Page 106 of Obligation and Redemption

“Non? I will take you to Aphrodite. Peut être she can change your mind.” She then opened the door and took Darcy’s arm, guiding him to the farthest door.

He could hear passion as it played out in the rooms along the way.

This, Monsieur, is your chamber. While gazing into his eyes, Madame Karina took the key from Darcy, caressed his hand and unlocked the door.

When she opened it, he looked inside, curious, but unwilling to enter.

Why do I not just leave? The inner turmoil in his being overwhelmed him.

He stepped to the doorway and there standing before him, was a woman, no a girl, perhaps Georgiana’s age or a little older, with long chestnut locks and green eyes, wearing less even than Madame Karina.

She stared at him and smiled seductively while holding out her hand.

My God! She looks like Elizabeth! — A younger Elizabeth, but without the innocence and not as beautiful, for she is only a child .

What was Langston thinking to suggest this girl?

He stared at her for an unknown length of time as he battled within. He could stay and pretend she was his Elizabeth – the task would not be too difficult – or he could leave and remain faithful to his wife. After a few moments of deliberation, he determined his course.

“I apologise for any inconvenience that I have caused, and I am happy to pay for my time, but I cannot in good conscience remain. I really must take my leave.”

“Mais, Monsieur, s’il vous plait. Do not go.

You are unhappy with Aphrodite? She walked up not six inches from him and placed her hands on his chest. “Je peux serve you myself.” She nodded for the girl to go out the servants’ entrance as she led him into the room.

Madame then turned and locked the door behind them.

Darcy was now breathing in quick short breaths. His body was yearning for more, but his conscience was urging him to leave. Oh, God, help me!

Madame Karina made quick work of his cravat, with a proficiency seldom seen with even the most skilled valet.

She then began to remove his topcoat while coming even closer to place succulent kisses upon his neck and chest. Darcy had not noticed that she had already unbuttoned half of his vest, when he recalled the appearance of the young girl, the one who resembled Elizabeth.

I will never be able to face Elizabeth if I go through with this!

I hate deceit, but then if I were to confess, how could she ever forgive me?

He pulled away, “No, stop, please.” He was breathing hard, “I must go.”

She began untying the bow that seemed to be the only thing holding her own dress together.

“Please Madame, I must leave this place!” He reached for the door, but it was locked.

Damn! He then turned back around just in time to see the dress flow to the floor.

He could not help but look at her, mesmerised by her unabashed nudity and arresting curves, but then his mind conveniently remembered Elizabeth’s body, of which he had seen so little; but his wife’s was untouched, pure.

No eyes had ever seen her in this way. Darcy could not at this moment consider the possibility of Wickham’s having done so.

Instead, he was reminded either by his memory – or by God himself – that he was destined for one woman and she was destined for him, for better or worse.

He forced himself to turn and quickly found the key on the floor and unlocked the door.

He then removed the agreed upon amount from his billfold and dropped it to the floor as he grabbed his clothes and made his escape.

He did not look back, but went straight down the stairs.

The footmen looked at him and walked forward to stop him.

Darcy suspected correctly that their job was to protect the employees and to make sure everyone paid up.

“I have decided to leave. I can assure you that Madame Karina has been paid. Please, my coat and hat.” One of the men retrieved his garments and handed it to him, letting him go with no further questions, which threw Darcy off guard.

He could not imagine why they believed him without verifying his claim.

Rather than use one of the hackneys stationed outside waiting for the customers, Darcy walked back to Whites, the cold air helping his physical recovery, as he attempted to reassemble his clothing.

He went inside to warm up before calling his carriage for home.

This night had been like a nightmare for him, unlike his recurring dreams that included his beautiful wife in her wet chemise.

How could I have let this go so far? God help me .

Darcy arrived at home and went straight to his chamber, calling for his valet along the way.

Nelson raised an appraising brow upon first seeing his master’s dishevelled appearance but then, as expected, promptly got to work.

Darcy remained in quiet contemplation while his man skilfully prepared him for bed.

Once Nelson had left and he was alone, he sat in his chair in front of the fireplace staring at the flames.

As he finally let his emotions and his feelings come to the surface, Darcy did something he had not done since his dear mother died.

He began to cry; gentle tears falling down his cheeks at first, but as his thoughts wandered, Darcy began to weep heavy tears in anguish of what he had become.

He was a beast! Elizabeth had it right.

I have always thought that if anyone had reason for confidence, I had more: my lineage, impeccable – born a Darcy, a family that has thrived in England since the Norman Dynasty, my mother, from a noble family of means – a Cambridge graduate, a gentleman, as to integrity, blameless.

Under my rule, Pemberley has prospered beyond any point in its history; every decision I have made has affected hundreds of livelihoods for the good.

I have been a most conscientious brother, sacrificing so much time for Georgiana’s benefit.

And then I did what I thought to be most honourable: I gave up my plans for marriage to save Elizabeth and her family from ruin.

But what true good has come from me? Nothing.

I am a beast, just as Elizabeth said, no better than Wickham!

Oh yes, I married Elizabeth, but look what I’ve done to her!

She doesn’t smile or laugh anymore; she’s grown thin and gaunt at my hands!

And did I marry her to save her and her family, as I have held to so tenaciously, or was it the fact that I couldn’t get the look of her and that damn wet chemise out of my head?

And by marrying her, I have hurt Georgiana!

Can she ever come to accept Elizabeth, or will we always have my marriage come between us?

Oh, yes, I have plenty of wealth, but for what purpose?

So I can get into Madame Karina’s and buy a whore?

My education has little value, except to show my famed superiority.

My parents would be ashamed of me. My pride will be my albatross, always showing me my failings.

Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this shame?

The answer came to him. Who had saved him this evening at the brothel? On whom did he finally call?

Oh, God, please help me to be the husband, brother and master you would have me be.

Have mercy on me and protect me from such horrid musings that have plagued me!

Be my guide, I beg you. Then Darcy fell to his knees, hands in fists on his brow, and sobbed as a child.

He lamented how he had failed as husband, brother and man.

He had been given good principles but had followed them in conceit.

It was as though his eyes had opened for the first time to see how completely wretched he really was.

Everything that had bolstered his pride had been given to him. In what could he truly boast?

When Darcy finally stood, he saw his reflection in the mirror before him.

As with new eyes, he observed the man staring back at him, and possibly for the first time in his life, Darcy perceived himself as he actually was.

On this night, the ugliness of his soul had been laid bare before him.

He was reminded of Lady Susan. Since Elizabeth had exposed the woman’s constant self-admiration in the looking glass, he could not fathom what Susan beheld that was attractive to look upon.

Now he realised that he too had erroneously seen himself without fault, just as Susan had regarded her own appearance – that all along the truth had remained hidden from his eyes.

But to his advantage, Darcy now viewed himself as his Maker did and was thankful, for what hope did he have for improvement without true understanding?

For the first time he felt his own weaknesses, which comfortingly brought him solace rather than grief.

Darcy spent many hours that night reviewing his behaviour when he was with Elizabeth, taking mental note of all of his misdeeds, slights and criticisms that might have hurt her or led to her own failings or consortium with Wickham.

He had been angry with Elizabeth, but Wickham was right, Darcy had openly despised her.

Was it any wonder if she had been inclined towards a man who spoke pretty words?

She is a vulnerable woman; of course she would yield to Wickham.