by Rose Lorimer
Where am I?
I heard a noise, almost imperceptible, but close. A cold shiver ran through my whole body and my head throbbed with the frenetic rhythm of my heart. My many nightmares came to mind.
There it was again, the sound — a crying moan. So real.
I could not concentrate with my skin prickling like that. I was not sure if was the pain or the sudden panic, but I could not breathe either.
I needed to get out of that place.
Now!
Ignoring the pain, I turned to my stomach, deepening my gloved hands on the mushy ground, coming to my knees. The soreness was almost unbearable, but I began to crawl.
I touched something.
Shock sent me backwards as a shriek filled the air. I landed heavily, hitting my head, the ground spiralling around me again like a storm, my stomach churning in its waves.
A crying whisper called my name. Whatever it was, it began to grope its way up my leg, my chest, then my face. I felt the moment those soiled hands gripped my head and pressed against cold skin. The same rotten odour I had sensed before flushed into my nostril. “Mr Darcy…” the soft whisper called in my ear. “Have I killed you? You cannot be dead… I need you—”
“Enough!” I shouted. “Leave me alone!”
I pushed away whatever was holding me, but could not prevail. Those arms tightened their grip around me. “Mr Darcy, please! It is I. Elizabeth. Please…”
Those words broke through my terrified mind.
A discussion. Someone running away. A foot stuck in a hole. A deafening roar. The pain. The darkness.
This is not a nightmare!
“Elizabeth, is that you?” I whispered, desperately embracing the womanly form above me.
“Yes, it is I…” she replied, pressing my head against her cheek, that cold skin gaining a new meaning. I could hear her sharp intakes of air and could only imagine what was going through her mind after pushing her away that way.
“I am sorry,” I said, burying my face in her neck, feeling the relief of her touch. “I-I… For a moment, I thought I was having another nightmare.”
“I know. You were afraid of me, but I could not let you leave me here…” She broke in sobs again. “I am so sorry for screaming like that. When I felt it… when I felt something touching my leg… I did not know—”
“Shush,” I whispered, tightening my embrace, then letting her go. “I did not act any better. Forgive me.”
I heard her moans as she changed her position.
“Are you hurt?” I asked concerned.
“It is my leg… It is hurting, but I do not think its is broken.” There was a pause. “Are you?”
“I hit my head and my chest hurts. But I do not think it is anything serious. Are you sure you are well?” I asked again, unable to stop myself from pulling her closer and putting my arm over her shoulder. She leaned her head on my chest.
When our ragged breathing quieted, there was a long silence. I could hear nothing — and was not sure this was a good thing.
“What happened? Where are we?” she asked, voicing my own questions.
“I am not sure, but we must have fallen into a cave or an old mine. I heard people in town saying they had many abandoned mines around here.”
She sniffed and I felt her body tensing. “It is all my fault… I am so sorry. If I had not run from you into an unknown area, we would not be here now.”
“No, Elizabeth,” I said, pressing my cheek to her head. “I cannot allow you to take the blame. If I had not said what I said, you would never have run. I should have told you everything when I had the chance. But I was too ashamed of myself. I was not sure what you would think of me after… after knowing the truth.”
There was another pause, and then she said, “Oh, Mr Darcy. You are an infuriating man. Forgive me, but my confusion remains. You said you did not want my attention before I thought you were married, and then you said you loved me?”
For the first time, I was glad for the darkness as my cheeks burned in shame. “I cannot fault you for that. I shall explain everything, once we are out of this place,” I said, trying to stand, only to stumble. I sat down again, the throbbing in my head almost killing me. “I think I will need to wait a little longer. Do you mind if we lie down? I promise not to take advantage of a lady in distress.”
I felt more than heard her chuckling. Smothering my primal disgust, I lay down on the muddy ground as carefully as I could, and without asking her, I pulled her closer to me.
As we nestled together, I started my story.
