Consequences (22 page)

“Much better, Georgiana. Restrain your motherly instincts. It is not what you think. Elizabeth did not make me unhappy all these years. I was unhappy because I did not live up to the standards she demanded—which was nothing more or less than I act as a gentleman ought. I offered marriage, secure in my fortune, my name, my property, secure in everything but my behaviour, and she very properly rejected me.”

“Rejected?” asked Georgiana in confusion.

“Yes, dear Georgiana. Rejected. Very properly so, too. Her assessment of me was entirely correct, and I did not deserve a woman such as her because of my pride, arrogance, and selfishness.”

“Selfish!” exclaimed Georgiana. “You are the least selfish person I have ever known in my life!”

“Perhaps I did better later, dear sister, but that was after I was taught a lesson I needed by Elizabeth. You did not see the manner in which I treated her and all her family and friends in Hertfordshire. I considered myself their eminent social superior and did not condescend to associate with them. Even after I was captivated by her, I did not declare myself openly. Rather, I tried to withdraw from the situation, motivated by those parts of pride and arrogance I inherited in full measure from our parents. You may not remember, but as good as our mother and father were in so many ways, they taught me to revere my family name and my place in society above all else. In addition, I separated Elizabeth’s eldest sister from Bingley, and neither one of them knew happiness for the rest of their lives. You do remember how melancholy Bingley was for years before he passed away? No, I deserved to be refused. It was my due.”

“Can this be true?” asked Georgiana in confusion.

“Yes, Georgiana, it is true. But it is also true that redemption is possible, for both of us. I was arrogant, and Elizabeth admits being foolish, and any unhappiness that came our way was our own fault. But now, my sweet, she has done me the honour of accepting my proposal at long last. As late as it is, it is not, hopefully, too late.”

Georgiana was exceedingly reluctant to admit fault in her revered older brother, but she was no longer a young girl of sixteen. She knew tragedy well, as two of her six children died before they were two, and she sat down with her brother and Elizabeth while he recounted the whole story. This re-telling of the events in the lives of her brother and his long-lost love was as emotionally wrenching the second time as the first. Before it ended, she and Elizabeth shared many tears and emotional embraces, as she at last came to realize what both Darcy and Elizabeth lost because of past follies. Before she and her brother left, Georgiana was more than reconciled to her brother’s choice, and she went so far as to admit she would be very happy to have Elizabeth as a sister.

Chapter 12

“Adversity is a great teacher, but this
teacher makes us pay dearly for its
instruction; and often the profit we
derive, is not worth the price we paid.”

—Jean Jacques Rousseau,
Swiss political philosopher and essayist

Tuesday, August 20, 1844

Elizabeth was reviewing Sums and Differences with James when one of the maids brought a message from Mrs. Fleming that she was wanted downstairs. Elizabeth thanked her before turning back to complete the lesson, which required only another few minutes. Before leaving, she made sure all the children, especially James, were at work on their next task. She shook her head in bemusement as she left. James was the eldest of the Fleming children and was at the same time both her favourite and her greatest challenge. In some ways, he reminded her of Lydia, for he possessed the greatest degree of self-confidence and fearlessness. Yet he also had a good heart and a quick mind, and he worked diligently once he understood nothing less would be accepted.

The past week had been a busy one, for Darcy called every day, sometimes with his sister and sometimes without. Mrs. Fleming had been delighted when she learned of Elizabeth’s engagement and instructed her to take as much time as she desired when Darcy called. She also would not hear of Elizabeth staying in her employ until a replacement could be found.

“Nonsense, my dear,” she stated firmly. “The children, even James, will do quite well for a month or two. You and Mr. Darcy must make your plans as if you had already left this house. It is only right, after both of you have missed so many years of happiness together.”

Elizabeth was amazed at the way Darcy’s ease and charm seemed to increase each day until she felt as if she had known him forever. She could not determine whether such capabilities were always present but unobserved in the character of the man she thought she knew or they were dormant until brought to the surface by the depth of his suffering.

The fact that Darcy also suffered during the intervening years since that fateful evening at the Parsonage was a continuing surprise, even though he spoke of it that first day in the garden. While he endured neither impoverishment nor the loss of his entire family, as in her case, he still never ceased to love her, so much so he never considered marrying another and fought a long battle within himself to win free of the bibulous affliction.

Or at least almost, she thought in amusement, for he kept a slim flask in a side pocket for an occasional sip. It never affected him, and she never detected any trace of alcohol on his breath on those occasions when he stole a kiss during their walks in the garden.

Elizabeth smiled inwardly at the pleasant memory of those kisses, though she was rather surprised they affected her so, considering her age and his, and she particularly enjoyed being held in his arms. Now they waited only the delivery of the special license from London so they could be married there in Plymouth. Afterward, Darcy suggested that they journey to Pemberley, for he much desired to show her more of his favourite place on earth than she had been able to observe during her short visit so many years earlier.

Elizabeth wore a slight smile as she neared the front parlour, for she was remembering Darcy acting almost like a young man as he manoeuvred her into an alcove in the garden so he might pull her into an embrace and lower his lips to hers. But her mood changed as soon as she entered the room, expecting to find Darcy and possibly his sister along with her employer. Instead, only Georgiana Hartecourt and Mrs. Fleming were present, along with a man she did not know. Considering the manner in which he comforted Darcy’s sister, Elizabeth presumed he was her husband. But that fact, along with Darcy’s absence, seemed to seize her heart in an icy grip.

Judith Fleming instantly arose and crossed the room to Elizabeth, who stood frozen in sudden fear. Between the two women, who had known and loved each other for decades, there was little need for excess conversation.

“William?” Elizabeth whispered.

