Chapter 22
In the small room, sheltered against the horrible fight, Elizabeth’s hands trembled on Darcy’s arm.
She held her breath while her skin turned into goose bumps.
She glanced at him and heard a gasp. He was completely pale, and his features were unrecognisable, distorted by a strange grimace.
She met his eyes for a brief moment and shivered at the cold sharpness that filled them.
He put his palm over her hands briefly and removed her grasping fingers to free himself. He appeared unwilling to breathe. He leaned towards her and whispered so close to her ear that his lips touched her skin. A quiver shuddered through her body.
She could barely understand as he begged, “Miss Bennet, please stay here. Please do not move.”
She nodded, and he gently pushed her away from the door.
Then he walked forward, stepping so deliberately that the floor squeaked and jolted.
“That was quite a debate. Very proper for illustrious members of the ton,” he said.
Three voices cried out at the same time—intrigued, puzzled, or angry.
“Darcy, what on earth are you doing here? Where did you come from?” the earl shouted.
“I was here. Behind that half wall. I was waiting for Mr Wilson. Imagine my surprise when I saw my closest relatives arrive, and even more so when I heard them argue over such a horrifying tale. I could not miss the chance to hear it through to the end.” His voice was calm and controlled but so heavy and reprimanding that Elizabeth stilled her breathing.
“This is not a discussion we shall carry on further,” Lady Catherine continued in the same arrogant tone. “And none of us shall ever mention it to any living soul! Let us leave now!”
“Lady Catherine, surely you cannot imagine you are in the position of ever telling me what to do! You may leave—both of you. I still have something to discuss with Mr Wilson.”
“You cannot have anything to discuss with this man!”
“Your aunt is right; we shall leave immediately.”
Darcy stared at them as though seeing them for the first time. He then ignored them completely, and then calmly, without waiting for an invitation, he filled himself a glass of brandy. It was half past ten in the morning.
“Then let us have another debate here, together. I would not be opposed to it,” he declared.
Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock stared at him.
“I shall not carry on such a conversation with either of you,” Lady Catherine claimed.
“That would be the only wise thing to do, Aunt. I would think this has been enough for your first meeting in twenty-five years with Mr Wilson.”
“Darcy! What do you want to discuss with him that you refuse to come home with us?” the earl asked. “Whatever you want to know, I shall tell you! You have no need to speak with someone who wishes to harm our family.”
“You truly imagine that I could trust what you intend to tell me, Uncle? Do you believe that your word or Lady Catherine’s has the same value to me as before?
And what is it that you want to tell me?
That you almost murdered an innocent young man for an imagined guilt without searching for more proof?
And that you were induced into doing this by your sister, the daughter of an earl? ”
“You have no right to judge your relatives, Darcy!” Lady Catherine threw him a cold glare.
“And yet, I am doing it, Aunt Catherine. And you more than any other since, for years, you have claimed to be the owner of absolute truth.”
“Darcy, are you not ashamed to speak to your aunt like this?” the lady reprimanded him.
“I am ashamed indeed, Aunt. And hurt. And disappointed. And embarrassed. I do not blame you for having a relationship with a man although you were engaged to another. I can understand the power of the heart against one’s reason, wisdom, and even against your will.
I do not judge anyone’s heart, but I do judge the honour of those who pretend to possess it! ”
“You are not allowed to speak to your aunt on this matter—nor in this manner,” the earl said.
“I am astonished that you continue to tell me what I may say or do instead of seeking a way to make amends for what you both said or did!”
His tone was so spiteful and furious, that the other three watched him in wordless disbelief.
Eventually, Lady Catherine turned to their host. “You have ruined my name and my family, Wilson!”
Wilson spoke with a coldness that made his angry hatred even more powerful.
“You have ruined everyone’s life, Catherine!
And I see you now—a bitter woman with ridiculous pride and insufferable arrogance!
You are not even worthy of my revenge, and yet you will feel it.
Both of you will remember me for the rest of your lives.
And if my revenge does not come immediately, fear that it might come anytime, perhaps when you feel more at peace, more tranquil.
