Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Twenty-Three
For several silent moments, I allowed myself to look at him, grateful he could not see the anguish in my eyes. How I found pleasure in this after what I had just learned of his plan to extricate himself from our untenable situation, I do not know. But pleasure still coursed through me to see the heightened colour in his cheeks, the health that seemed to radiate from him.
I startled though, when the deep timbre of his voice travelled to me, a resounding caress in my ears.
“Welcome Elizabeth, I am glad you are come. This morning was dull without your conversation.”
I winced at this confirmation of my earlier fears, that I was merely a source of amusement to him. How odd that he should sound so sincere even as his words cut.
Still, like some half-starved waif, facing a feast of nourishment, my legs ventured closer to him even while my heart screamed escape.
“Will you not come and seat yourself?”
It would seem my legs had no intention of following my heart’s advice, for they went unerringly to the place where he gestured beside him. We sat, and I felt my ribs restricting my breath like they had not in weeks.
“You look well, sir,” I ventured, and he did. The little pinch about his eyes that seemed to never really go away had faded a little.
“I have you to thank for that, Elizabeth. That tisane you gave me; I think it is helping. Usually I feel a slight pressure about my head all the time, like a too-tight hatband, but that has eased.”
I ought not to have the ability to care as I did at this little bit of welcome news. Why was it welcome, and how could I be pleased about his healing when he had just broken me to pieces with the intentions he discussed with Colonel Fitzwilliam? Of course, he could not know I had overheard their discussion. It was paramount that he never knew what power he had garnered over me.
“That is good news.”
I said no more, and for a while neither did he. He lifted his hand to me, and for once I did not place my own in his. The action felt too much, too close to the truth. That he could, with so little effort, ask something of my heart, and I would give it to him. Still, I yearned to relent and the emptiness grew at the deprivation.
He lowered his hand to his leg again, and his brow furrowed. I found that I had been watching his every expression for several minutes despite my best intentions of keeping myself from that torture. That pleasure. How thankful I was at that moment for his blindness. That he could not see how pathetically I craved him.
“You are quiet today.”
“I…forgive me. I fear my head aches a little.” And my heart.
“I am exceedingly sorry to hear that. Shall I ring for some tea then, some of that miracle herb you have given me? It will help. Or perhaps a glass of wine?”
The concern in his voice seemed all too real, and I told myself not to be fooled by it. Forcing my throat to open, I drew a deep breath.
“I thank you, no.” With a swallow, I prepared to make some excuse and go. I wanted to remove myself from him with a need so animal, it felt alive inside me.
“Darcy, did I mention that I saw Elizabeth and Miss Bennet in Meryton this morning?”
Both our heads snapped to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice as he entered the room again. I could not fathom why he would wish to introduce such a topic if it were not to humiliate me in front of his cousin for my sisters’ actions. It seemed that my betrothed did not approve of the topic either.
“Richard, I think perhaps now may not be a good time.”
“I disagree, for you know she must know.”
Had I been so transparent in the moments before the colonel left to take the book to Georgiana? Did he know I had heard it all from the door? I sat terrified at the thought. I was not prepared to face this so soon. My hand pulled mercilessly at the curl on my neck, while my heart began to pound a rapid beat inside my head.
I looked at Fitzwilliam then, worried for his thoughts. It was clear he knew what his cousin was alluding to. His jaw was taut, and he spoke between clenched teeth. “Richard—”
“Elizabeth, when I saw you in town, we were interrupted,” the colonel cut in, ignoring his cousin.
Fitzwilliam protested again, clearly unhappy with his cousin’s insistence.
“Sir, what you witnessed, let me just say that…”
I knew not what I could say that would make up for the indecorous behaviour of my sisters. I stood then and stepped away. It was an impetuous move, born of the instinct to retreat.
Fitzwilliam stood too, having detected my movement. Though without knowledge as to where I had gone, he turned towards the direction of his cousin’s voice.
“Richard, enough! This is not the time to speak of such things. Elizabeth is…” He turned to the room and with a barely controlled voice, spoke to me. “Elizabeth, I do not wish to add to your suffering.”
As I took further steps towards the door, the colonel manoeuvred to block me, his hands lifted in supplication that I might stay.
His voice was less determined, certainly less cavalier in its manner, while he reasoned with Fitzwilliam. “You know it cannot be helped now. She must be told.”
