Chapter 17 - All For His Sake

'How dare you!'

Darcy stood rigidly in the library at Millford House, clutching the chair back in the vain hope that it might recover some of his self-control. He stared furiously at the figure slouching carelessly against the bookshelf, seeming merely mildly miffed yet somewhat pleased with himself.

'How dare you ingratiate yourself with my sister in such a manner? She is but 15! You have the nerve to use a young girl and persuade her to leave all her family and friends purely for your own gain! Have you no decency? No morality? Evidently not! You will leave Millford House immediately and if you treasure your existence on Earth you shall never seek to impose yourself upon myself, my sister or my friends. Do you understand?'

Before Wickham could make the sardonic comment that he had undoubtedly formed in his mind, Darcy stalked across to the door and opened it to find the startled footman standing dutifully to attention in the hall. 'Make arrangements for a carriage to be readied. *Mr Wickham* is leaving.' As the footman left to do his bidding, Darcy turned back into the library and shut the door behind him. This time Wickham spoke before Darcy could begin.

'And how are you going to keep me away from your most precious sister and friends? You seemed to have made rather a hash of it, if I was able to get this far.'

'You.'

Wickham easily overrode him, his eyes widening with the thrill of the argument. 'And believe me, I took little enjoyment in wooing your sister. Would that she had brains and beauty to match her fortune.'

Darcy could not hold back as he rushed at Wickham and held him by his shirt front. 'You bastard! Have you made nothing of yourself these past four years? So that is why you went after Georgiana.'

But Wickham was not listening. Being near to Darcy after so long, all those beautiful memories came flooding back; watching his every movement as he walked around a room, that first kiss behind the pillar at Almacks, their night of glorious sex.Wickham could not resist as he leaned closer to touch Darcy's lips with his own. 'No, this is why...'

Before they made contact, Darcy pushed him away, still retaining his grip on the front of Wickham's shirt. He glared disbelievingly at him. 'What! That is why? Because of your misguided lustfulness? No! You shall never have me! I do not want you, I do not want any man! 'Tis immoral and distasteful - I will not sink to your level, George Wickham.'

'Oh, so I am to be ashamed of me feelings, am I?' he raged. 'At least I am honest to myself, unlike you, oh-so-high-and-mighty. I am proud of what I feel. I am honourable.'

'Honourable?! You call plotting against a childhood friend and his sister for money and revenge "honourable"?'

There was a short hiatus as Darcy released him from his hold in repulsion. Wickham managed to disguise his stumbling and, somewhat shakily, 'Revenge? Hah! You think too highly of yourself, old man. I care nothing for you.' He glared defiantly at the face that had been so dear to him, and saw not one trace of regret. He knew then that he had lost. What had been could never return, no matter how hard he tried. What to do?

Drawing himself upright, he managed a semblance of his old cocky self. 'I hear you are still at it with that blond half-wit, Bingley isn't it? Does his rich background make him a more satisfactory whore?' he said rashly, his judgement clouded by the pain of loss boiling within him.

Darcy replied in a shocked tone, 'There is *nothing* of that nature between myself and Bingley! How did.' He was silent as he carefully contemplated the meaning of Wickham's last few words. He reared back stiffly in surprise. 'So, you were jealous.'

'No!' Wickham's slightly panicky expression gave him away. 'No, I, but.'

There was a jarring knock at the door and both men heaved a sigh of annoyance and relief mixed. 'Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but the carriage be ready for Mr. Wickham.' Darcy mumbled a reply and the maid bobbed away politely. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, but then Wickham began, with a resolved and defiant expression upon his face,

'You know, Darce, there are times when I quite moan with despair for your having left me. But by God, I have never hated you as much as I do at this very moment. Look at what you have reduced me to! Because of you and your high-handed dismissal of me, I have become a man possessed. But mark my words, Henry, you shall be made to suffer as I have, and I alone will be the one to implement that suffering. You have not seen the last of me.'

Wickham stepped towards the door, half-expecting, half-hoping that Darcy would respond. But he remained stonily silent, glaring at him fixedly.

'Goodbye, Henry.' He opened the door, went through, and shut it behind him.

Only when Wickham's footsteps down the hall had faded, did Darcy release a shuddering breath.