37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The clock struck the wee hours of the morning, but still Darcy stared at the ceiling. The dark spot above his bed had not moved no matter how much he squinted and willed it to. With a grumble of wordless dissatisfaction, he threw on his dressing gown and slipped from his room. The cool breeze in the hallway reminded him painfully of what stood in his path—the room that held Elizabeth. The closed door teased him, tempted him, tearing at the renowned Darcy control by which he had held himself in check for so many years. How could one fiery little woman who had not even sought his attentions so throw his world into a complete upheaval?

Seeing her was both harder and easier than he had feared. He knew he would never forget the dinner they had shared. She was all that was gracious and kind and did everything proper to make all around her comfortable. It felt somehow she was even more the hostess than Georgiana. Though she did nothing that could even be remotely construed as usurping Georgiana, there was something about Lizzy's presence that drew him like a moth to her light. Her tales, which carefully avoided all reference to Kent, were amusing and witty and left him with an aching emptiness that soured his stomach. How empty Pemberley would be without her, how empty he would be. But no, his foolishness, his pride, his stupidity in the face of Bingley's and Richard's warnings, they had cost him everything now. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I shall overcome this," he whispered, his strained voice foreign in his ears.

Still, he could not abandon all hope. She had agreed not only to help Georgiana, but to stay, here under his roof.The unfinished conversation still hung between them, taunting him with a hint of promise. Perhaps…

Without direct permission from his thoughts, his feet carried him to his library, a shallow reflection of its sister at Pemberley, but still a place of comfort. The low fire in the fireplace surprised him. Had it not been for the convenience of finding the room already warmed and lit for him, he would have gone off in search of the negligent staff member to scold.

He entered, but an odd shadow caught his attention, stopping him after only two steps. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made out the shape of a small figure curled up on the chair nearest the fireplace. Elizabeth! Immediately images a similar meeting in what seemed like a different reality at Netherfield Park flashed through is mind. Hope and anxiety tangled in his chest, tightening around his heart until he fought for breath.

He said nothing but went to his brandy decanter and poured, watching his hands shake so hard he knew he would spill the liquor if he filled the glass more than halfway. A second flash, one of sweet wine caught attention, so he also poured a second small glass. The crystal stopper clinked when he sealed the bottle. He felt her eyes upon him.

"Miss Bennet," his voice was barely above a whisper. How was it that the simple act of speech became such a monumental effort in her presence? He brought her the glass. "I took the liberty. I hope you do not mind."

With a sad smile—there was such overwhelming sadness in her eyes, what could possibly be grieving her so?—she took the glass.

"You are very kind, sir. Thank you." She took a sip as he sat down in the chair opposite hers. "I am afraid you have found me intruding upon the privacy of your retreat once again. It would seem that you are still intent on encountering me when I am at my most improper." She glanced down at her own dressing gown, tied demurely around her waist, and blushed.

"I have never found you improper, Elizabeth ." Even he could feel the intimacy with which he spoke her name. The firelight accented the high color that flooded her cheeks. "You are the very epitome of a lady at all times." He drank from his glass but found it suddenly tasteless. Even the heat of the brandy down the back of his throat had cooled in the flames of her presence. He emptied his glass and set it aside.

"You are very kind, sir." She cradled the crystal goblet in her hands, staring into the reflections of the firelight on the crimson surface of the wine.

The silence between then begged for release.

"Miss Bennet, I must apologize—"

"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize—"

They smiled at each other sheepishly. "Please," he nodded at her, "please, go ahead."

She set her glass aside and bowed her head in a brief nod. "Thank you." She swallowed hard and turned her eyes toward the ceiling. "Sir, you must allow me to apologize—"

"No, it is I who must beg—"

"You told me to go ahead, did you not? Now I must insist that you follow through and listen to me." She smiled wryly.

"I forget myself. Pray continue." He parked his elbows on his knees and balanced his chin on his fists. His lips drifted into a sappy smile that he was all too aware of but unable to restrain as he drank in her unaffected beauty.

"Thank you." She smoothed her nightdress across her legs as she drew her knees under her chin. "Besides, you have had your letter in which to offer your apologies, I have had no such luxury. So I must take the opportunity now. Having spoken to Charlotte—Mrs. Collins—and to my father, I realize…that is I must…it has come to my attention…" she grumbled and squeezed her temples. "I have been unfair to you and something of a hypocrite if the truth be told."

