“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 was
hed 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?”
“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?”
Mary furrowed her brow. “I do not believe you are truly penitent, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth groaned. “I am exceedingly penitent. I am starving, and it is barbaric not to feed me.”
“Fast and pray,” said Mary, bowing her head. She left Elizabeth alone.
But hours later, her mother came to her room, with Mary and Collins in tow.
“Oh, wonderful news,” said her mother, clapping her hands together. “I had given up on you, Lizzy. I cannot believe it! After all these years.”
Mary and Collins didn’t look so happy.
“I have given him my consent,” said Collins. “But truly, I do not know what lesson you will have learned from such a turn of events. In some ways, I think you are being rewarded for your transgression.”
“Yes, it would be better if you reflected on your sins for some time longer,” said Mary.
“What are you all on about?” said Elizabeth, who was snappish from hunger.
“Although I do think he seemed a bit sickly,” said her mother. “You’ll want to have a son as soon as you can, or he might up and die on you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth looked back and forth between the three of them. “Have a son? Are you all stark raving mad?
“Oh, darling.” Her mother reached for Elizabeth’s hands and clasped them. “You are to be married. Mr. Darcy came to ask Mr. Collins for your hand. He has just left not a quarter of an hour ago.”
Elizabeth pulled back her hands. “Married? But…” Why was he doing this? Did he truly love her after all?
“Yes, I’m so pleased,” said her mother. “I always knew you could make a good match. Well, this one has squandered a good deal of his fortune, but they say he still has his estate, and that is something. They are not making any more land, you know, Lizzy.”
“He didn’t want to see me?” Elizabeth asked. Maybe Collins had kept Darcy away. Maybe he had asked after her, but been told—
“Oh, he seemed in a hurry,” said Collins.
Her mother patted her cheek, grinning. “But don’t you worry about that. You’ll see enough of him once you’re wed.”
Indeed.
Except he was only marrying her out of some misguided idea of honor. He had come here because he felt trapped into the marriage. After what had happened in his past, he wouldn’t have allowed her to be ruined, not after what had happened with his sister. He was doing his duty, that was all.
That was all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elizabeth hadn’t wanted this. She hadn’t wanted to put him in this kind of a position. She was the one who had acted recklessly, not him, and he shouldn’t have to give up what he wanted for someone like her.
She was not the kind of wife a man like him should have.
Darcy should have a young wife. A pure wife. A proper wife.
Not a woman who would bring scandal down on her entire family just to be near a man. She was a horrid person, and she couldn’t imagine that she would make a good wife. No, she was corrupt through and through.
She wished that she would have woken up earlier that morning. If it had still been dark, she would have made it back to her own room without incident. No one would have seen her, and none of this would have mattered. But instead, she had slept until dawn, and then she had ruined everything.
When she saw him, she was going to have to tell him that he could get out of it. He needed to know that she didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want. She hadn’t wanted to take anything from him he didn’t want to give. This was too much. And it was all her fault.
She had already wrecked her family. She didn’t want to wreck him too.
But she had no way of seeing him. The wedding was set for the end of the week. A special license had been obtained, given the circumstances of their union. She would not see him before the ceremony.
He sent a letter, which was short, saying that he was away, making arrangements at his estate so that she would be comfortable there. He signed the letter “With all my love, Darcy.” But it was such a short letter, and it was difficult to read his sloppy handwriting. It didn’t seem he’d taken much care in it.
She did not have time to write him back, so she made up her mind that she would simply have to tell him at the church. She would interrupt the vows and set him free. She knew no other way.
It would be even more of a scandal for her family, of course, if the groom backed out in the middle of the ceremony, but it hardly mattered. She was already ruined. It wasn’t as if things could really get much worse.
The morning of the wedding, the household maid helped her into her wedding gown. The maid wanted to fuss over Elizabeth’s hair, and Elizabeth tried to argue her out of it, but the maid wouldn’t hear it. Elizabeth tried to tell her that it didn’t matter, that the wedding wasn’t actually going to happen. She was going to interrupt the entire thing and end it before it even got started.
But when the maid was done, and she surveyed herself in the mirror, she felt a twinge.
She looked like a bride.
And she had so long ago given up the dream of ever getting married. When she had been small, she dreamed of her wedding day like any other girl. She had thought of it then as an eventuality, something she was sure to experience. Time had ripped that assurance away from her, and having it given to her in this way…
Maybe she should say nothing. If Darcy was willing to marry her, maybe she should simply let it happen. After all, she had thought that they would suit each other well, all those years ago on the ship. And she knew he was attracted to her. And th
at he did care for her, at least he didn’t wish her harm. There were marriages built on far less, and this was really the answer to all of her prayers.
But could she do that? Could she allow it all to happen when she had expressly told him that he didn’t need to marry her? She said she would take whatever he could give her. This… it all felt like a manipulation.
She did not know if she could bear it if she awoke every morning to see resentment in his eyes.
She moved through the rest of the morning feeling uneasy. She was excited to see him. She couldn’t help that. But she was frightened as well. When she spoke up during the ceremony, she was going to make everything bad for herself again. Would she have the courage to do such a thing?
Her mother bundled her into the carriage, babbling about how it was a shame that Elizabeth didn’t have any attendants.
“Mama,” Elizabeth sighed, “we’ve been over this.”
“Oh, I know,” said her mother. “But I still think it’s awful that there’s no one—”
“Well, there isn’t anybody.” Elizabeth looked out the window. The carriage seemed to be taking even longer to get to the church than usual.
“I just think that possibly if you’d asked one of your sisters—”
“I couldn’t,” said Elizabeth. She had still not spoken or written to Jane. A letter came from Jane, but Elizabeth could not bear to even open it. She did not know why, but she did not think she could bear the censure of her elder sister.
“I suppose not, but I feel that you’ll simply look so lonely without attendants. Why, when I married your father, I had five, you know.”
“I’m already ruined for good society, Mama. It makes sense that I’m lonely.” Elizabeth fidgeted with her gloves. She wished her mother would stop talking. It was making it so much harder to deal with what was happening. Outside, the scenery moved by at a crawl.
“Now, don’t say that. He’s marrying you. I suppose it might be a few years, but I’m sure that eventually you’ll be invited to some events again. The gossip will die down.”
But that wasn’t true either. Because before the morning was over, Elizabeth would be back in her bedroom, probably with her mother wailing outside her door. Elizabeth glared out the window. Would they never arrive at the church?
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