Page 60 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“He wants something else,” Elizabeth said. “Money?”
“I suspect it, yes. Or influence, connections. It is something. I would think he has debts and wants them paid off. Or some other arbitrary amount.”
Elizabeth felt a chill run down her spine at the thought. Mr Wickham had never been a man of honour, and she had always known that his motives were often self-serving. But to think he would stoop to extorting Darcy… It was almost too much to bear.
“Do you think… he knew we would find the diary?” Elizabeth asked, her voice small. “He must have planned this.”
Darcy’s gaze darkened, and he nodded. “It seems likely. I am sure he has more than one plan going at once. I feel perhaps he wanted us to follow him to London. If he knew she kept a diary, he likely manipulated her to make a note of it.”
“But for what purpose?” Georgiana asked.
“He would have asked her if she kept one I am certain. If he did not, then he would have made sure she left word some other way. I would not be surprised if he has left us breadcrumbs to make sure that we find out. I suspect he wishes to have us follow him.”
“Follow him, stop him and pay him,” Georgiana said, the disgust evident in her voice. “That is what he wants us to do.”
“I daresay it is so,” Darcy said.
“But what if we do not follow him?” Elizabeth asked. “What if we do nothing and let him marry her? Is that not worse? Then he is connected to the family.”
“That is true,” Darcy said with a sigh. “If we do not follow him and he marries Mary, then he is tied to us permanently.”
“And he thinks he can hold out his hand until the end of days,” Elizabeth said. “So regardless, he will make a pretty penny out of it.”
“It is always about coin with him,” Georgiana said and shook her head.
“Well, he will not get a single coin out of me, not if I can help it,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth turned to see Kitty standing in the doorway, her eyes swollen from crying. She looked fragile, her shoulders slumped under the weight of grief and confusion.
“Kitty,” Elizabeth said softly, stepping towards her, “how are you?”
Kitty looked up, tears still fresh on her cheeks. “I… I cannot believe it, Lizzy. I just cannot. How could Mary have been so foolish? I truly did not know anything about this.”
Elizabeth wrapped an arm around Kitty’s shoulders, offering what comfort she could. “I know, Kitty. But we must focus now on what we can do. We cannot change what hasalready happened, but we can stop Mr Wickham from causing any more harm.”
Darcy nodded.
“We will leave for London at first light. There is no time to waste. The sooner we arrive, the better our chances of finding them.” The room was heavy with the weight of their decision, and yet, despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, Elizabeth felt a surge of gratitude for Darcy’s unshakable resolve. They would find Mary, they would confront Mr Wickham, and together, they would face whatever came next.
“Then we leave at once,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady. “We will not allow him to win.” Darcy smiled, a rare flicker of warmth in his eyes.
“No, Elizabeth. We will not.” And with that, they gathered their things, prepared for the long journey ahead, knowing that the road would be difficult but that they would face it together.
***
As the carriage sped through the morning mist, the hours of travel seemed to stretch endlessly before them. The landscape blurred past, a backdrop to the silence between Elizabeth and Darcy. Both were lost in thought, their minds occupied with the same heavy burdens—Mary’s disastrous choice, Mr Wickham’s deception, the looming confrontation in London.
Yet, despite the shared goal of finding and rescuing Mary, there was a quiet sense of distance between them, a tension neither of them seemed to know how to address. The journey had already been long, and as the day wore on, Elizabeth began to feel the weight of the fatigue settling into her bones. Shehad not spoken much, her mind too occupied with the turmoil of her sister’s situation. But Darcy, who had always been more restrained, sat beside her with a quiet intensity, as though he too were unsure how to bridge the growing gap between them.
Finally, as the evening light began to dim and the carriage slowed for a rest at an inn, Elizabeth found herself unable to remain silent any longer. There was something pressing on her chest, something she needed to say—something that had been bothering her for some time, but she had not known how to voice it.
“Darcy,” she began hesitantly, turning her gaze towards him, “I must make a confession. It troubles me to admit it, but I let Mr Wickham influence me by way of Mary.”
“Oh? Pray, whatever do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “You see, before this all happened, I—well, I had my doubts about our future. You know this. What you do not know is that Mary, she… she advised me to be cautious. She said that you were not to be trusted, that there was something about you—something that didn’t feel right.”
Darcy’s expression shifted at once. His jaw tightened, his lips pressing together in a way that indicated the words stung. Elizabeth could see it in the deepening lines on his face, the brief flicker of hurt before he concealed it again.