Her words fell like cold water on his face. His forehead knotted above blinking eyes. "I am afraid I do not understand at all."

"My father reminded me most sternly that while I have judged you for keeping secrets from me—"

"As well you should have. It was wrong of me not to trust you with these things. In my pride and arrogance I allowed you to be hurt by my cousin, whom, in my stupidity I thought I was protecting you from." The worlds tumbled out in a rush until he stopped them with a hand to his mouth.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes in an expression he was certain was full of warm affection.

"You had no reason to think that a woman in my position would ever come into contact with Miss de Bourgh. After all, she never travels beyond the limited sphere of her own homes. Truly, the thought of my ever meeting her is so fanciful it has the sound of a circulating novel to it. You could not have predicted such a thing would happen."

He raked tangled curls back from his face. "While that may be the case, I should have trusted you. You deserved that much from me."

"That is true."

He winced, but bit his tongue hard to contain himself. He felt her eyes on him and wondered if she had noticed.

"That makes my own transgressions against you all the more heinous."

"What transgressions?" He scooted forward in his chair, straining to be closer.

"I am guilty of that which I have condemned you for: keeping secrets." She briefly caught his eyes, looking away before he could recognize what was in them. "You accused me of being a hypocrite, and I am afraid you were entirely correct."

"I should never have said such a thing—"

She held up a hand to silence him. "You were entirely correct. Both Papa and Charlotte challenged me for expecting you to share your secrets with me when I have not done the same for you."

"I never asked. I am not asking—" Panic grew in his breast. Should her secrets be so frightening? What could there be? He mouth grew dry and his tongue thick.

"I know you are not. But since I have become privy to the skeletons in your family's closets, it is only right that you know mine."

"I would in no way seek to invade your privacy—"

"I know. But it is only right. In this way you can be certain that your own family secrets are safe. You know I cannot…will not…betray your confidences because you will know mine. If I reveal yours, it is with the knowledge that you can do the same with mine."

He drew back sharply. "Surely you know that I would never do such a thing. Regardless of your behavior, I could not betray your trust."

"Please do not hear me accusing you…I do not believe you would. Not at all. If I had entertained any doubt, these weeks spent with your sister would have driven them all away. I am quite confident in your character."

"Then there is no need—"

She lifted her hand again. "There is need…I have need. It is only fair—" She stared at the ceiling together, chest rising and falling with deep gulping breaths. "—and I need you to know."

"Why?"

She released a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Having discovered the true nature of your character, I have seen that I was quite wrong in the accusations I made against you."

He heart raced. "Then you—"

"No." She shook her head firmly.

His shoulders sagged and cold enveloped him despite the heat of the fire.

"That is what you need to understand. I have told you before— I am not fit to be any man's wife, especially not a man like you. I have seen the world that you live in and there is no doubt in my mind, I have no place in a world such as this." She swept her hand towards the window.

"How can you say such a thing? My sister—"

"Is far more gracious than she realizes. Her own hardships have made her particularly understanding. Were she to know my secrets, I have full confidence she would continue to accept me as her friend."

"And I would not?" He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm. He relished the sharp pain that took his focus away from the pain in his chest.

"I believe you would allow my continued acquaintance with your sister. But that is not the same as—" she shook her head and plucked at the fringe of her shawl. "I am not the woman you believe me to be."

He drew breath to speak but stopped with the glare she cast his direction.

"The objections to my person I presented to you before are only a small part of the true reason why I cannot hope to marry—you or any man my father would consider worthy. When you were in Hertfordshire, did you hear tell of Horace Carver?"

"The name sounds familiar." He tapped his forefinger against his lips. "Yes. The Carvers are the owners of Netherfield are they not? I seem to remember Bingley's solicitor saying they had a son who drowned in the pond—five years ago, was it? They could not bear to stay at the house, so they leased. I wondered why it appeared at such a price when I saw the advert for it."

"Yes," she nodded. "That is the family." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "In the months before his death, Horace Carver made me an offer of marriage."

The revelation left him blinking and shaking his head. "Were you much distressed by his death?" He winced. "That is not what I mean—"

"No offence taken. It is a fair question to ask. The answer is that I was, but not for the reasons you might suggest." She turned back to the fire and exhaled hard.

He watched her watching the flames, wondering if she could feel his eyes on her the way he felt hers on him.

