A Husband's Comfort
Based on Masterpiece's Death Comes to Pemberley Adaptation
Austen Marriages, #4Her hand remained steady as she quite gratefully received Darcy's gentlemanly offer a palm. It was a welcome beacon of light in what had for her, over the course of the last several hours, been a whirlwind of tension and running against the clock.
She managed to descend the wooden steps of the gallows without concern but, having intimate knowledge of her own self, knew the state of her emotions were not as calm as they appeared.
As she had anticipated, her husband quickly took the situation in hand. It appeared he had already disposed of the necessary responsibilities that followed Mr. Wickham's release from the noose, allowing him the freedom to devote himself fully now to her comforts. Silently, they walked in the direction of the carriage.
George Wickham had abandoned the scene of his near demise with what appeared to be little lasting effect on his person. She was unsure she could claim the like.
She had never believed she would witness a hanging.
Almost without warning, the anxious faces of the other men for whom she had neither no letter of pardon or confession pressed into her mind. Varying in age, appearance and social stature, but all promised the same end. A few bore the grave ceremony as if they had already vacated their bodies, eyes sunken and mouths slack with acceptance. What had been their last requests and prayers in those moments? Did they grieve their choices or vow consequences on them that had judged their sentences?
Battling these worrying thoughts, Elizabeth was unaware of reaching their chaise. The Darcy family crest caught in her line of vision however, and only seemed to hasten the mounting collection of feeling.
She couldn't be certain if Fitzwilliam recognized her inner turmoil or if he was in a similar state of shock, but she was assisted in with even greater care and patience than usually afforded by her husband. He appeared reluctant when this service was completed, continuing to steady her as she found her seat.
Could he feel the tension in her fingers?
With the snap of the rens, the carriage rocked into motion. The sound of the wheels turning on gravel which had until this moment assured her of regularity seemed eerily similar to heel on wood, the snap of rope...
Elizabeth had never been prone to the hysteria or dramatic displays of emotion that her mother and youngest sister routinely exhibited. She was not one to fall easily into dishumor or a bout of weeping. Not even when she was expecting her son had such occurrences been possible.
But when her breath began to press unpleasantly against the fabric of her gown and she felt a rush of heat at her neck and through her arms, she was forced to acknowledge that she had maybe exceeded her allotment of emotional restraint.
Her singular desire to see justice done now completed, she wavered on the precipice.
"Elizabeth."
There was no confusion in his tone, only steady understanding. He collected her as close as the seat would allow and in his quiet utterance of her name, she unraveled.
"Oh, my love."
She cried at seeing that final moment, for being only steps away as men's lives were taken.
It was as if a great dam broke through for every emotional strain of the last few weeks merged together.
She wept that William Bidwell's last minutes had been spent admitting his responsibility in Captain Denny's murder and for Georgiana's heartbreak. She cried for Louisa's uncertain future and at the quarrels she'd had with the man whose greatcoat now bore the telltale evidence of her weeping.
And it was with infinite tenderness that Darcy soothed her. She had been shifted without awareness to his lap where he had proceeded to wrap both arms securely around her frame.
He didn't try to shush or offer platitudes. There were no placating remarks.
Instead, he simply kissed the crown of her head and with lowered voice said, "I'm beyond sorry you were made a witness Elizabeth. With all that is in my power I would have wished you spared from it."
She hiccuped on a sob and he, mindful of the storm she was facing, continued softly. "But I would be remiss in not also commending you for your courage, strength of character, and perseverance. You determined to see this matter through and find truth when others were satisfied with complacency."
She glanced up at him through tear soaked lashes.
"I've long admired you for those qualities and, beholding them again today in the efforts of another, one who deserves your censure and dislike, only grows you in my estimation. I could not be prouder nor love you more than I do in this moment."
Ushering her further in, he concluded. "Take all the time you require. I am here."
It was some time before Elizabeth was able to collect herself but, as promised, Darcy's hold didn't lessen. With a final wavering sigh, she knew the worst had passed.
She knew also that he was aware of her gratitude by the tenderness in his eyes. "Rest now. It will be some time before we arrive home."
And thoroughly spent, she fell asleep to the sway of the carriage and the warmth of her husband's arms.