“I shall see you in the deepest darkest prison I can find, cur,” rasped Bennet, unable to keep the rage from his voice. “You will rue the day you presumed to lay hands on my daughter.” Mr. Wickham, jackanapes that he was, offered a contemptuous laugh. “I think not, Mr. Bennet,” sneered he. “If you do not wish for everyone in the county to know of my tryst with your daughter, you will set me free and pay me for my silence.”
