by Rose Lorimer
She blushed at first, but as I continued to disparage her, she began to inhale and exhale forcefully. When I finished, she held her breath, came closer and dug her finger into my chest. “You want to hear what I think? Very well, I will oblige.” Her control was completely gone. Panting as if she had run a mile, she looked straight into my eyes. “You are right, Mr Darcy. Sometimes, you can be extremely rude, not with words, but with your behaviour. I never met a more aloof man in my entire life. But I know that is not you! I know it is because of the troubles you are facing. If I treat you kindly, as you pointed out, it is because of who you are, not what you have been lately. But knowing about your problems — the problems you shared with me — I am trying to be a friend and encourage you to leave behind your self-pity, and face the fact that everybody has problems. It is not something that happens only to you. You need to learn to move on and leave the past behind!”
“Move on?” I asked between my teeth, bringing my hands to my forehead, dislodging my hat as it fell and was taken by the wind. “If you only knew what happened, what I have done… you would not say such an… atrocious thing!”
“Atrocious? Tell me then, when were you threatened to be banished from the place you called home for your entire life, hmm? My father’s estate…” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “Do you know my father’s estate is entailed away from the female line? As I have no brother, it will never belong to another Bennet after my father is gone. It will go to a distant cousin I never met. If my father passes away before… if he passes away before me or any of my other sisters are married, this cousin will be in his right to throw us into the streets, forcing us to rely on charity to live. Charles has already said he will look after us if such a thing happens.” She paused, her lips trembling, tears finally finding their way down her face. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be an unmarried woman in such a situation? The ridiculous laws in this country! It is an outrage! Our pitiable situation is so well known that every single man that comes to our neighbourhood cannot hear of anything else but ‘how beautiful the Bennet sisters are’, or ‘what good wives they will make’. For the last three years, since my coming out, my mother cannot think of anything other than marrying me to any man who might accept me.”
I flinched at the bitterness of her words. She did not say ‘marry us’. She said ‘marry me’. She was being forced to marry any man who would have her. Yet, she remained single; and I knew it was because she was an intelligent woman. Men were afraid of women like Elizabeth, as she had cleverly pointed out during that dinner in my London house.
I felt a new feeling invading me: shame. I had been so focused on my suffering I had forgotten how other people could also have trials —as painful as my own in their ways.
“Elizabeth,” I began, moving towards her, wanting to apologise for forcing her to voice her own torments.
But she raised her hand, shaking her head, stopping me midway. “The difference between us, Mr Darcy, is that my problems do not stop me from doing what I believe is right. I confess I tried to fit into the marriage scheme, but the men I have met so far only wanted a warm and headless body. I could not bow to this. I decided I would never marry unless for mutual love and respect, no matter what. I decided I would pursue things beyond embroidery or sewing silly pillows or countless hours playing the pianoforte. But I knew it would cost me. My mother never gave me praise or words of encouragement. She repeatedly says as impertinent and outspoken as I am, no man will ever propose to me, much less fall in love with me…” She paused again, turning her back to me. “I cannot even blame her for hurting me. She is right. Being myself has cost me more than I ever imagined. I will never be good enough for any man.”
Her last words were like a punch in my stomach. I had no idea how difficult her life could be — or how deeply it could hurt her. For the first time in my life, I thought of how unfair a woman’s life could be. I remembered the conversation we had about women’s lives and what was expected from them. It had been nothing more than a clever banter to disguise Elizabeth’s true heartache.
How little she asked to be happy. Not riches or social position; just love and respect. And how wrong she was. She was wonderful. I would propose marriage to her here and now… if only… I could.
She turned back, keeping her eyes averted from me, as she continued, “You may have your problems, sir, but you can choose if they will defeat you. You can decide where to go, and when you go. You are independent, resourceful, master of your own destiny. You can choose whom you will marry. I cannot give myself such luxury.” She lowered her voice as if defeated. “And now I know I will never have what my heart desires.”
The pain in her words snapped something inside me. I had not caused that pain, but I had increased it. Again, I was causing pain to a woman. Where she had given me kindness, I returned rejection. That was what I had become: a broken and bitter man. I had condemned myself to a life without love and now I resented the world for it, hurting everyone foolish enough to care for me.
Unable to keep my farce any longer, I decided to tell her my secret. “You are right about everything, but for one point,” I replied slowly, gathering the courage to say what I had to say. “I am not an honourable man, Elizabeth. Somehow, my aunt learned about Georgiana’s indiscretion. To keep her silence, she forced my hand and demanded I marry my cousin Anne. And I accepted it. I—”
She raised widened eyes and a whisper choked in her throat before she could voice anything. By the movements on her shoulders, I knew she was struggling to breathe, but I could not understand why. It could not be for Georgiana as she knew that already.
I did not know what to do. All the blood drained from her face. The despair in her red eyes was beyond any words could ever describe.
