“It’s because… I don’t know.” It was probably just a trick of the human mind, truly. After all, even if one wasn’t having opium visions, if someone instructed him to imagine something, he tended to picture what was described to him. But the truth didn’t seem all that important right at that moment. The closeness of Elizabeth’s body was important, the feel of her chest rising as she breathed, of her pulse pounding under the fragile layer of her skin. He never wanted to let go of her. “It’s because we have a bond.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I know that we do. It’s the only thing that explains why I have behaved the way that I have since I knew you were back.”
“How have you behaved?”
“I have been shameless.” Her hands on his chest, burrowing under his clothes to touch him.
“Have you?” he breathed.
“Oh, yes. And I haven’t been able to understand why.”
“Because you believe you should hate me?”
She drew away. “What? Why would you say that?”
He missed the closeness of her, and he pulled her back against him. “Because,” he said in a low, dark voice, “all I have done is make your life worse since I met you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I nearly killed you. I kept you captive on a pirate ship.”
“You saved me from those men. You killed them for me.”
“I stole your virtue. And now I’ve got you to sneak into my bedroom, which is quite scandalous.”
“You didn’t steal my virtue. I gave it to you. In fact, I seem to remember rather begging you to take it.”
He laughed, turning that memory over in his head. It seemed particularly fine now, the memory of her beneath him, surrounding him, little sighs escaping her mouth.
She ran her hands over his chest again. “And you didn’t get me to come here tonight either. I came on my own. And that’s what you’ve done for me. You’ve made me bold and brave. Without you, I’m invisible and mousy and proper. But when you’re here, I’m alive. I’m on fire.”
He sought her mouth and kissed her hard. This was all stupid, of course. He was nothing good for this woman. But she made him feel as if he weren’t utterly worthless, and he liked that. If she was so willing to let herself be destroyed, he didn’t know if he could stop her, anyway. He should take what she offered.
Hell, he was taking what she offered.
He gathered the skirt of her dress and pushed it up, baring her skin. “I want to feel your skin against mine,” he said in a throaty voice. “I want to feel all of your skin.”
She fumbled at his nightclothes. “Good idea. Very good idea, Darcy.”
He groaned.
She sighed. “The laudanum makes everything so nice.”
“Don’t like it so much,” he admonished, opening his eyes.
Her eyes were still closed. She was lying next to him, her night gown at her armpits, all of her lovely flesh bared, and he sucked in breath.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But it’s very hard not to like it, you know.”
He touched her breast.
She let out a tiny whimper.
He felt excitement go through him like a jolt, and surely, surely, that meant that he was growing erect—
But no.
He sighed. He shut his eyes, running his hands over her soft, soft skin. This would have to be enough, then.
She kissed him again. “I love you,” she murmured.
He kissed her forehead. “I love you too.” Right at that moment, he did, as little as it meant. “You’ll come back to me tomorrow night?”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course I will.”
* * *
Elizabeth meant to leave Darcy’s room while it was still night, but she underestimated her ability to resist the laudanum, and she fell asleep in his arms. When she woke up, sunlight was streaming through the windows, illuminating their bare bodies twisted amongst the bedsheets.
She wanted to stay with him. He was beautiful sleeping like that, and with light and shadows playing over the muscles on his chest and arms. He was gaunter than he had been when she had first known him, but he was still her Darcy, and he was still the most lovely man she thought she had ever seen.
She couldn’t stay, of course.
She shouldn’t have stayed as late as she did.
She didn’t have any idea how late it was, but she was fairly sure that it was still early enough to sneak back to her room. The sunlight still looked young, the light of early morning.
It only took her a few seconds to shrug back into her nightgown. She went to the door and opened it slowly. Peering out into the hallway, she held her breath. Would anyone see her?
But the hallway was mercifully empty.
Sighing with relief, she tiptoed out, closing the door to his room behind him.
She started down the hallway.
At the door to the foyer, she suddenly remembered that last night she’d whispered to Darcy that she loved him, and she was suddenly mortified. She was so caught up that she froze in place.
Oh, he’d said it back, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d probably felt cornered. She didn’t think it was her place to tell him that she loved him.
And besides, it made things problematic, because she had promised that she would not take more from him than he was willing to give. But she was afraid that she had just demanded love from him.
What if he found her to be a nuisance? What if he got rid of her because she was too much trouble?
She cringed. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought to herself.
And she flung open the door to the hallway.
And came face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Haversham, both of whom were dressed in their riding habits.
“Oh my,” said Mrs. Haversham, a look of horror on her face.
Elizabeth’s jaw worked. She tried to think of something to say, something to explain away her presence, but she could think of nothing.
So, she ran. She ran right past them, past the stairs, to her own wing, and into her bedroom.
She threw open the door, hurled herself inside, and collapsed against it.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
That had just happened, hadn’t it?
Well.
