If only he did not despise her as the fortune hunter who'd taken advantage of his drunken weakness to trap him into a marriage he did not want.
“I do not like matters of principle.” Lord Matlock said,”What matters is what helps people — you deprived yourself of pleasure, and then you fell for a pair of pretty eyes with little besides her appearance and a decent wit to recommend her.”
“Elizabeth has a great deal to recommend her. You both haveseenhow she is. Except that she brings no fortune, I do not regret my choice of wife.”
Lord Hartwood snorted. “Despite that, you are besotted.”
“Of course he is besotted. He never tupped anyone else. But shewasa fortune hunter who used guile to catch him,” Lord Matlock replied. “She can’t be trusted.”
“I tell you, I kissed her. There was art in that, but not guile.” Darcy then grimaced. “Her mother is the one who schemed. Mrs. Bennet openly spoke of how she would throw her children at any rich man. I at least extricated Mr. Bingley from his entanglement with Miss Bennet and convinced him to not marry a woman who cared nothing for him.”
Cold on her face. It was like when she’d hit her head once, and been dizzy and nauseated.
“What do you mean?” Hartwood asked in a quick tone. His voice had a weird hollow echoing quality to Elizabeth’s ears.
“I told him the truth. They are a family of fortune hunters, except for Richard, he is the only person to whom I explained the circumstances of my marriage before now. It was the difficult work of an hour to convince him that Miss Bennet cared nothing for him, and to return to London.”
“Jove,” Hartwood exclaimed. “I hope your wife never discovers what you did.”
“What I did wasjust. I was required to marry her. A part of me wished to marry her. I was desperate with lust for her. She wished to have fortune and position, and I wished to have her, and this was a just trade which we made. But what they offered to Mr. Bingley was not a fair trade for fair. He wished for a wife who held a strong affection for him. To him I was kinder thanmyself. I wouldnotsee my friend being miserable when I could prevent his suffering.”
“Hardly how I would wish my friends to show their affection,” Lord Hartwood replied.
The three were quiet, and Elizabeth thought she heard one of them rising from his place.
She hurried away, unable to face the prospect of seeing her husband.
Hehad destroyed Jane’s happiness.
Him.
Her hateful, damnable husband.Him.
Every kind thought she had ever thought of him, ruined.
And he wantedher.
She would never give herself to him again.Never.
If he chose to force her into his bed, that would be his choice, but she would never permit him to touch her again.
And he’d destroyed Mr. Bingley’s happiness as well.
He just thought she was a wanton girl who was willing to do anything to seduce him. She’dknownthat was what he thought at the beginning. But somehow, over the weeks of conversation, of her making herself at home in Pemberley, of becoming Georgiana’s friend, of coming to know his neighbors… she hadthought.
And now… now…
He had not changed at all. He was not a man who could change.
He had dishonorably stolen Mr. Wickham’s inheritance. He’d called her ugly. He’d destroyed Jane’s happiness. He was a beast driven by lust and drink — that was his own assessment of himself, why should she disagree —hewas the mercenary one.
Elizabeth told Mary to tell everyone that she was sick, and she threw herself on her bed and wept angry tears for a long time.
In the afternoon, when the Matlock party departed, she did make herself go down. It would be awkward and childish — Why did it matter if shewaschildish? — to remain upstairs while they left, because she was angry with Darcy.
Mary clucked over her, splashed her eyes and wrists with a great deal of cold water, and scrubbed her face carefully, before giving her some light rouge before she went downstairs.
Elizabeth did bow, and did say the proper words, but nothing else.
