Page 5 of Attempted Compromises
“And Anne?”
“I was sure Anne would be safe once he left, but—”
“But what, Aunt Catherine?” Darcy pressed, his voice low and menacing.
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. Lady Catherine finally looked up, her steelycomposure broke for a moment. “I did not realize, Fitzwilliam… I did not realize the extent of what he had done to her until it was too late. Wickham… compromised her.”
The shock of her words hit Darcy like a physical blow, his body tensing as he absorbed the implications. “Compromised?” he repeated, his voice choked with anger and disbelief.
Lady Catherine nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I did not know at first. She is… changed, Fitzwilliam. Withdrawn, and frightened. I thought that would be the end of it, but then her health began to falter. The doctor has confirmed it.” She hesitated, then took a deep breath, steeling herself. Darcy could see the desperation in her eyes. “She is with child, Fitzwilliam. And that child will bear the stigma of Wickham’s treachery.”
The words struck Darcy like a physical blow. His hands clenched into fists, his mind racing. The very thought of Wickham harming Anne, his own cousin, was enough to make him sick with rage.
“With child,” he repeated, the words hollow as they left his mouth.
“Yes.” Lady Catherine’s voice was filled with a blend of desperation and determination. “Do you understand now why I called you here?” she asked, her tone urgent. “You must marry her. You must preserve the family’s dignity. If you marry her, no one need ever know the truth.”
Darcy felt the weight of her words settle heavily on his shoulders. He had mourned the loss of his father only months prior, and the responsibilities of Pemberley, his family’s legacy, were alreadydaunting enough. But to take on a marriage—especially one born out of such horror—was something he had never anticipated.
“I… I don’t know,” he replied, struggling to process it all. “I came here for Anne’s sake, but marriage… marriage was never something I considered.”
Lady Catherine’s face hardened, and she moved closer to him, her gaze fierce. “Then consider it now,” she snapped. “Do you think I want this, Fitzwilliam? My daughter’s name in tatters, her life destroyed?” Her voice dropped, and she added, “If you refuse, she will be alone and ruined. This is the only way.”
“What of Anne?” he asked finally, his voice softer, more resolute. “What does she say to this?”
Before Lady Catherine could respond, he heard a muffled sound coming from down the hall—a voice, soft and tremulous, barely audible.
“Anne…” he whispered. Without waiting for Lady Catherine, he strode quickly down the hall and up the stairs to Anne’s chamber, pushing open the door.
Anne sat by the window, her thin frame draped in a dark shawl, her face pale and withdrawn. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks streaked with silent tears. She did not look up as he entered, but her hands twisted anxiously in her lap.
He took a hesitant step toward her, his heart heavy. “Anne?”
She turned at the sound of his voice, her gaze distant, haunted. She seemed barely to register his presence, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet despair.
After he repeated her name once more, she finally looked up, her expression filled with a quiet despair that struck him to the core. He felt a surge of protectiveness rise within him, mingling with a fierce anger at Wickham for having caused her this pain.
“Anne, I… I am so sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”
Anne shook her head, letting out a hollow laugh. “What good does it do?” she murmured, her voice a mere whisper. “My mother sees only the scandal, not the pain.” Her voice trembled, and she looked away, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her misery.
A sharp voice interrupted them as Lady Catherine stepped into the room, her face stern. “This is not the time for self-pity, Anne,” she said coldly. “You should have fought harder.”
Anne dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs. “He had… a knife…” she gasped out.
“Then you should have died. Better dead than stained with sin and dishonor.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched as he watched his aunt’s harsh words pierce Anne, worse than any blade could. Without a second thought, he stepped between them, his gaze hard as he faced Lady Catherine.
“That’s enough, Aunt Catherine,” he said firmly. “She has been through enough. She does not need your reproach.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue, sensing the authority in Darcy’s tone. He turned back to Anne, his heart breaking for her. “Anne, I cannot change what hashappened, but I can… I can offer you protection,” he said softly. “If you will allow me, I will marry you. We will face this together.”
Anne’s eyes filled with fresh tears, her lips trembling as she looked up at him. “You would… marry me?”
He nodded, his resolve hardening. “Yes. I will not allow you to face this alone.”
Lady Catherine quickly stepped forward, nodding in approval. “It is the right decision,” she declared.
