by Lory Lilian
She stopped and looked at David; his countenance had darkened, and his face was paler than before. “I am sorry if I hurt you, but you must know the entire truth. I fell in love with that man with all my heart. Thomas taught me the meaning of utter felicity; in three days we were married.”
The shock on David’s face made Cassandra stop again, but he did not ask for further details.
“We spent the next three months visiting Italy, and each moment we spent together made me feel we were perfect for each other. After two months, I discovered I was with child. How could happiness be more perfect, more complete?” Her voice trembled and she went to pour a glass of water. David helped her, but her fingers could not hold the glass; she took a small gulp from the glass in his hand.
“We were in Rome and used to take long strolls through the town before retiring for the night. We both loved walking and riding, but he could not ride for the time being. One evening, during our walk, there was a noisy group behind us. At some point, they passed near us; they were a large gathering, including ladies and gentlemen. With no little annoyance, I recognised the elder Markham son among them. They all seemed euphoric, and Markham looked at my husband and me and then bowed politely. But I did not miss the impertinent smile on his face.
“He said, ‘Lady Cassandra, what an unexpected, wonderful surprise to meet you here!’
“I should have ignored him and turned the other way. Instead, selfish, impudent, and inconsiderate for nothing but my wounded pride, I answered, ‘Unexpected, but by no means wonderful, Lord Markham.’ ‘Oh, your words wound me,’ he answered. ‘I have longed to see you, and my wishes have come true. You must admit we are meant to be together.’
“Of course, at that, Thomas interfered and demanded explanations. Markham laughed and suggested he join them for a man-to-man talk. His impertinent expression and the looks he gave his companions suddenly alerted me, and I became agitated and frightened. I turned around, asking Thomas that we leave, as I was not feeling well. At first, he insisted on having a discussion with Markham, but I kept insisting we leave, and he finally relented. Markham and his friends started to laugh, calling after him to return if he wanted to know more about me. I could feel how angry he was, but he said nothing until we reached our home—and there he allowed his rage to come forth.
“He acted almost wildly, as I had never seen him before—not at me directly, but reproaching me for not allowing him to clarify things. He demanded I tell him who Markham was, and I related everything with complete honesty, trying to prove to him that Markham did not deserve his attention. He grew even angrier and demanded that I stay inside while he returned to settle things. I was petrified. I begged him to put the matter aside. I actually crawled and clung to him; he was looking at me as if I were out of my mind. He asked me to be rational and listen to him, as nothing would happen. But I did not. I do not know why; I could never explain to myself why I was so terrified. Seeing me in such a state, he seemed to overcome his own rage. He tried to calm me; he put me to bed and held me in his arms, talking to me, until well after midnight. He…we made love and all the time I did nothing but ask him, beg him, force him to promise me he would not leave me that night or ever, that he would never go to seek Markham again. Finally, I fell asleep.”
The tension in the room was so intense that it became unbearable even for David; he kept staring at her as she was speaking, but she seemed a completely different person than the Cassandra he knew. He wanted to move closer to her in support and comfort as, obviously, the emotions were overwhelming, but he did not dare.
“During the night I awoke, frightened by a nightmare…I can still remember the sensation. I felt trapped in a cage of ice, everything dark around me, and I began to fall into an abyss, unable to stop. I woke up sweating, crying. But the nightmare was just beginning. The more frightening, life-draining nightmare started then and would end more than one year later. I looked for Thomas, but he was not there. Instead of his warm presence, I found a note on my pillow. He said there was something he had to do—his honour and love for me demanded it—and he would return soon. Nothing else…but I knew he had broken his promise to me. I knew where he had gone.”
She started pacing the room with growing anxiety, her voice trembling. “He did not return—not that night nor the next. I sent my servants to search amongst his acquaintances in all the places he might have frequented. I hired more men to form search parties and retrace his movements around the town and beyond. They found him two days later in a secluded grove outside Rome. He had been shot…twice…in the back.”
She was not crying, her eyes fixed on the fireplace, and she was clasping her fists together so tightly that the fingers were livid. David felt helpless, dying of sadness and of wishing to protect and comfort her, yet he knew it was not the moment for him to interfere. There she was, alone with her memories, alone with his memory. There was no place for anyone else. The colonel remained alone—and lonely.
“I do not know what happened the next few days; Mrs. Simmons must have taken care of the funeral because I cannot remember much. I only remember staying near his coffin and staring at him. I did not even cry…not for a moment. The next weeks I did not leave my room. I spent all my time hating him. I hated him with all my strength because he made me lose everything—after he had given me the whole world. He had put his stupid pride above my wishes and happiness. His child was inside me, and I hated him even more for what he had done to that innocent life. I only wanted my thoughts to stop forever, as I could not bear them any longer. Then…one morning I woke, and I felt warm…too warm. The only thing I knew was that the doctor had been fetched—not for the first time, so it was of little importance. Then more time passed, and Mrs. Simmons told me my child was also gone. The doctor said my child had died because I did not eat or sleep for all that time. Can you understand that? What kind of mother was I? What kind of woman am I?”
