Wickham turned his head slowly. He was no longer hunting for a wife. He was hunting for a hostage. His gaze swept the courtyard and fixed with alarming precision upon Lydia Bennet.
Lydia stood near the stable entrance, laughing uproariously over the groom’s yapping terrier. Her bright yellow silk pelisse made her an unmissable target.
Wickham’s expression changed, the charm gone. The new smile that twisted his lips was malicious, cold, and desperate. He had found his potential extortion payment.
He began walking directly to Lydia.
Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. The entire game had shifted. This was no longer a covert operation to protect wealthy strangers. This was a desperate battle to protect her foolish sister from a man with nothing left to lose.
Elizabeth gasped. “Look,” she said, her voice trembling.
Mr Darcy followed her gaze and saw Wickham advancing upon Lydia. The muscles in his jaw tightened until they resembled carved stone.
“He is moving to his final option.” His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. “He will attempt to compromise her soon. He will extort your family to pay for her reputation.”
“Wemust stop him.”
“We will. I will not allow him to take her, Miss Elizabeth. I promise you.”
Wickham reached Lydia. He leaned close, speaking in low, urgent tones. He effectively monopolised her attention, blocking the view of the grooms and the passing tourists.
Elizabeth instinctively stepped forward to intervene.
“Do not move,” Mr Darcy warned quietly. “If we intervene publicly now, he will know we understand his intentions and he will panic. He might attempt to take her from the stables right now, creating a public compromise.”
“He is laying the trap as we speak!” Elizabeth protested, her heart hammering frantically.
“But we are watching him as he lays it.” He turned his head slightly to look down at her. “We have the advantage of foresight. He believes us to be ordinary observers caught in the social bustle of the morning. We must preserve that illusion until we are ready to strike.”
Elizabeth released a shaky breath. The constant, unrelenting vigilance was exhausting. The burden of protecting a sister who failed to recognise the danger she courted was a terrible weight.
She looked up at the man standing beside her.
Mr Darcy’s entire attention was fixed upon Wickham and Lydia. He was willing to place himself between her family and ruin, asking for nothing in return.
The truth she had realised on the shingle beach solidified into something permanent and undeniable. Her love for him was undeniable.
She thought of her behaviour in Kent, how devastatingly wrong she had been. She had despised a caricature built ofwounded pride and Wickham’s lies. She had failed to see the proud, awkward, fiercely loyal, honourable man who now stood protecting her sister.
She had to tell him. She had to begin, at least.
“Fitzwilliam.” She spoke his Christian name softly, testing the weight of it.
Mr Darcy did not look down, keeping his eyes locked on Wickham. “Yes?”
Elizabeth struggled to find the words. She was not a woman accustomed to stumbling over speech, but the magnitude of her feelings rendered her temporarily mute. She could not confess everything amidst the smell of hay and the noise of the royal stables.
“I wish to thank you,” she managed, her voice unsteady. “For everything you have done since we arrived in Brighton. For enduring my family and the absurdity of this town. For placing yourself in physical proximity to Wickham, in order to protect Lydia.”
She paused, willing him to understand the depth of what she was trying to convey.
“I understand the cost of such vigilance, Mr Darcy. I am deeply grateful,” she continued, lifting her face. She wanted him to look at her, to see the change in her heart.
He finally turned his head, and looked down into her eyes. He saw the raw sincerity in her expression and the severe lines of his face softened. He offered a small, impossibly tender smile, and the noise of the stables vanished.
He parted his lips to speak, caught in the fragile, breath-held moment between them.
“Miss Elizabeth! Oh, thank heavens I found you!”
