Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  Darcy frowned, staring at his future father-in-law, unable to reply. Fortunately, Mr. Bennet was too affected by his daughter’s reaction and too sympathetic toward Darcy’s distress to inquire further.

  ***

  The doctor’s report did not raise Elizabeth’s spirits.

  Dr. Barrington insisted he would watch his patient —sleeping deeply from the medicine—the entire night for any change, so Elizabeth took the opportunity to retire to her room and try to rest. Her body felt so heavy that she could barely walk, but her spirit was even heavier.

  However, sleep would not come to bring her release. She startled as she heard the door open softly but calmed immediately when she recognised Darcy’s steps. He had come, but she did not want to see or speak to him. She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.

  He moved closer and sat on the bed; she sensed his gaze caressing her face. Then his fingers brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and his lips touched her cheeks briefly. She felt the need to cry, but she remained still.

  When he left, the room—and her heart—remained empty. She was glad he had gone. She was too angry to see him now. She hated him for putting himself in danger, for jeopardising their future happiness, and for not trusting her. She hated him with all her heart—she hated him with all her love!

  Sleep eventually took pity and enveloped her.

  ***

  Elizabeth did not sleep long. The room suddenly became cold, and she knew someone had entered.

  She opened her eyes and saw Markham, an evil grin on his face and a pistol in his hand pointed at Darcy’s chest. Elizabeth screamed and tried to stop him, but she was trapped, seemingly tied to the bed. The next moment, the thundering sound of a gunshot shattered the room, and she knew Markham had shot him.

  Suddenly, she could move, and she threw herself on the floor near Darcy’s fallen body. A warm, red spot was spreading across his shirt over his heart; she touched it and felt his blood on her fingers. She screamed again and cupped his face, crying his name, but the only reply was her name whispered by his pale lips. He died in her arms, and she never had time to tell him how much she loved him.

  ***

  Elizabeth awoke, trembling with fear, and the pain in her chest left her breathless.

  She looked around and saw herself in the bed—the room silent—with no one around. It had been only a nightmare her mind kept telling her, but she could not stop trembling; the recollection was so vivid—Darcy’s body on the floor, Markham’s smirk, the sensation of Darcy’s cold face on her fingers.

  The window was open; that was the reason she was so cold. She closed it, put more wood on the fire, wrapped herself in a robe and settled herself on the settee near the fireplace.

  It had been a nightmare, obviously, she kept repeating that to herself, demanding her mind to see reason. Yet her heart was grieved and unable to beat regularly. Was it merely a nightmare? Was he truly safe? No, she would not be content unless she convinced herself of his safety. She pulled her robe together, tied it to cover herself and exited the room. She had to be sure.

  There was only one place he could be—a place she never would have dared enter. Looking around tentatively to be sure she was not seen, Elizabeth opened the door and crept in silently.

  No servant was within; she stepped forward and, with infinite care, entered his bedchamber.

  Oh, he sleeps quite soundly, she thought, half relieved to see him so peaceful, half irritated that he was sleeping when she could not!

  She took two more steps and was now close to the bed. His hair was tousled, and his face, relaxed in sleep, seemed even more handsome. His chest was moving steadily with his breath; his neck was exposed above his nightshirt, and she blushed at the sight of it. Yes, all had been a nightmare.

  “My love, what are you doing here?” His voice sounded not only tender but also obviously pleased and relieved to see her. If he was convinced she had forgiven him, he was mistaken!

  “I came to…see you. I had a nightmare and wanted to be sure that…” She blushed as she spoke, her words a poor excuse even to her own ears.

  “Elizabeth, please, let me explain to you…please…”

  She looked straight into his eyes. “You lied to me, William.”

  “I only kept the truth from you to protect you.”

  “You did not trust me enough.”

  “I did not trust you would understand and allow me to go.”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Yet, I had to do what I thought was my duty.”

  “I cannot accept that. I cannot bear the thought that you will continue to put yourself in danger and conceal it from me.”

  “It will not happen again; but can you not understand that I had to protect you?”

  “Protect me? You wanted to protect me! Then you should have stayed with me, and nothing would have happened. What did you accomplish by fighting Markham?”

  “I taught him a lesson. I warned him never to bother you again.”

  She rolled her eyes, not knowing whether she should slap him or laugh at him. “How badly was he injured? What if his father raises a scandal against you?”

  “I shot him in his right arm—painful but not life-threatening. However, he will not be able to handle a weapon for some time. The earl will keep his history private—no need to worry. I could have killed Markham but chose not to. The earl knew that and was grateful; he promised to take Markham on a long trip to the continent; they will likely be away for a couple of years.”

  “I see…” Her voice softened, and he did not fail to notice. He placed a light kiss in her palm, and then kissed each of her fingers. She shivered.

  “I can never forgive you for what you did,” she said, and he frowned.

  “I will struggle all my life for your forgiveness if you will still agree to marry me. I cannot bear the thought that you might leave me. I would gladly give my life for you, Elizabeth.”

  She sighed furiously, and her eyes—only a few inches away—glared into his.

  “I do not want you to give your life for me, you stupid man! I want you to take care of your life and share it with me for many, long years.”