I looked to Fitzwilliam and saw the anguish upon his features, anguish and simmering anger. I had never seen him so furious, and I admit it scared me a little. I no longer knew what was up and what was down. Looking upon his face twisted in such agony of helplessness, I wished to comfort him even as my own heart was breaking in two. It was no easy task to stand there anticipating the moment when the words I dreaded would reach my ears. Involuntarily, my slippered feet moved silently a few steps closer to him again. Foolish, stupid girl! I told myself. Why go to him when he means to cast you out?
Suddenly, it seemed Fitzwilliam succumbed to his cousin. “Fine! Do as you wish. It is not as though I can stop you!”
So quickly did the next moment happen after his heated retort, that I can hardly recall it with accuracy through the frozen thoughts of my mind. Fitzwilliam stepped aside, which led him into a side table. When he began to fall, it was instinct to reach for him to support him. The colonel stepped forward too. And then pain rushed through my empty hand when Fitzwilliam pulled his arm out of my grip with tremendous force, as he managed to right himself and stagger towards the wall of books.
“Blast it all, Richard, I do not need your help! I am NOT an invalid!”
I held my pulsing fist to my chest and desperately gestured to the colonel to not correct his cousin’s mistake. I knew enough of the gentleman Fitzwilliam was that he would be all the more distressed if he knew that it had been I who had attempted to aid him.
I could see the whole incident had enraged Colonel Fitzwilliam, and although I could no longer trust him, I was grateful beyond words when he nodded stiffly to me and, with a tight jaw, ground out a rebuke to his cousin.
“I shall thank you to be more mindful there is a lady in the room.”
Fitzwilliam stopped in his pacing along the bookcase, his hand extended to it for support.
“My apologies, Elizabeth.” His voice had lost all of its anger, instead filled with remorse.
“Think nothing of it,” I assured him before turning to the colonel. “Perhaps he has the right of it. Whatever you wish to speak of clearly pains him, and perhaps we should not—”
Fitzwilliam gently interrupted me, entreating me to sit. “I do not wish to speak of this because it will not be pleasant. I would have told you someday soon anyway, so it might as well be today.”
I slid somewhat inelegantly into my seat, firmly closing off the beating organ inside my chest, determined to allow these gentlemen to have their say and not show how much their words affected me. I nodded to the colonel, my eyes hooded from his discerning view. So I was to receive this blow now.
It was Fitzwilliam who began speaking, and his words were baffling. Since my mind had been prepared for an onslaught of acute pain, it was sluggish, and I could not follow well enough to fully grasp what he was saying. He seemed to be speaking of his estate and his childhood.
“…son of my father’s steward, who was an exemplary man. For many years we were companions and friends. Though it was not long before I began to see parts of his character that were not easily discerned by my father.”
The colonel cut in. “Wickham could not hide his true colours from those of us closer to him, his peers. The degenerate man he was would come out!”
“I am sorry,” I ventured, the pulsing in my head now also affecting my cognition. “Of whom do you speak?”
“Today in the street, your sister spoke to a soldier. Mr Wickham,” the colonel clarified with a frown. “You do remember?”
Fitzwilliam was pacing again, and although I understood enough now to know they were acquainted with the gentleman in the street, I still could not understand what that had to do with the shameful display from my sisters.
“Yes, I recall,” I said slowly, still not grasping its import to this Mr Wickham other than he had been the man my sisters had called to. I recalled that with embarrassed acuity!
At times the colonel spoke, and at others Fitzwilliam did. All the while, my intended paced along the length of the bookcase, and I watched the caged tiger in him rage against the blackness of his world that kept him needing to hold onto the side of the bookcase. He was in endless motion, desperate to expel such constant agitation in the form of clipped steps back and forth along the length of the room.
They described the nature of their acquaintance with this Mr Wickham, and then the list of misdeeds and painful betrayals that the former childhood friend had perpetrated against Fitzwilliam. I could not help but feel compassionate pain for the sorrows of a lifetime with one that should have been a friend. When they, in hushed and impassioned tones, spoke of the attempt against Georgiana, I cried. I cried for the little girl who was heartbroken and lied to. I cried for the sweet girl Georgiana still was, and the guilt her two guardians continued to burden themselves with over the matter. And a part of me was ashamed to admit, selfishly, I cried for the realisation as to why they would share such a deeply personal and painful narrative.
