Darcy pondered the notion. “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were not pleased, but I cannot see them engaging in this kind of behavior. They enjoyed the connection. They are not violent. In fact, they are more averse to scandal than Bingley himself.”
“Miss Bingley nearly knocked you over in a bid to force an offer,” Fitz reminded him.
“That is true, but you know, I would not have expected it of her.” Darcy sipped his drink. “She would have liked to wed me for Pemberley—but I never had the sense that I was her only target.” Miss Bingley was anxious to marry a man of the first circles, but until the ball he would not have thought her desperate. Perhaps his intimacy with her brother had led her to act as she had—she certainly had a level of access to him she did not have with many other men of his station. She had seen Elizabeth as a rival, no doubt thanks to his impertinent remark about her fine eyes. Then, to have Elizabeth witness her failed attempt at compromising him . . .
“I cannot eliminate her,” he said begrudgingly. “Nor can I eliminate Bingley himself, of course.” He recalled Sir William Lucas’s thinly veiled hints at the ball. “Though I am not certain Miss Elizabeth’s sister returns his regard, he has raised expectations.”
“And you are no longer there to save him from an imprudent attachment,” Fitz replied with a snort. “He is justly served.”
Darcy wondered whether it was rather Miss Bennet who required saving but did not think of it for long. She had a father, and Mr. Bennet had been warned. Elizabeth’s predicament required his complete attention.
Fitz opened a drawer in the desk to withdraw a piece of paper. He took up a pen and handed it to Darcy. “Write them down. Miss Caroline Bingley. Mr. Charles Bingley. What think you of Hurst?”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. “I think it would be too much effort for Hurst to be involved in anything that required him to leave his port. I cannot say as much for his wife.”
Fitz shrugged. “Add them. We cannot rule them out.”
Darcy did so. He was by virtue of his experience a suspicious man, but Fitz was ruthless. It was a dismal business, making a list of his former friends and acquaintances who might have reason to harm him through Elizabeth. They went through his more recent business dealings, adding another name to the list and discarding several more.
“Who else have you disappointed lately?” Fitz asked.
He snorted. “Must we list them all? It will take a great deal of time.”
“Limit them to people who would have heard about Bingley’s little ball.”
Darcy rubbed his eyes. “That leaves out Crossley and Waring. They do not know Bingley, and the last I heard they were in Liverpool, trying to find investors for a shipping concern.”
“Ah. You were not interested, I take it?”
He shook his head. “If they wish to squander their principal on leaky boats and shoddy merchandise, that is their business. They should not have counted on my participation before they had spoken with me.”
His cousin nodded. “You would think that after you have turned away so many petitions they would know not to assume.”
Darcy shrugged. “I have not relayed these stories to anyone but you. Perhaps the others have not, either.”
Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are too discreet, cousin. Not all men deserve it.” He gestured at the paper. “Write the names down, and we shall discuss each one.”
Darcy did so. He stuck a line through Crossley and Waring. “Edgerton. He does not have the stomach for this sort of intrigue. Indeed, our business has concluded rather successfully for him.” Another name eliminated. Fawkner, Howard, Masterman, Seymour, Webb. All were discussed and dismissed. “Wickham.”
Fitz stood abruptly and began to pace. “Now there is one who never has a feather to fly with. It is highly suspicious he came to Hertfordshire when you had been there but a month, particularly after Ramsgate. He also knows you well. If anyone was going to discover your tendre for Miss Bennet . . .”
“Really, Fitz,” Darcy protested. “I do not have a tendre for Miss Elizabeth. I admire and respect her, that is true, but you must stop allowing your imagination to conjure up an attachment of that sort.”
His cousin’s expression was skeptical. “Do not lie to me. Worse yet, do not lie to yourself.”
Darcy tipped his head back against his chair and squeezed his eyes shut. “Her situation is such that I cannot have a tendre for her. If I did, I should have to act upon it.” He opened his eyes, determined to maintain his composure.
His cousin scratched his ear and released a weary sigh. “Have it your way.” He tapped the paper. “But whether you love her or only admire her, Wickham would not much care. Leave him on the list.”
“Wickham has spoken with Miss Elizabeth, told her his lies. He was not at the ball, so as far as he knows, she still believes him. He would have no reason to harm her and there is no money in it for him.”
“Unless he was hired by someone else,” Fitz concluded.
Darcy conceded the point and added Wickham to the list. “That leaves us with five names,” he said, setting the paper down. “Presuming there are not others out there who hold a grievance against me they have not yet voiced.”
Fitz tipped his head to the side and pulled a face. “Have you offended anyone else lately?” he asked.
“Other than Miss Elizabeth? No, I cannot say I have.”