Page 57 of Penned By Mr Darcy
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 -Iknow 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?”