Unconsciously, the colonel shivered. His eyes were fixed on her beautiful—now transfigured—face in an expression of the deepest sorrow. There she was—in front of him—revealing to him a part of her soul that was kept in the darkest, most secret place until that moment. She then started to cry, and her body knelt on the floor. “That moment I understood: it was not my husband’s fault, but mine. It was I who provoked everything. Had I not confronted Lord Markham that evening, had I pretended I did not see him, none of it would have happened. I killed my husband, and I killed my child.”
He knelt by her on the rug, his arms around her shoulders; she fought to push him away. “Cassandra, do not reject me, please. It is not the man trying to comfort you now, but your friend.”
His emotion barely allowed him to speak; she remained still in his arms for a few moments, then her head fell on his shoulder and despair burst from her chest in the most heartbreaking weeping. He had never before experienced such pain as he felt while holding her in his arms unable to do anything to share her grief. If only he could take her burden upon himself.
After some minutes, her sobs stopped. She withdrew from him and resumed her place on the sofa. He rose with her but did not sit near her, allowing her the separation she wanted.
“The doctor told me I might not be able to have children again, and at that moment, I gave it little consideration. I no longer wanted to live…so what would I care whether I could have children again? And then one day Darcy arrived. Later I found out that three weeks had passed since my husband died—only three weeks, and I was certain it was a lifetime.” She stopped and looked at David, smiling painfully. “I recovered because of Darcy; he was such a tiresome burden and such a wonderful, annoying brother! He stayed with me more than a month. He tried to discover what happened but found no real clues; we had no proof that Thomas ever met Lord Markham. He and his friends had left Rome some time earlier, and Darcy could not find them; I was so happy for that, as I was afraid something would happen to him too. A year later, I left Italy and spent another two-and-a-half years travelling—that i
s all. That is my life.”
“The elder Markham son died two years ago,” said the colonel. “There were rumours that his death was a horrible one and he had lost his mind near the end.”
“Yes, I have been told that, but I cared little about it. His death was no comfort to me.”
“How is it nobody knew—about your marriage, I mean… ?”
“Who would care to know? My life is of little interest to anyone except Darcy and Georgiana…and you; I shall not deny that, which is why I decided to tell you everything. I hope now you can understand my reasons for refusing your proposal. I shall never open my heart again; my heart is stone, and so it will remain.”
Suddenly, he rose to his feet. She followed him with her still tearful eyes.
“Cassandra, I am deeply grateful to you for sharing this story with me and for being so considerate of my feelings. I cannot tell you how angry I am with myself for my unfair reaction earlier in your room. I did not—
“No, no, please do not blame yourself. How could you have known? I hope we will be able to forget everything and be friends again someday.”
He continued, pacing the room in torment. “You talked about your fault and your husband’s fault, but I can see neither. All I can see is the unfortunate story of a most worthy and honourable gentleman who, in an attempt to protect the honour of the woman he loved, was defeated by a cowardly rogue. He did nothing any man of honour would not have done.”
“I shall not have this conversation with you, Colonel,” she said coldly as she prepared to leave the room. “I can well imagine you see no fault in a man breaking the promise he made to his wife to satisfy the demands of honour; I am sure you would have done the same. You declared as much last evening in the library when we talked about Markham. You would have been very pleased to see Darcy confront him and expose his life only because the rule of honour demands it!”
“A gentleman must defend his honour and the honour of those for whom he cares; that is how things are, Cassandra, whether you like it or not. I will always protect you and Georgiana; you must know that. I will always do what is right for you, and so will Darcy with Miss Bennet. How is it possible you do not see the justice in such a gesture—you, of all people, who jeopardised your own reputation to save Miss Bennet’s?”
She looked disconcerted for a moment. “That is utterly different; it cannot be compared.”
“It is absolutely the same; you bear no fault in what happened to your husband—you must see that—or in losing your child. But I am afraid you do not permit yourself to see the truth. You have become so accustomed to living with this burden—with this profound suffering—that it has become a part of you, and you cannot imagine your life without it. You cannot bear the idea of forgiving yourself and trying to be happy again.”
“How dare you speak to me in such a manner? You, who never knew what love was, who never cared for any woman more than a couple of nights? How dare you tell me what the truth is!”
“I love you. I have not known love before, but I do now so very painfully,” he whispered, and she ceased her angry tirade and turned to him in shock. “I shall be your friend if that is your desire, or I shall leave if you prefer, but I shall always love you.”
He stopped talking, and she seemed to stop breathing. Her beautiful green eyes appeared as lifeless as her pale face. In the silence of the room, he was certain he could hear their hearts beating as he waited for her reply.
An answer did not come—at least not the one David longed to hear. Cassandra’s trembling voice, so soft he could barely perceive it, whispered as her tentative steps directed her toward the door.
“You may do as you please, sir, and I shall do what I must.”
Chapter 17
Elizabeth awoke with the painful sensation that her head was too heavy to be lifted. She moaned and leaned back against the pillow, momentarily disoriented. Then, gradually, the memories of past events overwhelmed her. The light of a sunny day was warming the room, as was the fire—burning steadily—yet she shivered.
