Unforgiving Temper

by Head, Gail

  Hurrying toward the door, a slight movement near the hearth caught her attention, rooting her feet to the floor. She held her breath, afraid to move. It could only be one person. Perhaps he had not seen her in the dark. How much noise had she made at the desk? She could not remember.

  Anxiously she waited, every muscle in her body straining to keep herself still; but her hopes of anonymity were dashed in the next breath. The viscount's deep, resonant voice came from the large wingback chair near the fireplace, its owner hidden in the shadows. His soft, silky words were oddly protracted.

  “Looking for me, my dear?”

  Elizabeth looked through the darkness to the door, trying to gauge if she would have enough time to make it out of the room. Her heart dropped. The shadowy doorway was too far.

  “No answer?” His voice hardened slightly. “I thought not. Perhaps you would care to join me in a nightcap?”

  With the glow of the fireplace silhouetting him, Grissholm rose from the chair and stumbled over the small table next to it, sending a large brandy decanter to the carpet with a thud. For a moment he stared narrowly at the bottle, then snatched it up and closely examined its contents. Twisting his lips into a crooked smile, he gave her a small, unsteady bow.

  “I beg your pardon. It seems that I haven't any left to offer you.”

  “My lord – ”

  “Ah, the lady speaks!”

  “My lord, you have been drinking. It would be better to talk in the morning.”

  “Talk? In the morning? About what?” he sneered viciously, moving slowly toward her in the dark. “How you have crept into my study like a thief in the night to steal my property?”

  His accusation sparked Elizabeth's own indignation. “Your property? Do you mean my sister's letters that you said you did not have? The ones you had already promised me before you held them back to force my will?”

  “Everything has a price, my dear. They are yours, as soon as you fulfill my requirements.”

  “I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth!”

  “Is that so? What, has the dashing Mr. Darcy made you a better offer?”

  “No!” she declared, not wanting to remember that awful night at Hunsford Cottage. “It is you alone who has destroyed any hopes you may have had! It is your abominable behavior that makes me reject you. You deceived me! And kept me from my family in a most cruel and heartless way. Do you think I could ever marry you after that? Mr. Darcy has nothing to do with it!”

  “I am no fool. I know all about your rendezvous in the park with him.” Lord Grissholm's figure now loomed darkly beside her, close enough for her to catch the overwhelming smell of brandy on his breath. “I am very careful with things I consider mine, my dear. After your first chance encounter in the park, I had you watched – discreetly, of course.”

  “You are mistaken! He merely wished to warn me of the rumors. There was nothing of what you imagine.”

  “Deny it all you want, Elizabeth, but I witnessed it myself the day I found you two in the park. He was so besotted, he could barely take his eyes off of you! At first, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, when you were seen meeting him again – after I had expressly forbid it – you made it quite clear why you wished to break our engagement.”

  Hearing the bitter resentment in his voice, Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm. She knew it would be useless to offer any explanation at this point. The half-drunken figure that now towered over her was beyond reason. “My lord, I refuse to stand here and discuss this with you. It is late and this room is freezing. We can sort this all out in the morning when you have had a chance to sleep off your brandy.”

  Not waiting for a response, Elizabeth calmly turned toward the door, hoping to lessen his menacing mood with a show of courage she was far from feeling. All she needed was to reach the hallway and she could run to safety. Hardly daring to breathe, she was halfway to the door when he caught her from behind and spun her around to face him. The smoldering embers in the hearth flared suddenly, throwing his passion-filled face into sharp relief and giving it a wild, diabolical expression. Elizabeth shrank back and Grissholm's hands flew out, capturing her arms in an iron hold.

  “I do not need to sleep off anything! What I need is your assurance of an understanding, and – ” He stopped then, peering down at her more closely, and his hands gripped her tighter. Elizabeth winced as his fingers pressed painfully into her already injured arm. “What is this? A coat? Are you going somewhere, my dear?”

