Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  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 lady
ship 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.

  Chapter 16

  Darcy had never before felt such extreme relief and intense grief at the same time. To see Elizabeth pale and sorrowful and be unable to help was an unbearable torture; yet, he felt grateful that, at least, she did not seem as harmed as he had feared. He entered the room and gently settled her on the bed. Her hands remained entwined around his neck, so he sat beside her, his face close to hers. His fingers caressed her hair, removing a rebellious lock from her forehead. Tears began to roll over her cheeks.

  “Elizabeth, how are you feeling?” His voice was even gentler than his tender touch, yet she could do little but cry.

  “I am well…Now that you are here, I am well. I was afraid you would not come…after what happened. I would have understood if you had been upset with me and changed your mind—

  “How can you think that? How can you believe anything would change my mind about you? Do you not know how much I love you?”

  “I…” She seemed startled at his intensity, and instantly his voice softened; his eyes, moist with emotion, caressed her face with an adoring gaze as he continued.

  “Do you not know that nothing could keep me from you? As soon as I received Bingley’s express, I did not spare a moment.” He paused, looking at her with utter sadness. “Yet, I am so very late. Will you ever forgive me for not being here to protect you when you needed me? If I had known—

  “Please, do not blame yourself. If there is anyone to blame, it is me.” Her tears continued to fall.

  “You? How could you be blamed?”

  “Yes, me! I was so careless…I did not pay enough attention to Cassandra’s warning. I never imagined a man could act in such a way; I still cannot believe it.”

  Darcy felt lost in his weakness, watching her distress as he struggled to control his anger. He would have done anything to take her pain upon himself, but there was nothing to be done.

  “Please do not cry, my love,” he said hesitantly, uncertain how to comfort her. “I am here to take care of you now. Nothing is important except you and your health. Has the doctor visited you?”

  Elizabeth fought to stop crying, more affected by his obvious grief than by her own distress. “No…not yet, but I do not need a doctor. I am quite well now that you are here.”

  “But…you have been injured,” he whispered averting his eyes from her, unable to control his emotions. “The doctor must see you.”

  “Oh, I only hurt my head when I fell, which is why I am feeling a little dizzy, but I will be fine.”

  “But…are you in pain?” he continued warily, his voice barely audible, his eyes not meeting hers.

  Elizabeth stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then her hands moved to cup his face as she turned his head to look at her. He must be thinking as she did after the attack—that Markham had compromised her—yet he came back to her and declared his love for her without hesitation. Her heart melted with joy and gratitude as her fingers tenderly caressed his handsome, weary face.

  “My love, I am in no pain. I have been injured in no other way than my head. Cassandra saved me before anything worse occurred.”

  Darcy’s expression betrayed all the feelings that wrestled within him, and Elizabeth found the strength to reassure him quietly once more. “I am not injured, and I am in no pain.”

  “So you are well?” he inquired further, afraid to trust this new revelation.

  “I am well. Nothing happened,” she assured him and then suddenly turned pale as she continued, her voice trembling with distress, barely able to reveal her painful secret. “No, that is not entirely true. Something did happen. He tried to kiss me, but I fought him…but I think he still kissed my face. And…he touched me…and…I am so sorry, William. I cannot remember clearly, as I fell and knew little afterward. But Cassandra said he had no time to do anything. I…”

  “Elizabeth…” Heartbroken by her painful distress, yet enveloped by incredible relief and gratitude, Darcy seemed at a loss for words and unable fully to comprehend the meaning of her revelation. Could it be true? Could his worst fear be unfounded? Was it possible she was unharmed? Then why was she still so tormented, so grieved? Had she been wounded in some other way? She said the bastard had kissed her. Darcy would not hesitate to kill him for that, but it was little compared to what he had imagined a few minutes earlier. Still shocked, he struggled to understand and find a way of dissipating her misery but could do nothing except hold her tightly.

  They lay on the bed, embracing, Darcy caressing her hair and placing light kisses on the top of her head. She cuddled to his chest for a few moments, and then she moved slightly and lifted her face to him in a shy attempt to meet his lips. Instead of the expected sensation of his mouth on hers, he only smiled tenderly, moving a lock of hair from her forehead and pressing his lips upon it. Elizabeth felt a sudden chill and remained still in his arms, not daring to attempt any further intimacy.

  “I understand you,” she whispered after a few moments.

  Darcy withdrew a few inches and stared at her in misapprehension. “Understand me?”

  “I can understand why you do not wish to kiss me…after that man…”

  He looked at her—eyes wide open. Elizabeth shivered; he seemed upset. How could he not be? No honourable gentleman would accept his betrothed’s being touched by another man.

  “Elizabeth, what on earth are you talking about?” He cupped her face forcing her to look at him. “Oh, my dear, despite everything that occurred this evening, you truly make me laugh.” Indeed, he did laugh, and
tears rolled down her cheeks as she did not comprehend his sudden amusement.

  He smiled while gently kissing her tears away. “My dearest, I want nothing but to kiss you; have no doubt about that. Nothing will ever diminish my desire…except perhaps the thought that your father is downstairs and could intrude on us at any time.”

  She burst out in nervous peals of laughter, and he continued to kiss her cheeks as he spoke. “I have spent too much time fighting to regain your father’s good opinion to risk being shot by him; however, let us hope he will not make an appearance for a few more minutes.”

  She laughed again, and her lips brushed against his face in countless, small kisses. “I thought you would be upset. I was so upset, so angry with myself for allowing that…I have always imagined you would be the only man to touch me, kiss me…”

  “And so it is, my love; so it will be! What happened this evening was nothing but an unfortunate accident you will soon forget. These are the kisses…and these are the touches you will remember…” Leaning her against the pillow, Darcy covered her face with soft kisses, his lips travelling along her jaw and then down to her throat, followed by his gentle fingers that brushed lightly against her skin as though trying to wipe away her painful memories.

  Darcy broke the embrace gently; his hands were still caressing her hair. Their faces almost touching, he smiled with a last short kiss on her chin.

  “Elizabeth, this will not do. You must rest, and I must go.”

  “No, indeed…I do not need rest. I do not want you to leave.”

  “As much as I would like to stay with you, my love, that cannot happen, not with your father in the house. And I am so dirty from the road and likely smell horrible.”