A/N Well it worked, maybe a day or two over, but the reminders do work. I'm always working on it, but I need to keep thinking things through, and your reviews always bring me back to the laptop, and that is what is needed. I know it's taken longer than all of us would prefer, but it's been a big month for me. I managed to see some family, who I hadn't seen in two years, including two new babies I hadn't even met yet! None of my family are in hospital at the moment either, which is a weight off. And I have just received an offer for a new job as well, which is very exciting and also absolutely petrifying, and as anyone who has been in the same boat recently; interview prep can be pretty exhausting and time-consuming. But definitely worth it in the end!
"Enough of the excuses!" they cry! On with it!
Chapter Thirteen
Prison of Marriage
Rotating the ring with her thumb, Elizabeth felt the weight of it twist round.
How utterly absurd that not a quarter-hour ago she had stood in front of a man and whispered vows, vows that very morning she had concluded never to speak. She had a husband. A bizarre concept for a man she had just met; more so, when to consider that in just five days hence, her new husband would hang.
"What did he do?" she found herself asking absentmindedly, still rotating the symbolic metal. The answering silence made her look up and across to her travelling companion.
The man across the carriage was not her husband. Small mercies for that.
"Mr. Darcy?" It seemed that he was also somewhat distracted by the movement of the ring around her finger, but he raised his gaze to meet her repeated address.
"Something that is not fit to be spoken of," he stated, dismissing her in both words and action, "especially not to a woman."
"I am his wife," Mr. Darcy eyes cut back to her, meeting her inquisitive gave with some reluctance, "surely I am to know for which crime my husband will hang."
"Thievery," Mr. Darcy answered abruptly. She just stared at him, allowing the silence to lull with her lack of belief. He did not cave to it however, and remained unmoved by her expression.
"I did not take you for a liar, Mr. Darcy," she challenged him with some amusement, taking interest in his fierce expression as if faced with a peculiar puzzle to solve, "If it was simply theft, I am confident you would have simply told me."
He took to glaring at her most severely; making it clear this was not a route of conversation he wished to progress further in. She only raised a bow, matching his foreboding look completely unfazed and with no hidden amount of amusement and some irritation at his handling of her. Was he really expecting her to be silenced with a look like an ill-behaved child?
Mr. Darcy clenched jaw seemed to be the man's most telling aspect to his frustrations, and Elizabeth was starting to mark its repeating occurrence as an achievement. This man seemed to know very little about the woman he was sharing a carriage with if he thought a few angry expressions would avert her tongue.
"Are you not the man who once declared," she gave a delicate cough, "disguise of every sort is my abhorrence?" meeting his even narrower eyes with her very own, losing some of the amusement from her voice, "and yet here you are sir. Do you suppose it is your lack of practice at deceit that has made you so very poor at it?"
"I have spoken no falsehood Elizabeth," he finally returned, "The significance and severity of his crime lies in what he stole."
"Oh how very clever," she quipped, "but your exact declaration was disguise sir, or does my memory fault me?"
He remained silent.
"Well Mr. Darcy, if it is indeed thievery, you shouldn't object to informing me of what exactly my husband stole?"
Scowl increasing at every word falling from her lips, he turned away from her, choosing to look at the carriage window. Elizabeth had no qualms in rolling her eyes upwards as he turned his head, holding them to the carriage ceiling, searching it for some patience.
"Did he perhaps steal your tongue?"
"Elizabeth, desist," he demanded with evident anger, then grounding out with an effort of calm, "It is inconsequential. He is a name, a record, a paper trail. Nothing more to either of us."
Now it was her turn to anger. Ordering her to quiet, like a beast yapping at a receiving door.
When she had awoken outside such a foreboding structure she had barely managed to open her mouth to ask about their presence there before Mr. Darcy had stepped out of the carriage and held up his arm expectantly.
