Page 59 of Attempted Compromises
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed further. “How do you mean?” she asked cautiously, her voice tinged with alarm.
Wickham turned his gaze back to her, and his usual charming mask slipped away, replaced by something colder, harder. With a great sigh, he spread his hands in a theatrical gesture. “Miss Elizabeth, let me be plain. Miss Bingley is desperate to marry my dear old friend Darcy. So desperate, in fact, that she’s enlisted my help to engineer a little scandal. The plan was simple enough—put everyone to sleep with the tea, then create the appearance that Darcy and Miss Bingley spent the afternoon together in a most… compromising position.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as realization began to dawn. Wickham smirked, enjoying the flicker of horror in her expression. “Of course,” he continued, “Darcy’s nature is such that he would never recover from the disgrace. Miss Bingley would ensure the matter came to light just enough to force his hand. And once they’re married…” He gave a theatrical shrug. “She’s promised me half her pin money as compensation.”
Elizabeth’s shock turned to indignation. “You would ruin Mr. Darcy’s life for money? Why? You don’t even know him!”
Wickham barked a laugh, loud and scornful. “Oh, you poor, naive girl,” he sneered. “Of course I know him. Very well.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, but Wickham stepped closer, his grin fading as a darker expression took its place. “You want to know the truth?” he hissed, his voice low and venomous. “I despise Darcy. His father may have loved me like a son, but Darcy never saw me as anything more than a rival to be crushed.He’s taken everything I ever wanted— everything that should have been mine by right. Do you truly believe I would not seize an opportunity to destroy him in turn?”
Elizabeth flinched at the intensity of his words, but he wasn’t finished. “Nothing can stop me, Miss Bennet,” he declared, his voice brimming with malice. “Certainly not you. So now we find ourselves at an impasse. You, unfortunately, are still awake. Conscious.A witness.”
Her breathing quickened, and for the first time, Wickham saw fear flicker in her eyes. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “I mean, my dear Miss Bennet, that we cannot have you ruining this little arrangement. You’re awake when you shouldn’t be, and that presents a problem. A problem I intend to solve.”
Elizabeth’s breathing quickened, her mind racing. “I—I won’t say anything,” she stammered. “I swear it.”
“Oh, I’m afraid that won’t do,” Wickham said softly, his grin widening. “You see, Miss Bennet, this plan is far too delicate to risk even the slightest whisper of interference. And you—you, my dear—are far too clever for your own good.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm, and she instinctively took a step back. Wickham advanced slowly, a predatory gleam in his eyes, his grin widening into something cruel and wolfish.
“Now,” he said, his tone almost playful, “let’s see what we can do about that troublesome little habit of yours—staying awake. I can’t have you ruining everything.”
Wickham savored the moment, each tremor of fear rippling through Elizabeth Bennet only heightening his sense of control. He stepped forward again, his shadow looming over her as he relished the way her eyes darted toward the door, calculating her chances of escape.
Poor little fool. She has no idea who she is dealing with.
He took another step closer to her, then another, his excitement rising with each frightened pant.
Chapter 16
Elizabeth’s heart clenched with fear as George Wickham stalked a step toward her, his grin growing sharper, more menacing with each passing second. The faint candlelight flickered, casting shadows across his face and highlighting the malice in his eyes.
Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear her own thoughts. He advanced towards her, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the hunt. Like a waltz. She stepped back as he stepped forward, moving in rhythm with her heartbeat.
“Come now, Miss Elizabeth,” he coaxed, his tone mockingly soft. “Don’t fight me, and I promise to make this quick and painless.”
A cold chill ran down her spine, and she knew instinctively that his promise was a lie. The gleam in his eyes betrayed his words; he intended anything but kindness. When he reached out, his fingers curling toward her arm, she acted on pure instinct.
The years she had spent roaming Hertfordshire with the Lucas and Goulding boys had taught her precisely where to aim. Withall the force she could muster, she kicked forward, her foot connecting solidly with the most vulnerable part of his anatomy.
Wickham let out a guttural curse as he collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching his injured anatomy. “You little—” His face twisted in rage, but Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to finish.
She ran.
The drawing room door swung open as she dashed into the hallway, her skirts bunching in her fists as she pumped her legs with all her might. The house was eerily silent, and the absence of servants filled her with a sinking dread. Surely someone should have been there—anyone—but the corridors were empty, as if the entire household had vanished.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps, her chest burning as she pushed herself to go faster. Reaching the front door, Elizabeth yanked it open and stumbled outside into the night. The chilling air hit her face as she flung herself through. She could hear Wickham’s footsteps pounding behind her, accompanied by his furious curses.
"I swear, you stupid chit, you’ll pay for this!" he roared, his voice growing louder with every step.
Elizabeth stumbled down the front steps, her breath coming in frantic gasps. The world outside was cloaked in darkness, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the grounds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound vibrating in her chest. The scent of rain lingered in the air, but for now, the sky held back its deluge.
Her mind raced as she scanned her surroundings. The open path to the stables was too exposed, and the road leading away from the house would leave her vulnerable. To her left, the dense hedgerows offered the only possible refuge: the Netherfield maze.
If only Mama knew. Her wild, humorous thought was at severe odds with the terror in her mind, but it somehow lessened her panic.