Her face hardened as she whispered, “You are… mar—”
And then, she ran away.
Chapter 14
Elizabeth
I did not know where I was going. Burning tears blinded me. But I knew where I wanted to go — as far as possible from Mr Darcy. I could not bear to hear any other word. He was married! The thought squeezed my chest. Why should a married man be the one to interest me and hold my heart? I stumbled, collapsing on the cold ground, without strength to stand up again, sobbing, breathless. But I could not stay there. He would find me. I needed to run.
Freezing air dried my eyes as I ran through that unknown land, my world spinning around me.
“You do not believe in ghosts, Mr Darcy?”
The old Mr Darcy had returned. Aloof and distant. Strangely, I had been happy for it. Having seen him so vulnerable and hurt had broken my heart. No one should be forced to carry such guilt and self-recrimination. From my perspective, as painful as it all could be, he was not as hopeless as he thought. There was always a way out, like the painting in his drawing room. Could he not see it? He just needed to find the proper encouragement and time — and someone who could love him and support him to overcome it.
Your fool! Dreaming you could be that person.
That remembrance caused my stomach to churn. How fast had my treacherous heart taken to fall in love with a man I knew almost nothing about, just because he had given me a modicum of attention? Praised me?
Was he toying with my feelings? Laughing behind my back for seeing me as a simpleton?
Married!
Oh, Lord! I was besotted. He was so intelligent, so knowledgeable of the world. His convictions were so strong and he was so determined in them. So handsome. How could I not admire such a man? If only I had not seen him so hurt in the rain, I would have succeeded in keeping my distance. No matter. Any feelings I might have had were now smashed by the simple fact he belonged to another. That he had never been free to even look at me.
I could see everything clearly now: his distance, the many occasions he had ignored me, avoided me — all because he was already married.
“I do not want your attentions, Miss Bennet. Stay away from me.”
He was no
t toying with me. I had been the one throwing myself at his feet!
What a shame! Was it possible to die of a broken heart and despair? He was married!
“You are right about everything, but for one point. I am not an honourable man, Elizabeth.” He married his cousin to save his sister. I could not fault him for it. I would have done the same for Jane. But that he was not an honourable man? Was it because he was having feelings for me and betraying his wife? I saw the way he looked at me.
“NO!” I shouted to the seagull faraway in the sky, trying to purge my pain. Gasping for air, I untied the ribbons of my bonnet, throwing it to the wind. A fountain of tears ran down my cheeks, falling on the land beneath; the same land I now cursed for witnessing my torment and humiliation. Land’s End deserved to be called cursed, not because of ghosts from the past, but for monsters of the present.
I tried another deep breath and ran again, abandoning my dreams, letting them drown in the sea of sorrow and regret and shame. I did not care where I was going. I only wished the ground could open and swallow me, sparing me from facing anyone ever again.
All this time, I had been flirting with a married man…
I ran and ran, my lungs burning with the cold air, my ears deaf, my skin numb. And when I thought I could not run anymore, I forced myself further, welcoming the discomfort of the freezing wind.
An excruciating pain hit my ankle and spread throughout my whole leg, and I fell.
At least one of my wishes would come true. Mr Darcy would abandon me and nobody would ever find me until it was too late. Unable to move, I surrendered to despair, sobbing, not caring whether I could die of the cold. Actually, the idea pleased me.
I only hoped the pain in my leg was from a nasty cut, deep enough to drain all the blood from my body and throw me into the oblivion of a shameless world.
Chapter 15
Darcy
I could not understand what had just happened. I rubbed my face, forcing my mind to work, stunned by her last words. “You are marred…”
I shook my head. I knew her opinion of me could not be the best at the moment. I knew I was too broken and too damaged. But hearing it from her lips?
As a heavy burden hanging on my neck, I assessed my situation, contemplating my pathetic existence at the last portion of the English continental land. I had fought and pushed away the only woman who had made me feel alive, who had made me hope again, the only one who had inspired in me a desire to share my life, to love and be loved. What was wrong with me? No wonder she thought I was mar—
A realisation struck me. My heart stopped, my whole body froze; her last words painfully fitting together. Not “you are marred”, but “you are married”!
My God…
She could not believe it.
Or could she? I raised my hands and raked them through my hair as every one of our interactions flooded my mind, every conversation and exchange of words, every question and reply, every avoidance and secret kept. All of them, put together… God… they all made sense. She thought I was married!
“No,” I whispered. She had misunderstood everything!
Had she?
My last words returned. “You are right about everything, but for one point. I am not an honourable man, Elizabeth. Somehow, my aunt learned about Georgiana’s indiscretion. To keep her silence, she forced my hand and demanded I marry my cousin Anne. And I accepted it. I—”
Oh, God! She had interrupted me before I could finish.
I needed to find her and explain, beg for her forgiveness — on my knees, if necessary. What she must be thinking of me?