She had never been anywhere that even remotely resembled a prison before, and had little chance to examine the exterior. They were both greeted just outside the carriage by a man, she had assumed, was of some significance to the prison. He led them through a maze of stone and guards, the sounds that came through the corridors was an eerie echo of torment. Mr. Darcy kept her tucked in beside him as she failed to cover her trepidation as they were led past a small bundle of cells.
Holding cells, the warden explained, for those yet to be charged on their crime, held a mix of men of anger, and those of broken spirit. Neither a sight suitable to a woman of gentry standing, not that she could claim that privilege any longer. Even while Elizabeth found herself pulled along and shielded bodily from view, the cries and leers of the cadged men were distressing.
While she had little knowledge of prisons, the idea of seeing her father in such a place, even a debtor's prison of substantial improvement, was a sickening thought.
Being greeted by the Warden's lodgings was a relief even from the brief bleakness they had been forced to witness. The room was more reminiscent of a study or a morning room than any aspect of a prison she'd imagined, and painted a pretty haven among the darkness surrounding it.
Mr. Darcy excused the warden with an authority he did not have, and yet still seemed to command, and sat her down on a chair too fine for its housing. He was blunt in explaining their presence. She was to marry, and her husband, with one foot from the noose, had already been decided upon.
As a widow her freedoms would be greater, society would be still somewhat open to her and her reputation far more resilient to ill weathering from any transgressions. She may even be able to visit her family, both in London and Hertfordshire. And with Mr. Darcy assigned by her proposed and fabricated husband as her financial proprietor, it would provide their arrangement with a thin vale of respectability to hide behind. There would be no getting away from the fact that a gentleman would be frequently visiting a young widow, but with Mr. Darcy's standing and a ring on her finger, the lie would be accepted among local society, if not, at all, believed.
She was filled with conflict of being so ill-informed of his plan, and yet reluctantly relieved at the benefits he had lain out before her. She must have nodded sometime among all that, although she did not quite remember the action, as much as Mr. Darcy ringing a small bell on the desk behind them, ending any chance of objection or discussion.
The warden held the door open for a rather dishevelled man of the cloth who seemed to hold neither the kindness Pastor Roberts of Merryton, nor the overwhelming piousness and foolery of her cousin, he did not seem at all surprised at the presence of two gentry appearing visitors. Mr. Darcy must have given some sort of signal behind her, as with a curt nod the warden waved in two guards and accompanied man.
Well dressed and clean-shaven, he looked rather respectable for a man cast in irons, if not for the clear evaluation he was taking of his bride to be. Mr. Darcy positioned himself close behind her chair, a warden himself, keeping a stern eye on all the men in the room who made no means to hide their appreciation of the rarity before them.
When the clergyman asked if they were ready to begin, Elizabeth wanted to object right there and then, but her objections were simply to the morality of the act and the lack of consideration given to her, not the established benefits this mirage of a marriage would provide. Thoughts of her own father imprisoned, and her family's reputation in complete shatters, she forced herself numb and would take what little protections were available to her. She had put aside her morals when she agreed to whore herself to save her family, what was adultery and lies when cast among the throes?
She refused to acknowledge her wavering hand in a strangers palm as she stood before a man of God and spoke vows she had no intention to keep. Vows to a man who, once he had said his own words of sin, had addressed the room whether consummation was part of the deal with a smirk and leer at her décolletage.
It was the second time Mr. Darcy has placed his hands on her arms with force, but this time Elizabeth was glad for it as he pulled her abruptly behind him, shielding her with his physicality.
To her new husband's credit, he let the action pull her hand from his with no resistance, only a chuckle, clearly enjoying the reaction his comment had spurred. At Mr. Darcy's demand, he made no further objections in signing the documentation, far more than the simple marriage licence she was required to sign, and then he was removed from the room, before the ink had even dried.
And that was all she knew about her soon to be deceased husband.
"You may find the matter of no consequence," she broke the silence in the carriage, "but as the person who has found herself wed, with very little warning or choice, to a man I don't kn-"
"You had a choice," Mr. Darcy cut in with surprise, "of course you had a choice."
