A/N: This story started out as a chapter for my revenge series, "Best Served Cold", but when it got to 9,000 words and was only half finished, I decided to break it out. It is definitely on the revenge meme, so be advised. The chapters are short, and I expect it to be done in a couple weeks.

P.S. I thought the title would be anachronistic as it was too new, but it turns out the phrase was used by the Grimm brothers in the 18th century, and it was old at the time.

Also, don't bother trying to work out the timeline. This presupposes some vague but undefined changes in the order of things.

Wade

"Mr Wickham! I would have a word about your account!"

Elizabeth Bennet startled at the abrupt words coming from Mr Kendall, the town blacksmith. Despite it being mid-November, the man wore his usual garb of a leather vest, leaving his massive arms bare. She was well-aware that there were no small or weak blacksmiths in the world; but Mr Kendal, with arms bigger than most men's legs, would stand out even among his peers. He was generally regarded as a fair man, but not one you should cross. Having him there in the middle of town yelling at a militia officer while waving a paper in his hand was downright disconcerting—although, to be fair, what would sound like yelling to an ordinary man was probably how Mr Kendall sang lullabies to his children. He was not built for subtlety.

Before the interruption, Elizabeth had been enjoying a leisurely stroll with the man who had happened upon her as she left the haberdashery. She was most certainly not overly enamoured with him, nor could she afford to encourage a penniless soldier; but she did enjoy his company, and there was nothing wrong with a short stroll through the middle of a busy street with a handsome officer, so long as she did not descend into the flirtatious silliness her younger sisters engaged in.

The appearance of the blacksmith left her curious, but she thought it was likely something that should be settled easily enough. Mr Wickham had only been there a short time, so how far in debt could he possibly be?

Beside her, she saw Mr Wickham slightly tense, but then he said with his usual jovial air, "Ah, Mr Kendall, I do not have the funds on my person, but I shall pay you directly."

"That is not what I hear," the mountain of a man rumbled.

Elizabeth startled at that, and cautiously stepped away from both men, whose business was certainly none of hers.

She became slightly uncomfortable when Mr Wickham sidled sideways to match her. What was he about? She still had confidence that whatever their disagreement was, it should be solved amicably, but she could not like the motion.

"Who did you hear it from?" Mr Wickham asked, which she thought was a reasonable enough question, though hardly the point, since he either owed payment or he did not.

"I had a visitor suggesting I look carefully at my accounts, and the amount you owe is… troubling… and overdue."

She slid sideways a bit more, and Mr Wickham seemed to unconsciously follow her, which began to make her feel nervous. She certainly had no part in this dispute.

"If someone is slandering my good name, I should like to know who it is," Mr Wickham snapped defiantly.

The blacksmith stepped a few paces closer. "Does it matter? He made no accusations, but simply suggested it might be prudent to check my accounts, since the militia will not be here all that long and most of the officers are not especially flush."

Not liking the sound of what seemed likely to devolve into an argument, though wondering exactly who this mysterious interloper was, Elizabeth took one more subtle step away, only to be followed a moment later by Mr Wickham, which made no sense at all.

Elizabeth knew Mr Kendall about as well as any gentlewoman was likely to know the town blacksmith, which was not well at all. She had very little to do with that sort of man, but she at least knew what everyone did: that Mr Kendall's reputation for fairness was generally regarded as unimpeachable.

"It matters a great deal," Mr Wickham continued. "My good name is all I have, and I should not like it slandered."

Elizabeth thought he sounded far too whiney for her tastes. She idly reflected that, if he thought having to guard his reputation was bothersome for a soldier, he should try being a woman for a week.

Mr Kendall looked at her in a kindly, paternal sort of way. "You should not be here, Miss Elizabeth."

Speaking of reputations, she saw several people coming out of the shops, and thought the blacksmith was being sensible. If things continued their course, she might want to be well clear of it, so she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear clearly.

"I could not agree more, Mr Kendall. I am barely acquainted with this man. I only met him by chance as I returned from the haberdashery and walked with him just to be polite. I shall leave the two of you to your business. She hoped that would be sufficient to quell any supposed connection between her and Mr Wickham, and she mightily wished she had not championed him quite so vigorously on first acquaintance. She was triply glad she never shared his supposed misfortunes with anyone other than Jane.

She walked away fast enough that the man could not follow… at a pace that was just slightly short of unseemly, while Mr Wickham seemed intent on brazening it out.

"I say, that is rather rude of you to imply anything untoward, Mr Kendall."

With that, all shreds of desire to be in the middle of the altercation fled, and Elizabeth felt well quit of the men as she rounded the corner of her Uncle Philips' office at close to a trot.