She was ruined.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mr. Bolton was massaging the bridge of his nose. He sat in a chair in a drawing room where he, Kitty, and Elizabeth were alone. “I don’t understand.”
Elizabeth felt ill. She wanted to blame it on the laudanum, but she hadn’t felt ill until after she’d been caught. And when she did try to vomit, nothing came up, so she knew it was nerves, nothing truly physical. She sat opposite him, her hands in her lap, her back ramrod straight. She was perfectly poised, perfectly still, perfectly quiet.
“Is this why you wanted to come here?” Kitty said, her voice high-pitched. She sounded more like their mother than ever. “To chase that man? Darcy?”
Elizabeth said nothing.
“Oh, Lizzy, how could you?” said Kitty. “He’s that dreadful man who left the Meryton Assembly to go and fight a duel and he’s gambled away his fortune and he is quite, quite dishonorable and—”
“He’s obviously dishonorable if he used your sister in this manner,” said Mr. Bolton. “I simply don’t understand it, I must say.”
Kitty wrung her hands. “We have to leave Rosings, of course. I’m having arrangements made now for our departure. We’ll be gone before luncheon. We’ll likely never be invited back.”
Elizabeth grasped handfuls of her skirt.
“Yes, this is rather dreadful, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bolton, looking her over. “I don’t understand.”
Elizabeth really wanted to vomit now. Her stomach was roiling.
“Why would you do this to everyone who has ever cared about you?” said Kitty. “We have never done anything except try to help you, and this is how you repay us?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t about
you,” she said in a soft voice.
“No? Then you did it because you were selfish?” Kitty demanded.
Elizabeth felt a lump starting to form in her throat, but she couldn’t give in to it. “Yes,” she whispered. “I wanted something for myself, and I thought no one would care if I took it.”
“Well, I care, Elizabeth, and our family cares,” said Kitty.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and the lump grew larger.
“I’ve heard that. I hear that you’re sorry.” Kitty’s voice was growing shrill. “But it doesn’t matter how sorry you are. You never should have done it.”
She nodded. “I know.”
They were all quiet.
Mr. Bolton took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance he’ll marry you? It wouldn’t fix everything, but it would repair things somewhat.”
She shook her head wordlessly.
“Oh, he is a villain,” said Mr. Bolton, shaking his head.
“Indeed,” said Kitty. “A dreadful villain.”
More silence.
Elizabeth was going to cry. The tears were coming, and she could feel them welling up—
She mustn’t. Yes, she suffered, but they suffered too now, and they didn’t deserve it. Neither did Jane, or her nieces and nephews, or even Nancy. But she couldn’t stop it. The tears spilled over anyway.
* * *
Darcy didn’t wake until sometime in the afternoon, and then only because someone was shaking him. He had been dreaming of Elizabeth’s skin, of his mouth on her skin, of slowly exploring every inch of her with his tongue. She was quivering and gasping under his touch, and his cock was so hard, it hurt.
Then he woke up.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was standing over him.
He scrambled to sit up, yanking at the bedsheets, afraid he wasn’t covered. “What are you doing in here?” It was worth noting that he didn’t really have an erection, and also that he should have done more to please Elizabeth the night before. He had been too consumed with opium, and it had been difficult to move his body at all. But tonight, when she came back, he would take less, and he would be able to pleasure her, and that would be something, anyway.
“You should probably leave this place,” said his cousin.
He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“No one is certain, of course, but everyone believes it was you that Miss Bennet was visiting last night. Her brother-in-law certainly bandied your name about before they left this morning. I think he was sorry that you weren’t awake. He was very angry, and I think he wanted some kind of satisfaction from you.”
Darcy felt all the blood drain out of his face. “Left? This morning?”
“Yes,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, arms folded over his chest.
Darcy rubbed his jaw. “Gone? She’s gone? Already? But I’ve just woken up.” How could this be? He had fallen asleep with her in his arms. Now, she had disappeared?
She wouldn’t be coming to his room that evening. Actually, blast it all, he should have offered to go to her room. Why was he allowing her to wander around in the house at night? It was so much more problematic for her if she were discovered—
“I remember helping you with Georgiana,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Now, Darcy was suddenly on his feet, his nostrils flaring. “Richard, I have told you—”
“Yes, yes, I know. We are not to speak her name in your presence,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But it is not only you who grieve her, Fitz. I do too. I cared about her. And you must see that I share some of the blame in all of it. I was the one who helped you get her away from that dreaded Wickham in the first place. Neither of us knew she was already carrying his babe at the time, and we both took her—”
“Stop.” Darcy was finding it hard to breathe.
“Look, I only bring it up because I seem to remember a conversation you and I had after her death. You were drunk, as usual back then. I hated the drink and what it did to you, but I find myself preferring the drunkard to the opium eater, for you seem to have lost all of your scruples.”
Darcy ran a hand through his hair. “You’re talking about the night when I talked to you about whores.”
