Page 151 of Near Pemberley

For the first time, uncertainty gave way to something much closer to fear. “Darcy…” His voice no longer carried its customary amusement. “You cannot seriously intend this.”

Darcy paused.

He met his eyes. “I have never been more serious.”

“Come-come now. Over a silly misunderstanding? I was just trying to make enough money… I was going back for her…” He attempted a smile.

But Darcy was not looking at him anymore.

One of the men got hold of him; the other collected the notes.

“Darcy! You have made your point.”

“Have I?”

“We need never meet again.”

Darcy stepped into the passage. He wondered whether this would satisfy Miss Elizabeth’s sense of justice. Behind him, he heard Wickham begin to protest once more.

“That was always my preference.”

He did not turn back.

Chapter XXX

Darcy dismissed the carriage a short distance from the house.

His driver looked at him with poorly concealed curiosity. Darcy imagined the reason was not difficult to discover. His coat had been brushed as well as circumstances allowed, yet no amount of care could entirely conceal the swelling beginning beneath one eye, nor the stiffness with which he descended.

He thanked his man and waited until the carriage disappeared from the front before turning towards the house.

His intention was simple. He would enter quietly by the side door, change his clothes before anyone noticed his condition, and then send for the physician at his own convenience. Georgiana need never know that morning had been spent in a garret above a public house, exchanging blows with George Wickham.

He reached the servants’ entrance without meeting a soul. For one hopeful moment, he believed fortune had finally decided to favour him.

The door opened before he could touch it. Mrs. Barnes stood upon the threshold. She looked at him pleasantly.

Then she looked properly.

Her expression changed at once. “Mr. Darcy!”

“It is considerably less alarming than it appears.” Darcy raised his hand.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“It is only a few bruises.”

She stared at him in horrified silence.

“I assure you…”

“No, sir.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said no.”

Mrs. Barnes had managed Darcy House for nearly thirty years. She had seen much. There was no point in defying her.