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Chapter 7
Married life was treating Richard and Elizabeth Fitzwilliam rather well. Their tour of the Lakes, which Elizabeth had never seen, was a week of perfect bliss; Elizabeth was pleased to find that the duties of a wife were not at all unpleasant, and her husband was a kind and considerate teacher. All her previous doubts and fears disappeared as she felt a deeper affection for her husband, and she could not wait to begin her new life with him when they reached their new home.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, was at the height of joy. In his mind, nothing could be better than spending time with his Elizabeth, his darling, the love of his life. Each morning of their honeymoon he would awake dreading to open his eyes with the fear that it had all been a magnificent dream ... and then he would hear a sigh, or feel her soft skin against him, and all would be well. He thought of nothing but her all the while that they traveled.
Things changed when they reached their new home. Darcy had given him the direction and the description provided from the solicitor, but what awaited them was not at all what he expected. The house was gorgeous. Both of them had been expecting Hunsford, perhaps Longbourn, but this was almost a mini-Pemberley. Granted, it was only one-tenth the size, and the park was infinitely smaller, but it was marked by a similar design, sense of taste and decorum, and perfect harmony with nature that made Pemberley so delightful. Of course Elizabeth could not make this comparison, having never seen the much talked-of estate, but Fitzwilliam's mind was immediately assaulted with it, and it made him not a little uncomfortable.
"Oh Richard," Elizabeth sighed, her eyes full of tears, "it's absolutely wonderful! Could you have imagined that it would be so lovely?"
"I'm glad you like it. It is rather remarkable," he replied, heartened by her approval. So what if it looks like the spawn of Pemberley? It's not as if Darcy built it... he didn't even look at it! Then he noticed Elizabeth becoming somewhat uneasy.
"Richard ... how could you ever afford a place like this? You know I don't need this much. I hope you have not overextended yourself."
"Lizzy, please ... I told you, I am letting it for a most reasonable sum from the owner. Don't worry yourself over it."
"Who is the owner?"
"An old friend ... why does it matter?" he asked defensively. She pulled away from him somewhat angrily. To this point he had been open about his affairs, and though she knew he didn't need to be, she had gotten used to a certain amount of confidence. Now that he wasn't giving it, she was suspicious. He sighed. "Look, Lizzy ... it's a bit embarrassing for me. Someone attempted to give us this house, as a wedding gift. I refused, it was too much, but he insisted, and I eventually talked him into charging us a very low sum to let it." She frowned and took his hand again.
"Who could be so generous? Was it your parents?"
"No, not them," he replied uneasily, hoping she would stop asking.
"Then who Richard? Who on earth would do such an incredible thing?" He sighed heavily.
"Darcy." Elizabeth's eyes went wide with disbelief and she shook her head rapidly.
"Mr. Darcy? Why?"
"I asked him to write his solicitor to find us some prospective homes in this region. Next thing I know he hands me a deed. That's Darce, generous beyond all reason. Just the amount of money he's given Wickham will show you that. Please, Elizabeth, I wasn't very comfortable with the whole idea, which is why I didn't tell you. Now that we're here, I'm almost tempted to give it back ... I feel terribly guilty about it." Elizabeth kissed his cheek to calm him.
"No, Richard, it's fine. It's just a surprise, that's all. It was very kind of him. As long as we are paying for it, I don't see a problem," she said with more confidence than she felt. He smiled back, and they entered their new home.
The inside proved to be just as lovely as the outside. It was tastefully furnished and very comfortable, and Elizabeth fell in love with it at once. The servants took care of the luggage while they freshened up, and then the housekeeper took them around the house. Mrs. Vernon was a plump, grandmotherly sort who had been at the house with the previous owners, and Fitzwilliam had decided to keep her, and indeed most of the staff, on to help them adjust to their new surroundings. She chattered on cheerily, noting to herself what a handsome young couple the Fitzwilliams seemed to be, and hoped they would be very happy. When the tour was done, a light supper had been prepared for them, which they gratefully took before retiring. Their bedchambers were separated by a small anteroom. Fitzwilliam did not even glance at his own door before following Elizabeth into hers; truth be told, he did not plan to spend much time in his room at all.
"Really sir, the servants will talk if you do not at least feign retiring to your own chamber," Elizabeth teased as he closed the door.
"They can talk all they want. I love my wife more than words can say, and wish to have her near me," he replied between kisses.
"I love you too Richard. I think we'll be very happy here."
"I'm counting on it darling."
