“Yes, I am vexed with you!” She flared anew, stalking past him to commence pacing and shooting daggers his direction. “And I am not overreacting in the slightest. Again and again she accosted you, these… advances occurring where anyone could have seen. And while I was pathetically unaware! You allowed me to pursue a friendship with her, knowing her character and what she had attempted with my husband. Do you not see what a fool this makes me? How she must be laughing at the stupid little girl? The pathetic child with the faithful husband who treats her as an infant.”
“Do you honestly care what she thinks of you?”
“No! Yes! A little. That is not the point. Do you not see, William? Either what we have together is special and plainly revealed to all, or it is a lie. I do care what you think of me! No secrets, remember?”
“Yes,” he whispered miserably.
“I am not a child. Nor a toy that you can play with and show off as your own personal property to protect and not treat with respect and equality.”
“You know I do not think that,” he began, but she continued as if he had not spoken.
“And why is it that you consider it your right to dash off risking your life to defend your claim and my honor, but I cannot do the same? Your possessiveness is not a mutually exclusive privilege, William. You belong to me as surely, and I am equally furious to think of another seducing what is mine! Yet, as offended as I am, what I cannot believe is that you would shield me in this way.”
“Elizabeth, please, I am deeply sorry!”
“I know you are, William.” She stopped pacing, suddenly weary and weak. “I also know you meant well, only wishing to spare me pain because of your love for me. I am naïve in so many ways and perhaps not fully capable of handling such things. But I never will learn if you do not trust me! Your job as my husband is not to screen me from life so that I do not mature in wisdom.”
They stood in silence, eyes downcast as they wrestled with thoughts and emotions. Darcy was ashamed, recognizing the truth of all her words although he could not honestly imagine relinquishing the fundamental need to protect her from all pain or harm. Lizzy was mainly tired, yet a vivid vision of ripping Lady Underwood's hair out lingered.
“Have there been other propositions?” She spoke quietly, staring at the floor.
He looked quickly to her averted face, shaking his head vigorously as he rapidly crossed to her. “No others since long before we were engaged, beloved. But it does not matter in any case.” He reached to clasp her shoulders but was halted when she lifted fierce eyes.
“It matters to me! I need to know if there are other 'friends' of mine who have privately desired or even unashamedly attempted to make love to my husband.” Her voice caught on the final words, tears springing to blazing eyes.
Darcy studied her with deep remorse and concern. Her countenance was yet smoldering with resentment but also quite pale and pinched. She looked so fatigued and drained. Overcome with guilt and with heart constricting, he lifted gentle fingertips to her wan cheek, caressing slowly.
“We cannot control what others may muse on, beloved. I, however, can and should control my actions with improved wisdom. I made a horrible mistake in doubting your understanding. Will you please pardon me?”
“You are twice the fool if you honestly fear I would not forgive you any misstep,” she countered with some asperity.
And then with a weak smile she fell onto his chest, Darcy embracing her tenderly yet with steely strength. All night he held her close, dozing lightly as he preferred to gaze on her face in the moonlight, noting the ease relaxing her facial muscles and the increasing health filling her cheeks as she slept. In the darkest hours of the night, it was Lizzy who roused and reached for her drowsy husband, pulling his body and lips onto hers. They made love in the shadows, dreamily bonding and stimulating with remaining four senses leading and heightened.
It was while Darcy waited patiently for his wife to join him in their chamber to descend for breakfast that Lizzy slipped out a side door on a mission of her own. She had slept well and her heart was whole. She understood Darcy's reasoning for maintaining his silence, and she did appreciate the compassion that drove him even if she did not agree with the decision. Hopefully he now recognized the reality that honesty and full disclosure between them was essential, even at the risk of hurt feelings.
Lady Underwood was another matter. Her anger toward that lady had simmered all night even in her dreaming state. There was no excuse, in Lizzy's eyes, for a woman to act in such a way. There were plenty of unattached men in the world for her to fraternize with, as disgusting and immoral as even that activity was to Lizzy. Yet certainly better than enticing married gentlemen, especially after they made it perfectly clear they were uninterested. Depravity warped into pure evil when one considered her threats to Darcy and counterfeit amiability toward Lizzy. This was not a lonely woman seeking comfort and companionship. This was a wicked narcissist bent on destruction.
Lizzy's knock was answered by a maid who admitted Lizzy and exited to inform Lady Underwood she had a visitor. Lizzy waited, experiencing a strange detachment. All night, even in her sleep, she had imagined what she would say or do, never doubting for one second that she would not confront the so-called lady in some manner. Pistols or swords were out of the question, but she now better comprehended Darcy's need for retribution. With well-laid plans intact, she evaded her husband and now waited.
However, calmly conceived ideas dissipated as rapidly as smoke in a stiff breeze the moment Lady Underwood entered the room.
“Mrs. Darcy. What a delightful surprise to see you in my room so early in the morning.” She was dressed for breakfast, her hair yet unstyled, the smile on her lips only partially hiding the curiosity and trepidation.
Instantly the fury of last evening poured through Lizzy, with vivid pictures of this creature touching her husband invading her mind. She lashed out with every ounce of the bizarrely extreme strength she possessed in her svelte body and delivered a stunning slap to Lady Underwood's left cheek. The stricken woman staggered and cried out in pain, gasping in shock.
“That was for having the audacity to accost my husband,” Lizzy said calmly, following her words with another ringing blow to the same place. “That was for evilly pretending to be my friend.”
Lady Underwood whimpered, tears stinging her eyes as she peered at Lizzy with undisguised fright and astonishment.
“You are a disgrace to all that your title symbolizes and an ignominy to womankind. How you can live with yourself is a mystery. You should wither with the shame, but instead you persevere, which leads me to conclude you lack a soul and conscience. I pity you, my lady, I truly do. Yet my pity does not transcend my wrath. If you have even a shred of decency or, at the least, a modicum of wisdom, you will avoid my husband and me. I can do no more than strike you. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley can do far worse. You have been warned and would be very wise to remember that fact.”
She left the room with chin held high. In truth she was trembling slightly from residual temper, but primarily felt exhilarated and satisfied. A flash of movement to her left caused her to glance toward the stairs leading to the ground floor where Darcy was in the process of descending in a rush.
“William?”
He halted and twirled about all in one motion, nearly tumbling down the stairs and grasping the banister to correct his imbalance. His face was suffused with distress, paling substantially as he glanced from Lizzy to the door she had just exited.