Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A story.His words warmed my heart. I nodded, unconsciously moving closer to him. He placed his hand along the back of the sofa, and when I felt his fingers intertwine with the curl at my neck I nearly wept again. The familiarity of such an action, after thinking I might not have a future with him, tugged all the remaining pieces of my heart back together. I leaned into him then, because my heart begged to be closer to his.
“Once upon a time there was a man from Derbyshire who came with his friend to a small village situated north of London.”
“Was he very handsome?”
He grinned. “The friend? Oh, terribly. All the ladies say as much.”
I laughed as I brazenly settled into his side. He stiffened at first, and then with a slow inhale pulled me against him more tightly. It was a comforting weight, and I wondered how I had ever lived without it during these weeks since our night in the ruins. He had held me similarly then, and I remembered now how much his warmth comforted me in those terrifying dark hours.
“I meant the man from Derbyshire. Shall we say he, too, is exceedingly handsome?”
I could hear his smile against my hair. “If you think we ought, but Elizabeth, this is not the important part of the story.”
“Oh it is quite important to me. Carry on, then, about the ravishingly handsome man from Derbyshire.”
“Ravishing? Well then, I thank you. This handsome—or otherwise—man is the blind man in the story. He came to this town and almost immediately insulted the most bewitching lady in the county at an assembly by lying to his friend about her beauty.”
While we had been light-hearted and amused, at this point his voice was sincere and remorseful, and I could not laugh at it. Tender, bruised feelings from that night intruded upon my thoughts and were soothed by his confession.
“And as the weeks went on, the blind man continued to become more enamoured by the lady. She was lively and clever. Her wit was astounding and alluring at the same time. The blind man was hopelessly lost to her and did not even know it. She teased—”
“Argued.”
He laughed and the sound wrapped around my heart.
“I might remind you, this is my story, darling.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to my brow again.
“She teased him and little by little drew him further into her thrall. He was in the middle of loving her before he knew he had begun. And here we come to the part where you may not feel pleased with our blind man from Derbyshire.”
“Extraordinarily handsome blind man from Derbyshire,” I corrected, looking up to him with a smile.
Although he smiled back at me, it was a little sad. “Elizabeth, I must tell you before I continue, I cannot and do not feel the same way as I did then.”
I acknowledged this sentiment by snuggling into his side again.
After clearing his throat, he began again; this time his voice was solemn. “This blind man believed that even though this lady was magnificent, she was beneath him and he could not marry her. He looked meanly upon her family, her neighbours, and her connexions. He was arrogant, selfish, and filled with disdain for the feelings of others. He was blind to their real worth and blind to what mattered most. She was, in fact, his superior in many ways.”
His words could not but cut, for the sting of them was only what I had believed his sentiments to be this past week. I did not enjoy hearing him speak the fears I had drowned in, but I held to his assurances that his sentiments had changed, and they were my mooring.
He was quiet for long enough I almost wondered whether that was the end of his story, but then I realised he was struggling to hold rein over his feelings. I felt him swallow through some constriction.
In time, he choked out the following words, “And then one day the world turned upside down, and the blind man saw clearly for once—”
“And saved the lady in every way that matters. In body, spirit, and heart.”
I drew my legs up and knelt on the sofa beside him, placing my hands upon his cheeks. I wiped the single tear that fell from his dark lashes with the pad of my thumb. Searching his face, I was lost for words at the torment in his eyes.
“Good God, Elizabeth, I almost lost you.”
I saw again that horrified look I had witnessed before he had leapt to my rescue. I felt it travel through him at the juncture where my hands held his face and journey into me, to permeate my beating heart. I imagined how I might feel if he were in such danger, and at that moment, anguish unlike I had ever known seized my breast.
I was taught all my life—and indeed, it is the accustomed tradition—that the gentleman leads the lady in the initiation of any act of physical affection. However I have never been a traditional lady, and instinctively, I allowed my heart to guide my lips. They were directed and went unerringly and without hesitation to his. I may have broken with tradition in the commencement of our first kiss, but my intended soon found his way through the initial shock of my actions and pulled me against him with possessed hands, his lips assuming command.
And command me they did.
I was at the mercy of their warm and firm instruction, and it did not take me long to become an eager pupil given the heady sensations that coursed through me like a straight shot of lightning through my veins. My head filled with euphoria, and just as I began to catch up with the tide of sensations pulsing through me, he broke the lifeline to this bliss as he pulled back, breathing heavily like myself.
“I love you, Elizabeth. I do.”
I smiled at him, unbelieving that I could be so fortunate to hear those words from him.
“And if you cannot discern from my shameful actions, I love you too.”
With swift movements, he gifted my lips with another intoxicating kiss. I felt like whimpering when he broke away after too little time.
“Not shameful, never that. But perhaps we ought not to be engaged much longer. I fear one taste and I am unlikely to live long without another. And another.”
Fitzwilliam’s voice had gone raspy by the end, and while I blushed at the thought, I was stirred by the strain in it. He attempted to regulate it better when, after locking eyes with me, he began speaking again.
“Come, there is still a little more to the story.”
I settled into his side once again as he began in halting, emotion-filled tones. I listened in awe as he spoke, knowing he needed to give voice to it more than I needed to hear it. I understood his feelings for me and returned them. This portion of the story was for his own healing.
