Page 61 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“Your arms?!” Bingley repeated, springing half out of his chair in horror. “Darcy, please tell me you did not… in a field!”
“I kissed her,” Darcy admitted hoarsely, his hand tightening against the window frame. “That is all. If she says Wickham saw…That is what he saw. I am sure he intends to ruin her to disparage my reputation, caring nothing for hers or her sisters’ future.”
Bingley fell back into his seat, running a hand through his unruly curls.
“Why would he do such a thing? Truly, Darcy, what is the nature of your disagreement with him? I never heard such bitterness between men who were once so closely acquainted.”
Darcy turned slowly. For a moment, he hesitated, unused to unburdening himself. Bingley had always been open-hearted, generous with his trust, but Darcy was not so easy to let others into his darkest secrets.
“I cannot…”
“You are my dearest friend,” Bingley said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Do you think there is any secret you could tell me that I would not take to the grave? Two heads are better than one, Darcy. Perhaps if I know exactly what manner of scoundrel we are dealing with, we can formulate a plan together. I know Iam not as logical as you, but sometimes emotion is a tool that can be used too.”
Darcy closed his eyes. Georgiana’s pale, tear-stained face rose unbidden in his mind, the trembling of her hands, her broken voice as she had confessed her folly. The wound was not healed, nor would it ever be, but if Wickham threatened Elizabeth now…
“You are right,” he said at last.
Bingley leaned forward eagerly. “Then tell me.”
Darcy’s words emerged like stones wrenched from his chest. “He tried to elope with my sister.”
“What?” Bingley asked, his jaw slack.
“Elope is too kind a word. He kidnapped her with the intention of taking her to Scotland to wed her.”
“When?”
“This past summer.”
Bingley stared at him, aghast.
“That is why you were so changed when you returned to London.”
“Yes.”
“The bastard! The knave!”
“Yes.”
“Dear, sweet Georgiana. The poor girl,” Bingley said softly, his brow furrowing with compassion. “How fares she now?”
“She is shaken,” Darcy admitted, his voice thickening despite himself. “In her mind, at the time at least, it was a true elopement, one to which she went willingly. She was only fifteen, with no notion of the cruelty of men. She was woefullyunprepared. I blame myself. Her companion at the time was in league with him. They planned the whole thing together.”
“Why?”
“For her inheritance, and the other wealth our family possesses. To hurt me, for I had seen the truth of him long before. The man is motivated only by money, drink, and his own lust. There is nothing good about him. The day I saw him in Meryton…” Darcy shuddered. “He taints any place simply with his presence. There are a great number of unmarried girls here from good families. He is a threat to each of them.”
Bingley rose then, his usual geniality replaced by a surprising firmness. He crossed the room and placed a hand upon Darcy’s shoulder. His grip was steady, warm, reassuring.
“We will see him gone from here. I swear it to you.”
“He could, at this very moment, be spreading salacious gossip,” Darcy said grimly. “He is clever, manipulative. His charm is his greatest weapon.”
“Then we must ensure that the world knows him for what he is.”
“We cannot. Georgiana would be disgraced if even a hint of the scandal came out.”
Bingley frowned, but determination flashed in his eyes. “You know him well, Darcy. If he has information about you that might cause scandal, I dare say you have the same about him. There must be something you can use as leverage to see that he – and please, excuse my language - pisses off.”
