Chapter 15 #5
As he hurtled wildly, his mind was vividly invaded by Elizabeth’s pained eyes, her fears, her sadness and the desperation in her kiss when they parted, and he hated himself for leaving her.
She was afraid of something that evening, and he was so insensible that he dismissed her fears lightly.
He was not there when she needed him; he was not there to protect her.
He hated himself as much as he loved her.
The night was dark with no moon or stars—nobody to witness his tears of anger and helpless despair.
∞∞∞
They talked for a long time, neither of them willing to accept the other’s justification. Lady Cassandra tried to impose her version on a stunned Elizabeth, who instantly rejected the idea of allowing her ladyship to take the blame upon herself.
Jane was unable to intervene, as she could not decide whose side she should take.
She could see the wisdom in Lady Cassandra’s plan, and she could understand her sister’s reason for not accepting her ladyship’s generous offer.
For the first time in her life, Jane Bennet hated a man with all her heart—the man who had done so much harm to her beloved sister.
“Elizabeth, you must trust me; everything will be much easier this way, and besides, you have few choices. What do you propose to do—tell everyone that I lied and that, in fact, Markham attacked you? You can easily imagine what kind of speculation and gossip that revelation would raise; and the damage would affect both your family and me. What would be the use of it?”
Elizabeth hesitated a moment, long enough for Lady Cassandra to feel she had gained the advantage.
“Moreover, there is something you have not been told: almost the same thing happened to me four years ago. The earl’s eldest son forced me into a compromising situation during a ball, and we were caught; afterwards, they insisted I marry him, and when I refused, they spread all kinds of rumours about me.
Back then the scandal did affect me,” she admitted with a light tone, trying to prove those memories affected her no longer.
However, her pale face and the expression of distress did not go unnoticed by either sister.
“The earl has another son?”
“He had…That son passed away two years ago.”
“That was the reason you left town?” The improper question escaped Elizabeth’s lips.
“Yes, partially…I was very young then, and since I had spent all my life away from London, I was not accustomed to such shameless schemes. I confess that, when I first met young Lord Markham, I enjoyed his company very much. Then he became quite insistent in his courtship, and I withdrew to the point where I did not accept his calls. And then, at the first ball where we happened to be together, he pretended he wanted to talk to me and apologise. We were on a balcony, and there were people around us, but he felt no remorse in kissing me right there. You can imagine what followed.”
Jane gasped in shock while Elizabeth looked at her incredulously. “And did not William or the colonel do anything? I mean—
“The colonel was not in town at that time and Darcy…His father had just passed away the year before, and he had all many responsibilities on his shoulders, including Georgiana, Pemberley and, partially, my estate. I could not allow him to confront a scoundrel like Markham, so I told Darcy that I willingly allowed him to kiss me, but I did not want to marry him, as he was not the honourable man I thought him to be. Darcy accepted my explanation; furthermore, he suggested that we should marry to put all the gossip aside.”
Elizabeth could not help blushing as her heart ached at the mere idea of Darcy proposing to another woman—no matter the circumstances. A moment later, she regained her calm enough to continue.
“So you lied—twice—on Markham’s behalf,” she said in a lower voice.
“Not on his behalf, I assure you. If I could, I would have— Lady Cassandra stopped instantly and hurried toward the window, the expression of grief so powerful that it darkened her face.
Elizabeth moved to her, gently touching her shoulder in a comforting gesture.
She was highly distressed by what Lady Cassandra had revealed to them and even more so by what she suspected remained untold; obviously there was more to the story, which affected Lady Cassandra more deeply than she was willing to admit.
A tentative knock on the door interrupted their argument, and Lady Cassandra’s maid entered.
“Your ladyship asked to be informed as soon as the earl arrived.”
All three ladies startled and cast quick glances at each other. Lady Cassandra thanked her maid, dismissed her, and then quickly arranged her appearance in the mirror.
“I shall go downstairs,” she said and, without allowing for any opposition, left the room.
∞∞∞
Netherfield library had never been heated by so much tension; Bingley thought it was ready to erupt any moment.
Here they were: his future father-in-law, pale and angry; the colonel, who seemed a storm ready to demolish everything in his way; and the earl with his son, both wearing self-confident expressions and appraising their surroundings with great disdain and no little anger.
“My son has been treated in the worst possible manner, and somebody will pay for it. His face has been injured, he has been beaten, and he has been locked away in a room—
“Your son has not been beaten, Lord Markham,” the colonel interrupted and stepped toward them. Instantly, the younger Markham took a step backward. “If he had been beaten, he would look much worse, I assure you.”
“This is scandalous, Colonel. I will not accept—
“You will not accept what, Lord Markham?” The men turned to the door in utter surprise to face Lady Cassandra, her green eyes flashing fearlessly at the two Markhams. “What will you not accept—the fact that you have raised two sons who have proved to be the most unworthy of men?”
“Lady Cassandra, I will not admit—
“You are in no position to admit anything, sir! I have done you a great favour by informing you of the incident so you can remove your spoiled brat from this vicinity while you still have time.”
“You have no right to insult me and my sons! My eldest son, may God rest him in peace, had nothing but the most honourable intentions toward you, and you refused him with no consideration.”
“Let us not talk about your elder son, Lord Markham. You should better pray as much as you can that God will forgive him for everything he did in this world and finally allow him to rest in peace…some day.” Her voice was so full of emotion that she could not control her words.
“How dare you talk about my son in such a manner? You are nothing but—
“Lord Markham!” Mr Bennet’s voice—powerful and admitting no contradiction—silenced the entire room for a moment.