"It was not long after my mother passed. Jane and I, under the rather less than watchful eyes of my Aunt and Uncle Phillips were just out in society. I was but sixteen then, the same age as your sister is now." She rocked slightly, a faraway look in her eyes. "Jane had many beaus; she could not be so beautiful for nothing, you know. I did not begrudge her that; she is so gentle and good that I could not be jealous. She was worthy of her callers."

Darcy watched her closely. His chest ached as she talked of this young man. Carver had been the first to court her and for that he had to hate him. There was something in the way she spoke that made it clear he had hurt her. What did he do to her? Perhaps it was better that he had already met his demise for if he had done what Darcy would not even name, then nothing would stop him defending her honor. "This Mr. Carver began to call on you?" he asked, his voice strained and thin.

"No." She laughed with bitterness so poignant he could taste it like quinine on his tongue. "He could hardly stoop to those levels. Make no mistake, sir, he was not my admirer." She rested her chin on her knees with such vulnerability he fought not to rush to her side and shelter her. "His elder brother called on Jane, and Horace would come with him. We would chaperone Jane and James as they would walk. So I was much thrown into Horace's company."

"He was not gentlemanly." He could see that most clearly in the transformation that had taken place in the few short moments since she had spoken his name. The strength and fire, so much a part of who she was at other times, had departed, leaving her an empty shell of his Elizabeth.

"No, not in any sense of the word. His manners were crude, and he insisted in speaking of things that were quite inappropriate." She blushed and hid her face in her hands. "I learned many creative invectives in his company. I have been told I can swear like a soldier should the occasion arise."

"And he did more than just speak." Darcy's clipped words betrayed the tension he struggled to hide.

"Again, you are correct, though his words alone were quite capable of inflicting distress. You see it was he who first brought it to my attention how I was unfit to be considered marriageable by any man of quality."

"How could he possibly—"

She lifted her face and looked him in the eye. "It was he who first showed me how… inappropriate…my accomplishments were and how unfitting the study of algebra and husbandry were for a lady."

"Idiot. What sort of use was he fit for? He sounds like a fribble1."

"He was." She swallowed hard and struggled to speak. "There was more though. Had it been only that, I think I could have dismissed him."

"Then what—"

"Before then I had never really considered the matter. Since then I can see it no other way. Prior to even my sixteenth birthday, I had lost my delicacy. Caring for my father, the estate, even some of the things my mother had told us of—all equated to a loss of innocence from which I could never recover. "

Darcy struggled against his desire to rush to her side, sit at her feet and assure her of the complete foolishness of the villain Horace Carver. But she would not meet his eyes, and he knew that she would not welcome such intimacy from him.

She smiled weakly. "Somehow, with Jane's beauty and angelic demeanor, such things could be overlooked, and Horace's brother was only too glad to do so. But it was different with me. My interests were too unladylike. I had never learnt to be a real lady, so in me, it was unforgivable."

"No! That is utter nonsense!" Darcy slammed his fist into his hand and sprang to his feet. He paced across to the fireplace several times, then dragged the ottoman next to her chair and sat beside her, close enough that he could almost touch her.

"It did not stop there, though. Had it, perhaps…things might be different."

"I do not believe I want to know any more."

"I understand that," she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, biting her lip. After several long breaths, she opened them again. "But I need you to know. I owe you that much."

He clenched his jaw against his own protests, knowing them hopeless in the face of her determination.

"His brother was considering offering for Jane, and he told me about it. Then he said he thought I was tolerable enough—"

Darcy snorted angrily. "You are by far the handsomest woman of my acquaintance."

"He said I was tolerable enough and despite all my other defects, he was considering offering for me as well." She hid her eyes with her hands, hiding from his gaze. "He assured me that he would see to it that I received a proper education and see me made into a proper lady."

Darcy muttered invectives of his own under his breath.

"You can imagine, as impudent as I am now, how I must have answered him in my younger days."

"I cannot imagine anything you could have said that would not have been entirely appropriate and even far too gracious for the likes of such a—"

"He did not receive my response well at all. According to him, I was ungrateful for his attentions and I should have been more sensible of the very great favor he was doing by paying me any attention at all. He was very, very angry." She bit her knuckle. "We were walking with Jane and James, and he pulled me aside into the woods. He…"

"You do not need to say any more, I do not think I can hear anymore." He knew he should not, but he grabbed her hand and held it hard.

"He forced his attentions on me. I was so startled I did not fight him. I should have—done something, but I did not. I can hardly believe it now, but it is the sad truth. He tore my dress and exposed me to ensure my father would bow to his wishes." She rubbed tears from her cheeks.

