Chapter 16

 

Darcy had never before felt such extreme relief and intense grief at the same time. To see Elizabeth pale and sorrowful and be unable to help was an unbearable torture; yet, he felt grateful that, at least, she did not seem as harmed as he had feared.

“Is it the same room as last year?” he asked softly, and she nodded in agreement.

A few moments later, he entered the room, briefly considering that a servant might see them together in her private chamber, yet he did not give that thought much consideration. He gently put her down on the bed, leaning her against the pillow. Her hands remained entwined around his neck, unwilling to let him go, so he sat beside her, his face close to hers. His fingers caressed her hair, removing a rebellious lock from her forehead. Tears began to roll over her cheeks.

“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” His voice was so gentle, even gentler than his tender touch, yet she could do little but cry and shake her head in disagreement.

“I am well… Now that you are here, I am well. I was afraid you would not come…after what happened. I would have understood if you had been upset with me and changed your mind…”

“Elizabeth, how could you think that?” he replied, vehemently, almost violent in his reaction. “How can you believe that anything could make me change my mind about you? Do you not know how much I love you?”

“I…” She seemed startled at his intensity and instantly his voice softened; his eyes , moist with emotion, caressed her face with an adoring gaze while he continued. “Do you not know that nothing could keep me apart from you? As soon as I received Bingley’s express, I did not spare a moment.” He paused, looking at her with utter sadness. “Yet, I am so very late… Will you ever forgive me for leaving you, for not being here to protect you when you needed me? If I had known, if I had ever considered…”

“William, please, do not blame yourself. If there is anyone to blame, it is me.” Her tears continued to fall.

“You? How could you be blamed?”

“Yes, me,” she interrupted him with distress and sad determination. “I was so thoughtless, so careless… I did not pay enough attention to Cassandra’s warning… I never imagined a man could act in such a way… I still cannot believe it…”

Darcy could do nothing but witness her suffering while struggling to control his anger against Markham and against himself for allowing the horrible situation to develop. He felt lost and helpless in his weakness. He would have done anything to take her pain upon himself, but there was nothing to be done.

“Please do not cry,” he said hesitantly, uncertain how to comfort her. “Please try to rest, my love… Everything will be well; I am here to protect you now, to take care of you. Nothing is important except you and your health. Has the doctor visited you?”

Elizabeth fought to stop crying, more affected by his obvious grief than by her own distress. She could see how affected he was and tried to dissipate his worry and self-reproach.

“No…not yet, but I do not need a doctor. I am quite well, now that you are here,” she repeated, looking at him with the beginnings of a small, bright smile.

“But…you have been wounded,” he said with a low voice, averting his eyes from her, unable to control his emotions. “The doctor must see you.”

“Oh, I only hurt my head when I fell, which is why I am feeling a little dizzy, but I will be fine.”

“But…are you in pain?” he continued warily, his voice barely audible, his eyes not meeting hers.

Elizabeth stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then her hands moved to cup his face as she turned his head to look at her. He must be thinking as she did after the attack—certain that Markham had compromised her—yet he came back to her and declared his love for her without hesitation. Her heart melted with joy and gratitude while her fingers tenderly caressed his handsome, weary face.

“My love, I am in no pain… I have not been wounded in any other way than my head. Cassandra discovered me…and saved me before anything worse occurred.”

Darcy looked at her, his expression betraying all the feelings which wrestled within him – confusion being the most powerful. Still deeply troubled, Elizabeth found the strength to quietly reassure him once more. “I am not wounded and I am in no pain.”

“But,” he replied weakly, “Bingley said…”

“I am so sorry Mr. Bingley alarmed you for naught… He made you jeopardize your safety in riding wildly from London. You could have been injured,” she said, her fingers brushing against his cheeks.

“So you are well?” he inquired further, afraid to trust this new revelation.

“I am well… Nothing happened,” she assured him and then suddenly turned pale as she continued, her eyes gazing deeply into his, her voice quivering with distress, barely able to reveal her painful secret. “No, that is not entirely true. I cannot keep it from you… He…kissed me… In fact he tried to kiss me, but I fought him…but I think he still kissed my face? …and…he touched me…and… I am so sorry, William. I cannot remember clearly, as I fell and knew little afterward. But Cassandra said he had no time to do anything… I…”

“Elizabeth….” Heartbroken by her painful distress, yet enveloped by incredible relief and gratitude, Darcy seemed lost for words and unable to fully comprehend the meaning of her revelation. Could it be true? Could his worst fear—his worst nightmare—be unfounded? Was it possible she was unharmed? Then why was she still so tormented, so pained, so grieved? Had she been wounded in some other way? She said the bastard had kissed her. Darcy would not hesitate to kill him for that, but that was little compared to what he had imagined a few minutes earlier. Still shocked, he struggled to understand and find a way of dissipating her torment, but could do nothing except hold her tightly.

They laid on the bed, embraced, Darcy caressing her hair and placing light kisses on the top of her head. She cuddled to his chest for a few moments, her arms encircling his waist; then she moved slightly and lifted her face to him in a shy attempt to meet his lips. Instead of the expected sensation of his mouth on hers, he only smiled tenderly, removing a lock of hair from her forehead and pressing his lips upon it. Elizabeth felt a sudden chill and remained still in his arms, not daring to attempt any further intimacy.

“I understand you,” she whispered after a few moments.

Darcy withdrew a few inches and stared at her in misapprehension.

“Understand me?” He presumed the shock they both continued to feel was interfering with the meaning of their words.

“Yes… I can understand why you do not wish to kiss me…after that man…”

He looked at her—eyes wide open—his astonishment impossible to be missed. Elizabeth shivered; he seemed upset, and how could he not be? No honorable gentleman would accept his fiancée’s being touched by another man…

“Elizabeth, what on earth are you talking about?” he almost shouted, and she startled at the sound of his voice.

He cupped her face forcing her to look at him squarely while he shook his head in denial. “Oh my dear, despite everything that occurred this evening, you truly make me laugh…” Indeed, he laughed, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she did not comprehend his sudden amusement.

He smiled while gently kissing her tears away. “My dearest, I want nothing but to kiss you; have no doubt about that. Nothing will ever diminish my desire…except perhaps the thought that your father is downstairs and could intrude on us at any time.”

She burst out into nervous peals of laughter, and he continued to kiss her cheeks as he spoke. “I have spent too much time fighting to regain your father’s good opinion to risk being shot by him…however, let us hope he will not make an appearance for a few more minutes.”

She laughed again and her lips brushed against his face in countless, small kisses. “I thought you would be upset… I was so upset, so angry with myself for allowing that… I have always imagined that you would be the only man to touch me, kiss me…”

“And so it is, my love; so it will be! What happened this evening was nothing but an unfortunate accident you will soon forget. These are the kisses…and these are the touches you will remember…” Leaning her against the pillow, Darcy covered her face with soft kisses, his lips traveling along her jaw then down to her throat, followed by his gentle fingers which brushed lightly against her skin as though trying to wipe away her painful memories.

