Chapter Seventeen
Darcy read Wickham's letter, forwarded in Elizabeth's own careful hand, with a fury that left him, for several long minutes after finishing it, entirely unable to trust himself to speak or move without doing some violence to the nearest object within reach.
He had believed, foolishly, he understood now, that Wickham's capacity to injure him and those he loved had been exhausted the previous summer, when Georgiana's near ruin at Ramsgate had been narrowly averted and the man's true character laid bare, at least within the small circle who knew the full history.
He had not accounted for Wickham's particular genius for finding fresh occasion, in whatever wreckage presented itself, to extract advantage from other people's misfortune.
He was still standing with the letter in his hand, his jaw set in an expression Fitzwilliam recognized, upon entering the study some minutes later, as considerably more dangerous than any temper he had seen his cousin display in the whole of their long acquaintance.
"Darcy. What has happened?"
Darcy handed him the letter without a word, and watched Fitzwilliam's face darken, reading it, into an anger that mirrored his own.
"That devil." Fitzwilliam's voice carried a controlled violence Darcy had heard from him only rarely, generally in connection with matters of genuine military consequence.
"He would extort money from Miss Bennet herself, over a matter he had no part in beyond the accident of overhearing enough gossip to guess at the truth.
Darcy, this cannot be permitted to stand. "
"I know it cannot." Darcy's own voice, when he spoke, had gone very quiet, a stillness Fitzwilliam knew, from long acquaintance, to be considerably more alarming than open fury.
"I have half a mind to seek him out directly and settle the matter in terms he will find considerably less comfortable than a polite refusal. "
"You will do no such thing." Fitzwilliam's voice sharpened with genuine alarm.
"Whatever satisfaction such a confrontation might offer you, Darcy, it would accomplish nothing beyond handing Wickham fresh material for his gossip, and quite possibly landing you in circumstances considerably worse than the present difficulty.
Think, cousin, before you act. You are not a man who acts rashly; do not begin the practice now, of all moments, when the stakes are highest."
Darcy said nothing for a long moment, pacing the length of the study with the particular violence of a man working to master an anger that had, for once, threatened to overwhelm his ordinary restraint entirely.
"He threatened Georgiana once already," he said, finally, "and escaped any consequence for it beyond my own private vigilance. Now he threatens Miss Bennet, and I find I have considerably less patience for restraint than I possessed on the previous occasion."
"I understand it, Darcy, believe me, I share your fury entirely.
But rashness will not protect Miss Bennet, and it may very well do her further harm, if the confrontation you are contemplating becomes, itself, a fresh subject for gossip.
Let us think, instead, of what actually answers the threat: not violence, but the removal of his leverage entirely. "
Darcy stopped his pacing, and looked at his cousin with the first flicker of something other than pure fury since he had read the letter. "Go on."
"His threat depends entirely upon the value of his silence, and silence is only valuable if the truth remains hidden.
You have already, this past week, begun the work of correcting the story publicly, in your own voice.
What if the work continued, more directly still?
Not a confirmation of Miss Bennet's name, that ground must still be protected.
But a public account of Wickham's own character, delivered with sufficient specificity that his credibility, should he attempt to spread any version of this story, is destroyed before he can profit from it. "
Darcy considered this, the anger in him settling, gradually, into something closer to calculation. "You propose I expose him."
"I propose you remove his leverage, Darcy, by any means that does not further endanger Miss Bennet.
Whether that requires a full public reckoning of his history, or simply a quiet, well-placed word to the particular circles where his present debts and obligations are known, I leave to your own judgment.
But I will not stand by and watch you ride out tonight to settle this with your fists or your sword, whatever satisfaction it might offer either of us in the moment. "
Darcy was quiet a long while, the fury in him banking slowly into something more purposeful, and when he spoke again his voice had recovered much of its usual measured control, though a hardness remained beneath it that had not been present before Wickham's letter arrived.
"I will write to Miss Bennet tonight, and assure her the matter will be addressed, and addressed properly, without further danger to her name.
And I will begin, tomorrow, the work of ensuring Mr. Wickham finds considerably less profit in this particular scheme than he presently anticipates.
" He looked at Fitzwilliam, and something in his expression, despite the anger still evident beneath it, carried a genuine gratitude.
"Thank you, cousin, for talking sense into me tonight.
I do not know that I would have listened so readily to anyone else. "