Chapter 8



In an instant, Elizabeth saw her entire life passing before her eyes. A heavy hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. Her panic escalated to immeasurable proportions and she struggled against Darcy's hold, but in vain. The gentleman would not let go of her.

"Miss Bennet!"

Her eyes were tightly shut, as if expecting to feel the strike that would end her days at any moment. Her breath became so shallow that air was faltering. 

"Miss Bennet!" he insisted on seeing her sudden pallor, "Are you unwell?"

The initial shock gave away to an increasing lethargy as everything around her began to fade. Darcy's voice now sounded distant and her body felt weightless. There was no coldness or warmth around her, only the darkness of a heavy sleep from which she could not wake up. A while later, how long she could not tell, she was awakened by the strong smell of brandy being applied directly to her nose. Her eyes flickered open and as her vision became clearer, the face of Mr. Darcy appeared before her. 

"Thank Goodness," he cried, visibly relieved, "are you feeling better?"

Albeit dizzy, Elizabeth attempted to sit up. 

"No, no," Darcy stopped her. "Do not get up. You look very ill."

"Where am I?" 

"In the study," he brushed a curl from her face. "You fainted. I carried you to the sofa."

Feeling much better, Elizabeth sat on the sofa. Before her, Darcy was crouched, scrutinizing her face, concern evident in his features. "You look much recovered. Can I get you something to drink? A glass of water?"

Howbeit puzzled, she refused it with a slight shake of her head, for she had never expected such tenderness from a man she suspected to be a murderer. 

"What were you doing in the library at such late hour? It is dark and this house is not safe."

"I merely came for a book," replied she, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. "I cannot stay here …"

As she rose, Darcy extended his hand to help her up, but Elizabeth backed off from his touch.

"Pray," said he, puzzled by her reaction, "There is nothing to fear."

She shrugged her body to the side, attempting to stand up and pass as far away from Darcy's body as she could as she rose from the couch. The gentleman did not remain oblivious to that gesture. 

"You are not well, let me assist you."

This time she could not control her fear and cried a 'do not touch me!' as he held her by the elbow. Darcy's face darkened as he realized that he was the one who was scaring her.

"Miss Bennet," he asked in earnest, "are you afraid of me?" 

His grip was firm on her. With her eyes full of fear, she struggled to release herself. But he did not let go and insisted in knowing the reasons for her behaviour. She would not explain, or could not, and fruitlessly attempted to pull away from him.

"Please do not hurt me, please!"

Darcy instantly opened his hand and let go of her. 

She was walking backwards and he advancing over her. A table put an end to her retreat and she found herself cornered, with Darcy towering over her. Her heart was caught at her throat, her bosom heaved in agitation. 

Truly, Elizabeth feared for her life. The faint scent of liquor that came from his breath told her that he might not be fully in his senses. She knew she would have to stay calm and endeavour to distract him until she could run away and find some help. Producing strength where there was only fear, she assumed a more confident posture, and sounding as imposing as she could, she addressed him thus,

"Excuse me, sir, I am a lady. Your behaviour is not according to the one of a gentleman of your rank. Remove yourself from my way and permit me to return to my chambers."

That said, she attempted to leave but his arm, now extended by the side of her head with his palm pressed firmly against the wall, blocked her way. "No, Miss Bennet, you will have to pardon me this time. I will not let you go until you tell me why this sudden fear of my person. I have done nothing to hurt you, have I?"

She swallowed. "No, sir. It is your present conduct that scares me. It is not proper for us to remain alone in this room. Allow me to return to my chamber now and I assure you that no one shall ever know of this meeting."

Darcy lowered his arm and looked directly into her eyes. "I will not let you go until you tell me of the reasons why you were spying on me."

Her pulse quickened and the fear he had seen before returned to her eyes. "I was not."

"Yes, madam, you were. You were hiding behind the door."

She did not reply, only held his stare with eyes full of fear. 

"I imagined that was the case. Surely you also overheard the tête a tête with my cousin, and given your frightened looks, you are inclined to believe that his affirmations about my character were true."

"I am sorry, sir, but I know not what you are saying."

"No? I think you do, Miss Bennet. You think I have motives to kill my aunt."

Elizabeth's knees suddenly went weak. "No, sir. I do not."

But her face betrayed her. "Oh, madam, you do."

What moved her to nod at that moment, she couldn't tell, but with that simple move, she confirmed his suspicions. And against everything she had expected, Darcy did not kill her nor did he strike her as she had thought he might once he knew her mind, but instantly released her, and stepped back, looking at her with an expression that mingled concern and incredulity. 

"Pray tell, what act of mine has driven you to form so abominable opinion of me?"

Elizabeth's throat had suddenly gone dry and she swallowed with difficulty. She did not know what to reply. Since Lady Catherine's dead body was found, she was firm in her conviction that Darcy was the killer. But now, seeing things in a prudential light, and after observing the gentleman's reaction, she realized that she had precipitated her judgement and the conclusions to which she had arrived may not be entirely correct.

