He took them to his bedchamber, and they climbed under the blankets together.
She fell asleep in the circle of his arms.
* * *
It was dawn, white dawn, when Elizabeth woke to the sounds of low male whispering.
She opened her eyes, at first disoriented because she did not know where she was. But then she remembered the events of the evening before, that she was in Mr. Darcy’s bed.
The knowledge swelled up inside her, a sweet echo of what had passed between them the night before. She had thought herself in love with him before, but perhaps she hadn’t understood love then. Now…
Oh, Lord, now the feelings she felt for him had grown so large she wondered at her body’s ability to contain them.
She sat up in bed, and Mr. Darcy shut the door, closing out his valet. He crossed the room to his wardrobe and took out clothing. When he turned, he realized she was awake.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She yawned. “Can you not come back to bed? I must admit it was warmer with you in it.”
He gave her a sad smile. “I, er, I have to go. I have just received news of some important business I need to attend to.”
“Go? You mean leave Pemberley?”
“Yes, it’s rather urgent. I’m afraid I have to leave at once.”
“What is this urgent business? Can’t you wait until after my sister’s wedding?”
He shook his head. “No, no. I have thought it over, and there is no reason why we can’t proceed as we were. Go home to your family, and I will grant you an annulment.”
“What?” She sat up straight. “But we can’t get an annulment. We have…” She gestured, searching for the word. “Consummated,” she settled on. “Consummated things. Thoroughly.”
“Yes,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “But no one knows that.”
She was aghast. “No. Please, don’t do this to me. Fitzwilliam, I love you.”
He looked up at her, his eyes wide in shock. He let out a sort of strangled noise. “You don’t mean that. You can’t love a man like me. You said yourself you were frightened of me.”
She thought of something. “What if I’m with child?” She flung it out like a gauntlet.
He cleared his throat. “It was only once. It’s not likely.”
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“So, you see, you can’t.”
He licked his lips. “No, of course, we’ll wait. A few weeks and we should know, yes?”
She thought about it. It was likely sooner than that. Next week she was due for her monthly time. But she only nodded, confirming it.
“So, go home, go to your sister’s wedding. You may find that once you’re away from me, it’s easier.”
“It won’t be,” she said.
“If there is a child, of course, there is no question…” He swallowed. “But still, perhaps there is no need for us to remain together here in this house. I have a home in London. You could bring one or two of your sisters to stay with you—”
“Why?” She thrust aside the covers and got out of bed. “Why are you being this way? I know you felt it, too.”
“Felt what?” His face twisted.
“When we were together, it was—”
“What? When I tupped you?” He gazed at her evenly. “Yes, I wanted you, madam. I tore your life to shreds because of it, and now I’ve had you. It’s done.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving her there alone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The snow had been washed away by the rain the night before, but there was mud to contend with, so it was three days before she could leave for Hertfordshire.
She sent a letter home, telling them of her arrival, making excuses for her husband, saying that he had business to attend to that could not wait. She pretended to be cheery about it all, even though she was in turmoil.
She had asked him why, but after he left, she had mused over it all, and it was clear to her.
He had said it to her afterward.
Everything I touch, I destroy.
In some stupid way, he fancied that he was being noble. He thought that he hurt her, and he thought that all he would do was hurt her. He hated himself for failing his sister. He blamed himself for her suffering, for her death.
Truly, it did sound as if his sister had been tormented. What an awful thing to happen to a young girl. It broke Elizabeth’s heart.
She understood him, but he was being an idiot, and she wouldn’t accept it. No, they were married, and they had come together, and she loved him. And what was more, though he hadn’t said it, he loved her too.
Or…
Well, he at least cared about her. If he hadn’t cared, he wouldn’t be trying to send her away. He was doing that to protect her. That was his stupid nobility.
Anyway, she wouldn’t allow him to cast her off. If he tried to get the marriage annulled, she would contradict him, swear that he’d had her over and over. She would not submit to this.
But then…
As she rode in the carriage back to Hertfordshire, she watched the scenery outside and she began to remember things. She remembered his sweeping all the plates off the table, the sound of them shattering on the floor, and the way he bared his teeth when he was angry. She remembered him dragging her down the stairs and throwing open the door to the swirling snow. She remembered his anger when she had ventured into the east wing. She remembered the way he had kissed her at the Netherfield Ball, forcing her to marry him, taking her choice from her.
She had long thought she was mad to love him.
Perhaps it would be wise to get away from him. It would do more than break her heart now, it would shatter it into a million pieces, but perhaps she would be better off with a broken heart than to be locked up in a house with him in a rage. What if he hurt her?
She had worried about a child before, and had determined there was no worry on that score, but now…
When she arrived at home, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
She was glad of the noise in the home, the way that there was always someone talking or moving, and there wasn’t so much time to think.
