Chapter 1.15 #6
“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.