Page 139 of A Question of Character

If he had injured Wickham by careless speech, if he had allowed his belief in Wickham’s guilt to become cruelty, what did that say of the man she had begun to love? She found, to her surprise, that the thought of seeing him no longer brought uncomplicated pleasure. Until now she had looked forward to their meetings with an eagerness she scarcely acknowledged even to herself. Today she wished he would not appear at all, for she did not know whether she wished to defend him—or demand an explanation.

She stopped beside the stile and pressed one hand to the rough wood.

No. She would not condemn him without asking. She had just defended fairness at breakfast; she could hardly deny it to Darcy an hour later.

The sound of approaching hooves came from the road.

Elizabeth looked toward the sound.

Mr. Darcy drew his horse to a halt several yards away, surprise crossing his face before pleasure replaced it. He dismounted without delay.

“Elizabeth.”

The warmth in his greeting nearly undid her purpose.

“Mr. Darcy.”

He heard the difference at once. His hand remained upon the reins. “What has happened?”

She turned her chin up. “That is what I came to ask you.”

Mr. Darcy searched her face for several seconds.

“What has occurred?”

Elizabeth gave no direct reply. They had met often upon walks during the previous week, and those meetings had become among the happiest hours of her day. Today the easy anticipation between them had vanished. She folded her hands together to keep from twisting her gloves.

“Rumors are spreading through Meryton.”

A line appeared between his brows.

“Concerning whom?”

“Mr. Wickham.”

He exhaled once through his nose.

“So. It has begun.”

She stared. “Then you know of it?”

“I know what you have just told me.”

Elizabeth frowned. “People are saying you despise him. That he is unfit to associate with respectable families. Clients have begun avoiding my uncle’s office.”

His expression altered from puzzlement to genuine dismay.

“What?”

She watched him carefully.

“It is true,” she said. “My uncle came to Longbourn this morning to ask Papa’s advice. The whispers have grown so numerous that Mr. Wickham’s reputation has already suffered.”

Darcy’s hand tightened upon the reins.

“I have said nothing publicly.”

“But someone has.”