I looked around and saw her fleeing figure disappearing in the distance. I ran after her as if the devil had his whip lashing my back. What kind of cad did she think I was?
The married kind who flirts with young ladies!
I tripped and almost lost my balance. When I raised my eyes again, she was gone!
I stopped, bending on my knees to catch my breath, stunned by the enormity of my stupidity. Did I really need to lose her to realise how much I needed her? It was more than admiration, more than just the way she made me feel, happier and complete; more than the natural attraction of a lonely man and to beautiful woman. I wanted her in my life forever. I truly loved her!
Stupid!
I began to run again. Had I ruined everything beyond repair? I shook my head, sending away the sombre feeling, focusing on finding her. “Elizabeth!” I shouted. It was getting late. I needed to find her.
Apart from the small grove at the top of the cliff, the low vegetation could not hide a person with burgundy attire. She should be there somewhere, among the few trees, or behind them. I ran up the hill towards the grove, and froze at the sight ahead of me. Her colourful figure was sprawled on the ground.
I ran again until I was very close, the strong wind muffling my approach. I stopped and knelt beside her, unsure how she would receive me. She was crying — her hands and face covered with dirt and mud. “Elizabeth…”
She startled and looked up at me, her red eyes filled with pain and shame. Without a word, she averted her gaze.
“Elizabeth, please forgive me. I have been a fool—”
“Stop!” she said with a trembling voice. “Please, sir. Do not say another word, I beg you. I understand everything now…” She paused, drying the fresh tears with the back of her sleeve.
“I am not married!” I burst out. I suspect she would not give me another chance if I had waited.
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. When she raised her gaze to me, her countenance was confused. “You are not married?”
As I shook my head, her confusion gave way to sadness.
“We both know it changes nothing. You told me to stay away, that you did not want my attention. I shall do that, sir. You need not worry.”
“Oh, Elizabeth.” I sat beside her, looking at my hands. “What I said… it is not true. I-I want you more than the air I breathe,” I whispered.
She widened her eyes.
What are the proper words to amend such a circumstance? “After… these two weeks, I have come to… love you. I love you, Elizabeth, but you need to understand. You do not know what I have done. And when you do, perhaps you will understand...” I inhaled sharply. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I beg for it nevertheless.”
She tried to move and winced.
I looked down where she put her hand and gasped. “Elizabeth, your foot! Are you hurt?”
“I was running without paying attention to my way. I did not see the hole. I tried to pull my foot out, but it hurt too much, so I gave up. It was not like I wanted go anywhere else.”
I could not look at her. “I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you.”
A chuckle broke my guilt. I looked at her confused.
“So, you are not married then?” she asked, something hidden in her tone.
I felt a sparkle of hope coming to life. “No, I am not.”
Our gazes met.
“And you said you… love me?” she continued, her confused gaze staring at me. “I do not understand.”
“Yes, I love you.” I frowned at the beauty before me. Elizabeth was a woman among thousands; her kind heart just as beautiful as she herself. “I do not blame you for being confused. I have been such a fool, but I love you with with every inch of my body.”
She chuckled as tears ran down her face. “Do you?”
I smiled. “I do, but I will need more than your patience to explain everything — if you would ever be so kind as to hear me.”
She shivered and smiled back. “Then do it. Tell me.”
She was offering a truce. I sighed in relief, raising a quick grateful prayer. I would take it. I would take anything she could offer me. I reached for her hand. It was wet and cold. I looked back at her, concerned. “Let us return and I will tell you everything once you have a restoring cup of tea — and I, a large glass of brandy.”
She nodded.
I st
ood up and pulled her hand, but she winced again, looking down at her leg. “I think I sprained my ankle. I cannot pull it out.”
“Will you allow me to touch your leg? Perhaps I can help.”
She blinked, but nodded again.
I knelt down beside her and pulled her skirt up to her knee. Her stocking was ripped, the flesh beneath it quite bruised and bleeding. I lifted my gaze to her in dismay. She stared back, her lips tight. I lowered my eyes and gently pulled her leg. She groaned and put her hand on top of mine, squeezing it. I stopped.
“Do not stop. I can handle it,” she said between her teeth.
Consumed by guilt, I determined I would not waste another minute with further nonsense. By God, I would take this opportunity and would be happy with Elizabeth.
Perhaps that was the miracle I had been waiting for after all.
I pulled again and a mighty sound came from beneath, opening the ground, swallowing us into a nauseating darkness.
Chapter 16
Darcy
Oh, my head hurts…
I opened my eyes and blinked several times, but there was no difference. I saw nothing. The smell of something rotten reached my nostrils as a metallic taste filled my mouth. Was it blood? I gagged and spit it out. I tried to sit up, but despite the darkness the whole place seemed to be spinning. I lay down again, my discomfort stronger than my disgust for the moistened ground.
