Damaged
Elizabeth hadn't slept. Pinned under an arm there was little room for movement, not that she had attempted much, having no desire to awaken the man from his slumber.
She had shared a bed with one sister or another for as long as she could remember, and was well versed in the language of blanket hogging and shin-kicking. None among the five, however, had ever been particularly clingy.
The heat from behind her was insurmountable. The arm across her chest moved with every conscious breath she took, layering a headache that Elizabeth would swear was caused by a slow form of suffocation, while his own unrestricted breath tickling her hair from behind making her feel akin to a sweltered beast unable to swat flies under the sun.
She couldn't remain like this. The poorly drawn drapes gave little hope for relief as the darkness outside remained and while neither of them would suffer come morning the drinks hadn't been scarce, she could only hope such indulgences would deepen her bedmates sleep and allow her to slide free unnoticed. It was with no small amount of trepidation and coaxing that she managed to scoot down and out, sliding her bare feet to the cold floor.
There was something disconcerting about seeing Mr Darcy asleep. People were supposed to appear less intimidating, vulnerable somewhat in their unprotected state but his sleeping form struck her as the well-established stern and the disgruntled man she knew, a presence perfected beyond the wakeful world. He moved, causing Elizabeth to panic - stepping clear of the bed - but the absence of her warmth only seemed to confuse him for a moment, turning over in his sleep he pulled the blankets tightly to him in lieu.
Now that his back was turned she could probably slip back with relative ease and substantially more comfort, but she felt little desire to do so. It was frightful cold however, and seeing how the bedding was out of question, her eyes searched the room for some other source of wrap. There wasn't much, a thinner more decorative blanket that had slipped to the floor at the beds' footings, an abandoned blessing. That, and the dwindling warmth from the coals would have to do as she made her way over to the chaise.
Her toes rebelled against the shortness of her newfound blanket but the absence of an unwelcome bedmate was a comfort to her mind and so her body soon forgave her.
Large hands floated over her arms, imitating their previous grip. Fingers light and barely touching, the matching patterns allowing no illusions to their origins. He withdrew, focusing on her reddened arm from this evening, tracing the warmed skin with a thumb. It was an odd gesture, distasteful as it was intimate for him to trace the marks with the instrument that caused them. The gentle motions and facial expression showed only regret but she had had quite enough of his investigations. Moving her arm away, she attempted a step backwards. This time, she met no resistance as his arm dropped to his side.
"Does it hurt…your arm?"
"Not really, not anymore," she swallowed under his gaze, "only when you caught the bruises before I mean." He nodded as if expecting this answer from his own assessment.
"Why didn't you-" he cut himself off, grinding his teeth as he failed to catch his realisation quick enough.
"I did." she answered anyway, bluntly, "I did, I told you, I asked you to let me go."
"I had no knowledge that I-" his hand twitched forward but little further, an attempt Elizabeth suspected to control his irrational desire to touch her, "You must believe that I had no intention of causing you such injuries."
What could she reply to that? She knew no such thing and her silence must have said enough.
"Elizabeth" he spoke softly, "I want to -I will care for you. This," he indicated to her arm moving closer as he gestured, his attention on the marks he'd given her, "was not done intentionally and is certainly most regrettable."
"Not done intentionally," she repeated his words, reciting to herself.
"Of course not Elizabeth," he spoke, almost irritated at the accusation "I have never taken a hand to a woman in violence before, should I have had any idea that I was exerting such pressure as to cause you harm I would have withdrawn immediately."
"By your own admission you were unaware," she ignored his words, forcing herself to explain her repetition, hardly recognising her steady tone so out of place to her scenario, "you meant me no harm but caused it anyway. You are likely do the same again, even if it is as you say, unintentional, the result will be the same."
"That is absurd," Mr Darcy dismissed, seemingly unable to follow her logic.
"Is it?" she gave little credence to his words, dismissing them as easily as he had dismissed her.
"You must simply tell me, tell me the moment I'm causing you any sort of discomfort. I am not a mind reader you-"
"-But I did," she insisted, cutting over his excuses. "I did tell you,I asked you to let me go and twice now you have not done so, not until-"
"You were not exactly forthcoming," he stepped away from her frustrated, "nor clear in your reason-"
"-What else could I possibly be asking for? I do not believe I was unclear, simply unimportant-"
"No," he objected immediately, "That-"
"You have said yourself that I must simply wait for you to decide whether to let me go or not," she continued as he shook his head, declaring her concerns unfounded. She needed him to listen to her, she forced herself closer, drawing his focus to her words "-What if you are…otherwise distracted." she treads softly, needing the stubborn, arrogant man to catch her meaning, "My pain and discomfort, not to mention my objections, are not something you have been mindful of."
"Elizabeth you are misrepresenting one poorly judged interaction-"
"Am I to expect…When you are to b-bed me, " her throat cut her off as she caught his sharpened attention, unable to believe her own frankness, let alone meet the man's gaze to speak it. She knew she was spieling the words of a maiden but she couldn't help it, her fear taking hold of her tongue. "I have been informed there will be pain, but with care, the pain will not last. Will that be the case? Is that something you can control? You have my agreement to proceed, I am- but this arrangement is- but will you be-" she struggled going silent, unsure of what to even label what she needed him to be, observant? Attentive? Gentle? She had already found him lacking in such areas.
If he was so unaware of the pain he was causing her in a mere grip, what level of pain should she be expecting to have to endure this night, all nights. Was her freshly hurt arm, layered onto previous hurts a pattern set to continue?
He considered her, in too great a detail that she could barely stand it given her transparent words, still unable to look at him directly as she awaited his response. She couldn't imagine what the scene looked like, a girl hair loose and wild, dressed barely in her underlings, almost quivering while berating and questioning a man she had no power over, a man who –
"You are afraid of me," he concluded softly to the air, as if the realisation hadn't occurred to him at all before.