Her mother was all grand proclamations of Jane’s beauty and Bingley’s wealth. She would not stop talking about it, saying that she had known all along that Jane would make a good match and that there was nothing that would stand in the way of their having the happiest of marriages. She even took credit for introducing them, which everyone knew wasn’t true.
Mary had decided to abandon playing the piano in favor of painting, and now the house was littered with various objects that Mary had set up as models for her still-life paintings. Which would have been fine if the fruit was not starting to smell.
Kitty took it upon herself to throw anything away she deemed to be rotting, which Mary took objection to, because she claimed it was ruining her paintings. The two girls got into loud arguments about it.
Jane would have usually kept the peace, separating the girls, but she was much too consumed with excitement over her wedding to even notice what was going on.
Lydia was surprisingly quiet, doing embroidery instead. Well, from what Elizabeth observed, she seemed to be dreamily gazing out into empty air over her embroidery, not actually doing any stitches.
Her father stayed in the sitting room amongst all this after her arrival, which wasn’t like him. He tended to mutter about silly girls and take shelter in his study. “Lizzy, are you all right?” he said to her, settling in next to her on the couch.
“Perfectly fine, Papa.” She smiled at him.
“That husband of yours hasn’t come with you.”
“No, it’s as I said, he is engaged in important business.”
Her father nodded, and he looked concerned. “Tell me the truth, Lizzy, has he ever done anything that would frighten you?”
She forced herself to laugh. “Papa, what a thing to say.”
“Listen to me, my darling, I feel that I should not have allowed this marriage to go forward. You say the word, and I shall make it my personal business to keep you away from him. Even though you are married, it does not mean you need to reside under the same roof as he does. Why, as I’m sure you know, there are many married couples who live rather separate lives, and I am not above threatening that cur within an inch of his life—”
“Papa, no, I’m fine,” she said.
But she wasn’t sure he believed her.
* * *
Elizabeth had resolved not to talk of the truth of her relationship with Mr. Darcy with anyone.
But eventually, she found herself confessing all to Jane. Even though she was a married woman now, she and her sister had wanted nothing more than to share their old bed as they had from girlhood. And in the dark, both of them whispering while they faced each other, their heads on their respective pillows, it was somehow easier to say it all aloud.
Everything came spilling out, from his angry outbursts to his desire to have their marriage annulled.
“Annulled?” Jane was shocked. “But Lizzy, that would be the most villainous thing of all to do to you.”
“He promises to give me a monetary settlement, something very large. Enough that I might, in his terms, attract some man with nothing but a title who is seeking a fortune,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh,” said Jane in a different voice.
“I don’t think I would marry again, however,” said Elizabeth. “I would live on my own, I believe. I would own my own home. I would be rather like a widow, don’t you think? Can you imagine the freedom?”
“I can see the appeal in that,” said Jane. “No husband or father to tell you what to do. Belonging only to yourself. Having your own means to do as you will. Yes, I understand, Lizzy. I think it is the best outcome of your unfortunate situation. I can promise that Mr. Bingley and I will welcome you into our society. Fear nothing on that score.”
“I do not fear anything. But I am not certain it is the future I will have.”
“You cannot mean to want to stay in the marriage,” said Jane. “After the way he tore your dresses and yelled at you? After the way he treated that poor Mrs. Peters, and all over a dog?”
“It wasn’t about the dog, it was about Mr. Wickham. And Mr. Wickham has… has unmanned him. He destroyed Fitzwilliam, and—”
“That is no excuse for his behavior, I’m afraid,” said Jane. “Why, he is a beast, Lizzy.”
“There is also the slight chance that I might be…” Elizabeth rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
“Might be what?’
“Carrying his child,” Elizabeth whispered.
“What? But I thought you said an annulment.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, well, he said that no one else knows that… that we…”
“Oh, Lizzy, this man. He is so monstrous, I don’t know what to do.” Jane’s voice wasn’t strong. “I swear that I cannot see any good in him, and coming from me, that is saying something. How could he use you in that manner if he intended to cast you aside?”
She thought of his words. Yes, I wanted you… and now I’ve had you. It is done.
It couldn’t really be that simple. He couldn’t have married her only because he desired to bed her.
Could he?
“He says that if I am with child, of course we will remain married.”
“Oh, how chivalrous of him.” Jane’s tone was sharp.
Elizabeth laughed softly. “I fear that I may… the main problem, Jane, as I see it, is that I love him.”
“What?” Jane sat up in bed, staring down at her.
Elizabeth laughed again. “You think I have gone mad, don’t you?”
“I confess I…” Jane plopped down on the bed next to her. “Why?”
“Why do I love him?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you love Bingley?”
“Oh, that is not the same.”
“I mean it. Why?”
“Well, because he is…” Jane sighed.
“You see, it is difficult to put it into words, is it not?”
“He is a good man,” said Jane. “Bingley would never hurt me, and he would hurt anyone that tried to hurt me. If he knew that someone intended me harm, he would get me out of harm’s way immediately.”