“I told you I have spent some time in Scotland, with my uncles and aunts, but I did not tell you what happened before that. My aunt, Lady Catherine — my mother’s younger sister — paid me a visit two days before that trip. In a few words, she threatened to tell London society about Georgiana’s indiscretion if I did not marry her daughter Anne. As I told you, I accepted it. But I had one condition: I would be faithful to Anne, but would never touch her as my wife. They would live at Pemberley, but I would ignore their existence. Georgiana’s children would inherit my legacy. My aunt agreed without a second thought. I knew I had condemned Anne and myself to a miserable existence, but I could see no other way. About my imminent trip, she demanded to be informed of my return as soon as I left Scotland, so she and Anne could arrive at Pemberley around the same time as me. But I could not do that. I only wrote to her when I was already back. After a whole week without an answer, I concluded she must have underestimated the necessary time to arrange their moving to Pemberley. After two more days, one of her servants arrived saying my aunt was already in Derby and was requesting my escort for the remaining way to Pemberley. I had no other option but to oblige.
“I arrived in Derby on the following day on horseback, accompanied by two of my footmen. Once there, I noticed my aunt’s carriage was overloaded, and that she was expecting me to come in my own carriage and assist them. With no option, we just relieved their carriage of the small bags, accommodating them as best we could on our horses before starting our way back to Pemberley. Eventually, we came across a bridge… My men and I crossed and waited on the other side. When their carriage was half way through, one wheel got trapped in a gap between the wood planks. I do not believe it would have been a problem had her carriage not been so badly maintained, or so heavily loaded…” I stopped, paralysed by the painful memory as if it was unfolding again before my very eyes. I felt Elizabeth gasping, certainly guessing what I would say. “The main axle broke and the carriage tilted to one side, breaking the lateral protection of the wooden bridge. My aunt, my cousin Anne, and the driver fell into the stream beneath.”
“Oh, no! Mr Darcy! What are you saying?”
“The driver jumped and swam to the bank, but my aunt and Anne were trapped inside with the bags on their laps. I jumped into the river and swam to them, but the stream was too strong. If not for my footmen, I would have perished with them. Later, one servant from Rosings Park — my aunt’s estate in Kent — told us the old carriage was not only heavy with trunks and bags, but in desperate need of repair. Despite their advice to use another carriage to take their belongings, my aunt’s wishes prevailed. My guess is that once at Pemberley, and under my protection, my aunt’s life would be different as Anne would have everything that was mine… My aunt used to neglect her tenants, and never cared for the estate more than necessary to get the money she needed. In time, it made most of them abandon the estate. The houses, equipment and carriages were falling apart because of her financial problems and lack of maintenance.”
I stopped, knowing the worst was yet to come. “My uncle Alfred, Richard’s father, took upon himself to arrange the funeral, as I was still recovering from my injury—”
“Injury?”
“I… hit my head, and cut and dislocated my shoulder when the carriage… smashed me against the rocks.”
She gasped. “No.”
“I was pulling Anne’s hand, but I did not know if she was still alive.
She was not responding. The left side of her face was… badly hurt. The river became shallower, and the carriage turned over onto me, pressing my body against the rocky bank. Anne’s hand slipped from my grip… I could not hold her anymore. I just remember the unbearable pain and the river’s currents taking me away. I thought that was the end. But I felt one of my men grabbing my arm and pulling me out. He had a rope around his chest. The other two were holding the other end. My last memory was Anne’s injured face. I woke up three days later with a series of scratches and bruises, a concussion and a repositioned shoulder crowned with a gash. Surprisingly, no broken bone.
“Some days later, my uncle arrived at Pemberley with the bodies. They were so disfigured the burial took place that same afternoon.” I paused, exhausted by the memories. “All of this happened just two months before I met you. How could I, after such a short time, be already falling in love?”
