Chapter 9 #2
Richard’s arms itched with the urge to pull her into a comforting embrace, but he fought for control and held himself off.
She had just told him of one unwanted physical encounter.
He would not torment her with another, even if this was kindly meant.
He could give her that gift. Instead, he asked, “Why have you told me this now?”
“If we are to remain friends, you need to know with whom you associate. Here, on this island, my past is irrelevant, for none know of my shame, and as the commanding colonel’s daughter, I am afforded some level of respect.
But in England, there may be those who have knowledge of it.
I never told anybody other than my family, but he, Charles, might have done so.
I would not have you exposed to vile talk or worse rumour, nor would I have you put your good name at risk.
If you are known to associate with a fallen woman, it might damage your reputation.
I know that men’s reputations are not as fragile as those of women, but nevertheless…
If you wish to end our association now, I shall not fault you for it. ”
A single tear ran down her cheek.
What poison was this, that women were taught that they did not deserve friendship because of somebody else’s crime? Unaccustomed anger washed over Richard, and once more, he struggled to keep his voice calm. Still, when he spoke, there was more fire in his tone than he expected.
“What? Say goodbye forever? What do you think of me, that I would abandon a friend for something not of her own doing?”
“Many would. My shame would become yours.”
“Pah! Bosh and nonsense. The shame should be his. You were the innocent victim. I am and always shall be proud to call you my friend.”
His hand floated up of its own accord, and almost without his volition, wiped that single tear from Emily’s cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, and he ached to caress it. He forced his arm to drop.
If she noticed anything amiss, she said nothing of it. “Now you know the true reason why I have given up all thoughts of marriage. No man would have me.”
“But if he really loved you, it would not matter to him.”
She turned back to stare over the waves, and Richard could not see her expression. “Whoever could love someone like me?”
A voice inside his head screamed, “I could!” but he shut it down at once. She was a friend, and he had promised himself never to risk his heart again. This voice was mere sympathy and care for a friend that spoke, not any sort of romantic attachment. That must be the case.
“You underestimate your worth, Emily. Many people would find a great deal of value in you. Do not so belittle yourself. I am always your friend, and will listen to whatever you wish to tell me.”
She reached over to lay a hand upon his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Richard. I was afraid you would walk off and never speak to me again. My heart is easier for knowing you are still my friend.”
“Always, Emily. Always.”
The sun was now dipping in the sky, and it was time to return to the jetty, there to board the steamer for the ride back to the fort, and arm in arm, the two walked the short distance in companionable silence.
They returned to the Dockyard as the sun touched the horizon.
There was still light enough, but it would not last long.
Requesting one of the porters to convey his purchases to his rooms, Richard escorted Emily back to her family's embrace.
His presence was, as expected, met with an invitation to dine, and this was gratefully accepted.
As much as Emily was particularly dear to him, he had always enjoyed the company of her parents.
How well he fit in this family! If not for his need to be back in England, he might well wish himself a regular part of it.
His head was full of melancholic musings when at last, quite late that evening, he said goodnight to his friends and set off towards his quarters.
There was a short staircase at the back of the structure where the colonel dwelt that led to the path nearly exactly by his own rooms, and despite the darkness, his feet knew the way so well, he need not think of it.
Instead, he let his thoughts wind around his future—the excitement of a new position, the disillusionment of being called back to England, the prospects of his elevated rank, and the exquisite pain of having to leave Emily.
He began his descent, wondering what Darcy—
Without warning, the world fell away. There was no step where one ought to be, nothing on which to set his foot.
His hand shot out to grasp at the banister, which in turn, broke away as he clung to it.
What…? He flailed desperately for some balance, his mind unable to take in what was happening, and found, somewhere, the splintered remains of the post where the banister ought to be.
He grasped the broken wood, struggling to find his balance on the edge of the missing step.
His shoulder wrenched under the stress of the torque, and he felt his arm might pull right off from the weight of his falling body.
But he found his footing on a narrow slat of wood and heaved in a frantic breath of air—
What was that? A noise? Who was there? They must surely come to help him.
He turned his head to call out for help.
Yes, there was a shape—a man—silhouetted against the darkness above.
The man drew closer, and reached out towards him.
But it was not a hand offered in kindness.
Instead of reaching to pull him back up, the hand shot out and gave a mighty shove, wrenching his desperate grasp loose from the splintered railing.
And then, with a sharp bark of laughter, a foot shot out to kick him hard in the back. Any hope was lost. Instead of the anticipated relief of rescue, there was instead a sickening lurch, and the unnatural whistle of the world dropping around him.
Falling… falling…
The last sight he saw before the chaos consumed him was the leering face of Major Weekes. And then the world went black.