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She did not immediately shake off his grip but stared down at him with an expression of shock, which soon turned into a tenderness that made Darcy’s breath catch. “I promise you I will never accept an offer of marriage from that man.”
He blew out a breath. Thank God! He still did not know why she was taking the scoundrel’s part, but her promise suggested she had not been seduced by his charms. “I thank you, Miss Bennet. That eases my heart.” He squeezed her hand in heartfelt gratitude.
“Elizabeth!” A male voice called from behind them.
Darcy swore silently; another minute alone with her and he might have succeeded in discovering her purpose. She jerked her hand out of Darcy’s grasp as they both turned toward the source of the cry. Darcy stifled an oath at the sight of Wickham striding across the grass.
“Mr
. Wickham!” Elizabeth cried with evident delight. She skipped in his direction and immediately linked arms with him. Darcy found it difficult to reconcile this unconstrained behavior with the thoughtful, reserved woman he had conversed with mere moments ago.
The officer greeted her with a sunny smile but glared at Darcy; perhaps he had noticed how their hands were linked. Good. “Darcy.”
“Wickham.”
“Mr. Darcy was kind enough to accompany me to the market,” Elizabeth said stiffly, as if accepting his company was a painful duty she could not refuse. Did she really think it necessary to account for her actions to Wickham?
“I see,” Wickham said with a curl of his lip.
“But I am very happy you have come!” Bouncing on her toes, she giggled. “Now we shall have the merriest time!” Had Darcy ever heard such a giggle issue from this woman? He should have been jealous that Wickham enjoyed these treasures; however, he now noticed signs of strain in her behavior. She was exerting effort to appear amiable in the man’s company. He was only experiencing a false version of Elizabeth. But why? Why did she need to playact for the other man?
Apparently perceiving no falsity in her behavior, Wickham gave Darcy a self-satisfied grin. “Indeed, we shall. Would you like me to purchase you a biscuit?” He gestured toward the market.
Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “Oh yes, please!”
Wickham smirked as he nodded goodbye to Darcy and, with Elizabeth on his arm, turned toward the stalls.
Darcy’s heart twisted itself into a knot as he observed the retreating figures—every step taking her farther from him. Yes, Darcy was now confident that Wickham did not command her heart. Nor did he wield power over her. Yet she accompanied him without hesitation—even with apparent joy. Despite her vow, Darcy’s heart filled with misgivings. Perhaps Wickham was the one she wanted.
They had only traveled a few paces when Colonel Forster, striding purposefully from a side street, intercepted them. “Wickham! Miss Elizabeth!” His face was white and grave. “I have news of a most serious nature.” Darcy stood and hastily joined the group; whatever the news, he must be available to assist and protect Elizabeth. The colonel spared him a brief, narrow-eyed glare before returning his attention to the others.
“What is it, sir?” Elizabeth asked. She and Wickham no longer linked arms, although they stood in closer proximity than Darcy would have liked.
The older man gripped Wickham’s shoulder. “I am afraid there has been…a grim discovery. Denny. Robert Denny”—the colonel swallowed—“was discovered a few hours ago in a back alley near the beach. H-He is deceased.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth cried as her hand flew to her mouth.
Wickham’s mouth fell open. “What? What has happened?”
The colonel shook his head. “We are not certain, but it was not a natural death. I believe he was struck from behind with a heavy object.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Murdered?”
“It appears so.” The colonel’s eyes were fixed on Wickham’s face—evaluating the other man’s reaction? “Since you were his particular friend, I wanted you to know immediately.”
“Thank you, sir.” The officer displayed the symptoms of horror and shock, but his hands were steady, and his face had not paled as the colonel’s had. Was it possible Wickham already knew of Denny’s demise?
“How horrible!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Indeed.” The colonel addressed Wickham. “Were you aware of anyone who would wish to harm Denny?”
“No.” Wickham scratched the back of his neck, looking at the green. “Everyone loved him.”
“Well, we will learn the truth,” the colonel vowed. “In the meantime, Miss Elizabeth, you should return to the house.”
“But—” Elizabeth’s gaze darted from the colonel to Wickham.
“You need time to recover from the shock.” The colonel’s tone was implacable.