“I am not familiar with the proper etiquette for your social class, but if you dare say another word against Lady Cassandra, I shall ask my future son-in-law to have you both thrown out of his house this instant. You should have enough shame to leave with no further arguments; that is the least you can do.”
“Mr Bennet, I understand your protective attitude, but you do not know all the facts,” replied Lord Markham with an unexpectedly calm tone.
“And you do not know that Lady Cassandra is trying to deceive you all; my son just told me he did not attack her, as she pretended, but he tried to talk to your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, when an accident occurred that caused this entire misunderstanding.”
“Lord Markham, I know everything I have to know; I am afraid you are the one who has been deceived—by your own son. What happened tonight between your son and a certain lady was by no means an accident, of that I can assure you. As Lady Cassandra suggested, you had best remove your son from this house before somebody gives him the punishment he deserves.”
“Mr Bennet, you must listen to me,” the younger Markham intervened.
“I did not attack Lady Cassandra; she was not even there. I was speaking with Miss Bennet when she accidentally fell. I…I tried to help her recover, but Lady Cassandra arrived, and things were grossly misinterpreted. But I am ready to pay for my mistake by agreeing to marry your daughter. I know she has not much dowry, and I am aware she is not what my family expected for a wife, but I am sure my father will not oppose the union. That will settle everything most conveniently.”
“But she is engaged to Darcy,” cried Bingley.
“She is engaged to Darcy?” repeated both Markhams, visibly stunned by that revelation.
Lady Cassandra and the colonel had no time to intervene before Mr Bennet continued.
“So you agree to marry my daughter. How kind of you! Are you out of your senses, young man? Viscount or no viscount, can you really believe that my daughter would agree to marry you? Or that I would give you my consent?”
Suddenly, the young Markham’s attitude turned more daring, and he replied with an impertinence that made Mr Bennet red with anger.
“Well, it is not a matter of consent after all, Mr Bennet. Like it or not, after word of this incident reaches your neighbours, your daughter will have little choice but to accept me. Your youngest daughter has just eloped scandalously with George Wickham, am I right? The rumours of your second daughter’s improper behaviour in being alone in the dark with a man would ruin your family forever; we all know that. ”
None of them noticed the library door open or the entrance of Elizabeth into the room until she was halfway toward them. Bingley was the first who hurried to offer her his arm.
“Elizabeth, you should have remained in bed,” said Lady Cassandra, moving to her side. In the full light, Elizabeth seemed even more pale and weak than she had appeared earlier in the bedchamber.
“Good, you are here!” said the younger Markham with no trace of distress in his voice. “You are an honourable woman, Elizabeth, and I am sure you will not lie. Tell them the truth; tell them I did not attack Lady Cassandra as she pretended. Tell them you were with me in the garden earlier.”
Before entering the library, Elizabeth had dreaded the idea of seeing him again; but with the protection of the others nearby, her fears proved unjustified. She felt nothing but rage toward the man who almost ruined her life. She stepped closer to him, never averting her eyes from his.
“Do not dare call me ‘Elizabeth’ ever again, sir,” she said icily. “And do not ever expect me to contradict Lady Cassandra, whatever she might have said; she has my full trust and support.”
“Miss Bennet,” the earl intervened politely, “My son said everything was an accident; he said he only tried to talk to you. He even offered to marry you. You must see he is an honourable man.”
“An accident, sir? My dress was ripped and my head wounded so badly that I lay unconscious for a time. Lady Cassandra’s face is bruised; anybody can see that. How can all that be an accident, sir? And I would rather die this instant than marry your honourable son!”
“It was her fault that she interfered,” said Markham, pointing to her ladyship with anger.
“But I see that you feel daring and protected by your connection with her, Elizabeth! You imagine you may offend me and refuse my generous offer with impertinence! You feel certain of your future because of your engagement to Darcy. But you must know he will not want you after what happened between the two of us. You will beg me to marry you when ruin falls upon you all,” he continued, his voice becoming louder and more furious with every word.
Elizabeth took a few more steps to cover the distance between them, and then she swiftly lifted her hand and slapped him with all the power of her released fears, suffering and anger.
“I warned you not to call me ‘Elizabeth’ again!”
He staggered, losing his balance from the surprise and strength of her gesture, and then immediately grabbed her hand forcefully. Instantly, the colonel and Bingley stepped forward to protect Elizabeth, but a voice from the door turned Markham to stone.
“If you dare to breathe in her direction, I shall rip you apart, Markham.”
Darcy’s appearance was a shock to everyone.
Tormented, his clothes in disarray, his hair unruly and his face grimy after a frantic ride from London, his countenance held an expression of untamed rage.
Markham withdrew his hand from Elizabeth and slithered closer to his father; Lady Cassandra and the colonel glanced at each other, silently sharing their worry over what might ensue; Mr Bennet and Bingley simply sighed in relief.
Elizabeth turned her gaze to him, trembling with emotion, fearful of what she would see in his eyes, and afraid her knees would support her no longer.
Darcy walked toward her, suddenly oblivious to everyone else in the room.
Until a few moments ago he had been petrified by the fear of what had happened to her; then, when he saw her in the middle of the room slapping Markham and the villain grabbing her hand, Darcy knew he needed little incentive to kill the man instantly.
But now, all he saw, all that mattered to him, more important than his own life was Elizabeth—pale, tearful, barely standing—looking at him with the same eyes that had tormented him every moment since he left the week before.
He strode quickly to her and, heedless of those in the room, took her in his arms. Their eyes met for only a moment, but they said all that was needed.
She encircled his neck with tentative arms and pressed her head against his shoulder.
He cast a short, meaningful glance toward Mr Bennet, and then without the slightest concern for the others, Darcy left the room, bearing a sweet and precious burden in his arms.