And if I should happen to die unexpectedly, my revenge will not die with me! ”
Strangely, Darcy turned to him. “Revenge will not remove the past and will not return your lost years, Mr Wilson. Despite everything you have had to suffer, you are here, sound, healthy, and very much alive with many years ahead of you and the means to fully enjoy your life. My father did not have such good fortune. And yet, just as you made a harsh decision to leave twenty-five years ago for reasons I can understand and pity, you continue to put your effort into actions that will only result in ruin.”
“That is unfair, Darcy. You are too young to understand the situation properly. You are an honest man, and you cannot admit—nor comprehend—disguise and deceit.”
“I cannot comprehend anyone’s choice to lie instead of tell the truth and to cheat rather than follow high ideals. You brought me here to gain my trust and to be certain I would convince my aunt and uncle to attend your ball. Did you not do that? Was not everything a part of your scheme?”
“I have never been otherwise but honest and respectful towards you, Darcy,” Wilson claimed severely. “My affection for you is genuine. You are one of the very few people—”
“Mr Wilson, did you lie to me or not?”
“I never lied, Darcy! I might have told you half the truth, but everything I say is real. And your aunt and uncle would have come regardless to the dinner of someone who is connected to the duke! You know that all too well. A soon as I gratified their vanity and self-importance, they would have come.”
“And does this justify your cunning? Is this the manner in which an honest and honourable man acts?”
“I am not an honest man, Darcy! I am open, and I speak no lies. I may remain silent, but I never lie. And I am loyal. I would give my life for a friend or for someone who is truly in need. But I have done many dishonest things, both in business and in my private life. For some, I paid—for others, I did not. I am not an honourable man either, except that I always keep my word once I give it.”
“Is it not true that you grew a beard and pretended a false name to deceive the others?”
“I admit that is true, but I did not deceive you. I told you from the beginning that I was Gilbert Wilson.”
“You misused me by not telling me about your plans for revenge against my relatives! You took advantage of my trust in you that was born of your friendship with my father. You mocked the present and the past.”
“They misled your father and your grandfather. Your blame should be on them if you are indeed fair.”
“Do not speak of fairness, Mr Wilson, since you showed nothing of the kind to me. I am ashamed of my relatives, and I am appalled by their treatment of you. They deserve punishment, and it pains me to know my father never discovered their horrible plot and could not call them out for it. It seems I have never known the true nature of people around me; I am unable to understand people’s nature and their inclinations.
I have been wrong in all my estimations and assumptions for such a long time that I doubt I shall trust myself—or others—soon.
But your betrayal disappoints me so deeply that I cannot stay in any of your company any longer. ”
The door slammed and Elizabeth startled.
Her entire body was shivering, and tears stung her eyes.
She had no reason for such a strong reaction as she was not involved directly in the situation.
But Darcy’s pain, disappointment, and suffering were so powerful that she could feel it completely.
And her heart ached for him while a deep sense of loss and loneliness enveloped her as she understood the consequences of his last words.
∞∞∞
Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine hastened after Darcy, slamming the door behind them.
Wilson threw his glass into the fireplace then filled another, emptied it in one gulp, and threw it in the fire as well.
Elizabeth rubbed her hands together to calm their trembling then stepped forward hesitantly until she appeared before the angry man.
He turned towards her, shock colouring his face.
“Elizabeth? What on earth are you doing here? When did you come in? Where were you?”
“I have been in the secret room,” she said, looking for a chair. Turmoil, pain, anger, disdain, pity, and sorrow all turned into a storm of feelings that weakened her.
Wilson looked no better. “For how long?”
“Since before you entered the library. Mr Darcy came to speak to you earlier, and I met him. I invited him here and sent the servant for you. But then you arrived with Lord Matlock, so we hid in the secret room. I do not know why we did that. The situation was so distressing that neither of us thought through our actions.”
“So you stayed there with Darcy the entire time?”
“Yes. He asked me to remain hidden when he came out. I believe he did not want to expose me to his relatives’ censure.”
“So…you heard everything?”
“I did.”
“You look pale…and appalled.”
“I must be…both. But that means you can see very little of how I truly feel.”