“Yes, well, you see, I think that is why Mr. Darcy wishes to have our marriage annulled. To get me away from him and out of harm’s way.”
Jane was quiet.
“He cares about me, don’t you see? Is it so strange that I care about him, too?”
“That is frankly disturbing, Lizzy. If he does not want to hurt you, he should stop doing hurtful things. It’s really that simple.”
Elizabeth didn’t respond.
Jane drew in a breath. “Well, listen, there is no point in talking about it anymore. He has turned your head for some reason. He has toyed with your heart and confused you. It will all fade if you are away from him. We shall hope there is no babe.”
“No, don’t hope that,” said Elizabeth.
“You want to be trapped with him?”
“I…” She shook her head. “Oh, let us simply go to sleep and cease to speak of all this. In truth, I wish that I had never said anything to you.”
Jane wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “We won’t speak, then. I shall be quiet, I promise. I only want you safe and happy, you know.”
“I do know.” Elizabeth hugged back.
* * *
The wedding was three days away and Elizabeth had not yet begun to bleed.
She wished that she could be certain how late she was, but she had not kept strict track of it, unfortunately. She had sat down, looking at a calendar, trying to remember specifically when it had been that she last bled, but it had never seemed truly important before, so she had never paid it much mind.
Now, she could not be sure.
It might be only days late, in which case it might not be late at all, for one thing she knew about her own cycle was that it was often off a few days here and there. This, too, was another reason not to keep strict track, because she couldn’t be sure, not down to the day, when it would arrive. Jane’s was always like the working of a clock, and Elizabeth rather hated her for it just then. She herself seemed to have inherited her mother’s cycle. All things considered, Elizabeth supposed she was glad to have inherited that from her mother in lieu of a great many other things.
She tried to feel sorry about the prospect of being with child and found she could not.
She was frightened, but she wanted the babe.
And the more she thought about it all, the more she began to think that she was selling Mr. Darcy short. Yes, he had raged at her, and he had been horrible to her. But he had never hurt her physically.
And he was different. When he wasn’t in pain, he was in better spirits. Even when he was, he had done things like pardoning poor Lady, realizing it wasn’t the dog’s fault. He had changed, and neither she nor him had given him credit for that.
She wanted the babe. She wanted Mr. Darcy. She wanted it all badly.
“What are you thinking of?” said Lydia.
Elizabeth started. She was in the sitting room, a book open on her lap, but she had not been looking at the pages in quite some time. “I am reading,” she said.
“No, you are not,” said Lydia. “Anymore than I am doing embroidery.”
Elizabeth looked at Lydia’s embroidery, which was frightfully free of stitches.
“So,” continued her sister, “what are you thinking of?”
“Nothing,” said Elizabeth.
“Are you thinking of your husband?” Lydia smiled brightly. “Is he really as bad as everyone says? He seemed to always be in a bad temper whenever I saw him.”
“I was not thinking of him,” said Elizabeth.
“I think I should like to marry a man like that,” said Lydia.
“What?�
�� said Elizabeth. “A man who is always in a bad temper? Why would you say such a thing?”
“I simply think that everything in a marriage like that must be… heightened. Everything would be very exciting and quite dangerous.”
“Lydia, you are not speaking sense.”
“La, that is all anyone ever says to me.” Lydia shrugged, plunging her needle into the fabric on her lap. “I care not what anyone thinks. I know what I would like, and that is for falling in love to be a great adventure. I want to find a man that no one else can handle and bring him to heel, as if he were a horrid beast.”
“Oh, Lydia, please.”
“Afterward,” said Lydia, “I should like it very much if he were still horrid and frightening to everyone else, but if he were sweet with me.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth muttered. “Like a guard dog, I suppose.”
Lydia tittered. “No, no, a wolf. A tamed wolf.”
“A wolf would make for an awful husband.”
“I would bend him to my will and he would worship me.”
“You are very young, and you have no idea how the world works. Men aren’t that way at all.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“They don’t worship you. They simply… use you for whatever it is they want you for and then they leave on terribly important business that they won’t even explain to you.”
“Oh, my,” said Lydia, winking. “Is that what happened to you with your husband?”
“No, never mind me.” Elizabeth picked up her book and tried to focus on the words.
“You ought to try harder to bend him to your will,” said Lydia. “Have you tried at all?”
“Please stop talking.”
“You know, it’s funny,” said Lydia. “I rather always was certain that I would be the first of the Bennet sisters to get married.”
“You are the youngest. How could you get married first?”
“Even so, I was assured of it.” Lydia shrugged again. “Ah, well. Since I am not to marry first, I am determined to wait until I find a man who fits my exact specifications. I will settle for nothing less than perfection.”
* * *
The morning of the wedding, Elizabeth’s bleeding came.
Mr. Darcy, the Beast Page 14