“And I promise I will never allow anything to upset you, not for my life. I shall never fail you again…”

Elizabeth pressed her finger upon his mouth to silence him; her lips did the same a moment later and joined his in a tentative kiss which became more daring with each moment that passed, as daring as her hands which found their way inside his vest.

Darcy pulled away and broke the embrace with a determination which made Elizabeth gasp; his hands were still caressing her hair and, from as little distance as an inch, he smiled at her with a last short kiss on her chin.

“Elizabeth, this will not do… You must rest, and I must go.”

“No, indeed… I do not need rest. I need nothing but you. I was so afraid I would lose you and now…I do not want you to leave… I want you to stay with me this night…in truth.”

She blushed fiercely while she spoke but her eyes never averted from his. She wanted him to see she was speaking in earnest, despite the fact that the entire house was full of people, and despite the fact that her own father was downstairs. Indeed she needed and cared for nothing but him.

Darcy shook his head in disagreement. “My dearest, beautiful Elizabeth, you must not be afraid you might ever lose me… In fact, you must learn to live with the burden of having me around forever, as long as we live. But for now, what you need is rest and sleep. You are not well yet, you know that.”

“I thought you would want to stay with me,” she replied, disappointment obvious in her voice.

Again, he laughed lovingly, and she could not conceal her displeasure; but he cupped her face again and whispered, “Elizabeth, I know why you wish me to stay now.”

She stared at him in surprise for a moment and then averted her eyes, blushing again and whispering, “I am so silly,” while he continued. “You are not silly; you are the brightest lady I have ever met—and a truly accomplished one. And I do admire you as much as I love you.” Elizabeth laughed, her delight in hearing her betrothed teasing her matching her happiness in listening to his tender words. Yes, he was correct in assuming she had insisted he stay with her because of her fears and uncertainties—but it was also true that she wanted and needed him. She loved him.

“As much as I would like to stay with you in truth, my love, that will not happen tonight…not when you are so distressed and emotional, not when your father is in the house…not when I am so dirty from the road and likely smell horrible.”

“You smell beautiful,” she replied, and both started to laugh, staring at each other adoringly. The tension, the torment, the pain seemed to dissipate and there was nothing in the room but them and their bond of love.

Though Darcy had insisted he should leave, he did not. He remained with Elizabeth, holding her in his arms and caressing her hair while she struggled to comply with him and rest. Finally, closely cuddled against his chest, with her hands around his waist, his fingers caressing her hair, Elizabeth fell asleep. But from time to time, with his heart heavy with worry, he heard her sighing in her dreams; when he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, he heard her whispering, “You do smell beautiful.” He laughed softly, wondering how it was possible to love her as much as he did.

Suddenly a cold sense of panic—the panic of losing her, of seeing her hurt in any way—overwhelmed him. His worry about her safety had vanished, indeed, and he felt fortunate and grateful that Elizabeth was unharmed. But now his rage took control, and he could barely restrain himself at the image of Markham. While Elizabeth was sleeping in his arms, Darcy’s distress grew again as he was still unable to understand how everything occurred. What was Markham doing there and how did he come to attempt to force himself upon Elizabeth? Darcy wanted to ask her more questions, but he did not dare. He could not bear the idea of increasing her suffering. Then, when she had calmed and relaxed a bit, when he had finally seen her smiling again, when her tearful eyes laughed again at his teasing, he dared not mention anything about the situation that brought her so much grief. And in the end, it should matter little—the entire situation seemed so much better than he feared when he first received Bingley’s note. “She is well and healthy,” was his primary thought. However, aloud, without even considering his words, he whispered coldly, “I shall kill Markham!”

~/~/~/~

“Mr. Bennet, I have to say I am shocked to see that you allowed Darcy to leave with your daughter in such a disgraceful manner,” the Earl said, with no little disdain. “And to think my son offered to marry her and you dared refuse him,” he added, shaking his head in deep disgust and reprobation.

“I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, sir,” Mr. Bennet said, his voice suddenly more tranquil, regaining his usual sharp irony. “Are you, by any chance, teaching me about proper behavior, Lord Markham? You, of all people?”

“I surely am,” the Earl stated.

“Well, you are truly diverting; I wonder if all Earls are as amusing as you are,” Mr. Bennet replied to a shocked and very offended Lord Markham. “Now, perhaps I was not clear earlier, so let me explain again: if every man in the world should suddenly disappear tomorrow and only your son remained, I would still not allow my daughter to marry him. Now, Mr. Bingley, please be so kind as to offer me a glass of wine; this ridiculous situation has made me thirsty.”

“How dare you, sir?” the Earl burst out in anger. “I have not been so offended in my entire life!”

“Offended?” Bingley intervened, impromptu. “Lord Markham, your son insinuated himself upon my sister and pretended to have a serious design on her; he convinced her to procure him an invitation to Netherfield; and, when he came here, he did nothing except harm Lady Cassandra and my soon-to-be sister! He deceived us all and acted like the worst of savages—and you are offended? You are fortunate I would not want such a man in my family or I would surely force him to do his duty regarding my sister, since surely her reputation has been affected by his behavior!”

“I never claimed to have any intentions regarding your sister; it was all her imagination!” the young Markham said, almost yelling. He seemed to lose any control or reason, and his face colored highly while the expression in his eyes became strange. “The only woman I truly want is Elizabeth! Mr. Bennet, you must…”

Four pairs of eyes stared incredulously at the two Markhams, and finally Bingley was the one who put aside his anger and his offense and simply shrugged to the others.

“He is an idiot! He simply cannot understand… And he is out of his mind! I will call the servants to show them out of the house.” Indeed, he was about to exit the room when the Earl spoke.

“No need to disturb yourself, young man! We will leave this disgraceful house immediately. I have seen and heard more than enough!”

Hesitating for a moment to follow his father, the young Markham stepped near the Colonel and Cassandra, whispered in a low voice, “This will not end here!” then hurried to the door.

The Colonel instantly moved toward him, but Lady Cassandra grabbed his arm. “Please, let them leave… Bingley is right; he is an idiot…and a drunken one! Let us put all this behind us.”

The Colonel seemed unwilling to listen to her; but, a moment later, he met her pleading eyes and nodded in agreement. “Very well…it will be as you wish…for now. Bingley, do you have some more wine?”

***

When he was certain Elizabeth was breathing steadily and there was no danger of awaking her, Darcy gently freed himself from her embrace and cautiously exited the room .

He could find no rest and no peace; he went downstairs, his rage growing as each step brought him closer to the library. The moment he entered, his mood turned darker as he saw his friends talking, apparently calmly, with glasses of wine in their hands.

“Darcy! How is Elizabeth?” Mr. Bennet and Cassandra asked him almost at the same time.

“Elizabeth is well enough now. But you seem very well indeed, all of you! If I did not know better, I would never guess at the gravity of the situation that happened a few hours ago.”

