Chapter 26
“Go away, Elizabeth.” Darcy snapped even before the door was fully open. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh, I think you do.” Lizzie replied, matching his fire at once, “I think you have a great deal to say to me, sir.”
“You think wrong, madam. You disobeyed me. You have lied to me! Do not deny it! And do not dare make any excuses.”
Elizabeth looked pointedly at the decanter. The stopper was out, a few drops were spilled beside a drained cup beside it, and the amount of port within was already much less than it had been before.
“I have no excuses to make, sir. Do you? Or do you dare claim that you are without fault?”
“Ah yes, there is the dagger! And where shall you place it, I wonder? In my blind trust? In my complacency? Perhaps you can point out that this has gone on for months, and I did nothing to prevent it. Georgiana was tortured under my own roof, and I slept peacefully a few doors away. I smugly destroyed myself, thinking that my distance was best for her. In return for my soul, she got peace and safety. That was fair, was it not?” Darcy refilled his glass with shaking hands and took a large swallow.
“Instead, I abandoned her for the second time.”
He drained the glass entirely at that, then refilled it without pausing for breath. When he looked up at his wife, his eyes were blacker than obsidian.
“As for you, Elizabeth… what am I to do with you?”
“Do with me, sir?” she asked. Her voice sounded strong, but she could not prevent herself from taking a nervous step back. The door pressed against her spine. She suddenly felt trapped. “What do you mean?”
Darcy saw her fear and his mouth twisted. He had to look away when he spoke.
“I thought I could trust you. It was the only thing I asked of you. How dare you go against my orders? You intruded on my sister’s privacy and forced yourself into her life uninvited.
You are dishonest, madam. You are a liar, and I despise liars.
I thought… Elizabeth, you were the only one I could trust. How could you do this to me? ”
His voice, furious at the start, had become tearful and pleading by the end.
The liquor had made his emotions simmer close to the surface, and his self-control was gone.
Elizabeth felt as if she had just swallowed an ice cold stone.
He was right. She had lied to him for so long.
She had told herself that he would simply be annoyed, but now she saw that he felt utterly betrayed.
Darcy’s fingers clenched around the glass so hard that they turned white. The sight made Lizzie raise her chin. She was not going to let him use her as one more thorn in his briar of self-abuse.
She nodded at the glass in his hand, “Drink it.”
Darcy stared at her in shock. “What?”
“Are you hard of hearing, Mr. Darcy? I told you to drink it. Clearly, you think it will solve all of your problems. Drink it, then. Let us see if it works.”
The man froze for a moment, and then a look of arrogance crossed his flushed face. Maintaining eye contact, he tipped the cup against his lips and gulped it down in one.
“Have another.” Elizabeth offered in a mocking voice. “Pour me one, too. Perhaps you’re too weak to change God’s will on your own. I am stronger than you. Give me a glass.”
“I know what you’re doing.” Darcy growled.
“You know nothing at all. I have never met a man as stupid as you. You do not know how to listen, or how to understand. All you know is how to drink.” she retorted, snatching the decanter from the desk.
It was heavy and hard to drink from. She splattered dark port all the way down her dress but managed to choke down a generous portion. It was cloyingly sweet, making her throat burn when she swallowed. Wiping off her lips, she thrust the decanter back at her husband.
“Why bother with a glass, Mr. Darcy? Don’t you believe this will solve all of our problems? You should drink from the bottle. It will be faster.”
“‘Our’ problems? This does not concern you, madam.” Darcy snarled, taking another defiant mouthful.
Elizabeth laughed. It hurt her heart to do it, but she managed to crow over him.
“I said you were stupid! Do you think that I don’t feel as guilty as you?
I spent weeks with Georgiana and was just as blind as you were.
More so, for I had not your excuse.” she scowled at the port, which Darcy had not put down.
“Your pitiful excuse, Mr. Darcy. Oh, drink more! It might not change the world, but at least you won’t care anymore! That is what matters, is it not?”
Lizzie lunged forwards, seized the port from his unsteady grasp, and took another deep drink. Darcy wrested it back from her and put it back on the desk, catching her shoulder when she reeled giddily backwards. His arms closed around her, hands clasped against her stomach in an iron hold.