  “My assurance?” She reminded him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I would be happy to talk about that – in the morning.”

  He barked a low, menacing laugh. “You would like that, I have no doubt! But it is not going to happen. I will have it now – tonight.”

  “Have what, my lord?” she asked innocently, stalling for time as her mind raced to find a means of escape.

  “Your assurance, madam!”

  “Very well, I give you my assurance. Now let me go.”

  “Oh, no,” he growled, slowly pulling her into an intimate embrace. “I will have more than your word. I will have an assurance that cannot be revoked. One that will make you forget Darcy once and for all.”

  “There is nothing to forget I tell you!” She was suddenly very afraid. This was more than the intimidating manner he had displayed before – much more. “Let me go!”

  He studied her face intently in the darkness, deaf to her denial. “You would have gone away before I could convince you of your duty. My methods may be a little harsh at times, but it is for your own good.” He suddenly bent his head to kiss her and she twisted away, leaving him to kiss her cheek. He was not deterred and his breath blew hot on her neck. “Do not make yourself uneasy. When we are married, it will come easier.”

  He leaned in to kiss her again, slowly lowering his hands to caress her waist. Elizabeth responded with a cry, instantly recoiling from his touch in horror. Finding herself suddenly free, she stumbled backward, retreating from the threat of his arms which were now stretched wide as if to subdue a frightened animal. For one fleeting moment, she thought she may yet escape and then he lunged forward, pressing her back against the flame-figured door fronts of a massive mahogany tallboy.

  In the next instant, he captured her face with his hands, his body holding her fast against the unyielding wood. His mouth came down hard on hers, heedless of her hands beating furiously against his chest. Her frantic struggles were in vain. At length, he pulled back with a satisfied grin and she wiped at her mouth in disgust.

  “You, sir, are drunk! You are not in control of yourself. Let me go now before you regret your actions.”

  “On the contrary, my sweet Elizabeth, I am very much in control – and I am quite certain I shall not regret my actions.” He gently stroked her now-crimson cheek with his fingertips, sending an involuntary shudder through her. “In fact, I have been sitting here these past hours considering what to do with you. I realize it is not your fault Darcy has filled your head with his lies. I expected he would try something when he turned up in Cumberland and then followed you here to London. He cannot be allowed to spoil my plans; and so I will secure you for myself in the best possible way. He will have no choice but to give you up.”

  “This is not about me at all, is it?” she whispered, stunned with a sudden understanding. “It is about him! You think him in love with me. And you would force me into marriage just to spite him?!”

  “You are a clever woman!”

  “And what will happen when you are done with me? Shall I disappear too?”

  Grissholm stiffened at her implication but did not loosen his hold. “So, you know about Catherine, as well. Then you know that I am repaying a long-overdue debt. But do not sell yourself short, dearest. You are a delightful creature, which makes the retribution all the sweeter. You see, there is no question of your cooperation. Once our union is consummated, you will not be fit for any other man and you will accept your place with me
. More importantly, this particular disappointment, I am quite certain, will stay with Darcy the rest of his life.” A silent reflection brought a crooked smile to his face. “I had not counted on your fortuitous appearance this evening, my dear; but I think now is as good a time as any to secure my victory. We shall still marry, of course; we shall have to for Darcy's sake – appearances, you know – but the wedding ceremony will merely be a formality; one in which you will gladly participate once we are finished here. I shall deliver the invitation to Darcy personally.”

  His hands moved to the top button on her pelisse, fumbling at first and then opening it with a twist of his fingers. Realizing his intentions, Elizabeth gasped, slapping his hand away. “No!” she cried, “you cannot mean it! Let me go!”

  Smiling patiently at her ineffectual efforts, he flicked open another button. “Come now, do not be difficult. You shall only regret it.”

  Sheer terror filled Elizabeth's mind, sparking a renewed resistance. She fought frantically, clawing at his hands, desperate in her struggle against him.