The Fitzwilliams left their beloved home only after two months, to attend Jane and Bingley's wedding at Longbourn. Elizabeth was of course anxious to see her dear sister again, but there was another inducement: it was also the first time they had seen Darcy since their own nuptials, and Elizabeth was eager to express her gratitude for the wonderful home he had given them.
Her opportunity came almost immediately upon their arrival at Netherfield; she had gone for a walk to escape the hustle and bustle of the wedding preparations, and with a sense of déjà vu, she ran into Darcy on the lawn.
"Mr. Darcy!" He started, called from his solitary reverie. "How do you do sir?" He could not help but smile widely at seeing the object of that very reverie appear before him. How many times had he wished for that to occur! Oh Lord ... she is here! Then he recalled with whom she had come. Why must life be so continuously cruel to me? The thought that his own behavior had been the source of the biggest of his misfortunes renewed his determination to correct her previous judgments of him, and with that in mind he spoke more warmly than perhaps he may have in the past.
"Mrs. Fitzwilliam, how lovely to see you. I am well, and yourself?" Mrs. Fitzwilliam! Mrs. Fitzwilliam! Something was seriously askew; a tiny word was missing... Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, that's what she ought to have been... The knowledge that his dearest, loveliest, maiden Miss Bennet was no more was almost too much to bear.
"Glad to be out of the house! I'd forgotten what a terrible hassle wedding planning can be." He forced a smile.
"I confess to the same motivation. Shall we take a turn together, then?" She smiled and took his arm. The walked in silence, he enjoying the feeling of her on his arm, she building her courage to speak. At last she did.
"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to Richard and myself. To provide us with our wonderful home is beyond all reasonable generosity. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it." Darcy looked at her, startled.
"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Fitzwilliam was so little to be trusted."
"You must not blame Richard. He did not wish to reveal the truth, but only said that a friend had helped us. Stubborn as I am, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble. You know not what it has meant to me; I love my home dearly." Darcy stopped and turned to her, disturbed.
"Please Mrs. Fitzwilliam, do not thank me. I did nothing so extraordinary. I sent specifications to my solicitor, he returned with your house, I had him secure the deed. That is all. I beg you, do not mention it again."
"Very well," she agreed with a frown. From then, their walk continued in silence.
Jane and Bingley's wedding was beautiful; they spent the wedding night at Netherfield, then left for a tour of the northern counties that would include a visit to Pemberley and to Halgian, the name Fitzwilliam had chosen for their home. Elizabeth eagerly anticipated their arrival. They arrived one evening about a week after the Fitzwilliams themselves had returned from Hertfordshire.
"Jane! Charles! How wonderful to see you!" Elizabeth cried as she ran out to meet their carriage. The sisters embraced tightly. "Richard should be back soon; he was training new recruits this afternoon. Come, I will show you to your rooms." After the newlyweds had freshened up, they came back downstairs for supper. Elizabeth begged them to tell her of their travels. They happily obliged her, Jane especially gushing about the grand houses they had seen and the delightful countryside they had driven through. Then she spoke of Pemberley.
"Oh Lizzy, it is the most beautiful place; I have never seen a place for which nature has done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. It was simply delightful. And Mr. Darcy was all that is kind and hospitable. He was a most generous host."
"Indeed, he always is!" Bingley chimed in. "Though he confessed to me that it was a relief to have me there without Caroline ... that relaxed him a great deal as well!" he laughed. "Still, he was a bit out of sorts, I think. He had been, for a while, but I thought he was finally beginning to come out of it. And then he seemed somewhat melancholy again during this visit."
"Why could that be?" Elizabeth asked. Bingley shrugged.
"Don't know. Perhaps it's seeing all these happily married couples and still being a bachelor himself." He smiled at his lovely wife, forgetting Elizabeth for a moment until she discreetly coughed.
"You know Lizzy, your house bears a certain resemblance to Pemberley," Jane noticed. "It is almost a miniature. Don't you think Charles?"
"I see what you mean angel. There are many similarities. Did Fitzwilliam have that in mind when he let it?" Elizabeth shook her head.
"No, not at all ... in fact, we never saw it until the day we arrived. In truth, Mr. Darcy's solicitor is the one who found it. Perhaps it was his doing." She smiled, but found the coincidence a bit odd indeed. Just then, the housekeeper entered the parlor.
"If you please ma'am, Colonel Fitzwilliam has arrived. Shall I serve supper?" Elizabeth smiled widely.
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Vernon. We shall be there directly. Well, let us go eat!"
The Bingleys' visit lasted only two days, not nearly enough time for the sisters to satisfy their longing for each other's company, but at least each had the satisfaction of knowing that they were leaving each other in the good hands of loving husbands.