Before any of them found the proper words to reply to his statement, Darcy continued, talking mostly to Cassandra and his cousin. “What on earth was Markham doing in this house? And how was it possible he was alone with Elizabeth?” His voice was so full or rage and so reproachful that Bingley looked at him disconcerted and full of guilt while answering.

“It was my mistake, Darcy. I never knew who Markham was. Apparently he and Caroline had become quite friendly during the last weeks, and she asked me to invite him to Netherfield for the ball. We thought…I thought he was courting Caroline. I am very sorry.”

“Markham courting Caroline? Upon my word, Bingley, sometimes you are so naïve…” he replied, not even noticing the offence he gave his old friend. Bingley only blinked a few times but remained silent. “But why did you not throw him out of the house when you found out who he really was? He is not a man to be accepted near any respectable lady, Bingley!”

“Darcy, there is no need to blame Bingley! He knew nothing. We did not tell him anything about Markham,” the Colonel intervened as Darcy’s rage turned on him.

“You told him nothing?! How could that be, David? Of what were you thinking?”

“He wanted to talk to Bingley, but I did not allow him,” replied Lady Cassandra. “After all, Markham appeared to be nothing more then Miss Bingley’s guest, and I thought we had no reason to worry. We never guessed he might have an interest in Elizabeth until tonight, and I warned her…”

“No reason to worry? Cassandra, are you out of your mind? But of course, as always you presumed your opinion to be the only correct one, and you cannot be wrong. Your presumptions put Elizabeth in such danger…”

“Darcy, do not dare reprimand her!” shouted the Colonel with equal anger, instantly moving between the two of them as if to protect her. “How dare you address Cassandra in such a manner? It is not her duty to protect your fiancée! Yet, in case you do not know, she was the one who saved Miss Bennet, and she did so with no concern for her own safety. Have you asked how badly Cassandra was injured? Or are you too caught up in your anger to think properly?”

“Colonel, calm yourself…” replied Lady Cassandra, weakly. “Darcy is upset, and he has reason to be so. It was my fault indeed…”

“No, it was not your fault; not by far,” the Colonel replied, looking at her soundly.

“Markham should not have been allowed to remain here, and you two were aware of that!” Darcy continued, his tone slightly lower as he made an obvious effort to regain his control.

“You are correct,” admitted the Colonel. “I should have been more careful, and you may blame me if you want! My only excuse is that I did not remember that Markham and Miss Bennet had ever met each other…and I kept my attention upon him only regarding Cassandra and Georgiana. I am very sorry.”

“Come now, son,” Mr. Bennet said warmly. “Take a seat and let us talk calmly. There is no need to fight amongst each other.” Mr. Bennet actually took a very reluctant Darcy by the arm and directed him to a chair while Bingley poured him a glass of wine.

“I shall take care of Markham myself,” Darcy whispered.

“Markham is gone, together with his father,” Lady Cassandra said with the same low voice. “I dare say you will not meet again any time soon.”

“Gone? Where?” Darcy cried, instantly rising from his seat.

“I do not know and do not really wish to know.”

“But I do wish to know! I shall go after him directly,” he said, hurrying to the door.

“He has been gone for more than an hour,” she answered, grabbing his arm. “There is no way you could find him now…and besides, you had better take a bath and get some rest. Elizabeth will need you tomorrow morning. Running through the fields after Markham will surely not give her much comfort.” Darcy threw her a look full of rage. He attempted to free himself from her and continue on his way. The Colonel took his other arm. “Darcy, she is right. Let it be…for the moment.”

“Are you out of your senses, both of you? You let him leave, and now you want me to stay here and put everything aside? You expect me to forget what he has done and let him live in serenity?” His anger grew, his countenance turning darker with each word. He was pacing the room as though trapped in a cage. Finally, he did not gratify them with another look and hurried toward the door with the obvious intention of finding Markham. The moment he exited the room, the Colonel’s hand grabbed his arm to stop him. Darcy turned on him violently, pushing him aside.

“Darcy,” said the Colonel in a low voice. “Cassandra is correct. Miss Bennet will surely need you. She will ask after you first thing tomorrow. She does not deserve another reason for distress and fear, would you not agree? Besides, there will be a ball in two days’ time.”

“You are out of your senses,” Darcy replied in the same low voice, struggling to keep his anger under regulation, “if you believe I am in a disposition for a ball. The ball? Is this what you are thinking of?”

His tone was offensive and mocking at the same time, yet the Colonel did not allow another argument to arise. “Oh, you should think of the ball, too, Darcy. That would help you to calm down a little and think properly and reasonably—and to find the most appropriate time to finish this business to your satisfaction.”

Tired, full of emotion, too exhausted to balance his own angry stubbornness with his cousin’s insistence, Darcy forced his mind to comprehend the Colonel’s words and judge their wisdom. Finally, he seemed defeated and, with a short gaze and a silent nod to David, returned to the library. He could hardly bear the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes, yet it was impossible to ignore them. With a quick glance around the room, he said a barely audible, “Please forgive my wild behavior,” then fell back into the chair, silently.

Darcy’s gaze remained fixed on the fireplace, and none of the others disturbed him for some time.

Eventually, Mr. Bennet decided to leave for home to calm his obviously nervous wife, and he asked for the carriage. Darcy barely heard the elder gentleman when he took his leave; not even when the door closed behind him did he move.

Silence and apparent peace finally enveloped Netherfield. It was almost dawn.

~/~/~/~

Not even a hot bath and another glass of wine managed to calm Darcy. He was still restless; not a single moment passed without blaming himself for what happened to Elizabeth and for his unfair behavior toward Cassandra; he was also furious with himself for not going after Markham to settle things once and for all. The need to do something, to be of some help or at least to punish the man who had caused so much pain was unbearable. The only palliation to his distress was the knowledge that Elizabeth was well.

The desire of seeing her, of being certain she indeed was well, turned his steps toward her room; he entered as silently as he could, hoping not to awaken her nor be seen by the servants who were already at their chores.

Inside, sitting on Elizabeth’s bed, was Cassandra. The moment he entered, she turned her head to him; in the dark of the room, lit only by the fire, he could still see Cassandra’s friendly smile. He wanted to smile back but simply could not. He felt too guilty, too shameful, too upset with himself.

Cassandra rose and stepped close to him then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room, silently closing the door behind them.

“She is sleeping—she seems well and calm.”

“I hope she is well. I shall go in and stay with her for a little longer,” he whispered back.

“She will be happy to have you there,” Cassandra said with the same friendly smile. “She was more affected by your possible reaction than by anything else.”

“Cassandra, I… Please forgive me for acting so rudely, so unfairly to you. I was mostly angry with myself and allowed my anger to fall upon you. But I cannot tell you how grateful I am for everything you have done for Elizabeth. If not for you…”

“I know, I know. Do not worry. You are not very nice when you are angry,” she replied, her smile growing on her lips. “You never have been, even as a child. On the other hand, there are still some details you do not yet know about what I have done, so you might be angry with me again in the morning. But for now, let us declare a truce.”

