Page 112 of Companions of Their Youth
“That is vile.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Because the notion that a man might feel love for another man offends your sensibilities?”
“Because it is unnatural,” he snapped. “Disgusting. Against every order of nature and God.”
“And what do you know of it?” Her voice rose in frustration. “Do you think people choose to live like that? To suffer rejection, exile, scorn?”
“Theyoughtto be scorned.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because their affection makes you uncomfortable? Because it does not fit into your expectations of the world?”
“Because it iswrong.”
“Says who?”
“The Church! The scriptures! For a man to lie with another man… it violates the laws of God and the order He set forth in Scripture. It is condemned in every holy text I have ever read, and I will not pretend otherwise to appeaseyoursensibilities.”
She took a breath, then lowered her voice—still fierce, still shaking. “What if someone was born that way, Mr. Darcy? You think they ought to be miserable their whole life? Alone? Hidden?”
He stared at her, breath tight. “It is a perversion of what was ordained from the beginning. I will not call light what the Lord Himself has called darkness. You are condoning sin.”
“I am showingmercy,” she said emphatically. “I know it is a sin, but I also know that I am not the judge of another soul, and neither are you.”
“You speak of it as if it were a harmless preference—like tea instead of coffee.”
“No,” she snapped. “I speak of it as somethingreal. As something that some people cannot change, no matter how much they might wish to. And for some poor souls, it means living without love forever, because society would rather cast them out into the darkness than admit such feelings exist.”
The wind stirred the hem of Elizabeth’s gown, but she felt no chill—only the heat of her indignation, of her trembling restraint. Her heart thundered in her chest. She had not meant to speak so fiercely, had not planned to bare such thoughts, yet once the words began, they could not be contained.
And now, she stood before him, flushed and breathless, the force of her own passion leaving her shaken. His gaze did not waver. His jaw was taut, his mouth set in a grim line, but itwas not disdain in his eyes—it was something else. Shock, yes. Conviction. But also, something troubled. Something like doubt.
She swallowed hard. She had not meant to argue. She had not meant to stand before him like a thundercloud—but how could she not? How could she listen to condemnation without answering it?
Her hands, clenched tightly at her sides, began to ache. She forced herself to breathe deeply. Slowly. She had spoken what she believed. She did not regret it. But how strange, how terrible, to feel this yawning gap stretch open between them when they had, only moments before, walked together in such harmony.
The garden held its breath around them. Even the birds had stilled.
“Excuse me?”
They both started—just slightly—and the moment shattered like glass. A maid’s voice called from the path behind them. “Mr. Darcy? Miss Elizabeth? You are wanted indoors.”
Elizabeth turned away first, her voice carefully level. “Let us go in, then.”
He nodded, following her in silence—yet neither could shake the weight of what had just passed between them.
Chapter 24
Elizabeth trudged wearily up the stairs to her bedchamber, thankful that the day was over at last.
She knew sleep would not come easily, however.
Not with his voice still in her ears, and the echo of their argument burning through her thoughts.
All through the afternoon, her mind returned again and again to the garden path, to the echo of raised voices and the tight line of Mr. Darcy’s jaw. They had not exchanged a single word since returning inside, not even a glance that might invite understanding or repair.
When Georgiana descended to bid farewell to her cousin, Elizabeth had watched from a distance. The girl was composed, demure—her bearing much altered from days past—but Elizabeth could not help but wonder what thoughts swirled behind that downcast gaze. Colonel Fitzwilliam, for his part, had embraced her warmly, then turned to Mr. Darcy with a lookheavy with concern. “You will write,” he said, more command than request. “And if I can return, I shall.”
Mr. Bennet, ever steady, had offered reassurance. “You need not worry for them, Colonel. They are in capable hands, if I may say so myself.” His dry smile took in Elizabeth, but she could not return it. She merely nodded and stood aside as the colonel and Darcy departed.