"I am sorry, sir. It is not in my right nor in my ability to determine who the murderer is, less to elaborate such accusation."

"But you have already done that, madam, and the severity of the blame which had been so liberally bestowed on me entitles me to know where the foundation of your suspicions reside." When she did not reply, he insisted, "What proof do you have to accuse me? The argument you overheard between me and my cousin, perhaps? Or our meeting in the corridor late in the night? Are those proofs substantial enough as to proclaim someone a murderer?"

"Nay, sir, I cannot presume you guilty based on those convictions. I, too, was walking the corridor that night. But when, much later, I saw you were still wearing the same clothes, I thought it suspicious," said she, a bit ashamed for her hasty conclusion.

Darcy nodded quietly and reflected for a moment before he spoke. "Miss Bennet, you grew up in a farm, did you not?"

Her reply came in the form of a quick nod.

"Have you ever killed a hen or seen a servant slaughtering one?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Answer my question."

"Yes, sir," she replied, puzzled by his questioning. "In my younger years, I used to assist with the farm duties. I have slaughtered a few chickens myself." 

"And I suppose you never stained your clothes with blood as you did it."

"You are wrong. My clothes were stained every time. That was why I always wore an apron for the occasion."

He nodded. "Did you see blood in my clothes last night? Or later, when you saw me in the corridor, when the body was discovered, were my clothes blotted with blood?"

"No ..."

"Miss Bennet, had you seen the body and the amount of blood that was shed, you would have realized that I could not have committed that crime without drenching my clothes with my aunt's blood. The fact that you saw me wearing the same attire, on which there was not a single drop of blood, is a confirmation of my innocence and not my guilt, as you so wrongly presumed." He walked around her like a wildcat circling his prey. "So, madam, I wonder why, with no other proofs than those you stated, both unsubstantial, in my opinion, you are ready to declare me my aunt's murderer." 

Albeit there was more logic in his reasoning that Elizabeth was ready to admit, she considered that her further understanding of this case was enough to justify her hastiness to condemn him. "My preconception was not only based in what I saw that night nor in your cousin's speculations about your possible guiltiness, as you presume, but on what I heard from your own aunt's lips. She was blackmailing you. I overheard the conversation you had with her on the night of her death and I know of the threats of which you were being subjected, of the evils that would befall you and your family had you persisted in your idea of not marrying Miss de Bourgh."

Darcy observed her for a moment, his countenance reflective, as if Elizabeth were now in understanding of information that she should not possess. Still, he replied with the conviction of a man that spoke with the truth. "Yes, Miss Bennet, that might have been reason enough for anybody, but I not for me. I am not a criminal. I did not kill my aunt."

"Then why did you conceal it from your cousin?" cried Elizabeth in the same eagerness. "You knew that information to be incriminating, that is why you did not reveal it during your argument with Colonel Fitzwilliam. You were afraid that he would use it against you, that he would accuse you with the same unjustness with which you accused him. Why should I not think the same way?"

After a moment of reflection, he replied. "I have my reasons, but you may be right in your point, madam, and I, like you, based my affirmations in a misapprehension."

"Perhaps," she stated, still cautious, "we both had been too hasty in our judgement. But as your cousin stated, your aunt's evils are still haunting us, even after her death."

Darcy smiled faintly and walked towards the fire place. He threw a few pine cones in it and poked the dying fire until the flames were reborn. He stared pensively at it for a moment and sighed deeply, as if his life depended on it. Elizabeth thought that he looked exhausted.

"Miss Bennet," he finally said, "I know it is late and that you are surely tired, but I think that your initial suspicion and the facts that had driven us to have this discussion demand further explanation to be fully understood. Would you do me honour of listening to it?"

In any other moment, Elizabeth would have found his invitation completely inappropriate, she would have left the room immediately, but something inside of her was telling her that she should stay and listen to what he had to say to expand his defence. Perhaps it was his new, sensible and more humble demeanour what moved her to stay or maybe her own curiosity to learn more about this affair that had been the means of her present restlessness. Whatever the reason, she was more than eager to stay.

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Thank you," he smiled, "pray, take a seat by the hearth. It is cold in here."

As she walked to the armchair, Darcy threw a few more logs into the fire, which was now roaring intently. Elizabeth was glad for a little warmth and braced herself to take the chill from her body. He stood by the hearth, with one arm resting on the mantle, looking intently at the fire. 

"As you know, Miss Bennet," he began, "my aunt was in possession of information that would have been prejudicial to my family had it been of public understanding. You must be wondering what evils those must have been, to concede her so great power over me."

"I heard something about an elopement, that is all I know, sir."

He nodded quietly. "There is more than that. When my father died, my sister Georgiana, who is more than ten years my junior, was left under the guardianship of myself and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She usually resides in London, in an establishment that had been formed for her but, about a year ago, she was taken from school to Ramsgate under the care of Mrs. Younge, the woman that supervised her education at the time. To our misfortune, this lady, in whose character we had been most unhappily deceived, was in connection with an old friend of the family, a man of vicious propensity, who also went thither, with the chief purpose of recommending himself to my sister."

