed you!”

“I cannot today.” Elizabeth’s heart sank, thinking Charlotte’s kindness had been superficial, but Charlotte added, “My mother is entertaining callers shortly, but perhaps another day?”

“Tomorrow or the day after or the day after. We could use your good cheer.”

Charlotte agreed to the next day, and Elizabeth felt lighter than she had in ages.

She, Jane, and Mr Bingley directed their steps towards Longbourn. She held the music sheets, and was imagining the keys under her fingers, just as a voice called out, “Miss Elizabeth!”

The group stopped and turned, finding Mr Denny fast approaching on foot.

“What might he want?” asked Jane, her cheeks flushing. Elizabeth loved that Jane, though she would never say an unkind word, was so loyal that, under the surface, she was roiling with rage at Mr Wickham’s friend who dared approach.

When Mr Denny was near, he bowed to them, but Elizabeth noted it was perfunctorily done, as if he were rushing through the necessary formalities to complete an urgent errand. How right she was.

“Miss Elizabeth, when was the last time you saw Wickham?”

Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. “It has been some time.”

“How long?” His voice was tense. Angry. Was he angry with her?

Elizabeth drew herself up. She had done no wrong, and would not cower before this man whom she had, until recently, considered a friend. “I do not know, and I do not care.”

“Wickham is missing.” Mr Denny clenched his jaw. “He has been missing for five days, and I thought perhaps he was hiding at Longbourn.”

She heard Jane gasp.

“He deserted?”

Mr Denny appeared stricken. “He is…missing. Without permission.”

Though she desired to feel sorry for Mr Denny, whose reputation would be sullied by his association with Mr Wickham, she could not forget or forgive Mr Denny’s complicity in spreading lies. Or at least his threat to do so.

She reconsidered this. Had he threatened or had he simply shared Mr Wickham’s threats? He had been suspicious, but cautiously so. It seemed he was beginning to understand Mr Wickham’s wicked nature.

“Mr Denny, when last we spoke, you were sharing shameful claims he was making about me. Claims you knew to be untrue. After all Mr Wickham said and did, you think my family would be giving him safe harbour?”

Mr Denny shook his head, his brow furrowed.

“It was foolish of me to have asked. I am sorry to have disturbed you.” He paused.

“And sorry to have spoken to you of Wickham’s lies as if there might be truth in them.

I ought not to have given them any purchase, and I ought to have said so to him and to you.

He has made enemies with the men over money owed, and vanishing was, in a way, the safest choice.

Even so, it is dishonourable and has caused a commotion.

” He bowed. “I shall leave you and beg your forgiveness. Perhaps one day we can be friends again.”

“Heavens!” Jane said when he was no longer within hearing.

“Indeed,” said Elizabeth.

Mr Bingley looked with concern to Jane, but Jane merely looped her arm through his and they began to walk, allowing Elizabeth a moment to think.

Was she vindicated? Saved? Perhaps both, yet her engagement had been broken. She had broken it. And some might still believe the lies he had concocted if he chose to tell them. A man in debt was a scoundrel, but that did not unquestioningly make her an innocent.

She longed to disappear into the notes of her new music and forget about these troubles.

The next day, Charlotte arrived with an armful of hothouse flowers and was embraced heartily.

Longbourn’s cook had prepared Charlotte’s favourite biscuits and seedcakes, and Charlotte was elated.

After eating more than their fill, Elizabeth brought her friend to the garden, where Elizabeth shared all that had transpired.

Charlotte reached out to Elizabeth’s neck as if there might still be a mark there and then took Elizabeth’s hand. “Oh Eliza, how terrible a man he is! I thought him just a schemer, but he is so much worse.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Whatever must be done to protect you, we shall all do it. My parents, our acquaintances—why, the entire town shall know of his treachery and violence.”

Squeezing Charlotte’s hand, Elizabeth gave a little laugh. “We need not rally the town.”

Charlotte pulled away. “Eliza, how can you make light of this?”

“I am not. I have simply had more time to consider the matter. I have railed and wept and have asked for help, but not from those who might enjoy and spread the gossip. Rather, I have gone to the one person who might actually be able to stop Mr Wickham.”

Charlotte nodded. “Mr Darcy is a grave fellow, but you say—you say he is kind?”

“More than kind. He is…” Elizabeth looked about, remembering walking with him in this garden, talking about music and life with such ease and humour. “He is lovely.”

When Elizabeth looked back at her friend, she noted Charlotte’s eyebrows were raised.

“Eliza, I cannot tell if the tumult of the past months has damaged your judgment.”

“My judgment is undamaged. Thus, my throwing off Mr Wickham.”

Charlotte leant back on the garden bench. “There has been so much commotion of late at Longbourn.”

“As if that was not enough, we have had a letter from our cousin, Mr Collins. He is to stay with us in a month. I daresay, Mama is in a coil. She insists that he is coming only to see the house he shall steal out from under her once Papa has died. It is grim, Charlotte. I do not know whether to laugh or cry at her tirades.”

“You have done too much crying of late, I suspect, so laugh as much as you can. Your mother will be taken care of, no doubt, by Mr Bingley if no one else.”

“It is a shame to think of Longbourn being lost to us.”

“Perhaps Mr Collins will be delightful and you will still be acquainted with the house through marriage to him; or perhaps he will be awful enough that you will be relieved to be rid of him and Longbourn along with him.”

Elizabeth doubted that but attempted a smile.

Charlotte took her hands. “You must put your mind to other things than Mr Wickham.”

“All I can do is wait and worry. And when Mr Darcy returns, what shall it matter? I am ruined, Charlotte. I ought to have done truly pleasurable things to earn this reputation. What good was being good?”

They laughed and leant their heads together, restored to be in each other’s company once again.

“I have at least been using my time profitably, practising at the pianoforte.”

Charlotte sat up straight. “ That I believe even less than the lies Mr Wickham is threatening to spread.”

“It is true. Come, let me show you.” She took Charlotte by the hand, and they hurried back in the house and to the pianoforte so Elizabeth might show off to her friend.