"Get up, coward, and fight me like a man," Darcy commanded as he landed a kick in Mr. Creedance's stomach.
"What's wrong, Darce?" Mr. Creedance moaned.
"What's wrong?" Darcy repeated as he lifted Creedance by his collar. "What's wrong? Do you think I'm blind? Stupid? That I don't see the way you look at her? I know you want her, but she is mine."
Creedance smiled slyly. "So, you noticed, did you? She's too good for you, you know. Did you notice the way she takes my arm when we walk? The way she smiles when I walk in a room, and sees to my comfort well before she worries about yours? Or were you too busy walking around your big, lonely house while I was spending time getting to know your lovely wife? Tell me, how do you think she'll like living in my London house? A country miss like her, she'll make a perfect mistress." At this last insult, Darcy pulled back one fist and punched his old college acquaintance square in the eye. He released the now limp man's collar and he fell gracelessly to the ground at Darcy's feet.
As he looked down on his adversary trying to decide what to do with the man, Mr. Darcy heard the door creek open behind him. He turned quickly, expecting to see servants investigating the sounds, and stared directly into the confused face of his wife.
"Elizabeth…" he whispered.
"I heard it, William. I heard all of it."
"Do you…do you love him?" Darcy asked softly, gesturing at the limp man on the floor.
"William, of course not!" Elizabeth answered, stepping forward and slipping her arms around his neck. "I love you, only you, always you," then nuzzled her face into her husband's strong chest. Darcy wrapped his arms around his wife's small waist, sighed, and buried his face in her soft hair.
"Are you drunk?" asked Lizzy, smelling his breath.
"Maybe…yes." Murmured Darcy, pulling her closer.
Elizabeth sighed, then asked, "What do we do with him?"
"Have the servants pack his things, I suppose. I'm certainly not letting him stay." Darcy growled at the end of his sentence and tightened his grip on Elizabeth's waist.
His growl and grip sent a shiver down Elizabeth's spine, and she pulled back from his chest, bit her lip, and looked up at him through her lashes, knowing that even sober Darcy couldn't resist that expression.
"Oh, Lizzy…" Darcy almost moaned.
"Have the servants pack Mr. Creedance's things and remove him at once. Meet me in your bedchamber once he's gone," she said softly. She slipped out of his arms, gave Mr. Creedance a good kick, and walked out of the door.
Darcy knew what it meant when his wife looked at him like that, and a footman (Darcy wouldn't trust Creedance alone with any of the female servants, and he frankly feared for the man's safety if Mrs. Reynolds were to find out why he was being removed—not that he would sympathize with any injuries the villain sustained, but if his housekeeper was known to injure guests, it might hurt Georgiana's chances when she came out) was dispatched to collect the man's things, while two more were assigned to remove him to the nearest public road, regardless of his ability to attain passage to another location. Tomorrow, he decided, would be soon enough to write his associates in London and ruin his chances of doing any successful business. His Lizzy, after all, was waiting for him. And he didn't entirely trust his judgment, or his handwriting, to write the necessary letters until he had sobered.
He departed for his chamber.