Page 155 of Honor Requires

Her gaze flickered. “Then I must ask—”

“I have come to see you.”

A pause. Something in her expression shifted, though only for an instant. “I am at your service,” she said congenially.

Darcy smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. “Tell me,” he said, “where did you obtain the brucine to poison Mr. Wickham?”

The color drained from her face. “I do not know what you mean,” she said, though the steadiness of her tone had begun to falter.

Darcy shook his head. “Yes,” he said. “You do.” He took a step closer.

“What was the price?” he asked. “What did your brother promise you, in exchange for your loyalty? A fortune? Security? A life beyond the reach of consequence?”

She swayed slightly, her composure cracking. “I know nothing of this,” she said, though her voice had lost its firmness.

Darcy’s gaze did not leave her. “I am certain he did not account for one detail. He did not expect me to survive.”

Her lips parted. She drew a breath that did not seem to reach her lungs.

Recognition dawned.

“Dar—” she began.

He smiled. “Yes. It is I.”

She staggered.

“The vial of brucine was found in your chambers. That, combined with your other offenses, is more than sufficient to see you brought to justice.”

She shook her head, her control slipping entirely now. “No. No—you do not understand—”

“Then enlighten me.”

She drew in a breath that came sharp and uneven. “I did her a kindness,” she said suddenly, the words spilling forth. “I rid her of him. Of that wretch. He was unworthy of her—unfit—he would have ruined her—”

“A kindness?” Darcy repeated.

“For her,” she insisted. “For her sake—”

“For another’s,” he said coldly.

Her silence confirmed it.

A voice broke the moment. “What?”

They turned.

Georgiana stood in the doorway. Her face was pale, her expression stricken, her gaze fixed upon Mrs. Younge with dawning horror.

“What did you do?” she asked.

Mrs. Younge faltered, her composure entirely undone. “I—my dear—”

The magistrate stepped forward. “You are under arrest,” he said.

She turned toward him, her expression wild. “By what authority?”

“By the authority vested in me as a magistrate of His Majesty’s court,” he replied. “You will answer to charges of murder and conspiracy.”