In late August, only a few weeks after the Bingleys had left, Fitzwilliam received a letter that carried the prospect of another visitor. "Elizabeth, what would you say to Georgiana spending a month here with us before she returns to town for the winter? Darcy says she has been asking to visit us for months." Elizabeth quickly agreed; though she had met Georgiana only briefly at the wedding, she seemed a very sweet girl, and she wished to further their acquaintance. Fitzwilliam replied with the invitation, and by mid-September the Darcy carriage pulled into the drive of Halgian.
Darcy had been trying to avoid this visit ever since his sister had mentioned that she wished to go. The last thing he needed was to have a vision of Elizabeth's domestic bliss to go along with the image already seared in his brain of her wedding. He was concentrating so hard on not thinking about her that he did not realize how far they had come until Georgiana cried out to him. "Oh William, look! It's lovely!" He looked out the window of the carriage and started at the sight. Good God ... I've bought them Pemberley "fils" ... "How odd ... it resembles Pemberley somewhat, doesn't it?"
"Yes ... how peculiar," he replied shortly. "Look, there they are. Now remember, this is not Pemberley; the Fitzwilliams have a much simpler lifestyle than we have at home. Do not be any trouble for them. I will have Richard write to me if you misbehave," he teased, pinching her cheek.
"Oh William," she rolled her eyes. The carriage stopped and the Darcys stepped out to be greeted warmly by the Fitzwilliams. "Richard! Mrs. Fitzwilliam! I am so happy to see you again! You have a lovely home," Georgiana gushed. Elizabeth embraced her.
"Please, Georgiana, we are cousins. Call me Elizabeth. Hello Mr. Darcy, it's so nice to see you," she added with a smile before taking Georgiana inside to refresh herself.
"Darcy, it really is good to see you. It was good of you to bring Georgie; I fear the officers' wives become somewhat tedious company for Elizabeth after so long! You will stay with us at least a few days, will you not?"
"No, I'm afraid I cannot stay but tonight. The harvest will be starting soon, so I have much to do around the estate before Michaelmas." And I don't want to see you with Elizabeth any longer than I have to. Fitzwilliam clapped him on the back.
"Well, that's alright. We can catch up tonight at port... but I must beg you, no talk of politics. The escalating situation on the continent is not a subject that a newlywed soldier wishes to hear much of," he said with a nervous laugh.
That evening was one of the happiest Darcy could remember in a long time. Fortunately, Elizabeth did not wear a cap, so when his cousin was not sitting near her he imagined her as still being Miss Bennet. She and Georgiana played for them; she confessed that her skills had greatly improved now that she had more time to practice, and her performance was evidence of that. Darcy had always thought her playing delightful, but now her natural ease had the added benefit of greater proficiency. He gazed at her, unaware of the admiration glowing on his face.
Fitzwilliam, too, watched his wife with undisguised love. Then for a moment, he turned his head and saw Darcy. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Fitzwilliam's heart rose to his throat, but he could not be jealous; something inside him had known it all along, really. He could not even be angry, for despite his own feelings for Elizabeth, Darcy had done so much to help them, had even stood up for Fitzwilliam at the wedding. He stared at his cousin until he could stand it no longer. His stomach was tied up in knots; where did Elizabeth's thoughts lie? With trepidation, he looked back up at her as she finished her song. She immediately looked at him and smiled affectionately. His heart soared as Darcy's sank, the momentary fantasy dashed. The gentlemen remained downstairs later than the ladies, talking about business, family, and the weather, but to Darcy's relief, barely a word was said about the Fitzwilliams' marital felicity. Soon they too retired.
The next morning, Elizabeth was first at the breakfast table before Darcy's early departure. "Good morning Mr. Darcy. Richard will be down soon I believe. Are you sure you cannot stay longer?" He smiled at her, sending a small shiver down her spine.
"I am certain Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Thank you for your hospitality towards myself and Georgiana. I confess, I am relieved that she will be spending this time with you. I'm sure it has come to your attention that my sister is a very shy creature, but she seems to be livelier in your company. I have great hopes that perhaps your example and guidance will help her overcome her natural timidity. Obviously I am not the best mentor for that," he joked, and was rewarded by an amused smile that lit up Elizabeth's fine eyes. "I am therefore grateful for more than your hospitality. I hope we can return the favor at Pemberley."
"Thank you sir. I'm quite certain that having Georgiana here will be more of a pleasure than a burden. She is a lovely girl. I'm sure we will be great friends. I thank you for your offer; I've heard so much about Pemberley, I am eager to see it."
