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Apparently reassured she would not collapse in a faint, Mr. Darcy finally seated himself. “I should have anticipated he would importune you once he knew of your bequest from Richard.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached for him, wishing she could ease some of his burden of guilt. “You could not have anticipated this. You take too much upon yourself, sir.”
Mr. Darcy rested his forearms on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. “Would that I could find some means of removing that man from your life permanently.”
“He is an annoyance, nothing more,” Elizabeth said firmly.
“You do not realize how destructive he can be!” Mr. Darcy’s voice had an almost desperate edge. “He is responsible for these appalling rumors—”
So he has heard them as well. Elizabeth grimaced. “I suspected he was the source.”
“I only heard about them today, or I would have been here earlier.” Mr. Darcy looked up at her ea
rnestly. As if she would have reason to expect him to offer assistance with her troubles!
Mr. Darcy’s hands flexed open and closed on his knees, and he smiled in a rather predatory manner. “For such lies alone, I could happily strangle Wickham—”
Elizabeth found this fey mood slightly alarming. “Please do not trouble yourself with murder. The opinions of the ton mean little to me.”
“Do you not care about your reputation?” His voice betrayed surprise.
“Those who know me will recognize how patently false these stories are. I would never ally myself with Mr. Wickham in any respect.” She focused her eyes on her hands as she smoothed her dress.
“It is not only the rumors that concern me. If he does not obtain what he desires, he may resort to more extreme measures.”
Elizabeth sighed. She might as well reveal all. The servants’ gossip would inform him eventually. “He has made threats against the horses.”
Mr. Darcy’s head jerked up. “The horses?”
There was nothing for it; she divulged everything: the meeting in Hyde Park, the damage in the garden, and Wickham’s threats. By the time she was finished, Mr. Darcy was fairly quivering with barely contained rage.
“The blackguard! To threaten innocent beasts. And Richard’s thoroughbred stallion!” He was now pacing the length of the room.
“I fear he might hurt one of the servants should they interfere,” Elizabeth said.
Mr. Darcy nodded grimly. “I will send you another groom to help guard the horses.” It was not a request but rather a statement. Elizabeth inclined her head. Accepting his help was prudent, and she did not have the strength to argue with him.
“I fear that Wickham views you as an easy victim. A young, unmarried woman living alone— one who has recently inherited. He expects you to be unprotected.”
Elizabeth felt a chill at Mr. Darcy’s assessment of her vulnerability, but she also felt the stirrings of anger. The independence Richard’s bequest had granted her should not come with a price! “Perhaps I should return to Longbourn,” she conceded. At least Richard’s horses, and the staff, would be safe if she were not in residence.
“No, you cannot!” Mr. Darcy exclaimed hastily. Elizabeth regarded him, brows drawn together in perplexity. He took a deep breath and continued at a more deliberate pace. “You risk drawing Wickham’s attention to your family. He might importune your father—or even threaten him.”
“I had not considered that possibility.” No, she should remain in London and keep Wickham’s eyes focused on her.
Mr. Darcy placed his hat on his head and retrieved his walking stick. “I will visit Wickham and have a candid conversation.” Elizabeth was happy Mr. Darcy’s impressive glower was not intended for her.
“I hope that you will not pay him. His relationship with my family has already benefited him far more than he deserves. Should he receive additional funds, it will only encourage further behavior such as this.”
Mr. Darcy nodded briskly. “I agree. There are other ways to work on such a man. However, I should visit him now before he changes lodgings once more.” He strode to the door, but turned abruptly before his hand touched the knob. “Oh, I had quite forgotten my purpose in visiting. Would you do us the pleasure of dining with us tomorrow night?” He regarded her with a peculiar intensity, awaiting her response.
Surely a dinner invitation could not be so important to him. “Yes, I have no other engagements.”
Did his shoulders relax? No, it must have been her imagination.
“Excellent. I shall inform Georgiana. Good day, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth bade him a good day and watched him leave the room. Only then did she permit herself to collapse back into the soft embrace of the chair’s upholstery. By all rights, she should be considering the problems presented by Wickham, but instead, she was preoccupied with the puzzle of Mr. Darcy.
