Page 24 of Love Among the Shadows
What could he want at this hour? Her mind whirled, thoughts colliding like a storm. Was he here for her? Her worst fears clawed at her mind. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He was meant to try breaking in under the cover of night, to be caught red-handed. Not to arrive at the front door, calmly announcing himself.
Her hands trembled at her sides, and she forced herself to take a steadying breath, though it did little to calm the rising panic. Every word Wickham had said about Darcy echoed in her ears—the ruthlessness, the calculated malice. Was she about to see it firsthand?
As her father gave the instruction to let Mr Darcy in, Elizabeth’s pulse raced. What if he was here to silence her?
Mr Bennet glanced at his daughter with a raised brow before addressing the footman. “Show him in.”
The room fell into a tense hush as Mr Darcy entered. His tall, imposing frame seemed to draw every gaze in the room. His eyes, dark and unreadable, swept over the assembled Bennets before lingering, ever so briefly, on Elizabeth.
“Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet greeted him with a nod, rising from his chair. “Welcome. May I offer my apologies for mydaughter’s... spirited words at the ball? She can be opinionated, and her manner was out of turn.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly. “I did not come for an apology, sir.”
The room fell silent, anticipation hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to break. Mr Bennet turned his gaze from his wife to Jane and then to Elizabeth. His brow furrowed, though whether in surprise or disbelief, it was difficult to tell. Across the room, faces reflected a similar expression—wide eyes, parted lips, the unmistakable look of astonishment mingled with confusion.
Darcy’s voice, calm but resolute, filled the space. “I am aware of the rumours circulating about a supposed curse. They are absurd, of course, but I know what they imply—that I am at the centre of these deaths. But I assure you, sir, the pattern suggests otherwise. I am not the perpetrator. I am the target.”
Elizabeth frowned, confusion flickering across her features. “The target? What do you mean?”
Darcy took a measured step forward. “I believe someone is targeting those who quarrel with me. The motive remains unclear, but the intention is evident. Someone is trying to discredit or destroy me. That is why I summoned my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Together, we devised a plan to use someone as bait.”
Elizabeth’s voice trembled with disbelief, her gaze unwavering. "How could you be so heartless? Using a man as bait? How wicked can you be?"
Darcy’s expression hardened, though his eyes flickered with something akin to regret. "It is not wickedness, Miss Bennet, but necessity," he replied, his voice low yet steady. "That is why I spoke with Mr Wickham so publicly at the ball tonight. My cousin follows him even now. He will not allow harm to come to Mr Wickham."
Elizabeth’s breath caught at the mention of Wickham’s name, a sudden chill washing over her. "You are using Mr Wickham? As bait?"
Darcy inclined his head. "It was imperative. If the killer truly targets those with whom I quarrel, then Wickham’s safety will reveal much. Should he remain unharmed, it will confirm that our suspicions of his guilt are well-founded—for the killer would not harm himself."
Her brow furrowed, her voice rising in protest. "You think Mr Wickham is the murderer?"
Darcy met her gaze, unflinching. "He is the only man in Meryton with cause to bear me ill will. He harbours resentment, and his position within the militia affords him the skill to execute such heinous acts."
"That is impossible," Elizabeth exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and indignation. "If you are innocent, as you claim, then you have still placed an innocent man in peril!"
Darcy’s tone softened, though his gaze remained resolute. "Perhaps he is innocent. That is why my cousin shadows him. It is to ensure he neither causes harm nor falls victim himself."
Elizabeth shook her head, her voice thick with rising emotion. "You have placed him directly in harm’s way! It is precisely what he said you would do."
Darcy’s brow furrowed, confusion momentarily clouding his features. "What did he say about me?"
Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at her father before speaking. “You know very well what you did to him. You ruined his life. Denied him his rightful inheritance. Cast him out without cause.”
Mr Bennet’s voice cut through the tension. “Lizzy, mind your tone. You will speak to Mr Darcy with respect.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, her frustration evident. “That is what he told me,” She continued, her voice softer but no less firm. “That you stripped him of his future and left him destitute. How could you do such a thing to a man who once called you brother?”
Darcy’s expression hardened, but he heaved a tired sigh before he spoke. “I am afraid, Miss Bennet, that you have been gravely misled.”
Elizabeth's heart grew heavier as Mr Darcy's measured voice filled the room, recounting the tale of George Wickham with a gravity that left no doubt of its sincerity. He did not seek to excuse himself nor embellish the narrative to his own advantage. Instead, he spoke plainly, like a man weary of bearing the weight of truths long left unsaid.
"Yes," Darcy began, his gaze steady though tinged with sorrow, "Wickham was once my companion. As boys, we were close—almost as brothers, I thought. My father esteemed him greatly, for he was the son of our trusted steward, a man of honour." His voice softened momentarily, as though the memory of those earlier days pained him. "But after my father’s passing, Wickham’s true nature became evident."
Elizabeth’s hands clenched in her lap as Darcy recounted the tale of betrayal. "My father, in his will, provided Wickham with the living at Kympton. A most generous gift, one that Wickham had expressed a desire to accept. But when the time came, he refused it, requesting instead a financial settlement under the pretence of pursuing a career in law."
Elizabeth’s brows knit together in confusion. "Did you grant it?"
Darcy inclined his head. "I did. Foolishly, I believed his claims. He seemed so earnest, so resolute. I gave him the funds, thinking I was fulfilling my father’s wishes. But it soon became clear that his intentions were far from honourable."
