Chapter 17 Return to Innocence #2
“Yes, I know you are speaking in earnest, my love.” Darcy directed his anger where it belonged and hoisted Richard up against the bookshelf.
“Put. Me. Down,” his cousin warned.
Darcy paid him no mind. He knew exactly how this conversation would proceed. He had already lived through the consequences and knew the outcome. It was not a fate he wished upon his worst enemy.
“I want you gone, Richard. I demand that you never darken my door again, ever! You are not to set foot within a mile of either Georgiana or my wife. I shall write to your father on the morrow and have the guardianship of my sister transferred from you to the viscount.”
“Bloody hell! I shall not allow it,” Richard hissed.
Darcy tightened his grip.
“I shall send for my physician. I have read that soldiers can experience…difficulties after returning from the war.”
“We are family, Darcy. Do not let a wench come between us…” The colonel had not yet given up hope that Darcy could be persuaded.
“Wife, Colonel Fitzwilliam. My wife is my closest family, whom I vowed before God to love for better or for worse for the rest of my life. You know me well enough to comprehend that I take my oaths seriously. Besides, you had ample opportunity to say something sooner, before I married Elizabeth and promised to love her for all eternity. If honour and love do not convince you, I am certain you understand that I need an heir.”
“Georgiana’s offspring may inherit,” Richard suggested petulantly.
“That is an awful burden to put on her young shoulders,” Darcy replied evenly. “She is but sixteen and will not be coming out for another two years. I might even be dead by then,” he muttered, remembering his frightful stay in a tomb.
“I shall help both you and Georgiana,” the colonel pleaded.
“No, you will not. I want you as far away from Elizabeth and Georgiana as possible. Neither will ever be your wife no matter how much you desire the ownership of Pemberley. I intend to sire my heir with the lady I chose for my wife.”
The colonel seemed to realise he was losing the battle and tried to step sideways, but Darcy was immoveable in his state of calm strength.
“Very well, have it your way, Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam snarled. “You will regret it though. Remember, Cousin, how Elizabeth flirted with me at Rosings?”
“That was not flirting, Richard. She was being her vivacious self, and nothing untoward occurred between the two of you. I know how Elizabeth flirts, and that was definitely not it. Had she been even remotely interested in you, she would have become tongue-tied and embarrassed. She behaved towards you as she does with everyone else she is acquainted with, and you reward her freely given friendship by accosting her person like a lowly thief.”
Darcy was glad he had grabbed the colonel, to protect Elizabeth, as his cousin’s face reddened further—the man was obviously at his wit’s end.
As if possessed by the devil, Richard wrenched out of his grip, grabbed a tome, and hurled it at his head. Darcy dipped and turned to Elizabeth.
“Get out of here!”
“I cannot leave you with a madman!” the stubborn woman protested.
When books began to fly in her direction, he fended them off with his hands until the footmen arrived, roused from their positions throughout Pemberley’s vast house by the uproar emanating from the library. After a short altercation, the colonel was quickly restrained.
“Tie him up and lock him in the cellar. Place a couple of armed footmen outside his cell and two more outside Miss Darcy’s chamber. As her guardian, he might try to influence my sister against me. On second thoughts, if he breaks free, you have my permission to shoot him.”
Darcy looked each footman in the eyes and waited until they had assented to his demands.
“Edward, you must ride to Matlock immediately and fetch the earl. Tell him it is an emergency and that his presence is required at Pemberley.”
Darcy secured the colonel with a knee in his back.
He released him when his hands and legs were sufficiently bound together and sought out his wife, who was still standing slumped against the bookshelf.
With no thought about propriety or the opinion of his servants, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the library and up the stairs.
He did not release her until he had reached his chamber.
He placed her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her.
Her trembling had not abated on the entire trip through Pemberley’s passages, and her overwrought countenance tugged at his heartstrings.
“I am so sorry,” she sobbed while the tears she had been holding ran down her cheeks. “What you must think of me…”
“I am thinking you have been grievously accosted by my reprobate of a cousin. I did not gainsay him at first because I wanted to know the purpose of his atrocious behaviour.”
Should he tell Elizabeth about his dream? She might believe it was far-fetched and absurd, or that he was quite insane…
“I do not understand,” she admitted. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and her fingers worried her lips.
He could well imagine her disbelief; he hardly understood it himself.
It was to be hoped that the next day would be enlightening.
Especially the interview he was to have with his cousin and uncle.
He could not explain it to Elizabeth without revealing his dream, and if he did, she might think him soft in the head.
It was best she did not know the tormenting outcome of his unconscious vision.
It would be his lot to bear what horrors might have happened had he not trusted his wife to the detriment of his cousin.
In comparison to his lifelong friendship with the colonel, their acquaintance had been short but educational.
There was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth was honest; her response to his disastrous proposal at Hunsford was proof she spoke her mind.
Her attachments were fierce, and her loyalty was absolute.
She would walk for miles through the mud to tend her ill sister or defend a brief acquaintance if she perceived that an injustice had been done.
Once in her good graces, you had a staunch friend, and he liked to regard himself as something even more important—her love.
Elizabeth had been timid, at first, when their love was new and intimacy an untrodden path.
Her innocence was unquestionable. But time and familiarity had brought forward the passionate siren he had sensed beneath her maidenly sensibilities.
Her touch had become brave and exploring ere long.
He could not imagine ever finding a better lover… or friend.