"And he succeeded, I presume, according to your aunts sayings."

"Yes," he sighed, his voice hued with sadness. "He did."

"How old was she at the time?"

"Fifteen, which must be her excuse, I suppose. Georgiana's affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child and this man …" he hesitated, "can be as engaging as he is deceiving. With Mrs. Young aid, he persuaded her to be in love with him and made her consent to an elopement which, by some miraculous design of fate, I was able to prevent."

Elizabeth while condoling with him, could not help but think that Miss Darcy's behaviour was not entirely flawless. "Poor child."

"I cannot deny Georgiana's fault in this affair, she should have realized sooner the impropriety of her actions, though, I am happy to say, she recognized her mistake and acknowledged to me of that intelligence by her own design. I visited her unexpectedly in her house in Ramsgate and in her innocence, she told me of this gentleman with whom she had fallen in love and their plans to be married on the following day. I immediately put an end to the affair and took her away to London, with me. On the way to Town, and now without this man's -forgive me, madam, I cannot refer to him as a gentleman- and Mrs. Younge's influence, Georgiana was able to disclose the entire truth to me. She told me about the correspondence they exchanged, of their encounters and while her virtue had not been compromised, in regard of her feelings, I asked this man to come to London with the intention of recovering the letters she had written to him and preserve her from public exposure. I knew he would use them against her when the appropriate time came."

"But instead of giving those to you, he gave them to your aunt." she interjected. 

"Not all of them. I acquired from him seven letters in the amount of one thousand pounds with the conviction that I was buying all the letters my sister wrote to him. But he deceived me. I should have known better." Darcy shook his head. "I should have known ..."

Elizabeth's heart was full of sympathy for him. "You couldn't know it, unless your sister told you exactly the number of letters she wrote to him …"

"I asked her, but she couldn't remember. She was so distressed at the time, so ashamed of her actions that I preferred not to press the matter any further and hoped that that would be the end of my acquaintance with him. But I was wrong. He kept the letters that beheld the most intimate knowledge, the ones that exposed my sister's most personal feelings and sold them to my aunt, whose malicious nature he knew well." Darcy glanced at the fire before returning his eyes to her. "That is why you saw me in the corridor that night. I went to my aunt's dressing room to see if I could find those letters and finally put an end to our agony."

Elizabeth was astonished. "You went to your aunt's room?"

"I knew that, even if I consented to her wishes and married my cousin, Lady Catherine was going to hold those against me for the rest of her life. I know it is not an excuse to invade my aunt's private chambers, it is against any principle of mine to act so inappropriately, but I had no other choice. I was only trying to protect my sister's honour."

"Did you not fear being discovered?"

"No. I don't know if you have noticed this during your stay at Rosings, but my aunt is-was," he corrected himself quickly, "very fond of sherry."

Elizabeth smirked at that comment, but Darcy remained serious. "Yes, sir, I have seen her drinking a little too much on occasions." 

"She usually never drank in excess in front of the guests, but it is was known that she would partake in half a bottle of sherry, even more at times, when she retired to her private chambers, therefore she had a very heavy sleep."

"And you presumed that she would not wake up while you inspected her dressing room."

Darcy began to pace in front of the hearth, appearing more and more troubled with every step. "That was exactly my thought. I searched everywhere, but the letters were not there. The house was so quiet that I decided to venture further into her chambers and try my luck ..." He stopped, and pressed his closed fist to his mouth in an attempt to repress the sickness that those recollections produced in him. 

Elizabeth was on pins and needles to learn more. "And …"

The gentleman swallowed the acid bile that had climbed up his throat and composed himself enough to speak. "And I saw her. She was dead, laying in a pool of her own blood."

"Heaven on earth!" gasped Elizabeth. 

Darcy paused for a moment and recovering himself, stated, "I was in utter shock. I did not know what to do. I thought of waking up my cousin to tell him what I had seen, but I would not be able to explain my presence in my aunt's chambers without making him suspicious. When I left her room, I happened upon you."

She was perplexed. "You looked so distressed, so ill, now I know why."

He nodded quietly. "It was not a pretty sight, I grant you. I went directly to my room and waited there until I heard the maid's screams. Those were the longest hours of my life. No, madam," Darcy said after a intense pause, "I did not kill my aunt but, by God I was tempted to do it."

Elizabeth felt a chill running up her spine for this last statement resumed all what he went through, the stress and the suffering to that had been inflicted on him. Darcy had become the victim of his own fortune, hostage of his own power, but still he confronted those adversities and fought against those who were threatening what he considered sacred. 

And to think she had once considered vain and disagreeable! Certainly, there was no improper pride in him. She had been so wrong in her presumption. When she recalled how unfairly she had accused him, how unjustly she had condemned him, she could not but chastise herself for her stupidity. His loyalty towards those he cared for became another reason to admire him and his suffering was now the object of her compassion.

"This, madam," he said a moment later, "is a faithful narrative of what happened the night my aunt was killed. I hope you acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards her."

"I do, sir." She smiled. "I do."

Chapter 9

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