Elizabeth put her hand on my face. “And how can any of this be your fault? You cannot blame yourself for it. You tried to save them. Your aunt chose her way, not you,” she whispered, the air of her voice caressing my neck.
“I-I wished they would never arrive. I hated my aunt so much…” I said, finally putting into words my deepest guilt. “I hated her for being so cruel to me, to Georgiana and even to Anne, forcing us to marry in that way. But I never wished for them to die, especially Anne. She did not deserve it…
“When they were carrying the coffins, one lid moved, and I rushed to put it back. I was Anne’s coffin. I will never forget her disfigured face. In that moment, I knew I had killed her. If only I had held her hand…” I paused, the pain so raw I struggled to breathe. “After that day I started having nightmares; always the same. Anne waiting for me in a church, to marry me, her face mutilated, her hands dragging me to where she was.”
“I know.”
I paused, confused by her words. “You know? H-how can you know it? I never—”
“I was on my way to the kitchen some nights ago, and I heard you groaning, and I… well, I-I entered your room. I could not help myself. You seemed to be in so much pain! I was afraid something had happened to you during the night. I am sorry, Mr Darcy, but I could not ignore it. When I saw you were having a nightmare, I touched you head, and told you everything would be fine. You calmed and soon were sleeping again.”
“I thought I was dreaming about you… Then I left my bedroom and you were there…”
I felt her body recoiling. “Yes. I am sorry to have intruded on your privacy. But it was because of that night that I knew what was happening to you here and had the strength to hold you. I knew you thought I was someone else.”
“I hope I have not hurt you.”
“No. I am fine. But I hope you can see that nothing of this was your fault.”
I shook my head. “If I had been more emphatic about my position, rejected her proposal, found another way…” Those thoughts have tormented me for these last two months. “After, I became too bitter and too full of guilt to subject another soul to a life with me. I promised myself I would never impose my unpleasant company on a woman, much less on a wife. But then I met you, I… did not know what to do. From the first moment I set my eyes on you, there, in my drawing room, admiring my favourite painting, I felt the first cracks in my determination. You were so full of life, so beautiful. I could not ruin you. Soon, your company became a torture. When my passion became too unbearable and I realised I loved you, I thought I had no other option, but to push you away — and save you from me. I have nothing to offer, Elizabeth. Quite the opposite, actually. You have so much kindness in you… I believed that in time I would steal this light from you. That is why I could not let you come closer to me. I did not want to drag you into my world, Elizabeth. I am surrounded by sadness… and death. I am still not sure if I making the right decision…”
I felt Elizabeth’s hands gently caressing my face. “I understand now, but I cannot agree with you. Hating your aunt did not make her fall from that bridge. It does not matter how much you blame yourself, nothing would have changed their fate. Their demise, as sad as it is, was the consequence of her own wrong decisions. You are not to blame. She knew you loved your sister and would do anything to protect her, and she exploited your feelings. I cannot pretend I understand the depth of your pain, but I know that in time it will heal, as long as you believe it was not your fault.”
“Have you ever heard of someone who lost three people in just two months? My decisions caused their deaths.”
“Is that why you reacted so badly when you read about Mr Wickham’s death?”
“Yes… I succumbed to total despair… His was the fifth death in my life…” I felt her arms tightening around me and returned her embrace. “It was when I felt exactly this, your touch, calling me out from my dark place. You saved me, Elizabeth. The sight of you beside me in that rain was the first thing to give me strength. Everything else — Richard’s kindness and patience, Georgiana’s youth and future, and the hundreds of tenants depending on me — came after you. I had to come back, if not to have you, at least to… I do not know what for…”
She pressed her head against my chest. “I can hear your heart. It is so fast,” she said, slipping a hand through the buttons of my waistcoat. “Colonel Fitzwilliam said you did not deserve what was happening to you, but he never said what happened. I could only imagine the worst. But not even in my worst thoughts could I guess any of this…” She sighed. “You are a good man, Mr Darcy, and deserve to be as happy as anyone else. You have suffered enough. This heart deserves to beat fast and strong for a happy reason now.”