My sister’s imprudence was far worse than simply accosting a gentleman in the street, as improper as that was. No, Lydia’s actions had cost so much more, for she had chosen as her favourite the source of so much pain for my betrothed that any connexion to a family so faulty in judgment, was, as the colonel had said before he discovered me in the hall, not ‘feasible to live the rest of your life in such a manner.’ My power, if indeed I ever held any over him, was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of family weakness. I could neither wonder, nor condemn, him for this choice.
However much my insides were being crushed to pieces, I could not sit there and watch the memory of such a long history of malice disturb Fitzwilliam. Before I had given it much thought, I stood and my heart had taken me to his side. My hand rested upon his chest, halting his fevered pacing. He froze, and lifted a hand to cover mine.
“I am so very, very, sorry, Fitzwilliam.”
It was all the words he needed, for the tiger folded in on himself then. His shoulders slumped forward as he stepped into the space nearest me. I felt his need for comfort and gave it willingly despite the knowledge that it would likely be the only time I would be afforded such a privilege—or perhaps because of that knowledge.
I rested my head upon our hands at his chest, and I felt his head lay upon mine as the blissful torture of his other arm came around to envelop me in his warmth. How vividly I then remembered the feel of his embrace in the ruins, almost to the point that I swear I could smell the earth around us. His lemon and sandalwood cologne swirled in my senses, intoxicating my head in the process. Unbidden tears welled up inside, and I wept in his arms. We had endured so much and lived. We had begun a tentative friendship together, both hopeful in his recovery, yet I would have to allow him what he wanted. It no longer mattered that my family’s impropriety had been the impetus. If they would humiliate him in such a way with their actions, the way Mr Wickham had all his life, then Fitzwilliam must be protected from such a fate. True, his childhood companion had more malice in his actions than did any of my family, but that did not change the fact that he had already endured more in one lifetime than was fair for anyone.
With time, I began to become aware of soothing murmurs as he held me close. His hand rubbed along my spine in agonisingly blissful sweeps. I soaked it in for a few more minutes as I composed myself, attempting to set it to memory like the moments in the ruins.
At length I recalled we were not alone in the room and my back stiffened.
“He has left us. You need not worry, Elizabeth.”
I looked up and into the room, and indeed, Colonel Fitzwilliam had left, closing the door behind him. I had not heard his exit. Though, apparently my companion had.
Fitzwilliam lifted my chin with gentle fingers and traced light touches along my jaw, and then all thoughts of embarrassment and loss fled my mind. Every nerve and thought were focused upon the point of contact between his fingers and my heated skin.
My eyes fluttered closed when the pad of his thumb swept across my bottom lip, pulsing currents went scattering across my skin. I felt I could swoon and reached my other hand up to steady myself upon his arm.
“Elizabeth, I…”
His heady breath flowed across my cheeks, and I knew in that moment that if I stood there an instant longer, then I might get a chance to taste perfection. I was also certain if I allowed him to kiss me, I would know more pain than it would be possible to endure.
With painful determination, I left half my heart in his hands as I pulled carefully away from him. The few steps were essential if I were ever to live after he left. True, it would be a half-life of sorts, but it would be possible.
Fitzwilliam sighed and rested his head against the stack of books to his right. I watched his laboured breathing and wished with every cell in my body to return to his protective and warm embrace. I had never felt so safe as I had in the earthen cave of ours and in his arms just then. But it was a false sort of security.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I forgot myself.”
Instead of speaking, I gave him my hand and he kissed the back of it. I then led him to sit on the sofa again. In time, I felt in better regulation of myself to speak.
“I am sorry you have had to recount such a history. I shall attempt to speak to my sisters. They cannot know what kind of man he is.”
“Please do not be troubled. I have given Richard leave to handle the matter. He was correct: at some point, I would have needed to explain it all to you. Until today, neither he nor I knew Mr Wickham was in the area.”
“I have never been introduced to him before. Today is the first I have heard his name. How does Georgiana do?”
“She is recovering remarkably well. Her new companion, Mrs Annesley, has helped her to see where she was not at fault and, perhaps more importantly, where she was.”
“I am glad to hear it. It cannot be an easy thing to have someone you love hurt you like that.”
My voice faltered then, and I choked down the feeling. Thankfully, Fitzwilliam seemed to conclude my feelings were solely for his sister.
He spoke a little then of his memories of Georgiana growing up and the responsibility he had towards her. I could not help admiring the mantle of father and brother he took upon himself for her. With manifold effort, I pushed all thoughts of my impending loss to the side. Although escape felt like a clawing need, every moment with him was still a desired treat.