“Yes, you said you were swearing off them. Off all women entirely until you were married, because you would not be responsible for hurting any woman, no matter her class or situation.”
Darcy laughed bitterly. “Yes, I well remember.”
“But that has gone by the wayside?” Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. “Now you are little better than Wickham—”
“Miss Bennet is not with child,” said Darcy. “I assure you of that.” He sank down in a chair next to his bed and hung his head between his knees. “But yes, I am little better than that cur. I accepted that long ago, the first time I treated Miss Bennet badly.”
“The first time…?” Colonel Fitzwilliam sat down across from him, at the foot of his bed. “What are you about, man?”
“I don’t know,” said Darcy. “I don’t know at all. I have done enough to destroy her, I suppose. This is the worst of it.”
“Well, you had better fix it,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Because you are not Wickham. I know it. You are a good man. Get up, wash your face, and act like a gentleman, for God’s sake.”
* * *
Elizabeth didn’t want to face Jane. She directed Kitty and Bolton to take her back to Longbourn, where she would have to be welcomed. Her mother still resided there, and it was her home. Besides, she could stand a bit of punishment, and Collins and Mary were punishment enough. Not counting her mother, who was likely to be beside herself in a fit of despair.
If she had any regrets, it was only for Jane and the children. Dash it all. It was awful that they should be hurt.
But the thing was, Elizabeth knew that no matter the cost, if given another chance, she would do it all the same again.
The night she had shared with Darcy had been worth it.
Hearing him whisper that he loved her, even if he’d only said it because he felt obliged, that was one of the best moments of her life. She wouldn’t trade it for anything. And especially now that her life was to be one long drab bit of sadness until she died. It was good to have something to hold onto. It was good to have a memory like that, something perfect and shining and glorious.
She replayed the moment over and over in her mind over the next few days. It was the only thing that sustained her.
Her mother was too out of sorts to even look at her.
Mary and Collins looked down their noses at her.
“You have besmirched the family name,” said Collins. “You have sinned against heaven and against earth, and you will pay the wages of those sins.”
The wages of sin are death, thought Elizabeth. But she would not die. Not yet. Even though death might have been mercy compared to the lectures of her sister and brother-in-law.
There were quite a few of them, punctuated by badly mangled quotations from the bible and other long musings that the two of them put together.
“You see, sister, you reap what you sow,” said Mary. “You have besmirched your own virtue, which you were to guard as a gift from heaven, and now you must be disgraced.”
“I know that other members of your family are in sadness because they fear the stain will spread to them,” said Collins. “But Mrs. Collins and I have kept a somber and staid existence here in our home. We will not miss the society of others.”
“No, indeed,” said Mary. “For there is much sin in the world.”
“It is good that you have come to us, sister,” said Collins, smiling at Elizabeth. “For now, we may place you under our tutelage and help you to humble yourself before the Lord thy God. Your soul will become bright and washed clean in his blood and you will praise his holy name.”
“Yes,” said Mary. “I think that you should begin with a fast, Sister.”
“A fast?” said Elizabeth. “You’re going to starve me?”
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br /> “Fast and pray,” said Mary. “And read the scriptures. God will speak to you.”
“Blessed are they who are brought low,” said Collins solemnly. “For they are shown their true wretched nature. Thou art a worm, sister. Thou art an insect. Thou art an unclean thing. Bow and scrape in the presence of thy God.”
“Mmm, well said, Husband.” Mary patted Collins’s arm. She smiled at Elizabeth. “Oh, Lizzy, you must repent. Repent of the sin which you regret so deeply. All will be forgiven in time. After you have completed your penance, you will be as the pure fallen snow.”
* * *
But that, of course, was the problem. Elizabeth didn’t regret it. She didn’t even want to regret it. She still thought it was one of the best nights of her life. She would not repent. Not in her heart.
If Collins and Mary refused to feed her, however, she would say whatever it is they wanted.
For the first day, however, they insisted on her fasting, no matter what she said. Her stomach growled and she felt ill.
That evening, she went to the study and got herself some books to try to take her mind off her empty stomach. She had read all the good books in the house already, of course, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t read them again. She was reminded of what it had been like to be locked in that room on Darcy’s ship, the scent of onions, the darkness, the pitch of the ship, the small circle of light cast by the lamp. She had read books then.
That was worse than this, she told herself. Though he did feed me, at least. She had gotten through it. She would get through this as well.
She fell asleep reading. When she woke up alone in the cold morning light, she remembered the way he had told her that he loved her. He shouldn’t have said it, because it wasn’t true. But, oh, she was glad that he had said it. She was glad she had the memory of those words. She had never thought any man would ever say them to her.
She dressed herself and began to read again.
There was a knock at the door. It was Mary. “Do you repent, sister?”
“Definitely,” said Elizabeth. “I repent wholeheartedly for my many sins. I beg your pardon and the pardon of our Lord in heaven. Now, may I come down for breakfast?”
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