The arrogance in that declaration made her want to throw him out of the carriage. "Thank you, sir, for making that so very clear to me," after the deed was done, after she had been given less than five minutes to consider, after it was presented as the only solution to keeping up some resemblance of a relationship with the people she held dear. All of that was unsaid, but she was certain her expression had made her thoughts on the matter very clear.
Equally annoyed, Mr. Darcy countered, "You could have, at any time, refused. We discussed the benefits, none of which you disputed. You nodded when I asked if you were ready. Am I supposed to have taken that as your refusal Elizabeth?" he emphasised his familiarity with her name, no doubt in point to her refusal to address him in kind, "I seem to recall you having very little hesitation in refusing vocally to marriage before," Mr. Darcy responded spitefully.
She couldn't help but blush at that, both in anger and a little embarrassment at the memory of her refusal, an event that never failed to unsettle her. It was true that she had objected more to marrying a wealthy suitor than to a known criminal, but her current situation was worlds apart. Obviously, the parallels seemed to have irked her travelling companion. Being less resistant to taking the hand of a criminal than his own was probably not the most flattering of recommendations for Mr. Darcy to comfort himself with.
If he would choose to believe she thought less of him than a criminal, well, Elizabeth wasn't going to go out of her way to dissuade him.
"Mr. Darcy," she began with equal emphasis, ignoring his more derisive comments, "Despite having no prior warning, I heard the benefits and recognised their truth as you spoke them," she took a pause, "but sir, I know nothing about the man you have just married me to. I had little choice but to trust your word that this…this charade was in my best interest."
"Then trust me further. I have ensured that his true-crime will not be recorded. His name, and conviction of thievery, is all the records will tell. And even these will be buried in a war file. The rest is inconsequential."
"You changed his crime, actually changed the records?" Elizabeth was taken aback, such a thing as changing the official documents couldn't possibly be legal, could it? Was money really the key to every barrier?
"The warden has changed nothing, simply left off certain aspects of his crime. He will hang for even his lesser crimes, and so such is all that will be recorded. It is for the best for many people, and part of our bargain."
"What difference does the crime listings matter, if he is still to hang?"
"It matters," Mr. Darcy ground out.
"Tell me," she demanded. He hesitated; she could see him turning over his words, tossing them cagily on his tongue.
"He stole a girl's innocence." Elizabeth could feel her eyes widen at the admission, before a small snort escaped her.
"Well there is a certain parallel to that don't you think?" How true it was to society that a man of wealth and standing could bargain his way to commit such an act with impunity, yet a man without such security may find himself dangling from a rope. "I can see why such a parallel crime would not sit easily with you."
"Do not compare me to that…" he trailed off, looking equally furious and disgusted at the comparison while working hard to keep his fury at bay. Elizabeth did not take in the warning.
"I really don't see the dif-"
"I gave the term girl generously, infant would be more precise," he spat the word out, eyes pieced onto hers for the inevitable reaction.
Elizabeth's stomach descended, flinching from his gaze. Seeing the revulsion draw into her face was enough to drain the man's anger. Mr. Darcy drew a hand over his face, sounding instantly regretful of his loose tongue.
"Forgive me, Elizabeth, I should not have let you bate me. There was no need for you to know. I had decided, quite firmly decided, that- You are so stub…" he trailed off to himself, deciding to temper his loose words as he searched out her composure, "but that is no excuse."
Elizabeth was struggling to keep illness away, particularly trying to avoid showing how affected she was at the news she'd asked for. She looked down at her lap, down to the ring she'd been playing with moments ago.
It wasn't just her ring that had her focus then, but her hand. The hand the man held as he spoke the vows of matrimony, the very same hands that would of-
God, the thought was putrid.
"Elizabeth," he started softly, watching her intently, "I should not have told you."
"I asked Sir," he voice was distant even to her, "I cannot fault you for simply providing me the information I asked for." She swallowed her discomfort, settling on the familiar anger, "Was it really necessary, to marry me to a…to such a man. Haven't you-" her voice broke off in her distress. Haven't you done enough to me, she wanted to say, haven't you already brought me low enough to satisfy your need to see me shamed.
