Page 22 of The Gossip War (Pride and Prejudice Shorts #1)

“That woman… Miss Bingley… offered me five thousand pounds to ruin your intended… thoroughly… with or without her consent, but ideally without.”

Elizabeth gasped and tensed, while I wondered why Wickham lacked the sense to exclude that part from her.

He seemed to understand her tension. “I hate to shock you, Miss Elizabeth, but you do not seem like a shrinking violet, and I thought it important for both of you to understand what you are up against.”

Elizabeth gave the oddest answer, perhaps just to get through the worst of the shock. “Why do you think I am not a shrinking violet?”

Wickham chuckled, sounding more like my childhood friend.

“Two reasons, really. The first is that I am exceptionally good at sizing up people. The second is that Darcy is clearly in love with you, and he would never love a weak-willed woman.”

I was surprised when Elizabeth just smiled and curtsied a bit, as if he had given her the most flowery comment, wondering if I would ever understand women.

I got back to business. “Did you think this was a family operation, or her own initiative?”

“Strictly her own initiative. I know the look of a fool seeking revenge at all costs. Of course, I made her show me the money. She had it, in banknotes, but alas, she was unwilling to give an advance.”

Elizabeth asked. “I suppose you were not willing to trade your life for that amount.”

“True, but I had a good reason for taking the commission.”

“Which is?”

“The first is obviously a chance for this parley. More importantly though, if I declined, someone else would accept, and they might try to go through with it. She recognised me as a loathsome snake and lapped up my story of how you supposedly cheated me like a kitten.”

Elizabeth laughed. “That word, supposedly , probably saved you a beating—or at least delayed it.”

He laughed, which surprised me. “I dislike beatings, for the most part.”

I got back to business. “Well, Wickham, much to my surprise, you do have a good hand. I will match her five-thousand and add another two.”

“Not enough to make me a gentleman, Darcy,”

“Neither would ten, but it will get you an honest start. Suppose I offer another three if you keep your nose clean for five years.”

He looked thoughtful, and said, “She will try again, you know. Today, tomorrow, next week, next year—she will always be a risk, and the next man might not be so fastidious.”

“I will find a way to neutralise her,” I said, though how I would manage that with a woman was entirely beyond me. I would have no qualms about getting a man transported for less, but a woman! I thought not.

Wickham and I discussed several different ideas for a good five minutes with no resolution, until Elizabeth interrupted with a laugh.

“Upon my word, I wonder why men are in charge of the world. I hope the rest of them are smarter than you two.”

I had no idea how to take that, so just smiled at her as if I knew what she was about, while Wickham looked confused.

“Mr Wickham, may I ask you a rather rudimentary question on a matter of business?”

“Your servant, madam.”

“Why would you settle for five thousand from my husband when thirty-two is on offer?”

Wickham and I both looked at her in a stupid manner, and he finally asked, “On offer? Where, exactly?”

“Netherfield, of course! Miss Bingley cannot shut up about her dowry of twenty thousand. She obviously has five she stole from her brother. Fitzwilliam just offered you another seven. That is thirty-two thousand pounds.”

We were both stunned, though whether it was from affront at the sheer vindictiveness of the suggestion from a true lady, or chagrin that she outthought both of us (again).

“Elizabeth, that is… that is… brilliant,” I finally said, and gave her hand a squeeze. She looked slightly nervous, as if she worried about what I would think.

Wickham said, “I gave her due consideration, but they have Netherfield locked up worse than Newgate.”

“I suppose they worry about me taking retribution,” I said, and he shrugged.

“Good lord, do I have to explain everything?” Elizabeth said with a playful air.

“I wish you would,” Wickham asked before I could get my wits about me.

“Mr Wickham, allow me to ask a hypothetical question… though a man like you can probably answer from experience.”

“Pray continue.”

“What would happen if you ran out of Miss Bingley’s bedchamber with your trousers half-buttoned, one boot on, jacket askew, and ran into a gossipy footman, then compounded it by running out of the house and across the stables on the way to the path to Meryton?”

“The footmen, maids, and stable hands would gossip. She would be compromised within an inch of her life. With her position, she would be in the tattle sections in a day. She would be far more forced to wed me than whatever trick she tried on Darcy.”

“And what part of that scenario requires you to actually be in her bedchamber, or even in the house?”

They both stared at me in awe, which I thought was a bit overdone, since working out how to compromise Miss Bingley was about a tenth as hard as saving Fitzwilliam.

Simon was already ensconced with Fletcher, so starting the rumour would be child’s play with Mama to fan the flames.

Wickham laughed, shook my hand vigorously, and gave Elizabeth a deep bow.

“I applaud you Mrs Darcy and wish you a long and happy life! Darcy, you have a treasure! Treat her well!”

He was off like a shot, and we had one more problem all but solved.