“Yes, I know I have never been too nice, especially when angry,” he finally smiled back. “I am very difficult to bear. I was very fortunate to be accepted by Elizabeth.”

“Indeed you were, my friend,” she replied, her voice wearing an unexpected trace of sadness. “Be careful and do not waste your chance at happiness. More than anything, keep yourself healthy and safe, close to Elizabeth. I am sure this is what she wishes.”

“Cassandra, I imagine how difficult everything must have been for you this evening. And you were hurt, too,” he said warmly, with much affection, gently touching the bruises on her cheek.

“Do not worry about me, Darcy. Good night, as much as there remains of it,” she answered and, in a moment, she left.

Darcy remained in the hall, looking after Cassandra for a few moments, deep in his thoughts, and then he returned to Elizabeth’s room. Until the morning light entered through the heavy curtains, he stayed there, watching her, caressing her hair with infinite care not to awake her, his heart full of gratitude and love.

~/~/~/~

Yet, Cassandra did not go to her room. She was already wearing her nightgown but she could not bear the thought of allowing the dreams to entrap her; she did not want to dream, as she knew what kind of dreams would arise after such a night. She was tired of nightmares and afraid of them. She did not want to be alone in the coldness of her room.

Unconsciously her steps directed her to the library, the room which seemed to still hold the tension of their earlier arguments. The nerve of those Markhams! The young one was out of his mind, obviously, but his father? Had he lost his common sense, too?

She entered and poured herself a glass of wine—it would calm her. She was thirsty…the Markhams made her thirsty, as Mr. Bennet said. Cassandra smiled, remembering the gentleman—she had really come to admire and even feel affection for Mr. Bennet. And that very evening, when he had refused so decidedly the Earl’s offer for Elizabeth… The Earl had likely never been mocked that way…

Yes, she truly liked Mr. Bennet. And Darcy did too—he and Mr. Bennet seemed very close. Darcy was fortunate—he was correct—in being accepted by Elizabeth. She would be perfect for him and for Georgiana, too, and there would likely be plenty of little Darcys at Pemberley. She smiled with tender affection at that thought, then a sadness, an emptiness cut sharply at her heart: there would be no room for her in their felicity, she would only disturb them. She had always brought pain and disorder to the people around her. That was why she was alone—and always would be.

She gulped her wine with a greedy swallow then filled the glass again. She found a place on the settee near the fireplace, but the fire had already died. Only then, staring at the ashes, did she feel how cold the room was. She considered returning to her room but changed her mind immediately. No matter how cold the room was, her soul and her life were much colder; everything was frozen around her. Frozen and empty.

She felt herself lifted by strong arms and she startled, unconsciously fighting against the intruder. As soon as she regained her senses, even before opening her eyes, she knew it was David; their eyes met and the warmth, the tenderness in his gaze seemed the most perfect answer to her loneliness, to the emptiness in her soul. He seemed the perfect answer to her loneliness. Her hands encircled his neck and her head found a well-deserved rest against his shoulder.

“I shall help you to your room; you look exhausted,” he said, and she only nodded in agreement.

It was not right what was happening, she knew that. It was not right that David was carrying her up the stairs to her room in the secluded guest wing. It was not right, but it felt so very right! She knew she had to bring everything to an end instantly, yet she was too tired, too powerless, and too afraid of remaining alone again to do what she should. His warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt, his arms holding her tightly, his breath, a little vein pulsing wildly in his neck, the sensation of being so close to him, to actually hearing his heart beating…she could not let everything go so soon. She needed him just a little longer; she wanted him a little longer.

They reached the door of her room and he stopped but she did not move; so, after a momentary hesitation, he entered and stepped forward, tentatively, until he reached her bed. Then he put her down and, as her hands remained locked around his neck, for a moment their faces almost touched; the room was dark and silent, so silent they could hear the fire.

Almost unconsciously, her hands pulled him closer and her lips brushed against his. They both startled and withdrew instantly, then their lips met again, first tentatively but growing more daring, more passionate, more demanding. Neither of them could think, neither could breathe, neither could stop.

David found the strength to break the bond and put a few inches between them before finally speaking, his eyes locked with hers. “Cassandra, this is not right… I should leave you now. You are exhausted; you ought to sleep… I have to leave, I must,” he whispered with a determination which tried to defeat his desire.

Without thinking, against her every reason, even against her will, she whispered back. “Please, do not leave… Please, stay with me…”

She felt him tensing, and he frowned as his eyes locked with hers. “Cassandra… I am afraid to ask and do not dare to presume what you mean… What do you want…?”

“I want you to stay… I do not want to be alone,” she repeated, her eyes even more pleading than her voice.

“I want to stay, more than I ever wanted anything in my life. But…are you certain? I cannot bear the thought that you are asking me to stay only because you are feeling lonely or that you will wake tomorrow morning believing you made a mistake and that I took advantage of your emotions.”

“I know my wishes, David…and I will still know them tomorrow morning.”

He leaned her down to the pillows and his body lowered upon her, almost covering her. “Cassandra, tell me… Why do you want me to stay? Please tell me…”

She looked at him so intensely that he was certain her eyes became tearful. She seemed unable to find the answer; finally her barely audible voice broke the silence. “I… David, there is no other man in the world whom I would ask to be here, with me… That is all I can tell you.”

“And that is all I need to hear,” he replied.

For long, torturous moments he made no gesture—only stared at her silently, from a few inches apart, so intensely, with such a mixed expression of wonder and desire, his face tormented by such a storm of feelings that Cassandra could hardly bare it. She tried to move, to touch him, to make him do something—but he half leaned upon her, and his weight kept her prisoner.

“David,” she whispered, her hands gingerly touching his face. Suddenly her moves turned shy and uncertain, and her voice was trembling.

“Cassandra, if only I could find the words to tell you how much I love you… I cannot believe that…”

“David, please, please do not speak… please…” Her voice sounded so painfully pleading that for a moment he was certain she was crying. But he had no time to look at her eyes as she pulled him toward her, and her lips pressed against his as if to silence him. He still had so many things to tell her—but they could all wait! If she wanted no words, so be it. The only thing that truly mattered to him at the moment was that she finally accepted him, despite everything she had said before. She would finally be his.

Her lips were softer and sweeter than he could ever imagine. He was kissing her, testing her, savoring her flavor with little patience as his hunger grew moment by moment and her skin was the only food he needed. His mouth desperately wanted more of her, all of her; but, for the time being, it simply could not leave her beautiful face. Countless kisses covered her cheeks, her eyes, her earlobes, until his greedy lips returned passionately, possessively to capture hers again and again.

He could feel her fingers entwined in his hair and her mouth allowing, returning, seeking his kisses; but, beyond that, his senses were hardly aware of anything except her warmth, her scent, the movement of her body beneath his, her soft moans… She was finally his.