“Has my cousin told you the good news, Elizabeth?”
Startled by Colonel Fitzwilliam’s abrupt entry, we looked towards the door as he walked into the room again. That was all I needed, to have the overly perceptive colonel see what I was feeling or trying not to feel. As little as Fitzwilliam currently saw, his cousin saw far too much. Still, a part of me was glad we were no longer alone.
“Richard, I think, perhaps, after all we have already—”
“Darcy would have you always be left in the dark, it seems.”
I looked up at my betrothed, searching his face for answers. “Is there more?”
Fitzwilliam’s hand slid off his leg and, with uncanny accuracy, captured mine. I stifled the urge to flinch at the exquisite contact.
“I did not wish to raise any hopes, not until I could trust the outcome would be lasting.” He paused before adding, “Perhaps we have already exhausted you. How is your head?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “He is trying to procrastinate.”
Against my better judgment and given the nervous anticipation I could feel trembling in Fitzwilliam’s words, I looked at the colonel. He smiled broadly at me, but what I had overheard him saying to my betrothed flashed in my mind. I turned away from him before he could read my thoughts.
“Very well, then. Elizabeth, what do I not owe you? Since I have taken the feverfew you gave me last week, I have not just the cessation of the headaches to thank you for, but how do I say this…”
It took me a moment to follow and a thrilling happiness shot through me, only to be crushed with the fear of what discoveries could not be hidden from him now. Not if he…
“Do you have sight?” I asked, slipping my hand from his and crushing it to my chest with my other. My heart was beating too swiftly; surely it would burst from my ribs if I did not hold it there.
“Not exactly,” he began hesitantly, though not without joy. “In the mornings, there are times I can discern light and some colours, though it is still hazy. The doctor sees this as a very good sign, and he believes the feverfew might have eased what minor swelling in my head was still there. In essentials, I might have regained my sight soon enough anyway, but the herbs you gave me have hastened that along.”
I held my breath. It was marvellous news, and because of the love I had for him, I felt it in every part of my being. I longed to have this ability returned to him; I had prayed for it long and fervently. I could not imagine a world where this man could not be the strong, active sort of gentleman he was normally. It was a source of heartbreak to see him so dependent on the care of others. Dependent on my care. And therein, the joy I felt inside turned to dust. He would not need me as he had before, and that had been the source of all our accord. His need had been the reason we had begun to find some kind of contentment with each other. How quickly I felt unnecessary, and the feelings I had been so careful to suppress threatened to burst out of me.
“I cannot express to you how this news makes me feel. Indeed, can it be true?”
“It is true, Elizabeth, and I have you to thank for it.”
His gratitude was poor substitute for his love. I wish I had not listened at the door when I had heard him say my name. A part of me had thought he might speak of his feelings for me to his cousin. How ridiculous a hope. If Colonel Fitzwilliam was successful in his determination to find some way to preserve my reputation yet break our engagement, then at least I could have been spared the pain of waiting for that moment. I could have lived a few more days, or perhaps weeks, in blissful ignorance.
My eyes fell upon the colonel then, carefully not meeting his eyes, wondering what his plan was.
“Can you see now?” I questioned hesitantly. I had a sudden need to know, though only courage enough to whisper it.
Fitzwilliam grimaced. “No. More the pity, by the usual time you arrive, my eyes go dark again. The doctor believes it is residual fatigue that will fade away. But I am determined to be whole again.”
I was trapped in the earnest regard he settled upon me. My heart began to beat again, each pump exquisite torment. When I could take it no more, I turned away, only to be caught in the gaze of his cousin. In that moment, I knew all my attempts to hide my thoughts were for naught. He knew. He knew I was in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
I wondered at the cruelty that could invoke a smile on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face at his discovery of my feelings, and furthermore, how he could produce an expression that almost seemed sincere. He was pleased that I had given over to my feelings for his cousin. Nothing was clearer to me than that, yet I knew of his plan and felt anguished that he could take pleasure in what it would mean for me.
I shuttered my thoughts, exerting as much effort as I could to hide them from him. I shook my head at him infinitesimally, nearly begging him to keep my secret. How I thought I could trust such a man was beyond me; indeed, I knew I ought not to. Somehow it felt essential, though, that Fitzwilliam never learn I ever loved him. If he intended to throw me over, then I could not imagine an agony worse than knowing he did so with the knowledge of my feelings for him.
The colonel seemed confused by my expression, and I turned my face away.