Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  The shock of his words left her speechless, and for a few moments, she looked at him in disbelief.

  “I thank you, sir,” she said wearily, “but let us not forget you are here at the particular invitation of Miss Bingley! Now if you would excuse me, I should like to speak to my sister.”

  “Miss Bennet— She turned toward him, but to Elizabeth’s relief, Miss Bingley seemed at length to remember her interests and walked in their direction with great determination. Elizabeth smiled at her briefly with cold politeness and then moved past her. She joined her sister’s group and tried listening to their conversation about the ball, but her concentration was deeply disturbed.

  A few minutes later as Bingley spoke with the colonel, Lady Cassandra approached Elizabeth and whispered, “Miss Bennet, what is the matter? I saw you talking to Markham, and you seem unwell!”

  Elizabeth blushed in embarrassment and then looked around her, afraid someone else might hear her. “There is nothing really, your ladyship; no need to distress yourself.”

  “Miss Bennet! Everything that involves Markham means distress, so please indulge me!”

  Not even at the beginning of their acquaintance had Lady Cassandra spoken with such a demanding tone; she became conscious of her rudeness and added in a low voice, “Miss Bennet, please accept my apologies. I had no right to address you in such a manner! But my curiosity has good cause: Markham is not to be trusted, and for somebody unaware of his true character, he can be dangerous.”

  “Lady Cassandra, there is no need to apologise. I understand you meant well. Please be assured I have no intention of trusting Lord Markham. You are right; I was distressed because of him. But really—he is more ridiculous than dangerous.”

  Lady Cassandra looked at her quizzically, and Elizabeth smiled, mortified. “Oh well—if you like, I will tell you. In fact, I would rather have somebody to tell because it is quite entertaining.”

  “Then please, do tell me.” Lady Cassandra’s voice held no trace of amusement.

  “Well, it appears Lord Markham was rather enchanted by my charms when we met in London, and he came here mostly to see me! Can you imagine anything more ridiculous? And he confessed it to me here! Poor Miss Bingley! Though, on the other hand, the situation could be dangerous. I am sure Miss Bingley would kill me if she discovered the truth!” She anticipated her companion’s laughter.

  Lady Cassandra’s frown persisted. “Miss Bennet, did he say anything else?”

  “No, he did not! In fact, he had no time, as I walked away from him.”

  “Very well; you must promise me that, if he bothers you again, you will tell the colonel.”

  “Oh, come now. Your ladyship must not worry; I am able to take care of myself. After all, I did handle Mr. Collins remarkably well. Nothing can be worse.”

  ***

  Another hour passed, and Jane showed no inclination to leave. In the meantime, Elizabeth managed to regain her spirits and was more indulgent of her sister’s delay. It appeared that Jane could not bear to depart from her betrothed, and Elizabeth understood completely.

  Miss Bingley exhibited little civility, continually indicating to the Longbourn guests that they should leave. She mentioned loudly and often that she felt quite tired and was tempted to retire, but she would not leave as long as Lord Markham remained in the salon.

  Lord Markham, on the other hand, spent most of his time enjoying Mr. Bingley’s brandy. He tried several times to talk to Elizabeth but with little success. Elizabeth remained close to Lady Cassandra and her sister—not because she had taken Lady Cassandra’s warning seriously but because she did not want to provoke a scandal. Miss Bingley would surely have become furious if she suspected anyone were interfering between herself and her “suitor.”

  When Lady Cassandra rejoined Jane and Bingley in their conversation, Elizabeth took the opportunity to slip out of the house into the fresh, cool, late September air. It had rained the previous night, and the ground was muddy. She laughed to herself, remembering her appearance at Netherfield the previous autumn after walking three miles as well as Darcy’s surprise. Unconsciously, her steps took her to the precise place where she met him after climbing over a stile and landing in a mud puddle. Now she could see clearly—with the eyes of her mind—the expression on his face the moment they faced each other. Poor William, how I shocked him, she thought, missing him painfully.