  “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth…” he whispered adoringly, his arms embracing her as his lips brushed her face with countless kisses.

  She was still angry with him, but she could not resist his kiss. She was so cold that, when he pulled her close to him in bed, she only moaned in contentment. His caresses, even sweeter than she remembered, warmed her; when she quivered again, it was not from cold.

  She was breathless from his weight crushing her; she felt her gown pulled up to her thighs and his legs entwining with hers as he lay on top of her. She was a little frightened to be trapped beneath him; however, it was not fear but a lack of air that made her stop him.

  “William, please stop,” she whispered, but for a moment, he seemed not to hear her. She repeated her plea, and he obeyed instantly, breaking the kiss and looking at her closely.

  “Elizabeth, I am so sorry. I forgot myself.” He looked devastatingly handsome as he gazed at her, begging forgiveness for his impulsive desire.

  “Do not apologise, sir,” she smiled, struggling for air. “It is just that…you are too heavy to bear,” she said, blushing.

  “Oh, please forgive me. I did not think that it might be uncomfortable for you. I have lost myself,” he repeated and hurried to move away from her, but she trapped him with her arms.

  “It is not at all uncomfortable, sir,” she replied, forcing a smile to conceal her mortification. “I was just wondering whether you could…do something…not to be so heavy,” she concluded.

  He moved a little, and she felt easier. His warmth was still there—he was still lying upon her—but his weight had become bearable.

  “I am so sorry, my love,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers.

  “Oh, you were not that heavy,” she replied teasingly.

  “Not for that.” He smiled back at her, yet he was obvio
usly affected.

  “Well, that other subject will not be so easy to resolve, sir. I still do not forgive you; I am just happy to see you unharmed and to know Cassandra is better, and I am rejoicing in all this good news after such torment. But I still want more details about the duel,” she said severely.

  “I will tell you everything you want to know.”

  “And I will have some very clear demands if we are to be married.”

  “Will I be allowed to negotiate them, madam?”

  “Not much, I am afraid. Furthermore, I still intend to punish you for your actions,” she smiled mischievously, and he seemed finally to relax.

  “Do you have any specific punishment in mind?”

  “No, I am too tired to think, but I will give it proper consideration once I am more rested.”

  “I will wait patiently and accept my sentence.”

  By that time, his lips were already touching hers, softly brushing them without completing the kiss.

  “Elizabeth, though you might not know it, you are already punishing me.”

  “How is that, sir?” she inquired, but the last words went unheard as his mouth finally captured hers. She enjoyed the kiss much more than any answer and did not complain.

  Now that their bodies were not quite pressing against each other, there was room left for his insatiable hands to explore and caress with tender passion. She vividly remembered the sensation of his touch, yet when his fingers brushed over her breasts and cupped them with gentle possessiveness, she shuddered and cried against his mouth.

  When the need for air made him break the kiss and his lips rested upon her temple, she managed to whisper as she impulsively pressed her lips against his ear, “How do I punish you, sir?”

  Darcy lifted his head so he could look deeply into her eyes. “You are not aware of it, my love, but your generosity in allowing me to hold you, to kiss you, to caress you without joining as man and wife is a painful torture—a sweet one to be sure, but truly painful.”

  “I see…” She knew she should feel ashamed of having this conversation, of being with him in such a scandalous position, of enjoying his attentions so wantonly. “I did not intend to punish you this way. If you wish it, I would not oppose…putting an end to your torture.”

  Darcy’s look was incredulous, but if he doubted the meaning of her words, the passion sparkling in her eyes and the acceptance and invitation in her gaze were eloquent proof of her intentions.

  “I have desired nothing more in my life, nor have I been more tempted,” he whispered. And if I considered my wishes alone, I would not hesitate for a moment, but I am thinking of you.”

  “Of me? But I would not mind. I trust you, and we are to be married in less than a month.”

  “Oh, that is not what I am worried about,” he replied and his dark gaze made her tremble; she felt thirsty and licked her suddenly dry lips.

  “You see, my love, our joining as husband and wife should not be rushed through fear of being heard or interrupted by a curious servant. When you become my wife, it will be a day of joy with no worries, no concerns, no people around to interfere, and no asinine mistakes on my part to distress you. Only you and me, and the perfect solitude of our chambers.”

  She looked disconcerted, and he was delighted to see her disappointed.

  “Trust me, my love. I cannot explain in more detail, but you will better understand what I mean now after that has actually happened.”

  Elizabeth tried to smile “Mr. Darcy, you are presumptuous to ask me to trust you upon your word this evening. You have much to do to regain my trust—in every respect.”

  “As I said earlier, I will spend the rest of my life striving for your forgiveness and your trust.”

  “I am glad to hear it, sir. And Mr. Darcy, when you left for London in such a hurry, I missed telling you something of great importance.”

  He stared at her with concern. She smiled and her thumb brushed against his mouth as she replied. “I missed telling you how much I love you, sir.”

  Later that night, Darcy carried her back to her room and secured her promise that she would try to sleep until late in the morning. She agreed but did not forget to mention she was still upset with him. He smiled and asked for her forgiveness—again—kissed her hand ceremoniously and bowed politely before leaving the room.