“I did not think when I saw the danger, Elizabeth, I simply did what my heart commanded. You were there in death’s path, and the very thought of you coming to harm, or worse, revealed to me where I had been blinded all along. I could not live in this world without you, and damn the consequences. When I awoke and you were there, injured but alive, I was a changed man. Our time in the ruins before being rescued was a sort of agony in and of itself.”
“Well, you were injured; of course it was painful.”
“I meant more the visceral need to touch and comfort you, Elizabeth. It had me in a perpetual state of feelings I had not allowed myself to indulge in prior. I knew right away that we would need to marry, and that…helped.”
“Whereas I had no such realisation! I was awful to you that night even though I owed you everything. Can you ever forgive me for my reactions?”
“What will you say to me when I tell you that in my arrogance, I did not see your aversion to me as anything other than the pain of your injuries? I was blind then, in more ways than physically, though we did not even know that yet.”
“I have at times revisited memories of those hours when I was in need of comfort. Although I did not like you so well as I do now, it was a frightful time, and you were warm, assured, and of great comfort to me. I believe I did not allow myself to trust in your affections because I did not believe I could be so fortunate as to have access to that security for a lifetime.”
“You do, Elizabeth, whenever you wish it.”
“I was restless and unsettled until you came to speak to my father. I am ashamed to admit, I did not trust you would offer for me despite realising by then the need to marry.”
He started at that and pulled back to look at me. “Did Bingley not send my assurances? And in all his courting of your sister while I was forced to recover more at Netherfield! He did not tell you I would come?”
“Oh, he did, but I believe I was fighting my feelings for you even then. I was confused by the attraction I felt for you in the ruins, not to mention the comfort I felt during that horrifying experience. It all combined to work against me, especially because I believed you disliked me so soundly.”
He grumbled something under his breath, but I could not make it out. Then he added, “Dislike is a far cry from what I was feeling for you, in or out of the ruins.”
“How was I to guess? All you ever did was stare at me.”
His brow hitched in what was an obvious expression of incredulity, and his eyes focused on me in that disapproving stare of his. I readied myself to point it out when, looking deeper into his eyes, I felt the heat of it for the first time. Desire. My cheeks reddened, and I felt my lips tingle.
“Oh.”
Closing his eyes, he drew in a long, slow breath. “Oh, indeed.”
I bit my lip, secretly pleased at this revelation, and began to search my memories for those looks before, tinting them with new understanding. Raw attraction, not disapproval. Interesting notion, that.
“And now we are at the point in the story where the blind man is made to see—though by this time, he is literally blind.
“I went to your father after I asked you marry me, and do you know what he said to me, Elizabeth? He took me to task for the conceited idiot I was and said that despite the circumstances, had he any choice, he would not have consented. He laid before me his knowledge of your adverse sentiments towards me, and I was astonished and, sadly, arrogantly disbelieving.”
“I am sorry you had to hear it. I was far too vocal and unfairly judgmental.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “Do not be sorry; it was what opened my eyes. I had been unpardonably rude and assuming. I was, up to that point, gladdened to have had the accident force my hand. Even though I had learned from it that I could not live without you, I was still grateful it had taken the marriage choice away, allowing me to pursue what I had believed impossible. Until that moment with your father, I had been relieved that I no longer would need to fight this love I had developed for you. I had given little thought as to how you would feel, and was only grateful I could now claim you. I am ashamed to say, I even assumed you would feel the same happiness. See how blind I was?
“Yet, in a matter of moments, your father stripped me of everything I had believed and helped me to realise how much I valued—nay, needed—your love and affection in return, in order to truly be happy. I confessed to him my feelings for you then, and I believe that went a long way towards gaining his acceptance of the match.”
“Then…” I thought back to their many interactions since our engagement. I remembered the particular way they were with each other and… “I am not a fish!”
He broke into unrestrained laughter, holding his hands up in surrender. “That was your father’s analogy the first time he came to Netherfield to call with you and Miss Bennet. I was not pleased by it either, but it behoved him to ask me of my progress, and I admit, it was a way I might ask for some helpful clues from him.”
“On casting the right lure and reeling in your catch. Me. How flattering.”
His arms wound around me as he soothed me with his hands in my hair. “It was not well done of us, but his encouragement as time passed did allow me to hope as I had not dared hope before.”
I cast him a feigned look of rebuke then could not hold back a chuckle of my own. Of course, my father—known to be an odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice—would utilise this stratagem of disguise with my intended. I was pleased Fitzwilliam had not approved of the metaphor, even as I was moved that he would seek my father’s help in wooing me.
“I forgive you as long as you do not continue to liken me to a fish.”
“You have my promise, my love.”
“I do not feel worthy of you. I cannot imagine why you would desire my good opinion when all the advantage is on my side.”
“I disagree.” He once again pulled me close to him, and with a caress of his hand, placed a stirring kiss just to the side of my mouth. “I needed you to fall in love with me, Elizabeth”—his next kiss was better placed—“more than I ever needed my sight returned.”
Neither of us then had any sight for a time as our eyes were closed and our lips silent, as our hearts did all the speaking.