Yes, every fiber of his body, his boiling blood, an urge he could not control, a passion whose violence frightened even himself—everything was desperately screaming to make her truly his that very moment, to bind her to him forever, before she could change her mind, before anything could interfere to stop him.

But strangely, the storm of feelings brought him back from the abyss of his desires, and his heart ached with worry for her, for her feelings and desires.

David suddenly stopped and withdrew from Cassandra, his gaze searching her face lit only by the tentative dawn light; her head was resting against the pillow, her eyes closed, her lips red and swollen, her chest rising rhythmically as she obviously struggled to breathe. In shock, he saw her nightgown ripped apart—the result of his violent explorations—and her creamy, smooth skin exposed to his avid scrutiny. His right palm was still rounded upon her left breast and he could fell her heart racing wildly.

Gently, with infinite care, his lips brushed against her eyelashes; her green eyes met his, and what he saw there cut his soul like a knife. There was sadness—a deep, powerful sadness which he thought he could understand.

“My love, I am so sorry! Please forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you… I know I have behaved like a savage… I had better stop; I do not want to hurt you…”

“No, no,” she interrupted him, forcing a smile. You did not frighten me,” she said in a trembling voice. Then her eyes locked with his while she spoke further, with no little difficulty. “You must not worry for me… It is not the first time for me…” Her eyelashes fluttered as she waited for his reply.

“It is the first time for us together; that is all that matters,” he answered, returning her smile.

Their lips found their way to another kiss—a caring, patient kiss; tender caresses replaced their initial urges; the hunger of possession turned into the certainty of lovemaking.

Gently, he removed the remaining fabric of her nightgown; slowly his mouth left hers and traveled down, on the most wonderful discovery of her beauty. The perfect roundness of her breasts made his fingers and his lips rest upon them, to caress them in a maddening play which made them both moan and their bodies quiver. She whispered his name and he looked up at her for a moment only to see her face flushed by obvious passion; the next moment his mouth followed his hands as he continued to explore her burning skin: her belly, her ribs, her arms entwined around his neck, her hips, then down to her legs. Each of his touches made her shiver and turned his desire into a wilder urge which he refused to satisfy with the urgency he felt.

It was not the mere submission to his lust, the desire of reaching the moment of absolute pleasure that he was looking for. It was much more than that, it was the simple, absolute need of having her all, in every sense, for as long as possible: to discover every part of her body—which might help him discover her soul—to learn how to make her his and assure her happiness.

Almost unconsciously, driven by its own will, his hand slid between her closed thighs, and he heard her crying softly. He lifted his head to look at her and covered her face with light kisses, never taking his eyes from her, while his hand moved up slowly until it reached the hidden spot of her desire. She cried again and he leaned to capture her lips and her cries while his fingers started a gentle then more and more daring dance against her burning flash. Her body shuddered violently, and her legs parted in complete abandon.

Slowly, unbearably slowly, as the most pleasant torture, he entered her, moaning hoarsely as her warmth enveloped him.

A small cry and her body suddenly tensing caused him to stop; his brow knit in worry as he saw her obviously pained expression. She smiled, tearfully, at his reaction and, in a gesture of reassurance and further invitation, pulled his head toward her and kissed him gently while her legs encircled his waist. Struggling to keep his control, his senses alive, he allowed his body to slide deeper inside her. She moaned against his mouth, but the passion and his long denied desire forbade him to stop again.

His moves started gently while he broke the kiss and lifted his face enough to look at her; she seemed tempted to hide her face, to avoid watching him but every time she did that, his lips pressed upon her eyelids, forcing her to open them. He could not recognize, even less understand, the mix of feelings and expressions in her eyes, but he wanted to see them nonetheless.

Only a few moments later her rhythm matched his, and their bodies began a dance of passion into the most perfect harmony—a dance in which he was the absolute leader and she wanted only to follow his lead, a dance he would not allow to end for a very long time. His thrusts alternated from slow, gentle tenderness to wild, unleashed passion while his lips and hands, restless and tireless, never ceased their hungry exploration of her skin.

With unconcealed satisfaction, he watched her shuddering with the waves of pleasure, her lips crying his name again and again—but his passion seemed inexhaustible, unable to reach completion. His lips lowered to her ear; and, despite the vow of silence he had made earlier, he whispered countless times, “I love you,” his words barely audible between broken kisses. After some time she captured his mouth in another kiss; and, for a moment, he wondered if she did it only to silence him—but an instant later the sweetness of her kiss made any concern vanish.

Eventually, as daylight appeared shyly through the windows, his exhausted body demanded its final reward; his thrusts turned almost violent and their kisses became a passionate, possessive fight, mirroring perfectly the moves of their bodies. They climbed the highest mountain and then fell into the deepest well of pleasure almost at the same time, each unaware as they cried the other’s name.

For some long minutes neither moved, neither said a single word. He gently rolled from atop her as his arms embraced her gently. She turned her back to him as she did not want to face him, but she remained close, her arms covering his. Their bare bodies seemed to still seek the warmth of each other while her long hair was caressing his face and chest.

His happiness was more than he had ever experienced—not only because of the dreamlike, blissful passion they had shared but also because she seemed to allow him to remain with her, in her bed, despite the fact that morning had come and they were in great danger of being discovered together. He could not be wrong in his judgment—her wishes had wholly changed since he had proposed to her. She was finally his!

He was exhausted—the most wonderful lethargy he had ever experienced—and her delicate presence in his arms made him want to prolong their intimacy—so he allowed sleep to envelop him, holding her as near to him as he could. He was not certain if his lips actually whispered, “I love you,” in her ear before his eyes blissfully closed..

~/~/~/~

David awoke with a strange perception of coldness; in fact he felt he was freezing. He needed a moment to remember everything that happened and only then did he realize Cassandra was no longer there. He rose and saw her in the armchair near the fireplace, wrapped into a robe, her knees lifted to her chin, the long hair falling to her shoulders almost hiding her face. He covered himself with the sheet and walked toward her. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, smiling at her. “I already missed you,” he said. The smile she returned to him bore nothing but sadness.

“David, we must talk…”

“Yes, I know…” He felt lighthearted and wanted only to hold her in his arms again. “Cassandra, is there anybody whom I will have to ask for your hand? Except Darcy, of course, who will have the shock of his life, poor man,” he laughed, sitting near her, his arms encircling her shoulder. She disengaged herself and rose from her seat.

“David, there is nobody you will have to ask for my hand, because there will be no marriage; nothing has changed since we last talked.”

Instantly all the blood drained from his face, and he turned livid; a sudden lump in his throat barely allowed him to speak or even breathe.

“Cassandra, what are you talking about? Of course everything changed; you know that. Surely you knew that last night when you asked me to remain in your room.”

Cassandra struggled to fight back her tears without much success; she wished nothing but to be able to take upon herself his obvious pain, the grief which was darkening his handsome face, his most profound disappointment, everything that saddened him so deeply.