  A few minutes later, Elizabeth was sound asleep. As for Darcy, dawn found him in his chamber, gazing out of the window, thankful for the greatest fortune of his life: Elizabeth.

  Chapter 21

  Elizabeth’s heart was still melting as her mind vividly recollected those sweet, forbidden moments she spent in the warmth of Darcy’s arms: the exquisite sensation of sharing a bed—though not quite sharing it—of their bodies lying together, his breathtaking kisses and caresses that made her head spin as she felt her cheeks burn from pleasure and embarrassment.

  A few minutes later, when Elizabeth opened the door to Cassandra’s chamber, she managed to appear calm—but only for a moment. In the next instant, she actually cried with happiness; her ladyship was awake though still lying against the pillows; she wore a new gown, her hair was dressed by a diligent Janey, and she was watched carefully by a tearful Mrs. Spencer.

  Cassandra’s gaze met Elizabeth’s, and she forced a smile. Elizabeth hurried to the bed, taking Cassandra’s hand gently; the maid retired politely.

  “You look beautiful, Cassandra. Oh, I am so happy to see you like this!”

  Cassandra laughed, but even that slight exertion pained her, and the smile turned into a grin; she struggled to conceal a deep moan as she replied, “You look beautiful, Elizabeth. I look like a woman who has broken half of her bones. Poor Janey worked so hard to give me a normal appearance.”

  “You look beautiful,” Elizabeth repeated. Cassandra took her hand gently.

  “Elizabeth, I was told everything you did for me—your care, your sleepless nights, and your devotion. I do not know how I can possibly find the words to thank you—to show my gratitude—

  “Then do not! As you told me some time ago, let this be the last time we speak of gratitude and thanks.”

  A moment later, Georgiana entered, almost throwing herself on the bed to embrace her friend.

  Cassandra moaned again in obvious pain, but did nothing to push the girl away—quite the contrary.

  “Cassandra, how are you feeling?”

  “I feel perfectly well, dearest.”

  “You are not perfectly well, but you do look so much improved! Oh, I missed your smile.”

  “And I missed you; I am sorry for giving you such a hard time, dearest.”

  “Do not be sorry. I am just happy to see you improving. William, David and Mr. Bingley are downstairs; they will be here in a moment. They were so happy when the doctor told us—

  “David is here?” Cassandra inquired abruptly, with obvious disbelief.

  “Cassandra, you know the colonel is here. I told you as much last evening,” said Elizabeth, but the patient stared at her without understanding.

  “I did not know he was here.”

  “Of course he is here!” continued Georgiana enthusiastically. “He has been here all the time. If you could see his devotion! He rarely left your side while you were unconscious.”

  Georgiana’s eyes were bright with emotion and tears as she tried to describe the proofs of David’s affection. Cassandra turned quite pale, her eyes narrowed in anger.

  “You allowed David to stay in my room while I was unconscious? How dare you do that?” Cassandra’s reproach was directed to Mrs. Spencer, but Elizabeth and Georgiana startled under the severity of her words.

  “Has my illness been such an entertaining spectacle? Did you invite the whole of Meryton?”

  “Cassandra, why are you speaking so? I do not understand…” Georgiana’s voice trembled, and her eyes opened wider with shock.

  “What is so difficult to understand, Georgiana? How is it possible that strange men were allowed into my room while I
was ill? Do I not have a reason to be upset?”

  “Please calm yourself, my child.” Mrs. Spencer tried unsuccessfully to temper her.

  “I am not your child, Mrs. Spencer! I am your mistress, and you should treat me accordingly.”

  Elizabeth and Georgiana looked at each other, embarrassed. Mrs. Spencer’s only reaction was a slight, reproachful move of her head. In the throes of their argument, none of the ladies noticed the three gentlemen staring at them from the doorway.

  Georgiana, still trying to make Cassandra see reason, continued, “Cassandra, there were no strange men in your room. Only William and David. But you called for David—

  “Georgiana, I was unconscious! How could I call for anybody? I may have mumbled a name in my delirium, but that does not mean you should allow into my room any man with that name.”

  “Cassandra, do not speak to Georgiana in such a way. If anyone is at fault, it would be me,” said the colonel soundly, stepping inside.

  Cassandra looked at him, helpless, weak and trapped lying there in the bed under his intense gaze. Unable to reply, she turned her head in an attempt to dismiss them.

  “David is not ‘any man’,” continued Georgiana with an unusual determination. You did call for him, and I know why you did so. David told us everything that happened between you…”

  Cassandra tried to move, but a sharp pain sapped her strength.

  “Indeed, that was a very good strategy, Colonel, and very gentlemanlike. Exactly what did you intend to accomplish by informing everyone that we shared a bed?”

  The room grew silent—not a breath could be heard, perhaps because everyone had ceased breathing. Cassandra and David were still glaring at each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle.

  Mrs. Spencer took a few steps and, with perfect calm, addressed Cassandra. “In fact, the colonel told us that he had proposed to you and was refused. He took the blame upon himself for your calling his name while you were unconscious. He explained that he had been too insistent in his address and likely had distressed you too much.”