  “Very well, we shall do it the hard way,” he growled, grasping her coat and ripping it open, sending the buttons flying in every direction. In one violent tug, he shoved the pelisse back over her arms until the narrow sleeves caught in a tangle at her elbows, effectively pinning her arms to her sides and shrouding her hands in the folds of the coat. She struggled helplessly as he gathered her into his arms.

  “Do you know how many times these past months I have wanted to capture these impudent lips? You have not disappointed me. It was everything I imagined. You are a bewitching woman, Elizabeth!” The satisfied grin returned as he leaned in to kiss her again.

  Fighting to escape his mouth, she let out a cry of despair as his lips found hers, crushing them with a fevered passion that demanded more. She tightened her jaw in response, pressing her lips into a tight line against his, refusing to surrender.

  Feeling her defiance, he pulled back, giving her a narrow look. Without taking his eyes from her, he slid one hand up to caress her neck, giving a low, devilish laugh as his fingers slowly tightened, choking off her breath.

  “You shall not deny me, Elizabeth. I will have you…and he will know.”

  She thrashed frantically, trying to free her arms to better defend herself, but the tight, narrow sleeves remained solidly tangled. The burning need for air prevailed and she finally yielded, opening her mouth in a desperate attempt to breathe. He immediately relaxed his hold and she gasped, taking deep, rasping breaths of cold air. Grissholm laughed outright as he lightly caressed her throat.

  “You see, my dear? I will have my way and it will do you no good to think otherwise. We need not make this unpleasant, you know. Now, shall we begin again?”

  Elizabeth wanted to scream, but she knew it would not help her. It would only add to her humiliation if anyone knew. She had once said the very rich could give offence wherever they pleased and the truth of it was here before her. This man could do whatever he pleased and there would be no retribution, no justice for her. No servant would ever stand up against him, and the privileges of his elevated status in society would shield him from the law. When he was done, she would be left in utter disgrace and ruin with no choice but to marry him.

  Willing her mind to escape what her body could not, Elizabeth closed her eyes and remained stiff and impassive to his now soft and insistent kisses. From a distant corner of her mind, she felt him draw back between each kiss, felt his ragged breath on her face, then heard a quiet growl of irritation. With a shocking jolt, she registered the feel of his hand at her neck, drawing out the ribbon that gathered the bodice of her gown. In spite of herself, a scream of abject terror rose in her throat, but the cry was silenced before it ever reached her lips as he smothered it with a deep, passionate kiss.

  The terrifying sensation of fabric slipping from her shoulders and the heat of his hand on her bare skin united Elizabeth's mind and body once more, spurring her to action. With a violent, frenzied twist, she managed to break free.

  Instantly Elizabeth turned and darted away, desperately trying to free herself from the wretched pelisse. Her heart racing, she searched the darkness for the door and finally found the large recessed shadow that marked her escape. Lord Grissholm's muttered oath from somewhere behind quickened her already frantic steps. She was nearly there!

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Grissholm's drunken hand clumsily caught her shoulder, tearing at the thin linen of her chemise. A low growl sounded in her ear as his hand slid down, firmly grasping the folds of the woolen coat bunched at her back. In the next instant, she was jerked backward and away in a stomach-turning twist – away from the shadowy door that had been her salvation – and then she was flung into the darkness.

  The room turned in a giddy whirl as she hurtled toward the fading light in the fireplace. Every instinct screamed at her to shield herself from the fall with her arms – but, still wound numbly within the unyielding sleeves, they were now only useless appendages to her defenseless body. Elizabeth felt frozen for an instant in time, falling helplessly, trying her best to twist aside, to free her hands, to escape somehow the inevitable impact.

  Landing hard on her side, a loud, sickening snap reverberated through her body as something within gave way, and her head struck something hard as she slid sidelong across the polished wooden floor. Elizabeth watched the smoldering embers closing in with frightening speed and she tried frantically to slow her progress; but her efforts were too little, too late. With a terrible thud, she slammed unchecked into the heavy brass fender surrounding the hearth.