“When I spotted you in the arms of the colonel, time slowed, and I managed to think a thousand thoughts at once. I admit that one of those thoughts will deprive you of your high opinion of me, but I believe that complete honesty is necessary to build trust. I questioned your timidity at the beginning of our intimate relationship. For a split second I wondered whether your resentment had not vanished but had been masterfully concealed.”
Elizabeth gasped, and Darcy tightened his grip around her, concerned he had taken his honesty too far, but Elizabeth reciprocated the fierce hold and clutched him to her.
“We are so alike, you and I. Each harbours the same diffidence and may need confirmation now and again, spoken aloud rather than shown through affection,” Elizabeth suggested.
Darcy was relieved she was not angry with him but understood his sentiments with perfect accuracy. He was shaken to the core and desperately needed her affirmation.
“I was embarrassed, at first, because of the newness and my ignorance. I solemnly swear that my resentment is in the past and is best forgotten. I have loved you for so long now that I hardly remember who I was before Fitzwilliam Darcy strutted into my life. You must purge such horrendous thoughts from your mind because I am far from resenting you. I may not tell you often enough, but I do love you, Fitzwilliam. Even when I am cross with you, I love you. I love you the most when I am cross because you are always so calm, and you smooth my indignation with patience and reason.”
Darcy kissed her lightly whilst a profound peace settled within.
“Thank you, dearest. I needed to hear your declaration of love spoken aloud,” he admitted earnestly.
Elizabeth kissed his hand and lay it on her cheek before looking deeply into his eyes. What he saw in the windows of her soul eased the last of his concerns. With his fears put to rest, fatigue overcame him, and Elizabeth must have noticed.
“We have had a long and eventful night. May I suggest we retire?”
He nodded, divesting himself of only the tight coat and waistcoat before he crawled into bed. Elizabeth chuckled and removed her robe whilst shaking her head in mirthful opposition.
“I shall remove these because they itch,” she declared before helping him out of his breeches.
He had no strength left to protest the slight against his expensive attire.
Instead, Darcy showed his gratitude by lifting his buttocks at the crucial moment to help her.
Next, she untied his cravat—an item he had forgotten about that would surely have strangled him during the course of the night if his wife had not had the wherewithal to remove it.
Elizabeth flung the silky piece of cloth to the floor and settled into his open arms. With their limbs intertwined, they both fell promptly asleep.
#
Darcy woke at dawn, feeling rejuvenated.
No more words had been spoken, but peace pervaded his essence.
Elizabeth lay in the crook of his arm, a leg arrayed across his lower extremities while an arm was tightly woven around his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and her arm tightened; she was awake.
Images of the previous night’s torment flashed before his inner eye.
Hesitant, he lifted her face with a finger under her chin and touched her lips tentatively with his.
Softly and tenderly, he kissed her once more, revelling at her not pulling away from him, and hope surged that his cousin’s abuse had not left any lasting harm.
She never pulled back or flinched at his touch. A deep and profound understanding was blooming like spring after a harsh winter.
There was still much unpleasantness left to be addressed, but with Elizabeth by his side, Darcy could countenance whatever fate decided to throw at him.
Even his mad cousin, who was tied up in his cellar, and the enraged uncle he would have to face in what was most likely going to be an epic argument.
But joy and happiness were equally within his grasp, with the hope that Elysande was already growing beneath his wife’s breast. Time would tell…
#
The interview with his uncle was as unpleasant as he had imagined, but when they both went down to the cellar, the Earl of Matlock met his son at his worst. There was no denying the colonel was not in his right mind.
It was like a dam had broken, and what was left of his reason had all but vanished.
The colonel fought the restraining ropes with all his might when Darcy opened the door to his cell.
A string of curses thundered in his face, in between a renewal of the accusations he had made against Elizabeth, but he did not stop at that.
Richard boasted about marrying Georgiana and becoming the master of Pemberley.
Threatening to kill Darcy like he had murdered his superior officer—slowly and painfully.
He did not notice the earl before it was too late.
Too much had been said to retract his statements with any credibility.
The Earl of Matlock did not take the fact that Richard had killed his colonel in Portugal lightly. The superior officer had been a dear friend.
In the end, it was decided upon a hushed-up affair. Bedlam was too public; they found a physician in Scotland who accepted dangerous patients and treated them humanely.
Darcy stifled a sigh of relief when the Matlock carriage left Pemberley with both his relations. He immediately went to find his sister and pulled her into a fierce hug.
“Would you like to wait another two years before coming out into society?”
“Oh yes, I would like that very much, but why have you changed your mind? Did Cousin Richard persuade you?”
“Yes and no. There is something I need to tell you. Something so sinister it is as if it were taken out of one of those horrid gothic novels.”
Darcy told his sister a portion of what had happened the previous night—their cousin’s attack on Elizabeth and how he had tried to put the blame upon his wife.
“You know that while a gentleman is judged by his honour, a lady is judged by her reputation.
It is not fair, but that is how it is. I would like to see you more confident and less persuadable before you brave the marriage mart.
I happen to have married a wise lady who is the perfect teacher, but she cannot be expected to work her magic in a matter of weeks.
She has trained me for nigh on a year, yet I am by no means fully educated.
“Jesting aside, I am of no mind to lose you so soon to any gentleman, no matter how honourable or distinguished he might prove himself to be. You already have rank, connections, and fortune—you need not marry at all if you are not inclined to. Wait until you are certain you have found the right man for you, Georgiana. I promise it will be worth the wait…”