  The night was starless, and Elizabeth could barely see where she was walking. She turned to admire the sight of Netherfield and decided to return to the house as the night chill was making her shiver.

  She recoiled, however, her heart pounding, when she noticed the shadow of a man mere inches away.

  “Miss Bennet, forgive me for startling you—

  “Lord Markham! Indeed, you startled me, sir. Excuse me; I must return to the house this instant.”

  “Miss Bennet, please, just a moment…I noticed you have avoided me the entire evening, and I cannot bear the thought that you will not speak to me! Have I upset you in any way?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then decided to behave normally; after all, he was an educated man of the world, and he could understand reason. The situation had become ridiculous beyond belief.

  “Lord Markham, I am not upset with you; I have no reason to be. But you must understand my surprise, sir, when I heard your earlier statement. You are in my soon-to-be brother’s house; he trusts you and treats you with respect. You must know everybody suspects you have an interest in Miss Bingley, and unless you utterly and publicly contradict that, you are expected to behave accordingly.”

  “So, if I declare I have absolutely no design on Miss Bingley, you would accept my attentions?”

  “I said nothing of the kind. Sir, we met only once a couple of months ago. I do not think you can have any serious design on me, either. Let us put the matter aside this instant.”

  “You must allow me to tell you everything I have to say before leaving. I am not the kind of man to be dismissed; I promise if you would let me prove my true feelings, you would not remain indifferent to my attentions.” He stepped closer and attempted to take her hand, but she pulled it away violently.

  “Lord Markham, I will allow you nothing! I tried to be polite and show you some consideration, but you do not deserve it. Any feelings you might have are not my concern—not now or in the future.”

  “Elizabeth, I shall not accept such a reply! I am not accustomed to being refused and certainly not in such a manner! No other woman, ever—

  She turned her back on him and grimaced when he seized her arm painfully.

  “Lord Markham, unhand me immediately!”

  He moved in front of her, his free hand trapping her other arm; he was so close that she could feel his breath, reeking of alcohol. She grew angry and, full of rage, tried to free herself.

  “You are a brute, Lord Markham, and I shall have you pay for that! Everyone will find out the kind of man you are, and you will be out of the house this very evening! Let me go this instant!”

  “Elizabeth, I care nothing about the others! Have me thrown out of the house if you want, but I will still think of no one but you! Since the night I danced with you, I have thought of no one but you! You—and that bastard Darcy, never leaving your side! It is he, is it not? He is the reason you are refusing me in such a manner! What did he propose to you? A house in town? An allowance? Can you not see that all he offers I can give ten times over? I will take better care of you, Elizabeth. I cannot let you make such a mistake. I cannot let you choose Darcy over me!”

  So surprised was Elizabeth by the attack and so shocked that a man of his consequence could behave like a savage that, in the first moments, she barely reacted. She hardly listened to him; his words reached her ears but she thought of nothing except freeing herself from him. She felt no fear—only rage against him and fury at her own lack of strength. She struggled with little success; his grasp became more powerful, and she tried violently to pull away.

 
Elizabeth heard him saying he did not want to hurt her; he only wanted to prove to her how much he desired her. As all her efforts at resistance failed, her anger turned to fear and then panic. She realised such wild behaviour would not listen to reason. She was his prisoner with little chance of escaping. In horror and desperation, she saw his face moving toward her in an obvious attempt to kiss her, and she felt sick; she turned her head to avoid his mouth and cried with disgust when she felt cold lips touch her cheek. The hand that trapped her arm moved to her shoulder and pulled down the neckline of her dress; as she fought, the move ripped apart the thin fabric.

  Cringing at his touch, she pushed him away with all her remaining strength and a determination borne of desperation. She was free—for a moment. The forced separation threw her backward, and her shoes slipped in the mud; she fell, desperately attempting to grab the fence with one hand. The last image she saw was the moon peeking from behind the clouds. A sharp pain shattered her head and threw her into a hole of cold darkness.

