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“When we returned from France, the Gardiners told us the whole story. Miss Elizabeth seemed so distressed that I thought to be of what assistance I could. I only regret it has taken my men so long to discover her.” Darcy strove to keep his tone even.
They were frozen in a tableau for a moment; then Mr. Bennet dropped his head into his hands, “I apologize. I do not mean to seem ungrateful. I have not accustomed myself to the public nature of this misadventure.”
“That is completely understandable, sir. I will, however, tell you that I am not disinterested Wickham’s misdeeds. I have had some unpleasant dealings with him in the past. Less than a year ago he attempted something similar with my sister to what he has done with Miss Lydia.”
Mr. Bennet beheld him in fascination. “Indeed? I had wondered why you wanted to involve yourself in this situation.”
Darcy nodded, slightly guilty for concealing some of his motives. “I am to blame for not having revealed Wickham’s true character before this. If I had, then this could not have taken place.”
Mr. Bennet shook his head slowly. “You take too much on yourself. And, I fear you underestimate the stupidity of my youngest daughter, but, be that as it may, I am grateful for your help.”
“I am sorry my investigators have not uncovered more about Wickham’s whereabouts. But I have confidence they will find him.” Darcy assured him.
“Thank you. Knowing that Lydia is safe does much to ease my mind.” He gave an ironic smile. “Although, of my daughters, I had not thought she was the one you were interested in.”
Knowing that they were venturing into dangerous territory, Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth was most upset about Lydia’s disappearance. I must admit I hoped to ease her mind.”
“I see. That is very noble of you.” Mr. Bennet said with a small smile as he regarded Darcy expectantly.
The silence hung between them. Darcy considered revealing the whole truth to Mr. Bennet, but was loath to disturb the fragile peace that had developed between them. He stood, “I have trespassed on your privacy long enough. However, I will bring word if I hear more from my investigators.” He saw disappointment – and maybe some anger – flash across the other man’s face. But it was soon replaced by Mr. Bennet’s customary amused detachment.
Mr. Bennet stood as well. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I shall write to my brother Gardiner right away.”
Mrs. Bennet was relieved to hear Elizabeth’s news about Lydia, but immediately started fretting about what could be done if Wickham could not be made to marry her. She wanted “poor, dear Lydia” to return to Longbourn, but Elizabeth pointed out that Lydia’s arrival without Wickham would only confirm the worst suspicions about her behavior. Her mother eventually conceded the point and, after an attack of nerves, took to her bed.
Thus relieved of her responsibility to her mother, Elizabeth went to the drawing room to await Darcy’s emergence from his conversation with her father. She hoped her father would be grateful rather than angry at Darcy’s assistance.
She had taken up her needlework when Hill arrived to announce, “Mr. Fenton, Miss.” This was swiftly followed by the man himself. Good Lord! What is he doing here? She believed he had given her up – and had been quite content at the thought. Perhaps, she mused hopefully, he had fixed his attentions on Mary or Kitty – since any marriageable female would do for him – although she would not wish him on anyone.
She stood as he entered and was about to ask Hill to invite her sisters to be chaperones, when Fenton took her hand rather violently. “I am so happy to find you alone!” Thinking to be discreet, Hill shut the door to the drawing room, leaving them truly alone. Elizabeth tried to pull her hand from Fenton’s but he would not let go. How many proposals from the man must I turn down?
“Mr. Fenton, I—”
He continued as if she had not said anything. “I must admit I was quite shocked. Quite shocked, I tell you, at that Darcy fellow’s implications. It took me several days – and quite a few whiskeys, I don’t mind telling you – to get over the surprise.”
“That really was not necessary,” Elizabeth murmured, but he barreled on, not hearing her.
“But, then I thought to myself, Robert, what does it matter? Maybe this rake has stolen a few kisses. I mean, I would have if I had had the opportunity.” Here he leered at her in a most unbecoming way. “So, what if he imposed himself? That isn’t her fault. He may have been warning me away from her, but it’s not like he would marry her! A fellow like that!” He laughed as if he had made quite a joke.
Elizabeth was losing count of the ways in which the man had insulted her and Darcy. “Mr. Fenton, I must insist—!”
It was as if her words were the buzzing of flies. He paid no mind. “I am here to tell you I am willing to take you back. The engagement is not broken. All is forgiven. So what if he has sampled the wares? I would not mind that myself, I tell you—”
Elizabeth had been slowly backing away as far as the room would allow, but he crossed it quickly and pulled her to him roughly. She tried to tear herself away, but his hands were like vises on her shoulders as his lips came down on hers. Closing her mouth tightly, she attempted to twist her face away, but he bore down, his lips cold and wet and insistent. No matter how she turned her head, his lips followed her. She tried again to pull away, but he was strong and her struggles only made him grasp her more tightly.
Suddenly Fenton was wrenched away from her. She opened her eyes just in time to see Darcy spin Fenton around to face him. He pulled his arm back and punched the other man squarely in the jaw. Fenton was not as tall as Darcy, but he was burly and solidly built. Nonetheless, he crumpled to the floor. Darcy hauled him up by his collar and punched him again causing Fenton to cry out. Darcy hauled back to hit him again, but Elizabeth called out, “William, enough!” Darcy started at the sound of her voice and then allowed Fenton to slip to the floor.
A moment later, Mr. Bennet strode through the door, his eyes flashing in agitation. He took in the scene: Fenton’s nose was bloody and his eye was beginning to swell. Darcy stood over him, looking murderous. Elizabeth was flushed and trying to hold back tears.
“What, may I ask, has been happening in my drawing room?” Mr. Bennet asked.
Darcy glared down on Fenton fiercely. “He kissed Elizabeth.”
“I see.” Mr. Bennet’s gaze sought his daughter’s.
“I tried to stop him,” she explained, two tears escaped down her cheeks. “But he keeps insisting we are engaged even though I said I would not marry him.” Darcy’s attention was now riveted on Elizabeth’s face. Abandoning Fenton, he crossed the room to her.
From the floor, Fenton said, “Darcy warned me aware from her. He’s been sampling the wares, he has! Right here in your garden! I saw them! He’s been kissing her and probably more!” His voice was somewhat muffled by the handkerchief he was holding to his bloody nose. Elizabeth did not think she had ever experienced so much mortification in her life, but Darcy’s arms around her were an inexpressible comfort. At that moment, she did not care what her father thought. Mr. Bennet had been watching Fenton, but when he looked back at his daughter, his eyes narrowed.