It seemed the words that had escaped her were enough. Mr. Darcy spoke, regretful, "Not many, even at the gallows, are willing to have their entire history wiped and rewritten. His background as a soldier is ideal, even respectable on paper, his crime severely not so. He was a… necessity. Elizabeth I assure you, beyond what you have experienced today, nothing in relation to that man and his crimes will have any relevance to you. Your husband was a soldier, a captain in fact, and he died shortly after your vows. That is all it will be."
Necessity. Elizabeth was becoming frustratingly familiar to having to resort to such necessities, and every time a choice was made she felt a part of her being pushed aside. She wanted to berate him more, make him realise that this was a crime a top of the sins she already held against him, but really what would that do? Jeopardise her family standing, her sisters' future? She could barely stomach the idea that she would have bound herself to such an evil, even for a short spell, if it all amounted to nothing.
"And what did he have to gain from such a scheme; a dead man has little need of coins."
"He has a sister," he responded, "and there is the child. They will be provided a life beyond their expectations. Some recompense for his soul."
"I do not know how they will be able to accept money from such a man, even a dead man," she shivered, imagining receiving such a pay-out herself, "it would feel tainted to me."
"People who lack means can little afford to stand on principles," Mr. Darcy gave her a look, unexpectantly drawing parallels to their scenario.
"It is not the same," she couldn't possibly in good conscious compare her circumstanced to such trauma, but from them, she could indeed see Mr. Darcy's point, "But yes, people make different choices when they are faced with difficult circumstances." Yes, she was familiar with such choices, but still her choices weighed on her. "I have always declared I shall only marry for love. Instead vows I have no intention of keeping slipped from my lips so easily it makes me question myself."
"You are protecting yourself, your sisters; your family. There is no shame in that," Mr. Darcy dismissed her concerns.
"Is there not?" she looked away from him, "I spoke vows before God, to love, to cherish that man, for better or for worse."
"I don't believe God would object to your lack of fortitude with this particular specimen, especially given your lack of knowledge of his character at the time of your vows. Feel obliged, should the lord express his disapproval, to direct his wrath at me. Should, of course, you have the unlikelihood to face him first."
"It's the principle of it," she reaffirmed.
"Well, on principle, be thankful your vows have a release clause. Cherish away if you can stomach it, it certainly won't task you for very long."
A/n Well did anyone guess that? I didn't read it in any of the reviews, but maybe some of you had an inkling?
Inn stop coming up in the next chapter!
As you lot know I'm writing this as I go, so plots/scenes/characters are not stable and there are some big scenes coming up and I've really got to work my mind through them. And then writing them…well that's a different thing altogether. I know you wait a while for each chapter, but I promise I'm plotting and writing drafts trying to get these characters to act and sound how they appear to me, and even then I don't get them right. Writing doesn't seem to just flow for me, I have to bash each sentence into submission until it somewhat sounds right, so those special comments who have mentioned my writing being pleasurable to read bring me an unimaginable amount of joy.
All those that review and talk about the characters/plot, it's all brilliant. Each chapter brings debates and character analysis and it's really lovely to be getting so much interaction with this story. I do post this to Ao3 at the same time which is a lot easier for comments and questions, so you may prefer it over there if you want to get into debates etc.
A special thanks to those who have expressed support, and some repeatedly, in me writing such controversial Darcy character, it is very much appreciated. Debates and disagreements are brilliant, you should be feeling outrage, anger, pity and hate! And remember the bad guy is rarely all bad, especially when they believe themselves to be the good guy.
Special mention to Dr-Lizzie who is being absolutely amazing at going through the earlier chapters of this, I haven't made the changes on here yet as I'm going through them myself too, but she has been incredible.
I'm coming up to 50K, probably about 50k to go (groans dramatically at the long path)
Until next time, thank you for reading. Feedback is most welcome x