It struck her too. Such a declaration of fragility, the words conflicting down to her very character. Her tongue instantly battled to deny him, but she kept her jaw shut and took to glaring at him instead, finding her anger again fuelled her confidence.
"You are. You are afraid of me," he seemed unaffected by her glare and reached out slowly for one of her hands, the responding flinch away did little to contradict his conclusion. He dropped his attempt, a familiar tightness in his jaw, "Physically afraid."
"You cannot be surprised by this," she answered defensively, "I may know very little of the world of relations, but I would expect few women are not afraid when stood in front of a near-stranger, not to mention one who holds such autonomy over their person and freedom."
"But I am not a stranger," he corrected, shaking his head, "Nervous, yes. A little concerned of the act, perhaps. But this goes beyond that, does it not? You believe I will hurt you. Physically cause you pain," he paused as if awaiting her denial, something she couldn't give. He backed away, falling to rest on the edge on the ottoman at the end of the bed, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress that was discarded there, "And I have little course to dissuade you, when I have been faced with the evidence that you have drawn your conclusions from."
He seemed more intent on speaking to himself rather than addressing her, running a hand over his brow as he looked up at her then down to his grasp in her dress, "Evidently, my distaste at such a reveal has done little to barter my course," he commented with a tone of stumped humour and self-torment. "This is the root of your reluctance to lie with me," he considered her again directly, "And I cannot even fault you for it."
She could observe his mind pondering his own words as if revealed to him at the moment that he aired them. She didn't know how to respond. Clarifying that her objections were instilled before he had even laid a hand on her would do little to further this arrangement. And lying, denying his conclusions for the sake of her family was a path she didn't feel she could accept for herself.
He seemed to come to some conclusion.
"I do require this Elizabeth," he spoke quietly, "as part of our agreement, I desire you fully. Physically. Although to clarify, -"
"You have made yourself quite apparent Sir; there is no need to clarify. As per our arrangement, I I- will oblige."
"Yes and you have made yourself apparent in your obligations," he turned her phrase back to her with no small sourness, "I expect however that-"
The sound of an arriving coach awoke her. It was still dark, and the small amount of warmth captured beneath her blanket had escaped upon her movement, bringing a chill along with an unsettled mind. A flickering stream of lantern light broke through the drapes and flashed over her face. Giving up on whatever comfort was now lost, she ventured over to the window taking her meagre blanket with her.
It was a common carriage being bustled upon, the sort that her Aunt and Uncle would acquire for a journey, and something she herself was accustomed to travelling in. Nothing at all like the finery that had journeyed her to this place. She found some distraction in watching the contents disembark in the poor light, a typical travelling party. She imagined their purpose at stopping at the inn a more pleasant occasion than hers. Not that, in the end, her own stay had been as she'd expected.
It seemed her sleeping mind was as tormented by their exchanges as her waking one. To play her evening out so vividly and repetitively in her mind and yet still she had so very little understanding of the events of the previous evening, even less of Mr Darcy.
"Elizabeth it's not even dawn, come back to bed," Mr Darcy's words gruffed with sleep, pulled her attention away from the window, the drape slipping from her fingers, the light disappearing from the bed as it fell as it had before.
She wrapped her blanket tighter around, and faced the gentleman but made no further movement, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"Elizabeth, get back in the bed, you're cold." Gone was the sleepy and unpolished tone. She couldn't see his expression from where she stood, just a figure propped up among the covers, but she expected he would be scowling. He however had her at a disadvantage, the busy lanterns outside still flickering across her profile.
She held her blanket tighter, keeping it wrapped around as the flimsy defence that she had. For only being a few hours, his words the previous evening seemed so insubstantial in the dead of night, she didn't need to be worldly to understand that there was a chasm between a the man filled with regret, and the one demanding her presence in his bed.
He released a frustrated breath, "Elizabeth, I will keep my word, come," he held the cover open, choosing to cool himself uncomfortably with the morning air to be clear in his demand, as if his words were not clear enough. Leaving her makeshift wrap behind she climbed back in, quickly covered and pulled back into her previous predicament. Her cold skin did little to deter him, he rubbed warmth into her arm then reached over her to grasp a hand beneath his, pushing warm calf pressed beneath her feet.
"Better?" he enquired, now wrapped around her despite the chill her presence must have brought. He seemed to become sleepy again at her returned presence, nudging into her curls comfortably. She gave him no response and as she felt his breath even out behind her, no longer had the opportunity to. He was somewhat correct, her body was instinctively relaxing into the warmth she found stifling not hours ago.
And yet, she rather found she missed the cold chaise.
A/N - Hi everyone, sorry it's been a while and the posting is short. I appreciate all the messages and enthusiasm, my readers are lovely people and I appreciated every single one of you.
Someone has suggested I get someone else to continue this. Please can I politely ask that no-one steal this story, I've had this idea for a while, worked really hard on it so far and it's important to me. I know it's frustrating that I'm not updating, but as adults (well I hope we all are adults here) we know that real life has its turns, and can affect us. Nothing wrong with that, or admitting it, but it does sometimes make the things we enjoy doing more difficult. And I want to get back to enjoying writing this, not feeling another pressure added on. We've had some horrid news in the family, and it's just going to get more difficult.
There are so many amazing stories out there to read and love, so a small favour while I'm getting back on my feet, please if you choose to leave a comment, could you also recommend a story to read? Doesn't matter what fandom/genre, just share a story that has drawn you into its world for a little while, and maybe tell people while you love it.
I've started the next chapter and it's from Darcy's POV which some people have requested, I'm hoping I'll be able to finish it soon.
Until then,
EJC