Chapter 9 #2
His voice finally seemed to be restored, and the sudden hush from the corridor left him ashamed and horrified that he had not been able to control his words.
Richard must have been outside; he entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Please convey my apologies to Miss Bingley, Richard,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Cousin!” Richard’s voice was still low enough not to grate on Darcy’s ears, and he finally understood his cousin was constantly moderating his voice for his comfort.
“That woman has been told time after time not to come to this corridor and certainly to keep her voice down.” Richard looked at him, considering.
“You know, if we were to manage to get you downstairs, she would not be in pursuit of you ever again, given your lack of handsome features. What an advantage that would be!” He chuckled, but soon sobered.
“I hope you soon begin to remember what happened that night, Darcy. I need to talk to you seriously when you do.”
“What if I never remember? I will still need to hear it.”
“That is true.” Richard seemed lost in thought for many minutes. Then he nodded, decisively.
“I will order coffee for us — yes, I know yours must be weak and milky for the next week; then we must have that serious conversation. In private. I will have the corridor cleared, too.”
The ominous tone unsettled Darcy, and he wished he could be comfortable enough in the chair for such news.
Finally, all was set. “I will not beat about the bush, Darce. But the news is grim. Gossip in the county is growing, painting Miss Elizabeth as the aggressor. There are some voices saying that it cannot be so, but the more salacious stories have gained ground as they always do. Some of what I hear is disgusting. What they have said you suggested to her is far outside the bounds of decency.”
He shook his head, despondent. “Even in the army, I have heard little like it. There must be much depravity hidden in the town to have even imagined it.”
Darcy pushed his temper down as far as he could, which was not far. “Are you sure Miss Elizabeth has not begun this?”
Richard gave him a disgusted look. “Miss Elizabeth saved your life, Darcy — or at the very least, the life you will be able to return to, thanks to her. If she had waited for the servants to join her, as propriety says she ought to have done, then your injuries would be much, much worse, and possibly not even survivable.”
Darcy looked down at his hands, the sense of hot humiliation roaring through him. He was ashamed of what he had suggested, but the thought of how she had seen him — helpless, needing the assistance of a woman — he shuddered, … nay, burned … with mortification.
He could sense Richard’s implacable gaze. “It will not be long until this reaches town, Darcy. It will affect your standing, and ruin Georgiana by association.” He laughed bitterly. “I have no doubt Father will be here the same day.”
Darcy nodded, still not looking up. He might not remember, but he could not; could not, have done what they said he did.
He could not. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
If Richard was right, he had come off more lightly than he might have.
And he remembered before. When Miss Elizabeth had stayed at Netherfield to care for her sister, he had been enchanted by her, tempted by her.
Perhaps the necessary action might not be too bad.
But his anger would not be capped. “The town is to blame for this, Cousin! This should not be required of either of us.”
The man, as close to him as a brother, sat silently.
The facts were before him and Richard was waiting for him to accept the inevitable conclusion.
Darcy knew what must be done. But to say it would set in motion an unstoppable force.
He did not want it. He knew he was angry — not at Miss Elizabeth — but still, she was at fault for living in this terrible, depraved town.
He looked up. “If Bennet believes what I am supposed to have done, he might not consent to us marrying.”
Richard considered him. “Bennet knows what happened. He heard her telling me how the whole thing transpired. Any reasonable man would know that she could not possibly have inflicted those injuries to you as a woman alone. And you will get justice because of her.”
He waited until Darcy met his eyes enquiringly. “She recognised the voice of the man who kicked you in the face and said ‘this is for Georgiana’.”
Darcy jerked in shock. “Wickham!”
“Indeed. He deserted the militia the next morning. Once you are well, I will hunt him down.”
Darcy nodded, fury white-hot within him. He must not impose his anger on Miss Elizabeth; she did not deserve it — except that she was a part of this godforsaken town. And now his life, as well as that of Georgiana, would be changed forever.
Miss Elizabeth’s as well, he supposed. He grimaced. She has seen me helpless on the ground. She will despise my unmanly weakness.
He was resigned. “Do what you have to, Richard. And I will write you a note for my solicitor if you can dispatch it. He knows that the settlement is to be the same as my mother’s.”
He must spare them all, especially Georgiana, from this disaster. But he, and they, must then live with the travesty of a life wholly altered.
Richard nodded and rose to his feet. He grasped Darcy’s shoulder briefly, and left the room.
Darcy watched him go, sealing his fate.