“David, please forgive me… I understand how angry you are and I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…”

“The wrong impression! The wrong impression?” He was almost yelling, unable to control himself. “You asked me to stay with you, Cassandra! You almost begged me to make love to you! And I know you enjoyed it as much as I did, you cannot deny that!” Her face became pale, and she turned her back to him.

“You were—are—right; I was the one asking you to stay! It was unwise and selfish of me to ask you that; it was a mistake but it will not change anything …” she repeated as her words angered him further.

“No, no, no! You cannot say that, you are not allowed to say that! We talked about that last night! You promised me you knew your wishes and would know them this morning, too. How dare you tell me now that it was a mistake? Are you trying to make a fool of me? Do you delight in mocking me, Lady Cassandra?” His voice was harsh—even rude and offensive—and for a moment she was tempted to release her own anger and answer him in the same manner; then his grieved countenance, the nervous pacing around the room as he looked so vulnerable covered only in the sheet, the pain she had provoked in him broke her heart, and she could do nothing but bear the burden of his reproaches. Tearfully, she moved near him and gently touched his arm while she tried to make him look at her.

“David, you are correct. You have done everything in your power to respect my wishes; you are beyond any reproach; everything that happened was my own will and at my insistence. And last night, that moment, I wanted nothing but to be with you… I do not regret anything, except the fact that I have caused you so much pain now.” She paused a moment, her cheeks flustered but her eyes facing him boldly. “And you were right in another aspect, too. What I felt last night was much more than enjoyment… I never thought that…I…” She hid her face and fought to sweep her tears away before continuing. “But that cannot change what I told you a few months ago. I cannot marry you; I shall not marry you…”

“Oh, what a relief to know I was right,” he replied sarcastically. “And what a relief to know you enjoyed our time together so much. So perhaps…may I dare to hope that, though you have no intention of ever marrying me, you might ask for my services some time again? And if a child should happen, what harm can that be, as long as your ladyship has her enjoyment?”

Her small hand slapped him so violently that his head snapped back, but it could not wipe the malicious smile from his face. His eyes challenged her, but she could hardly keep her countenance enough to speak; she was practically trembling and stretched her hand to reach for a chair. He made no attempt to support her.

“I truly hope you are feeling better now, madam. If you want to slap me again, please do so. I shall not stop you nor shall I apologize for what I said. You are right, you are selfish and inconsiderate, and I wonder why I am punished to love you, precisely you. Because, no matter how much you ask me to remain silent or try to keep my words unsaid, I do love you, madam. I love you as I never thought it possible to love a woman. Until this day, I never believed the notion of being heartbroken to be true, but now I have experienced it very precisely. You managed to make me feel grieved and ridiculous at the same time; congratulations, madam. I hope you rejoice in your success.” At that, he grabbed his clothes and exited the room.

A couple of hours later in the solitude of his room, Colonel Fitzwilliam, though at the advanced age of thirty-three, actually cried. He had not cried since he was an infant. Now he was crying with anger at her and at himself, and also with hatred. He hated her more than he had ever hated anybody in his life—he hated her with his whole being!

She had been—was—coldhearted, selfish and insensible. How could he not see that earlier? But how could he see that when he was so blind? Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could feel her warmth in his arms, smell her scent, and taste her flavor; he could hear her sweet moans of unmistakable pleasure.

He had had many women in his bed over the years; he enjoyed the ladies’ company and they enjoyed his. He had always been certain he knew what a woman wanted and needed to take her pleasure. And he always needed little to find his own pleasure in the company of a beautiful woman.

Why had everything been so utterly different this time? Yes, he loved Cassandra; he had known that for quite some time; in fact he had known that almost since her return to town last spring. From the moment he saw her, he lost interest in other women, even for a harmless flirt. For months in his mind there had been nobody else but Cassandra. But he dared not admit it until he was certain there was no understanding between her and Darcy. Then he proposed to her, and she refused him. Since that day, her presence and image in his mind became even more powerful; she was always with him.

And now she deceived him so grossly; she made him believe she was finally his; she seemed to have offered herself to him. Why was everything so different with her? Why did he kiss her more than all the other women in his life together? And he could still not have enough of her. He had touched and caressed and known every single part of her body, and her skin had burned and shivered under his touch. He still remembered the way she embraced him, the way she kissed him, the way her eyes looked at him; no other woman before had… Oh, what was he doing? Was he allowing himself to be fooled again? She had told him it was not her first time; of course, he knew how things would be with a virgin, and she was not one; but she had been obviously pained when he first… And she seemed so shy and uncertain, as though she were not certain what to do… “Oh, what do I care about that,” he yelled to himself, causing his servant to enter and ask if he could be of any help. No, he could not; the Colonel almost threw the poor man out of the room. He wanted to see nobody. He wanted to remain alone. The only thing he cared about was the answer to his question: how could a man hate and love a woman so completely at the very same time.

“BE GONE,” he said harshly when the servant entered his room again half an hour later.

“I beg your forgiveness, sir; there is somebody to see you urgently.”

“Damn and blast! I do not want to see anybody; can you not understand a simple request in English?”

“The poor man is not at fault. I asked him to let me in.” Cassandra’s voice disturbed the silence, and he almost jumped from his seat. He was prepared to throw her out together with the servant; but, the moment he saw her face, he frowned and remained still in the middle of the room. Cassandra’s eyes were swollen and red; her cheeks still wore the traces of her tears, and her ghostly pallor made her look illusory. He did not know what to say or do. It was at that precise moment that he realized his love would never diminish, no matter how much he hated her.

“What is your ladyship doing here? Somebody might see you in my room and you would be utterly compromised.” His voice did not lose its sharpness, but this time his rudeness pained and affected him more then her. She only smiled bitterly and took a sit without waiting for his invitation.

“You shall not upset me with your boorishness, David, even more so now that I know you are only angry with me. And I have no strength to be upset whatsoever; I have no power left for anything. I shall leave soon and put everything behind me again.”

He startled and could not control his worry while looking at her. She smiled again—a small, nervous smile—and continued. “As soon as Darcy and Elizabeth are married, I shall leave England again. They will be a wonderful family together, and Elizabeth will be perfect for both Darcy and Georgiana. They will not need me anymore.”

He made no reply, though he wanted to shout, “I need you.”

“I realize you will probably never want to see me again, and that is the best and wisest thing to do. But I cannot bear the thought of hurting you so deeply, to see you suffering so much without knowing why. I never imagined your feelings were so powerful or that my refusal would affect you so much.”

“You did not know? But did I not speak to you about my feelings? Or perhaps you considered me a cad who liked to play with words of love to make an advantageous marriage arrangement?”

“David, please…” Her voice was barely audible. “Let us not argue more, I beg of you… I have no strength left, and I still have to do the most difficult thing I have ever done.”

Her eyes become tearful again, and this time he hated himself. What on earth was happening to him that he behaved like a lunatic and made her cry? No matter what, it was obvious; things were not easy for her, either.

“David, what I shall tell you now is something I have never told anyone. Darcy is aware of every detail, as he partially witnessed the events, but I never really talked to him about that. You are the single soul who will share this burden with me; and, if you want, you may stop me now, before I begin.”