“I am afraid so, Eliza. His sister just brought word. He must have died peacefully in his sleep last night.”

It was simply too much. Elizabeth was not aware of anything other than her friend’s face, and that seemed suddenly to grow more and more distant. Coldness swept out from her heart to all the extremities of her body. The world grew dark, and she welcomed the darkness. Welcomed it and never wanted to leave it. She cried out with pleasure as it swept over her, bringing blessed, blessed peace and forgetfulness.

***

But it could not last. Elizabeth opened her eyes to see the ceiling above her. She was lying on the couch in the parlour, the same couch where Georgiana Hartecourt had been sitting. Someone held her hand, stroking it, and she looked over to see it was Georgiana. Her eyes were red from crying, but her tears no longer flowed. Instead, the expression on her face was one of concern.

“Did I faint?” Elizabeth asked weakly. It seemed as though she was weighed down with total exhaustion, every limb so heavy she could not lift it.

“Yes, dear,” said the sweet voice of friend and employer, and Elizabeth realized her head was being cradled in Judith’s lap.

Her eyes were heavy, so very heavy, and she closed them, unable to expend the effort needed to continue to see. She desperately wished she might flee back into the black forgetfulness that claimed her when she fainted, which took away the pain of Jane, her father, her sisters, of everything . . . and now the pain of Darcy.

A sob caused her shoulders to heave as she remembered what Judith had told her.

“It was not a dream, was it? William is really dead?”

“Yes, I am afraid so, dear,” said Judith, her voice catching as she suppressed a sob herself. “I am sorry, so dreadfully sorry.”

Then nothing would hold back the tears, and Elizabeth convulsed as years of practiced restraint came crashing down. Gone was her serenity, her self-control, her transference of her pain into love for her ‘children’—the children she guided and taught since she had never had her own. Nothing was left but the raw pain overwhelming every barrier she ever erected against it. She did not sob, she wailed as she had never done before, and she dimly realized Georgiana knelt beside her, holding her, embracing her, and supporting her head. Darcy’s sister was giving her the comfort Elizabeth’s own mother never gave her and which she had not experienced since Jane died almost two decades previously.

But no emotional convulsion can last forever, and Georgiana and Judith alternated in holding Elizabeth, whispering words of encouragement Elizabeth could only comprehend on a level transcending language and speech. Eventually, though she was able to begin the long journey back to consciousness, she still felt the pull of the blackness of forgetfulness, the balm of nothingness. Now she understood a part of what claimed Lydia, for the forgetfulness the blackness promised was the forgetfulness of insanity. Her pain would be gone because her mind would no longer have contact with reality. But Elizabeth Bennet rejected such an escape, and her strength of character, shaped by the tragedies she endured, gave her the willpower to choose to re-enter the world of the living, even though this choice also meant a return of the pain.

In time, she was able to sit up and accept the offered handkerchief to dry her tears. She looked at the handkerchief in confusion, for it was a man’s handkerchief rather than a lady’s. For the first time, she realized the unknown man she saw on first entering the room was still present, down on one knee as he held his wife close, reassuring her, while she clung to him in her own pain. It was clearly his handkerchief, since Georgiana and Judith both clutched their own.

“I am Adrian Hartecourt, Miss Bennet,” the man said sympathetically. “I also am sorry for your loss. I have known Darcy for almost three decades, loved him more than I ever loved my own brother, and I always knew there was someone like you in his past. I am only sorry to meet you at the same time he was taken from us.”

“He was so happy the past week,” said Georgiana through her tears. “He was almost bubbling over with good cheer. I could not remember ever seeing him so joyful before.”

“At least he was able to see Miss Bennet before the end, sweetest,” comforted Mr. Hartecourt. “He has been dying for months, though he refused to admit it, even to himself.”

“I know you have been telling me so,” Georgiana sighed, “but I would not believe it. But, when I saw his body this morning, your words were the first thing I remembered.”

“If it was God’s will to take him, dear,” said Mr. Hartecourt, “then it was also God’s will to give him enough time to meet Miss Bennet again. Frankly, from what Darcy’s physician told him, he should have passed on months ago.”

“You talked to his physician?” Georgiana asked in bewilderment. “You never said.”

“Darcy swore me to secrecy,” responded her husband. “And, since it could make no real difference, I kept my vow. Your brother wanted to carry on as he always had. He did not want to take to his bed and never leave it, so he chose to ignore the pain, though the physician said it would be quite severe. You remember his flask?”

“Yes, the brandy,” Georgiana sniffed. “He never would give it up, though I have not seen him touch alcohol at any other time for years.”

“It contained laudanum, my sweet, not brandy,” said Mr. Hartecourt. “He would take a little sip every now and then when the pain grew too bad.”

“I never knew!” cried Georgiana. “And I always lectured him whenever he would take a sip! I thought he was falling prey to the drink again! Oh, I feel dreadful now!”

“Do not be hard on yourself,” smiled Mr. Hartecourt. “Darcy always gained great amusement from the way you tried to mother him, and he took a kind of childish enjoyment at the way he was able to deceive you. But I found the flask this morning—laudanum for certain, not a bit of brandy.”

Elizabeth listened to this interchange as if in a fog, and she only started to become fully aware when Mr. Hartecourt spoke directly to her.

“Miss Bennet, though we had not yet met until today, Darcy spoke so eloquently of you this past week that I feel as if we have already been introduced. There are two other things that I believe my brother would want you to know. The first is that he must have grown concerned his time might be even shorter than he feared. He initially thought he might have several months, but his pains were getting worse all week, though you would never have known it from his expression. His self-control, by this time, was one of iron, but he could not delude himself. He knew his time was nearing, so he instructed me to make a change in his will.”