  Elizabeth lay stunned, feeling nothing but surprise as she tried to absorb what had happened. Then the sound of Lord Grissholm moving in the darkness jolted her dazed senses and she jerked to escape him. The effort brought a paralyzing, white-hot pain that radiated from her side and cloaked her body in agony. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into her. She wanted to scream for someone to get it out, but every breath she took seemed to drive it deeper.

  The raw, ragged pain tore at her chest again and she felt a warm flow of blood oozing from her forehead as a hideous, pulsing ache assaulted her brain. Waves of nausea united with the rippling spasms in her side to form an agonizing, unbearable swell of pain.

  “Now see what you have done. You really should not provoke me, my dear.” Grissholm's soft, silky voice sounded above her. “This wrap is obviously in the way. Let me help you.”

  Gentle once again, he carefully untangled the pelisse, bringing Elizabeth additional misery with every movement. She thrashed feebly in spite of the pain, panting in rapid, shallow gasps. Grissholm patiently waited for her to still, and then lightly kissed her cheek.

  “Come, Elizabeth, it is time.”

  Crippled by overwhelming pain and a bewildering haze that seemed to deepen with each passing moment, Elizabeth was powerless to prevent the coming terror. A tiny shadow of light fell on Grissholm's figure, illuminating his movements. She could only watch in detached horror as he methodically removed his coat and neckcloth, carefully folding each one before laying it on a nearby chair. She squeezed her eyes shut as he bent to join her, trying to shut out the pain she felt now and the pain she knew that was coming.

  “Do not worry, my love” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “It will be over soon, and then you will be mine.”

  Elizabeth’s vision was unnaturally dark, but she could feel him close now – too close! His breath was quick and heavy as he hovered above her. She tried to move away from the suffocating stink of stale brandy, but only succeeded in bringing another devastating spasm of pain to her side.

  Cringing from the horror of his rough, searching hands, she wanted to cry out, but her mind would not form any words. She wanted to fight him, to escape, but every time she opened her eyes an overpowering nausea prevented her from drawing enough breath to scream or even plead for mercy. His nearness was suffocating. His touch returned again and again in a relentless nightmare of dizzying pai
n twisted with unspeakable kisses and bare flesh that finally wrenched a long, agonized sob from her.

  He moved slowly, stroking the already unbearable pain to new heights. Another cry rose from her in response – and then he was gone.

  She waited for him to return, but mercifully, he did not. Instead, there was a voice. It was talking, but the words took too long to reach her brain before they made any sense.

  “Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet, can you hear me?”

  The voice was vaguely familiar, but faint and unimportant now. She was tired, so very tired. And the pain would not go away. It was no longer just the throbbing ache in her head and the exquisite pain in her side. Every part of her body was hurting. She knew someone was moving about nearby, and she felt a weight upon her. It was not so heavy as before, but it was painful all the same. Oh, please, let it end, she thought, no longer caring whether she lived or died if only the pain would stop. Another agonizing ache racked her body, and then the darkness obligingly swept her away before a low, anguished cry could reach her ears.

  “Dear God, no! Miss Bennet!”

  Chapter 25

  “What the devil is going on?!” Charles Bingley exclaimed, staring at Richard's bloodied shirtsleeves. “You and Darcy were supposed to convey Miss Bennet to her uncle's house.”

  Grimly, Richard kept walking until he reached the library and the decanter of brandy he knew Darcy kept there. Pouring a glass, he downed it quickly, then moved to warm himself at the fire, placing a steadying hand against the mantelpiece. He stared into the rising flames, willing them to burn the haunting vision of Elizabeth Bennet from his brain. He could hardly reconcile his last memory of her lively company at Rosings Park with the battered woman he had found in Robert Grissholm's study.