  Someone was calling her name, but she could not answer. She could not even move, nor did she want to. She only sensed the alcohol-drenched smell and vicious hands touching her skin—and she could do nothing but pray the earth would swallow her completely. And then she knew nothing else…

  An eternity later—or was it just a moment—only the darkness and the coldness remained and a voice—another voice—calling, crying out her name.

  ***

  There were many people around her; Elizabeth could hear them. She was no longer on the ground but on a soft bed with a pillow beneath her head; the pain at the nape of her neck made it difficult to move her head. She did not wish to talk to or see anybody—nor did she wish to open her eyes or even to think. She did not want to think of anything. She did not want to feel anything.

  Memories invaded her mind, and her body shivered in disgust as she remembered the violence of his touch. He had tried to kiss her. Had he only tried? She knew at some point he was lying on her, his weight and smell still vivid recollections in her mind. But had he —?

  “Oh God, no!” she cried. “No, please no!” Unconsciously, she began to struggle against him until she felt her hands trapped—and then she fought even harder.

  Moments later, Elizabeth managed to recognise her sister’s voice calling her name. Her movements calmed, and she tried to breathe steadily again. Then, with great effort, she slowly opened her eyes. Yes, Jane was there, as well as Lady Cassandra and her maid. They were holding her hands, and she looked at each of them briefly and then closed her eyes again. She did not want to see anyone.

  “Lizzy, please open your eyes, dearest,” cried Jane with a tearful voice, but Elizabeth did not obey.

  She heard Lady Cassandra saying something, but she did not care enough to try to understand her words. A door opened, closed again, and then silence. Were they all gone? No, they were not; she could feel Jane caressing her hand. She violently pulled her hand from her sister’s grasp, turned her face against the pillow, and started to cry. She wanted neither Jane’s comfort nor her pity.

  “Elizabeth, look at me!” Lady Cassandra’s voice was compelling, and Elizabeth’s sobs stopped instantly. Strangely, the first thing she noticed was that she had called her “Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth did not answer or open her eyes. The darkness was easier to bear. As long as it was dark, there was still a chance that everything had been a nightmare.

  She felt Lady Cassandra sit on the bed beside her, trying to make her face them. She resisted—even fought her—and her ladyship abandoned the attempt but remained near her.

  “Elizabeth, I know you are frightened and hurt, but you must talk to us.” No reply.

  “Please, Lizzy,” added Jane, “staying like that will do no good! We sent for the doctor; he will be here soon. And we called Papa, too.”

  “No,” she screamed, “I do not need the doctor; there is nothing a doctor can do for me! And why Papa? He cannot see me like this! What about Mr. Bingley? And the others?”

  “Elizabeth, calm yourself,” said Lady Cassandra softly, touching her hair. Elizabeth startled and pushed her hand away.

  “Very well then; as you wish. I shall leave you alone with your sister; perhaps you will talk to her. And I asked the servant to prepare a bath for you and to bring you some tea—

  “Yes, leave.” Elizabeth spoke in a voice she herself could not recognise. “And take Jane with you. I do not want to talk to her! I do not want to talk to anyone. I do not want to bathe. I do not want tea! I just want to die,” she added, barely audible, and turned her face against the pillow again.

  “Oh come now,” replied Lady Cassandra. “Stop this nonsense immediately! I know what you think and how hurt you must feel, but you are a smart woman and—

  “Do not tell me to stop,” cried Elizabeth, rising from the pillow. “You have no right to tell me what to do! How dare you say you know how I feel and what I think? How can you know that?”

  Jane startled, looking at her sister in shock and then at Lady Cassandra, desperately trying to find a way to counter such a harsh argument. She knew her ladyship would be offended, and in truth, she had every reason to be so. However, Lady Cassandra’s reply was nothing but kindness.

  “You may yell at me as much as you wish, Elizabeth. Be upset with me, fight with me if it makes you feel better. And you are right; I have no reason to tell you what to do. However, you are wrong when you presume I do not know how you feel. I remember vividly a time when I wanted only to die. But you, my dear, have no reason to feel that way. Everything is well now.”

