“Ah yes, there is the dagger! And where shall you place it, I wonder? In my blind trust? In my complacency? Perhaps you can point out that this has gone on for months, and I did nothing to prevent it. Georgiana was tortured under my own roof, and I slept peacefully a few doors away. I smugly destroyed myself, thinking that my distance was best for her. In return for my soul, she got peace and safety. That was fair, was it not?” Darcyrefilled his glass with shaking hands and took a large swallow. “Instead, I abandoned her for the second time.”
He drained the glass entirely at that, then refilled it without pausing for breath. When he looked up at his wife, his eyes were blacker than obsidian.
“As for you, Elizabeth… what am I to do with you?”
“Do with me, sir?” she asked. Her voice sounded strong, but she could not prevent herself from taking a nervous step back. The door pressed against her spine. She suddenly felt trapped. “What do you mean?”
Darcy saw her fear and his mouth twisted. He had to look away when he spoke.
“I thought I could trust you. It was theonlything I asked of you. How dare you go against my orders? You intruded on my sister’s privacy and forced yourself into her life uninvited. You are dishonest, madam. You are a liar, and I despise liars. I thought… Elizabeth, you were the only one I could trust. How could you do this to me?”
His voice, furious at the start, had become tearful and pleading by the end. The liquor had made his emotions simmer close to the surface, and his self-control was gone. Elizabeth felt as if she had just swallowed an ice cold stone. He was right. She had lied to him for so long. She had told herself that he would simply be annoyed, but now she saw that he felt utterly betrayed.
Darcy’s fingers clenched around the glass so hard that they turned white. The sight made Lizzie raise her chin. She was not going to let him use her as one more thorn in his briar of self-abuse.
She nodded at the glass in his hand, “Drink it.”
Darcy stared at her in shock. “What?”
“Are you hard of hearing, Mr. Darcy? I told you to drink it. Clearly, you think it will solve all of your problems. Drink it, then. Let us see if it works.”
The man froze for a moment, and then a look of arrogance crossed his flushed face. Maintaining eye contact, he tipped the cup against his lips and gulped it down in one.
“Have another.” Elizabeth offered in a mocking voice. “Pour me one, too. Perhaps you’re too weak to change God’s will on your own. I am stronger than you. Give me a glass.”
“I know what you’re doing.” Darcy growled.
“You know nothing at all. I have never met a man as stupid as you. You do not know how to listen, or how to understand. All you know is how to drink.” she retorted, snatching the decanter from the desk.
It was heavy and hard to drink from. She splattered dark port all the way down her dress but managed to choke down a generous portion. It was cloyingly sweet, making her throat burn when she swallowed. Wiping off her lips, she thrust the decanter back at her husband.
“Why bother with a glass, Mr. Darcy? Don’t you believe this will solve all of our problems? You should drink from the bottle. It will be faster.”
“‘Our’ problems? This does not concern you, madam.” Darcy snarled, taking another defiant mouthful.
Elizabeth laughed. It hurt her heart to do it, but she managed to crow over him.
“I said you were stupid! Do you think that I don’t feel as guilty as you? I spent weeks with Georgiana and was just as blind asyou were. More so, for I had not your excuse.” she scowled at the port, which Darcy had not put down. “Yourpitifulexcuse, Mr. Darcy. Oh, drink more! It might not change the world, but at least you won’t care anymore! That is what matters, is it not?”
Lizzie lunged forwards, seized the port from his unsteady grasp, and took another deep drink. Darcy wrested it back from her and put it back on the desk, catching her shoulder when she reeled giddily backwards. His arms closed around her, hands clasped against her stomach in an iron hold.
He panted into her ear, frantic and angry. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Why? Why not? Do you think it will hurt me?” she wrenched herself away with an effort. “I think it will only make me look pathetic, sir. That is all it has done for you! Oh yes, I pity you, Fitzwilliam Darcy!”
The man recoiled as if she had struck him. Lizzie realised how drunk they both were then, as he stumbled back and stared at her. He had drunk far more than she, and her head was spinning. She had not meant to be so cruel, or to goad him so viciously, but the port had loosened her tongue until she screamed like a harridan.
Panting, she held out her hand. “Give me the bottle.”
Darcy clutched the decanter and shook his head. “You must not drink any more, Elizabeth.”
“I won’t.” she promised unsteadily, “But you must give it to me now, my love.”
Slowly, warily, Darcy held it out. Elizabeth took it, hissing between her teeth as it pitched her off balance. Her hands felt clumsy and the decanter suddenly felt much heavier. Her legsfelt weak, and her heart was thudding like a drum. The firelight shining through the cut crystal made her wince.
As soon as it was securely in her grasp, Lizzie turned and threw the decanter as hard as she could against the wall. It shattered, the port exploding out and splattering the rug and floor in blood-red stains. Shards of crystal rained down, twinkling and cracking against each other, and then there was silence.
“Elizabeth…” Darcy breathed, then laughed in hazy disbelief, “Oh, Elizabeth.”
