Chapter Five

Elizabeth

E lizabeth stood slack-jawed by the fireplace. Moments ago, she had enjoyed the waves of heat emanating from the crackling fire, which had worked to drive out the cold from her bones, but none of that comfort remained now. Now she was utterly shaken by the sight in front of her.

The man was horrid indeed. However, it wasn't his obvious disfigurement that troubled Elizabeth. In fact, after all she had heard about Mr Darcy, she had imagined him to look rather grotesque. In reality, while scarred, it was still evident that he had at one point been a very handsome man. With tousled, dark brown hair, he looked from a distance like any ordinary gentleman. His gait had been full of self-assurance, his shoulders drawn back, and his arm stiffly to his side, as though he were marching.

It wasn't until he stepped into the light that the scars had even become visible. On his right-hand side, red raised, angry-looking burn scars were visible, covering the lower portion of his face up to his cheekbones and then down his neck. It was a shocking sight to be sure, but it wasn't what had made her think him horrible.

That was the rage with which he addressed Mr Bingley, censuring his friend so severely in front of his wife and company. It was improper to say the least, and cruel when one considered their long friendship. Charles had done all he could to maintain the friendship, to be there for this man who had refused to see him and talk to him. Yes, even this night, despite being told otherwise, Charles still believed his friend would do the right thing and take them in. So strong was his belief in their friendship. To see him so thoroughly wrong hurt Elizabeth. Beside her, Jane stood, her hand in hers. For the first time in many years, Elizabeth saw something in Jane's eyes she hadn't expected to ever see on her sister's face - wrath.

"We should leave," Uncle Gardiner said, and Elizabeth nodded. Although when she looked outside, she saw that the rain had only intensified since they had arrived.

"We haven't anywhere to go," she said out loud, and stood by, looking miserable.

Just then Mr Darcy stomped down the stairs and made his way towards the door, pulling it open.

"I beg you to leave now before I lose my temper," he said. Elizabeth involuntarily gasped, because if he hadn't already lost his temper she dreaded to find out what that might look like.

Suddenly, Jane let go and stepped forward. "Mr Darcy, Charles has only ever spoken of you in the highest tones. You are his dearest friend, and he values your opinion. Even over these last two years when you have not responded to a single one of his letters, he has held you in high regard, and you not attending our wedding was a terrible insult to him. He is a good man. He does not deserve your ire," she said, and Elizabeth's jaw dropped. She had never seen her sister so assertive, and she would have never, under any circumstances, addressed an unknown gentleman in such a manner. And yet here she was. When she saw her beloved unfairly treated, she stepped in, and Jane and Elizabeth greatly admired her for it.

"Jane…" Charles said now and stepped to her side.

"No," she said. "You do not deserve such treatment." The tall gentleman in front of them shook his head, but he seemed to have been robbed of his speech entirely.

"We only ask shelter from the rain. Let us stay in the drawing room until the worst of the storm has passed, and then we shall leave you to your peace," she said. Mr Darcy took a deep breath, and Elizabeth wondered for a moment if perhaps Jane's words had swayed him. Alas, they had not. He simply turned away and climbed the first two steps to the upper floors before looking over his shoulder.

"It pains me that you seem to have a picture of me that is far removed from reality, Mrs Bingley. I am not your husband's friend. Whatever connection we might've shared in the past has long since been severed, and you would both be advised to leave my home immediately and never return."

Seeing her sister crestfallen face broke something in Elizabeth, and she started forward.

"Mr Darcy, I do not know you, and I do hope that we have merely met you under unfortunate circumstances, but this behaviour is uncalled for. To throw another gentleman out into the elements in such a manner and behave as you have this night is unbecoming of a man of your standing."

"Lizzy," her aunt called her name, and for a moment Elizabeth felt as if she were a dog being called to heel. Of course, she knew that her outburst was improper at the very least and scandalous at the worst, but it needed to be said. Unfortunately, Mr Darcy remained unimpressed by her words, only turning back to examine her thoroughly, and then she walked away towards the front door and out into the night…

***

"Not much further," Charles said once the lights of Lambton came into view. Elizabeth's feet slashed through the muddy ground beneath her, her gown weighed down with the unrelenting rain. She was propelled forward by an intense rage that burned inside her chest—rage at this horrible man, Charles's once-dearest friend. To throw them out into the elements, to humiliate his dearest friend and her sister… Who did this man think he was?

"Beastly…" she said under her breath. "I cannot believe him. A monster he is indeed."

"Elizabeth!" her aunt said, "It is unkind to say such things about a person due to their appearance."

Elizabeth paused, her vision obscured by rain that ran from her forehead into her eyes. She had lost her bonnet to a gust of wind a mile or so prior and now shielded her face with her hand.

It occurred to her then what her aunt meant, and she quickly shook her head.

"I am not speaking of his appearance. I am speaking of his behaviour. Such rage, such anger… It was entirely uncalled for."

"Lizzy is quite right," her uncle said as he led his wife across a small stream that had appeared on the road, or what used to be a road. They had made their way from Pemberley across the grounds back towards the road, or what was not much left of one. The heavy rain had turned the path ahead of them into a muddy, waterlogged mess, and she already knew that there was no way the gown she was presently wearing could be saved, it was stained, almost to her knees, with mud. Jane had not spoken at all since leaving Pemberley, so deep sat the shock, and neither had Charles. The two had walked arm in arm, as if they sought comfort from each other's presence. It was only now that Charles looked back at her, and the hurt stood written across his face.

"He was not always like this. I can assure you he was not."

"Of course not," Jane said now. "Charles would never be friends with a man like this."

"He has changed, so changed. His face, his hand… I knew he was burned by the fire and I knew he was scarred, but I did not know it was this bad. I understand why he did not want anyone to see him. But his behaviour… he is like a changed man." Charles looked forward again.

"The loss of one's sister will do that," Uncle Gardiner said now, gasping for air in between as they continued to walk.

"That does not excuse his conduct," Elizabeth replied, her pride stronger than her empathy. "He was acting like a savage. What would have been so difficult for him to retreat to his chamber and allow us to stay in his drawing room—or even if he had allowed us use of one of the outbuildings?"

"I must agree with Elizabeth," Jane said.

"I know it," Charles said, sounding utterly dejected. "I suppose it is time that I admit that the man I once called my friend is no more. I cared deeply for him all of my life, but the Darcy I knew is gone, and whoever he is now, I cannot call him my friend. I apologise for putting you in this impossible situation, Mr and Mrs Gardiner, Elizabeth, and you, Jane most of all. I simply would not want to believe that my friend had become what he has become."

Silence settled over the group as Lambton came into view. It was late, and there were only a few homes lit, but it was enough to guide their way. They were about to exit the road, leaving Pemberley behind when her aunt let out a scream.

"Oh! Faith…" she called and sank to the ground. Elizabeth turned at her side in the moment where her uncle had already squatted down. "What happened?" Jane asked.

"I twisted my ankle over yonder," she said and nodded to where a branch stuck out of the ground. "I don't think I can walk any further." The pain was written across her face, visible even in the dark of night.

"I shall carry you, Maggie" her husband said. Her aunt protested but gave up after a brief attempt, knowing that there was no other way. "We shall fetch a physician the moment we get to Lambton."

Elizabeth glanced back at Pemberley, which was now obscured by the trees and the darkness, and she could not help but wish that she had never crossed paths with Fitzwilliam Darcy in all her life.