  Elizabeth stared at her, her eyes wide open, breathing deeply as the air was not enough.

  “Everything is well? How can you say that? Everything is lost! That man—that man…” She could not continue as she was close to tears. She covered her eyes, and Jane hurried to embrace her warmly.

  “I can see you do not desire my presence, so I shall leave you now, Elizabeth. Miss Bennet, please call me if you need anything. I shall be in the library with the gentlemen.

  She left, carefully closing the door behind her. Elizabeth breathed in relief and shut her eyes again.

  “Jane, how did I get here?” she asked a few moments later.

  Her sister took her hand and caressed it gently while answering. “Lady Cassandra and the colonel found you. It appears that her ladyship followed Lord Markham as he left the house. She was the one who discovered you, and then the colonel appeared, and they told us.”

  Elizabeth looked at her sister briefly and then turned her head in the opposite direction. “You should have taken me home directly, Jane. I am among strangers here; how can I bear the looks of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst? They will be so happy to see us thrown into a new scandal. I have ruined everything for you—with only three days before your engagement ball.”

  “Lizzy dearest, how can you say that? You have done nothing wrong; it was not your fault!” As Elizabeth shook her head in disapproval, Jane continued with a determination that defeated her emotions. “As for a scandal, you must not worry. Lady Cassandra has been so wonderful. Oh Lizzy, you have been too harsh with her. She talked to Charles privately; she called him into the library and then came and told us that Lord Markham had retreated to his rooms and you were not feeling well, so Charles invited us to stay the night. I was surprised at first, and I asked about you; Lady Cassandra accompanied me to you. You were already in this room—apparently the colonel brought you here—so you see…neither Caroline nor Mr. Hurst and Louisa truly know what happened.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, afraid to pronounce his loathsome name.

  “Lord Markham? He is locked in a guest room in the north wing. His man is with him, and two of Charles’s people are watching the door so he cannot leave. So you need not worry about him. He will never harm you again. You see dearest? Everything is settled.”

  Elizabeth listened to her sister, both tearful, holding their hands in comfort. As always, Jane was inclined to believ
e everything was well, but such a scandal could not be kept secret; she knew that. The servants would talk, and by the next day, they would be the subject of gossip in the entire county. Their good name would be lost forever, especially after what happened to Lydia a month earlier.

  If only Mr. Bingley would not break his engagement with Jane. As for her own engagement, there was nothing left. The mere thought of William returning and facing her like this…She began crying so violently that she frightened Jane, who desperately attempted to calm her. When she had no tears left, she finally spoke with perfect composure. “Jane, I want to take a bath. I need to clean myself.”

  ***

  “My Lizzy has been hurt?” Mr. Bennet stared blankly at the two young men gathered in the library. “Who the hell is this man, and what does he hold against my daughter? She has done nothing to him!”

  The colonel proceeded to explain to him what had happened, assuring him that Lady Cassandra had intervened in time and Miss Elizabeth was now well and resting. The elder gentleman instantly swallowed a second glass of wine while pacing the room, his agitation growing every moment.

  “Where is he now? I will kill him,” Mr. Bennet finally burst out, throwing the glass in the fireplace. Bingley and the colonel looked at him in shock.

  “Mr. Bennet, please do not give me more trouble, sir,” said Lady Cassandra, entering the room unannounced. “I barely managed to calm down the colonel and Bingley here—as both shared the same intentions regarding Markham. I hoped I would be able to count on your support to settle things before scandal could arise. Your daughters do not need that with only a month before their weddings.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he cried. A moment later, Mr. Bennet frowned seeing the bruises on her face and neck. “What on earth happened? Did he hurt you too? And you want to keep us from killing him?”

  “Mr. Bennet, I am well. There is no need to worry about me. As for killing Markham—if you want to do so, by all means please do! I will surely not stop you—quite the contrary! But you are not the sort of man simply to murder him—we both know that—nor is the colonel or Bingley. As for your calling him out, that would be madness you must admit. And the scandal would be worse.”