Page 128 of A Debt Inherited

“If any man waits beyond the gate, I want his face remembered.”

Hill’s expression did not alter. “It shall be done, sir.”

Darcy and Bennet crossed to the study. The noon heat pressed against the windows, and Bennet had ordered the curtains drawn halfway, enough to dull the glare upon the desk without darkening the room. The ransom note lay beside the map. His cane stood within reach.

Darcy stopped near the bookcase, where the shelf-shadow crossed his coat. From Bennet’s place beside the desk, he could see only the line of Darcy’s shoulder and the stillness of his hand.

Outside, gravel sounded beneath hooves.

The latch lifted. Hill opened the door.

“Mr Wickham, sir.”

Wickham entered with his hat in his hand and courtesy arranged upon his face. “Mr Bennet. I am obliged by your receiving me.”

“You are fortunate I have chosen to do so.”

Wickham’s smile held, but only just. “Then we may come directly to business. What answer am I to carry?”

“I have asked a gentleman of greater means to assist me.”

“Have you?” Wickham’s gaze moved once about the room. “A banker?”

Darcy stepped from the shadow. “Good morning, Wickham.”

The hat shifted in Wickham’s hand. For an instant, his face lost all colour.

Darcy stopped three paces from him. “Certain accounts are better settled in person.”

Wickham recovered with creditable speed. “Mr Bennet,” he said, without taking his eyes from Darcy, “am I to understand that Mr Darcy speaks for you?”

“You are.”

A crooked smile touched Wickham’s mouth. “Well, Darcy. We are head to head again.”

“No,” Darcy said. “You are to answer questions.”

Wickham’s smile thinned. “Questions are costly under the present circumstances.”

“Then answer quickly,” Bennet said.

Darcy took up the ransom note. “Miss Bennet is alive?”

“She was when I left her.”

Bennet’s fingers closed upon the chair back. Darcy did not look towards him.

“Unharmed?” Darcy asked.

“You choose an ugly implication.” Wickham’s eyes sharpened. “Miss Bennet’s virtue is not the article for sale.”

“Then you will have no objection to proving she remains able to say so herself.”

Wickham’s colour rose. “You question my honour—”

“Mr Wickham,” Bennet said, “do not bring so fragile a thing into a room where it cannot survive examination.”

Wickham’s mouth tightened. “If you want proof, Darcy must come with me.”