He panted into her ear, frantic and angry. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Why? Why not? Do you think it will hurt me?” she wrenched herself away with an effort. “I think it will only make me look pathetic, sir. That is all it has done for you! Oh yes, I pity you, Fitzwilliam Darcy!”
The man recoiled as if she had struck him.
Lizzie realised how drunk they both were then, as he stumbled back and stared at her.
He had drunk far more than she, and her head was spinning.
She had not meant to be so cruel, or to goad him so viciously, but the port had loosened her tongue until she screamed like a harridan.
Panting, she held out her hand. “Give me the bottle.”
Darcy clutched the decanter and shook his head. “You must not drink any more, Elizabeth.”
“I won’t.” she promised unsteadily, “But you must give it to me now, my love.”
Slowly, warily, Darcy held it out. Elizabeth took it, hissing between her teeth as it pitched her off balance. Her hands felt clumsy and the decanter suddenly felt much heavier. Her legs felt weak, and her heart was thudding like a drum. The firelight shining through the cut crystal made her wince.
As soon as it was securely in her grasp, Lizzie turned and threw the decanter as hard as she could against the wall.
It shattered, the port exploding out and splattering the rug and floor in blood-red stains.
Shards of crystal rained down, twinkling and cracking against each other, and then there was silence.
“Elizabeth…” Darcy breathed, then laughed in hazy disbelief, “Oh, Elizabeth.”
“Yes,” she mumbled, almost as stunned as he that she had done it. A bleary question raised a nervous hand: “Was that… expensive?”
“Priceless.”
Elizabeth flinched and looked up to see if he was angry. Darcy met her eyes, and he was smiling.
Smiling!
“Thank you, my angel.” he slurred.
Taking a few unsteady steps towards her, Darcy caught Lizzie up in the clumsiest hug she had ever felt.
For a few moments she breathed slowly, feeling his heart racing against her chest and his warmth finally thawing the icy stone in her stomach.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing, and wrapped her arms around his back.
Then Darcy swayed, and all of his weight fell onto the slight woman whom he held.
Lizzie yelped and managed to pry one of his hands lose so she could shove him back onto his own feet. “Please, Darcy… I am just as dizzy as you, and only half as strong! If you want to fall down, then at least do it somewhere soft!”
Darcy mumbled something and drew back. His fury had left him, and all that was left was boyish fragility.
He looked at Elizabeth with wide eyes, then staggered backwards towards the bed.
Lizzie could not free herself from his hold around her wrist and followed with a few inelegant stumbles of her own.
They fell onto the bed together, with Darcy beneath and Elizabeth lying against his chest. Elizabeth nervously told him that at least they had fallen the right way around - or she might have been flattened!
Darcy laughed softly, and Elizabeth heard it rumbling in his chest. Then he was silent, holding her tightly, and she could hear the deep thud of his heartbeat.
“I missed you, angel.” he murmured, “I missed you so much.”
“Did you miss arguing with me, sir?”
Again, he laughed and fell silent.
Despite her drunkenness, Elizabeth was embarrassingly aware of how close she was to the man she had been dreaming about for weeks.
Every joint in her body seemed to have locked, but every muscle felt limp.
She could not find the strength to push herself out of his arms, but what of it?
She had no wish to. Her skin tingled pleasantly wherever he touched her.
His fingers wove in and out of her hair, pulling and caressing, clumsy yet gentle, and sometimes he murmured her name without thinking.
Elizabeth cuddled closer, resting her dizzy head on Darcy’s chest. She wanted to see what expression he wore, but when she made the attempt, she had to squeeze her eyes shut at once.
“The room is spinning.” she mumbled blearily.
“You drank too much.” he replied softly, slurring the words, “It will pass.”
“Good. How could you stand feeling like this all the time?”
Darcy shrugged. Elizabeth groaned when the movement jolted her head off its resting spot.
“Stop moving! It’s your fault that I’m dizzy. The least you could do is be a well-behaved pillow.”
“I apologise.” his voice was gentle, his fingers slowly caressing her hair, “Go to sleep, my love.”
Her eyes had been sliding shut, but at those words she tensed. They made soft warmth burn in her veins. It was not the heat she often felt with her husband, but a sweet and delicate candle that needed only the tiniest flame to cast golden light.
He loves me. He said he loves me.
Elizabeth sighed and nestled closer, breathing in the scent of him, and a second thought made her smile against Darcy’s chest.
I finally said it, too.