Page 153 of Near Pemberley

Another pair of footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Lydia appeared in the doorway, still fastening one of her gloves. “Oh! I thought perhaps you had forgotten…” She stopped abruptly.

Her eyes travelled over Darcy’s bruised face, then to the swelling across his knuckles. The colour drained from her own. First, she said nothing. Then, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, “You found him.”

Darcy met her eyes. “Yes.”

“Wickham did this.” It was not a question.

Georgiana gasped.

“He attempted to.”

Lydia closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, good gracious.” She took an uncertain step into the room. “You fought him… because of me.”

“No. Well, yes.” Darcy shook his head gently. “No. Because he deserved it.” He glanced at his sister.

Georgiana’s eyes moved from her brother’s face to Lydia’s. In that moment she understood. This had not been about revenge. It had been about protecting another young woman from the humiliation and pain she herself had once endured.

Lydia looked at him for several seconds, and when she spoke again, her usual liveliness had disappeared entirely. “I am so sorry.”

“There is nothing for which you need to apologise.”

“There is everything.” She looked away. “If I had only listened… if I had not been so foolish…”

Darcy interrupted her quietly. “We shall not speak of that again.”

She raised her eyes.

“It is over, Miss Lydia. He is in custody.”

For the first time since entering the room, Lydia breathed freely. A tear escaped before she could stop it.

“You beat him?”

He hesitated. “In the end, he looked worse than I.”

Lydia stared at him. Then, with complete sincerity, she said, “I-I do not think anyone has ever done anything so brave for me.”

Darcy looked uncomfortable. “No, no. I should have done it earlier. It was easier not to confront him.” He looked away briefly. “It was easier to believe that time would solve the problem than to confront a man I knew to be without honour.”

Lydia was quiet.

“Nobody has ever fought for me.”

“Let us hope there will not be another occasion making it necessary.”

That did make her smile.

She said nothing more, but something in her expression had changed.

For Lydia Bennet, who had once been so easily dazzled by charm and appearances, Fitzwilliam Darcy had become the very image of what a gentleman ought to be.

***

Before the physician arrived, Darcy requested pen and paper, but he hissed at the pain in his hand.

“Let me do this for you. You can dictate whatever you wish to write.”