"Your father would not…"

"You are right. He did not even believe what Horace said. I am afraid I denied the truth of it as well. I invented an excuse for the damage to my dress, and he believed me, as did my sisters. You see, the Carvers were known for their crass manners, and they were not well liked." She squared her jaw and squeezed his hand. "I lied to my father and my friends, and they believed me because more than anything, they wanted to believe me."

Darcy searched for words but could not find any worth speaking.

"Horace was true to his word, and he spread his somewhat embellished version of what happened—in which I threw myself at him—around town. My reputation was in tatters and there were several ugly public confrontations in the street of Meryton between his sisters and mine. Finally his father approached Papa as he and my Uncle Philips sat in the coffee house. Mr. Carver tried to persuade my father to agree to a marriage between us so all the gossip against both our families would fade away quietly in the excitement of a wedding, even better a double wedding for Jane and James could be included as well."

"The audacity of the man." Darcy shook with rising fury.

"Yes. You can well imagine my father's response. He all but called Mr. Carver out to a duel." Lizzy laughed under her breath. "I do not imagine my father a very good shot any more, but he would have tried, if I know him at all."

"I am not even sure I would wager against his marksmanship. He has surprised me often enough."

Lizzy's eyes flickered toward him, filled with gratitude, and his heart leapt.

"That incident, added to the other gossip, threatened to destroy all our reputations. My Aunt Philips was so distraught. But then, several weeks later, she came to the house with astounding news. One of Horace's gaming mates had caught him in a web of falsehoods that were openly proven. The whole of Meryton now knew that Horace was a liar and nothing he said could be believed. My family was redeemed in a way. The only evidence against me was Horace's word, and now everyone knew it to be of no value."

He pressed her hand to his cheek.

"Horace took his change of fortunes very poorly. The situation grew worse and worse until he was found floating in the pond one summer afternoon." She shrugged and turned back to the fire.

"Your family's reputation was restored. I still do not understand why you—"

"Our reputation was restored, but I was not. Or have you forgotten? The rumors of my ruin that Horace had spread were essentially true." Her words trailed off as though caught in a too tight throat. "I was the one who had lied, to everyone. Even my father does not know, and I hope he never does."

"And so for this, you are convinced you are unfit to be a wife? You are unworthy because of what he has done."

"And what I have done. If I had been honest and faced the consequences of what I had done—"

"What you had done? Do you not hear what you are saying? What of his transgressions?" Darcy pushed to his feet.

"On top of all my other inadequacies, I am sullied, and I have lied about it, and my good reputation is just a sham." She pulled her shawl closer and rose. "I accused you of not being trustworthy, but the truth is, what I accused you of is what is true of myself. I cannot ask you to trust me, and without trust, what is there?"

He reached for her hands, but she slipped out of range.

"I thank you for hearing me out, Mr. Darcy. I trust in your character to accept my deepest apologies for abusing you so severely. You did not deserve that from me for you are truly the best of men." She glanced into his eyes for a moment, and he could see her tears. "I should bid you goodnight." She dipped in a brief curtsey and disappeared from the study.

Darcy stared after her as she went, unable to pull his thoughts together quickly enough. She is so quick to forgive others, but she cannot forgive herself. How can I get her to see reason? Will she even allow me? He stared at the door, drawn to it with a magnetic pull. Before he knew it, he was several steps outside the library where he saw Lizzy standing, head bowed, in the hall. Her shoulder felt warm and soft under his hand. When she turned up her face, he could not stop the kiss that followed. His heart swelled with hope.

"You think far too meanly of yourself," he whispered into her hair, a hand at her waist pulling her to him. "Have you forgotten? You story is not far different from my sister's. How could I forgive her and then hold your past against you?"

She hesitated and finally yielded to him, allowing him to press her to himself.

Relief sufficed his being. "Be my wife, Elizabeth. Marry me, with Georgiana and Andrew, in two days. I have the license already. I will send for your family…"

She wrenched herself a way, a hand firmly against his chest. "No. You deserve so much more. Your sister faced her situation; I ran. I lied. What could we have without trust, and how can you trust one who has dealt dishonestly with everyone around her? You will recover, of that I am sure. You will find a woman who deserves…" She turned away and dashed down the hall, disappearing into the darkness.

He took several steps to follow, but his feet were too heavy to continue. "I have lost her." He struggled to swallow back the bitter truth.

1 Fribble: effeminate dandy.