Oh my. Has it really been almost a year since I have updated? Wow... time flies. I can't believe I'm finished with sophomore year! Well, not quite. I still have a Chemistry exam to do tomorrow. But then I'm a junior! An upper classwoman! But it's been so long... I've probably lost my fan base by now. Oh well. If anyone is out there, I hope you enjoy this! I'm sorry that it's short. It doesn't really make up for the wait, does it?
"So. George." His voice was threatening as his green eyes became stony and hard. A hand clenched by his side s he took a step forward, causing the other man to step back. "Would you like to tell me exactly what mischief you have been doing this time?"
Wickham took another step back at the intensity in the other man's voice. His eyes shifted nervously, looking for a way out, and he swallowed hard, but he tried to cover and regain his calm and debonair demeanor.
"Honestly, Darcy, must you always think the worst of a fellow?" This question was punctuated by a small smile and a laugh, but the laugh was tiny and not as hearty as usual and the smile quickly faded as he saw that the other man's face had remained unchanged. He shifted uneasily under the steady gaze from the other man's burning eyes. Receiving no reply, he cleared his throat and turned his back, preferring to gaze over the water and the crashing waves rather than face such intensity. "I truly enjoy being around your sister. She is very... gifted."
"'Gifted.'" The reply was soft, but it did not mask the raging tide that coursed through it.
"'Gifted,' you say. Yes, she is 'gifted'. She has many talents to be sure. But... maybe you weren't referring to those."
Wickham suppressed a shiver as the voice drew closer, becoming harder with every syllable, cutting through the crashing waves, every word distinct, threatening.
"Tell me, Wickham. Do you enjoy spending time with a talented young woman? Or do you enjoy spending time with a rich young woman?"
"Why, I enjoy her personality of course!" The words died as they left the other man's mouth, as he whirled only to again be face to face with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"Really?" The question was cold and disbelieving. Darcy turned away with a sharp movement, exhibiting his disdain, and walked along the shore for a few paces. He spoke without looking at the man behind him, his voice a warning. "Do not forget, I know you, Wickham. You cannot fool me as you fool others. I was in college with you. I grew up with you! I heard the stories. Hell, I witnessed some of those stories. I know how you followed the wealthy girls even while you consorted with the whores-"
Here, he was interrupted by a sharp bark of laughter.
"Whores! My dear Darcy, ALL women are whores! Yes, even yoru precious sister is a whore, for all her innocence!"
The other man stood silent and rigid, frozen in place by such an outburst. For a moment, the words hung between the two men, punctuated by the waves throwing themselves forcefully against the grey rocks. Both were still, Wickham gauging Darcy and Darcy digesting what he had just heard. In the next moment, Darcy had whirled and, crossing the distance that spanned the two impossibly fast, had his hand pressed against the other man's throat, face aflame with fury and rage.
"You are a disgrace to the race of man," he snarled. "We are supposed to be generous, yet all you do is take. We are given talents to benefit the world and other and you choose not to use them or simply squander them for your own selfish purposes. We are to protect the innocent, the less worldly, the less fortunate, but you simply take advantage of them!"
Filled with disgust, Darcy thrust the choking man away from him, causing the other man to stumble and almost fall upon the slippery rocks.
"It is time someone gave you the thrashing you deserve and should have received a long time ago," Darcy said slowly. "I intend to deliver it for the harm you have done to me and mine. A duel, Wickham, a day from now. Let us say at ------ o'clock, at ---shire, just outside of town. Swords, of course."
With that, he turned away and paced down the beach, not even pausing as he took out his handkerchief and wiped his hand thoroughly, as though there was some residue of filth upon it. Upon reaching his sister, he took her arm gently, ignoring the woman she was sitting next to.
"Come, Georgianna," he whispered to her. "We are leaving." To the woman, who had picked up her knitting and made to follow them, he said, "Thank you Mrs. Younge, but we no longer have need of your services. You may stop by tomorrow to receive your pay up to today."
As Fitzwilliam and his sister left, he stared out across the water. A man still stood on the shore, unmoved from the spot where he had been left like a useless piece of garbage.
"Until tomorrow, George." The words were whispered, heard by no one except the man who uttered them. "Until tomorrow."
Okay, I probably don't deserve it 'cause I've made you wait so long, but I'll ask anyway.
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