There was a long and restoring silence. She stayed there, cuddled on my chest, listening to my heart, and for the first time in many months, I felt peace. I covered her hand. “It could beat for you, if only I—”
Slowly, she removed my glove and caressed my healing palm, the movement stealing my words. “What has caused this callus in your hand? I noticed them the other day.”
I frowned at the sudden change of subjects. “I… hmm… I was helping some of my tenants to repair their homes after a storm. But… what has it to do to with what I was telling you?”
She continued caressing my rough hand, the movement sending waves of a delightful sensation through my body. I could barely feel any pain anymore. “Did you help them to rebuild their homes, barns? Did you use a hammer and a saw?”
“I did, but I do not—”
“Oh, my dear Fitzwilliam—”
I snorted.
“What? If you can call me Elizabeth, I think it is fair I call you by your Christian name—”
“Then, called me William. Fitzwilliam reminds me of my cousin. I dislike his name in your mouth.”
She chuckled and brought my hand to her face. “Dear William… I have been dreaming about you since Charles told us what you have done for him.” She chuckled. “I confess I have made some further inquiries of Mrs Hayford, but she was not very obliging. Your cousin, however, was more than happy to provide me all the details I wished to hear. You are a good man. Any woman would be grateful to have you as a husband.”
“I-I can be resentful and implacable.”
“I can be stubborn.”
“I can be taciturn and aloof—”
“And I outspoken and annoyingly teasing. Who can claim to be perfect?” she asked petulantly.
I chuckled, then frowned. Could it really be possible? “Elizabeth…”
“I love you, William. I think I have been in love with you since I stayed in that beautifully decorated lilac room — your favourite… And now knowing the whole story…” She paused and chuckled. “Knowing you are not married, and there is no other reason I should run away from you, I love you even more—”
I turned to my side and cupped her face. I could not control myself after those words. Guided by her warm breath, I leaned forward slowly, finding her mouth, waiting for her to draw back.
She did not.
My lips found hers and I k
issed her.
Enough of denial. Enough of being held by shackles of guilt. I let that love explode inside of me. I kissed her like the desperate man I was; desperate to believe I had another chance. My aching body came to life as I felt her natural surprise turning into a warm response, welcoming my lips, pulling my head closer. In that touch, all pain was gone, odours forgotten; no more mushy ground. The only sensation was her body closer to mine and her lips on mine. I kissed her for all the times I have seen those lips calling for me and I had restrained myself.
What had crossed my mind to keep myself away from this woman?
“Oh, Elizabeth,” I said, panting, reminding myself she was not yet my wife. “How I would love to see those deep green eyes of yours. I thought I would go mad longing to drown in them, in your love, in the taste of your kisses. Forgive me if I have frightened you. But I cannot restrain my love anymore.”
She chuckled, still panting at the strength of our passion. “I think I need to add another two to your many abilities: how to make a woman like me speechless and this new found poetic vein of yours.”
“Poetic?” I asked, sitting up and pulling her with me. “Elizabeth, I cannot see a sunrise without thinking of you, without imagining your smile sparkling as the sunlight. Your kindness, liveliness and, above all, your intelligence — your superior intellect. They conquered me.” I stopped, suddenly involved in the despair of thinking I could have lost her. “How badly I have treated you… Please, forgive me.”
“I thought you did not approve of me. I thought… you did not like me…” she whispered.
“Oh, Lord. How could I ever lead you to believe such an untruth? You are all that is delightful and pleasant. You are like the first spell of sunshine after a cold night. What you call impertinence and outspokenness I call breath of life. For some time now, your sweet smiles have been my only reason to wake up and face my day.” The sound of her laughter spread prickles throughout my skin. I knew I could not live without her anymore. “Dear Elizabeth, I am a broken man. I carry too much—”