“I will gladly share any burden with you,” he answered before he knew what he was saying.

“No, do not say that! Please do not say that! You do not know what you are saying.”

“Cassandra…”

She stopped him with a decided wave of her hand. “Please do not interrupt me, or I will never be able to finish the story. Let me speak before I change my mind.”

David nodded and took a few steps, taking a seat in the nearest chair. She sat on the settee—only a few inches apart, yet the gulf between them seemed immense.

“You know, of course, that I left town four years ago after the scandal with the Markhams. I can see now how stupid I was run, but it seemed the best resolution for all the problems at the time. You were out of Town by then, so you do not know the kind of rumors that were spread. When I decidedly refused to marry the eldest Markham, it was said I was involved in a sordid liaison not only with Markham—an obvious assumption since he had kissed me in public—but also with Darcy. Even more, they implied Markham wanted to do his honorable duty by marrying me, but I refused him—so my reason for refusing such an extraordinary match could only be attributed to the wantonness of my character.

“Of course, not everybody was on Markham’s side—quite the contrary. The respectable families in town were well aware of the Markham heir’s reputation—and of his youngest brother’s, as well. Lady Matlock herself was very kind and tried to comfort and support me. She told me the Markhams’ vicious natures were well known, and no honorable gentlemen would trust them near their families. However, the damage was especially bad as it fell upon Darcy, too—and, by association, upon Georgiana. You know that Darcy had the crazy idea we should marry to put the scandal to an end, but I knew that was not possible. Darcy and I were practically brother and sister and could never be more. Darcy deserved a true marriage to give him a chance of happiness and an heir for Pemberley. So I left London… I left England, with only the company of Mrs. Simmons, my companion.”

“I never knew how bad things became… Mother sent me a few words, but…”

“Oh, do not distress yourself; there was nothing you could do… When I left, my plans were to visit Italy and who knows what else. I had so little interest and so many things to see, as I had never traveled before! My only thought was to put as much distance between myself and England as possible, so we procured tickets on the first ship. Of course, Darcy knew everything about my plans, step by step, or else he would not have allowed me to leave. He is a tiresome burden when he acts like an older brother, you know…”

She smiled bitterly, a small, barely visible smile. He only nodded silently.

“On my first night aboard I walked out on the bridge-deck and stayed there for more than an hour watching the water and sky without even feeling the chill. I loved the sea the very first moment I saw it. A little after midnight, a gentleman approached me—a man with the most serene blue eyes I have ever seen. He came near me and said I should have dressed in warmer clothes if I wanted to spend the night outside. There was no other reference to the impropriety of my presence. Then he offered me his coat and I could never explain how we came to spend the night talking. It never happened to me before; by dawn we knew everything about each other.

Thomas—his name was Thomas—was a doctor in his majesty’s army. He had retired because he had been wounded in his chest; he was traveling to Italy to visit some relatives and to recover from the injury which almost took his life. His father had been in trade, but his parents had passed away when he was very young. He was an orphan with not much family left—as I was.”

She stopped and looked at David; his countenance was darkened and his face even paler than before. She continued evening a lower voice. “I am sorry if I hurt you, David, but you must learn the entire truth. I fell in love with that man with all my heart; in fact, in only two days he became my life! Thomas taught me the meaning of utter, complete felicity; in three days we were married.”

The shock on David’s face made Cassandra stop again but he did not inquire for further details; he did not even turn to face her. “We spent the next two months visiting Italy, and each and every moment we spent together made me feel we were perfect for each other; we never contradicted each other, never fought over anything; we liked and disliked the same things. After no more than six weeks, I discovered I was with child. How could happiness be more perfect, more complete?”

Her voiced trembled and she went to pour a glass of water; David helped her but her fingers could not hold the glass; she took a small gulp from the glass in his hand then bit her lips and continued. “We were in Rome and used to take long strolls through the Town before retiring for the night. We both loved walking and riding but he could not ride for the time being, and I found little enjoyment in doing anything without him. So…what was I saying? Oh yes, we were walking arm in arm; behind us there was a very noisy group, but we did not give them much importance; in truth, we rarely paid attention to anyone except ourselves. However, at some point they passed near us; there was a large gathering including ladies and gentlemen; and, with no little annoyance, I recognized the young Markhams among them. They all seemed very euphoric and the eldest scoundrel looked at me and my husband, and then bowed politely. But I did not miss the impertinent smile on his face.

“He said ‘Lady Cassandra, what an unexpected, wonderful surprise to meet you here!’

“I should have ignored him and turned the other way; I should have only greeted him as propriety demands and nothing more. Instead, selfish and impudent, inconsiderate for nothing but my wounded pride, I answered, ‘Unexpected, but by no means wonderful, Lord Markham.’

‘Oh, your words wound me,’ he answered. ’I have longed to see you and my wishes have come true. You must admit we are meant to meet together.’

“Of course, at that, Thomas interfered and demanded explanations. Markham laughed and suggested he join them for a man-to-man talk. His impertinent expression as he spoke and the looks he gave his companions suddenly alerted me; and, with no reasonable explanation, I became agitated and frightened. I turned around, asking Thomas that we leave as I was not feeling well. First he insisted in having a discussion with Lord Markham, but I kept insisting we leave, and he finally relented. Markham and his friends started to laugh at him, calling after him to return if he wanted to know more about me. I could feel how angry he was, but he said nothing until we reached our home—and there he allowed his rage to burst forth. He acted almost wildly, as I had never s him before—not at me directly, but reproaching me for not allowing him to clarify things. He demanded I tell him who Markham was, and I related everything, with complete honesty, trying to prove to him that Markham did not deserve his attention. He grew even angrier and demanded that I stay inside while he returned to settle things. I was petrified. I begged him to put the matter aside. I actually crawled and clung to him; he was looking at me like I was out of my mind. He asked me to be rational and listen to him, as nothing would happen. But I did not. I do not know why; I could never explain to myself why I was so terrified… Seeing me in such a state, he seemed to overcome his own rage. He tried to calm me; he put me to bed and held me in his arms, talking to me, until well after midnight. He…we made love and all the time I did nothing but ask him, beg him, force him to promise me he would not leave me that night or ever, that he would never go to seek Markham again. Finally I fell asleep.”

The tension in the room was so intense that it became unbearable even for David; he kept staring at her while she was speaking, but she seemed a completely different person than the Cassandra he knew. He wanted to move closer to her in support and comfort as, obviously, the emotions were overwhelming, but he did not dare.

