Page 27 of Mr Darcy Gets Angry
Scarcely had the colonel left the chamber when Darcy, in a single stride, was beside Elizabeth, gathering her into his arms. With a deep sigh, she yielded, and all the anxiety, nervousness and fear melted from her frame within the embrace of the man she loved.
“Thank you, thank you,” he murmured again and yet again, as though the very sound might charm away all evil and ugliness from about them.
They did not kiss, for their happiness could not be entire whilst, scarce a mile distant in the garrison, their cousin and friend was to endure the most grievous of trials: to prove his innocence in a matter so entangled and so dreadful.
“Why do you thank me?” Elizabeth asked, drawing a little away that she might look upon him. In the pale and flickering light of the candles, his face was a mask of care, yet his eyes grew clear when they met her own.
“You found the very tone and words to stir doubt in his mind even before he saw the undeniable proofs of treachery.”
“I do not know if it is so. When you entered, he was still at war with himself—”
“The struggle itself shows that you had planted doubt already. You had mostly conjunctures, no evidence strong enough to convince Richard...of that woman’s lies—”
“Nor did I breathe a word of our gravest suspicions of treachery. I spoke only of her falsehood concerning her family. Yet from the letter which at last he consented to read, it was plain that she had chosen him not with her heart, but with an interest.”
“Precisely. An interest unnamed, yet sufficient. When I entered the room, I saw him sink within himself. You did not utter the word treachery, but every syllable you spoke led him towards that dreadful suspicion.”
“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, broken, hiding her head against his breast, thankful for that place of eternal rest, while he pressed her close, assured that he had found a partner who would walk beside him in life with warmth and with intelligence.
“Let us not deceive ourselves. The game is not yet won for Richard. The general and those in London who will examine his case may believe him, or they may not.”
But Elizabeth withdrew once more and shook her head with vigour, her fair countenance lit with resolve. “No, it cannot be! Richard shall prove his innocence, though he needs all your family’s support.”
She looked at Darcy with a trembling eagerness, longing to impart to him somewhat of her own confidence, a confidence not grounded upon real facts, but upon a faith that sprang from her heart, idyllic in its purity, that an innocent man could not be condemned unjustly.
Finally, he inclined his head, conquered by the beauty of her hope.
“We must depart hence with speed. I have already dispatched a messenger to my uncle. By the time we arrive, I am certain he will have taken some measures. Our family, our long tradition of loyalty to crown and country, shall weigh in the balance for Richard.”
“Poor Richard,” said Elizabeth softly. “I do not know what wounds him most. However idealistic it may sound, the heart can unleash a pain as piercing as any trial of the mind. The betrayal of a woman towards the man who loves her may wound no less painfully than any punishment dealt by human justice.”
Darcy looked into her eyes with a faint smile. “I am here to testify that the pain born of love is so profound it may be likened to every anguish of body or of spirit.”
“We did not betray one another,” Elizabeth said in haste. “Whatever befell in Kent was nothing but folly, the offspring of our pride and prejudice.”
“Nevertheless, the pain was as keen, though the circumstance was wholly other. But enough—we must depart this house, this town.”
Darcy sought to take her hand to lead her towards the door, but she stayed him. “Wait! Tell me, how did you discover those documents? How did Emmeline conduct herself?”
But he touched her lips with a gentle kiss and whispered, “Come, my love. We have time to speak of it in the carriage. Nay, what am I saying? We have a whole lifetime to speak of all that has passed.”