Page 88 of Attempted Compromises
When Bingley and Jane entered, arm in arm, their smiles brightened the room, and the atmosphere warmed further. Mrs. Hurst—Louisa now, Lizzy; don’t forget—followed shortly after, her expression subdued but polite as she took her place. Darcy moved to stand beside Elizabeth’s chair, his closeness both grounding and invigorating. All was as it had been for the past few evenings, a comfortable rhythm settling over the household.
The door creaked open, and the butler stepped into the room. Elizabeth glanced up, expecting to hear the familiar announcement that dinner was ready. Several guests began to rise, Darcy included, but the butler hesitated, his usually stoic demeanor replaced by an unusual stiffness. His hand fidgeted at his side, and his gaze darted uneasily around the room.
Bingley was threading Jane’s arm through his own, oblivious to the tension in the air. Elizabeth and Darcy seemed to be the only ones aware that anything was amiss. He straightened instantly and crossed the room to Elizabeth, reaching for her hand. She felt a prickle of foreboding well up within her.
“Mr. Roberts?” Darcy’s brow furrowed as he addressed the man. “Is something amiss?”
Poor man,Elizabeth thought with dread as the butler shifted uncomfortably while clearing his throat, his cheeks faintly flushed. “I… I beg your pardon, sir, but there are… unexpected visitors.”
The room grew still, the air taut with curiosity and unease. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, whose brow knit with concern, while Georgiana’s hands clenched the folds of her gown. Darcy’s expression hardened. “Who has come?” he asked.
The lump on the butler’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Mr. and Mrs. Wickham,” he announced at last, the words falling like a thunderclap.
The room erupted into gasps and murmurs, the collective shock tangible. Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch as the words registered, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced toward Darcy, whose face had hardened into a mask of cold fury. His dark eyes burned with restrained anger, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.
Beside her, Georgiana emitted a faint, almost imperceptible gasp, her hands trembling as she clutched the folds of her gown. Jane’s face mirrored Elizabeth’s shock, while Bingley sat frozen in place, his usual genial expression replaced with a blank stare of disbelief. Even Louisa looked startled, her pale complexion growing even whiter.
The butler stepped aside to allow the intruders to enter. Into the room strode none other than George Wickham, his grin as self-assured and insolent as ever, making Elizabeth’s skin crawl. Hisgait had the easy arrogance of a man who knew he had nothing to lose and thrived on chaos.
Beside him was Caroline—no longer Miss Bingley—her hand resting possessively on Wickham’s arm, with a sneer of defiance and triumph gracing her lips. Her gaze swept over the room with haughty disdain, as though daring anyone to challenge her presence, her chin raised as she met their eyes with a predatory air.
“Good evening,” Wickham drawled, his voice dripping with smug confidence. “I trust we’re not interrupting anything too important.”
Chapter 25
The silence was deafening. Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her chest as she look around the room, the expressions of shock, anger, and disbelief on every face telling her that no, she had not misheard.
Louisa’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide with horror. Bingley looked utterly flabbergasted, while Jane pressed a hand to her mouth, her serene composure visibly shaken. Darcy’s gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Roberts, call for the constable immediately.”
He then turned his attention back to his childhood friend. “Wickham,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
Wickham’s grin widened, his eyes glittering with triumph. “Why, my dear brother, I’ve simply come to introduce my wife to her new relations. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge us the opportunity to share in this… joyous occasion?”
Elizabeth’s stomach churned at the venomous mockery in his tone. She looked at Caroline, who stood rigid beside him, herchin tilted upward in defiance. She radiated a cold arrogance, and her eyes swept around the room. When her gaze fell upon Jane and Elizabeth, rage briefly flitted across her face before it smoothed into a smirk.
“Oh my, what have we here?” Caroline said, her tone dripping with false pity. “I suppose I cannot be too surprised to find you two chits here. After all, the Bennet sisters have always been quite… shameless.”
Elizabeth stiffened as Caroline’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “It seems quite fitting that women of your low breeding and questionable morals should make yourselves so… indispensable to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. With a mother like yours and those wild younger sisters, it was only a matter of time before you brought disgrace to this household.”
Bingley’s face flamed crimson with his fury, and he took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “How dare you—” he began, his voice trembling with anger.
Darcy growled low in his throat, a sound so primal and threatening it sent a shiver through the room. His body tensed as though ready to pounce, his gaze fixed on Caroline with a look that promised retribution.
Before either man could act, both Elizabeth and Jane reached out instinctively, their hands finding their husbands’ arms. Elizabeth’s voice was firm but quiet as she said, “Fitzwilliam, no.”
Jane mirrored her sister, gently pulling on Bingley’s sleeve. “Please, Charles,” she whispered.
The men froze, their anger still crackling in the air, but the steady touch of their wives held them back.
The silence was broken by a trembling but resolute voice that was filled simultaneously with fear and anger. “You are not welcome here.”
All eyes turned to Georgiana, who had risen from her seat, her hands tightly clasped in front of her. Her pale cheeks were flushed with anger, and though her voice quivered, her words rang clear. “You… you dare insult my brother in such a way? You have no right to be here.”
Wickham’s expression turned mockingly wounded. “Ah, my dear Georgiana, such harsh words. Is that any way to greet your new sister?”
Caroline smirked, stepping closer to Georgiana. “You should be grateful to have someone like me in your family. I could teach you so much—how to carry yourself, how to rise above the vulgarity you’ve been surrounded by.
“Enough,” Darcy interrupted, his tone commanding as he stepped forward to block his sister from the couple, his towering presence silencing the room. His gaze bore into that of his childhood friend, the fury in his eyes barely restrained. “You will not speak to her— you speak to me. Explain yourselves. Now.”