“During the night I awoke, frightened by a nightmare… I can still remember the sensation. I felt trapped in a cage of ice, everything dark around me, and I began to fall into an abyss, unable to stop. I woke up sweating, crying. But the nightmare was just beginning. The more frightening, life-draining nightmare started then and would end more than one year later. I looked for Thomas, but he was not there. Instead of his warm, comforting presence, I found a note on my pillow. He said there was something he had to do—his honor and love for me demanded it—and he would return soon. Nothing else…but I knew… I knew he broke his promise to me… I knew where he had gone…”

She started pacing the room with growing anxiety, her voice trembling. “He did not return, not that night nor the next. I sent my servants to search amongst his acquaintances in all the places he might have frequented. I hired more men to form search parties and retrace his movements around the Town and beyond. They found him two days later in a secluded grove outside Rome. He had been shot…twice…in the back.”

She was not crying, her eyes fixed on the fireplace, and she was clasping her fists together so hard that the fingers were livid. He felt helpless, dying of sadness, of wishing to protect and comfort her, yet he knew it was not the moment for him to interfere. There she was, alone with her memories, alone with his memory. There was no place for anyone else. The Colonel remained alone—and lonely.

“I do not know what happened the next few days; Mrs. Simmons must have taken care of the funeral because I cannot remember much. I only remember staying near his coffin and staring at him. I did not even cry…not for a moment. I must be a very cold-hearted woman… I simply could not cry. The tears would not come… The next weeks I did not leave my room. I spent all my time hating him. I hated him with all my strength because he made me lose everything—after he had given me the whole world. I hated him as much as I loved him. He had put his stupid pride above my wishes and happiness. He had lied to me. I hated him so much… His child was inside me, and I hated him even more for what he had done to that innocent life… I only wanted my thoughts to stop forever as I could not bear them any longer. Then… I did not even notice what happened until some days later. One morning I woke up and I felt warm…too warm… The only thing I knew was that the doctor had been fetched—not for the first time—so it was of little importance. Then some more time passed, and Mrs. Simmons told me my child was also gone. The doctor said my child had died because I did not eat or sleep for all that time. Can you understand that? What kind of mother was I? What kind of woman am I?”

Unconsciously, the Colonel shivered. His eyes were fixed on her beautiful—now transfigured—face, in an expression of the deepest sorrow. There she was—in front of him—revealing to him a part of her soul that was kept in the darkest, most secret place until that moment. She then started to cry, and her body knelt on the floor as though a lifeless corpse.

“That moment I understood: it was not my husband’s fault, but mine. It was I who provoked everything. Had I not confronted Lord Markham that evening, had I pretended I did not see him, none of it would have happened. I killed my husband, and I killed my child.”

He hurried to her side and sat near her on the rug, his arms encircling her shoulders; she fought against him, trying to push him away. “Cassandra, do not reject me, please. It is not the man who tried to comfort you now, but your friend.”

His emotion barely allowed him to speak; she remained still in his arms for a few moments, then her head fell on his shoulder and despair burst out from her chest in the most heartbreaking weeping. He had never before experienced such pain as he felt while holding her in his arms, unable to do anything to share her grief. If only he could take her burden upon himself.

After some minutes, her sobs stopped. She withdrew from him and resumed her place on the sofa. He rose with her but did not sit near her, allowing her the privacy she wanted.

“The doctor told me I might not be able to have children again; and, at that moment, I gave it little consideration; besides, I no longer wanted to live…so what would I care if I could not have children again? I do not know how much I slept; all I remember are some confused voices and unclear faces around my bed… And one day Darcy arrived… Later I found out that three weeks had passed since my husband died…only three weeks, and I was certain it was a lifetime in the inferno.” She stopped and looked at David, smiling painfully. “I did recover because of Darcy—he was such a tiresome burden and such a wonderful, annoying brother! He demanded my servant pull me out of bed and bathe me. He forced me to eat and actually carried me out of house in the carriage every day to ride through the town—a town I came to hate. He stayed with me more than a month. He tried to discover what happened, but found no real clues; we had no proof that Thomas ever met Lord Markham. He and his friends had left town some time earlier, and Darcy could not find them; and I was so happy for that, as I was afraid something would happen to him, too. A year later, I left Italy and spent another two and half years traveling…that is all. This is my life.”

“The eldest Markham died two years ago. From what I have heard, nobody really knew the nature of his disease. There were rumors that his death was a horrible one, and he had lost his mind near the end.”

“Yes, I have been told that, but I cared little about it. His death was no palliation to me.”

“How is it nobody knew? About your marriage, I mean…”

“Who would care to know? My life is of little interest to anyone else except Darcy and Georgiana… And you… I shall not deny that. This is why I decided to tell you everything, and I hope now you can understand my reasons for refusing your proposal. I shall never open my heart again; my heart is stone, and so it will remain.”

They were both sitting on the rug, his arms embracing her in friendship and comfort. Suddenly he released his arms from around her and rose to his feet. She followed him with her still tearful eyes.

“Cassandra, I am deeply grateful to you for sharing this story with me and for being so considerate of my feelings. I cannot tell you how angry I am with myself for my unfair, wild reaction earlier in your room. Not for a moment did I think there could be stronger reasons behind your refusal…”

“No, please do not blame yourself. How could you have known? I hope we will be able to forget everything and some day be friends again….”

He nodded and continued, pacing the room in great torment. “You talked about your fault and your husband’s fault, but I can see neither. All I can see is the unfortunate story of a most worthy and honorable gentleman who, in an attempt to protect the honor of the woman he loved, was cowardly defeated by a most unworthy, despicable man. Your husband did nothing wrong, nothing any man of honor would not have done.”

“I shall not have this conversation with you, Colonel,” she said coldly while she prepared to leave the room. “I can well imagine you see no fault in a man breaking the promise he made to his wife to satisfy the demands of honor; I am sure you would have done the same. You declared as much last evening in the library when we talked about Markham. You would have been very pleased to see Darcy confront him and expose his life only because the rule of honor demands it.”

“A gentleman must defend his honor and the honor of those whom he cares for; this is how things are, Cassandra, whether you like it or not. I will always protect you and Georgiana, you must know that; I will always do what is right for you, and so will Darcy with Miss Bennet. It cannot be any other way. How is it possible you do not see the justice in such a gesture? You, of all people, who jeopardized your own reputation to save Miss Bennet’s?”

She looked disconcerted for a moment then shook her head. “This is utterly differently; it cannot be compared.”

“It is absolutely the same; you bear no fault in what happened to your husband—you must see that—or in losing your child. But I am afraid you do not allow yourself to see the truth. You have become so accustomed to living with this burden—with this deep suffering—that it has become a part of you, and you cannot imagine your life without it. You cannot bear the idea of forgiving yourself and trying to be happy again.”

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner? You, who never knew what love is, who never cared for any woman more than a couple of nights? How dare you tell me what the truth is?”

“I love you… I have not known love before, but I do now, so very painfully,” he whispered and she stopped her angry tirade and turned to him in shock. “I shall be your friend if that is your desire, or I shall leave if that is what you want, but I shall always love you.”

He stopped talking, and she seemed to stop breathing; her eyes narrowed and locked with his, but he could see nothing in them. Her beautiful green eyes appeared as lifeless as her pale face. In the silence of the room, he was certain he could hear their hearts beating while he waited and hoped for her reply.