Georgiana’s sweet face, clouded with worry, appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, Elizabeth, I just discovered you are still at Netherfield. What happened? I am so sorry I did not come until now! But last evening you seemed fine. I never imagined…And William returned in the middle of the night. I know something must have happened, but nobody told me anything.”
Georgiana’s voice was trembling, her face colourless, and Elizabeth took her hands, struggling for the appropriate words to offer in response.
“Georgiana, there is no need to distress yourself so, dearest. Everything is well now. Please try to calm yourself, and I promise I will tell you everything.”
For the next half hour, nothing remained untold, not even Lady Cassandra’s scheme of pretending she had been the victim of Lord Markham’s attack.
Georgiana’s state became worse in the face of such an extraordinary revelation—the notion that a gentleman, the son of an earl for that matter, could behave in such an outrageous manner. The sudden revelation that a lady cannot be completely safe, even in the home of a close friend, made her spirits desperately low.
Elizabeth explained in every detail the extraordinary gesture Lady Cassandra had made.
“Yes, Cassandra is wonderful, is she not?” whispered Georgiana.
“Indeed she is; even more, she is generous and courageous. I have never met anyone like her.”
“You are both wonderful; I am so fortunate that I will have you both with me from now on.”
A few minutes later, Jane—pale with dark circles around her eyes, a sign she had slept little—joined them. The elder Miss Bennet’s distress and worry were obvious, and Elizabeth’s sombre expression returned.
At Elizabeth’s insistence, clearly embarrassed by Georgiana’s presence yet incapable of dissimulation, Jane said with a faint voice, “Lizzy, if you are feeling better, we should take our leave. Miss Bingley is quite upset with us.”
***
Charles Bingley pushed his chair away and stepped toward his sister who was still sitting at the breakfast table. His face was red with anger, and his eyes narrowed in fury as he looked at Caroline.
“The betrayal of your unworthy friend Lord Markham seems to have affected your senses and reasoning, Caroline, so I will try very hard to forget the grave offense you have just given my intended. But that is the last time you will speak to her in such a way. I shall not accept your rudeness any longer. And do not forget that, in less than a month, Jane will be the mistress of this house, and she will decide if you are allowed to live in our home.”
“I should be angry with you, Charles, not otherwise! I went to bed last night knowing Lord Markham was well and contented. I woke this morning to find he is gone! Instead, I found Jane and Eliza Bennet, who apparently had spent the night here! What reason could possibly induce Lord Markham to leave so suddenly in the middle of the night?”
“That is something you will have to ask the man himself when you meet him again, which I hope will happen in fifty years!” He was furious and could hardly rein in his impulse to blurt out the truth.
“Charles, how can you be so cruel as to say such a thing? You are simply jealous at the prospect of my marrying into such a fine family, so different from that of your future relatives. I am sure that was the reason he left: he was offended by the improper company in which he found himself! What was that scheme with the Bennet sisters remaining overnight? Jane has trapped you already, so maybe Eliza had hoped to accomplish something similar with Lord Markham.”
Lady Cassandra’s cold, impersonal voice brought all eyes to her as she entered the room. “Miss Bingley, you should not harbour any hopes of ever connecting yourself to Markham as you wish. Mr. Bingley had the honour not to tell you the truth, but I have no such scruples, so you can cease accusing the Miss Bennets of nonexistent deeds.” Bingley watched her in shock, suddenly forgetting his previous anger toward his sister; her ladyship looked shockingly d
ifferent. Her face was pale, and bruises—now turned blue—were visible on her right cheek; her eyes—black circles around them, red and swollen as though she had been crying—seemed lifeless.
Though Caroline’s face coloured highly with anger against such a statement, she could not gather her senses enough to reply as she would have wished.
“Lady Cassandra, are you well?” Bingley hurried to offer her his arm.
“I am perfectly well, sir. Please do not disturb yourself. I am just tired, as I scarcely slept.”
She sat and then continued, turning to Miss Bingley. “These bruises you see on my face, Miss Bingley, are proof of Lord Markham’s ungentlemanlike behaviour. You should be pleased by his departure and grateful if he appears nowhere near you in the future.”
Caroline’s eyes opened in shock at such a statement. “Lady Cassandra, surely you cannot imply—
“I imply nothing; I am telling you frankly. You should accept that Lord Markham came here not to court you but for mischievous reasons of his own. He took advantage of your credulity.”
“That cannot be,” Caroline cried out, her cheeks suddenly pale, her eyes narrowed in anger.
“It is true.” Bingley’s tone was softened as he was clearly affected by his sister’s distress. “He is not a man of honour, Caroline. He behaved like a savage and injured not only Lady Cassandra but also Miss Elizabeth. That is why she had to remain overnight; she was simply not well enough to return home. Markham told me he never had any intention of connecting himself with you; he declared as much in the presence of his father and other witnesses.”
“That cannot be…” Caroline’s voice grew lower, as her countenance wrinkled and darkened.
After many minutes during which she seemed unaware of the others in the room and oblivious to her brother and sister’s worried inquiries, Caroline Bingley crept from the room. Charles Bingley felt a cold emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He had never seen Caroline in such a state before.