"Perhaps you and your husband could join us for Christmas?" he invited impulsively, mentally kicking himself the moment the words were out of his mouth (yet hoped that she would accept the proffered hospitality). "That is, if you are not already engaged."
"Thank you Mr. Darcy. I will speak with Richard about it."
"Speak with Richard about what?" said the man himself as he entered the breakfast room.
"We have been invited to spend Christmas at Pemberley my dear. Would you like to go?" Elizabeth asked hopefully, very much wishing to see the famous estate. Fitzwilliam smiled weakly.
"Of course, of course. That would be excellent." An awkward silence settled before Elizabeth spoke again.
"Well, I will go wake Georgiana. I'm sure she will want to see you off." After a slightly teary goodbye from his sister, Darcy was on his way, as much relieved as saddened to be out of Elizabeth's presence.
Georgiana's visit was a very happy time for the couple. Elizabeth helped Georgiana out of her shell, and for her efforts was rewarded with a close companion and friend. They were both saddened by her departure, but looked forward to meeting again in December at Pemberley.
The time until they left for Derbyshire passed relatively mundanely. Fitzwilliam was blissfully happy with his wife, but his career was beginning to worry him. He had been training legions of young soldiers who were subsequently sent to Portugal; because of his birth and newlywed status, he had been spared active duty thus far. He was concerned, however, that soon there would not be enough men to ship over, and he would have to leave. At least he had gotten his commander's word that for the winter, he was safe. Elizabeth had another concern entirely; she was worried about her ability to conceive. The night was rare that did not see Fitzwilliam in her chamber, but every month showed no change in her condition. She prayed that one day they would be blessed with a child, but her prayer had not been answered by the time they left for Pemberley in mid-December.
"I know you will adore Pemberley darling," Fitzwilliam assured her as they drew near. "There are woods and groves enough to satisfy even your enthusiasm for them," he teased. She laughed and slapped his arm.
"Are you quite sure we shall reach the house before dark then?" He smiled.
"Just wait." He made her cover her eyes, then a few minutes later had the driver stop the coach. "Alright ... look." The sight that greeted her took her breath away. The house was beautiful, and the thin blanket of snow that coated the estate gave it a serene, dreamlike quality. She certainly saw the resemblance to her own home, but Pemberley was by far the grander place.
"Oh my," she breathed, utterly overwhelmed. "It is beautiful. I see why Georgiana is so attached to it." I could see myself becoming very attached to it myself ... the grounds are like a dream, and the house ... I have never seen a more desirable situation!
"I thought you would like it. Drive on! Just wait until you see inside the place." Sure enough, the inside showed the same amount of taste and elegance as the outside. Georgiana nearly ran to Elizabeth's arms, and insisted on giving her a tour of the house the moment she had changed out of her travel clothes, and gushed about how happy she was to see her friend again. They spent nearly as much time chatting as they did seeing different rooms, and Darcy had to come hunt them down for supper.
The following day, a surprise arrived: the Bingleys had also been invited to spend the Christmas season. Even more amazing was that it had all been Darcy's idea, including making it a surprise for both Jane and Elizabeth, who again found herself wondering about the enigma that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.
In the fortnight that followed, Elizabeth continued to see a Fitzwilliam Darcy she never knew existed. She knew of his generosity toward her husband and herself, but she had attributed that, at least partially, to their blood ties. Now, as a guest in his house, she witnessed the absolute gentleness and fairness that he showed to his servants and tenants. As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship; how much pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow; how much good or evil must be done by him. While she felt that her initial judgment of her host's character had been fairly justified by his behavior then, her stay at Pemberley forced her to reflect on his person from a new perspective.
His hospitality towards his guests was also amazing; Jane had not been exaggerated in her praise. Every need, every whim, and every desire they had was attended after a word. Elizabeth had noticed the frozen lake and said, "Oh, wouldn't it be grand to ice-skate?"; the following day, Darcy returned from Lambton with 6 pairs of ice skates. They all spent the day outside in the snow, and upon their return they found a fire, blankets, and plenty of tea and soup to warm them. The entire visit seemed dedicated to the pleasure of the Bingleys and Fitzwilliams.
The other thing that really struck Elizabeth was the absolute luxury of her surroundings. Pemberley may have had a superficial resemblance to Halgian, but that is where the similarities ended. It seemed that more servants lived at Pemberley than in the entire village around Halgian, and the sheer magnificence of everything, while at the same time being completely elegant and not at all pretentious, was incredible. In fact, many of the pieces she would have selected herself had she the income for it. In Elizabeth's opinion, this too spoke volumes of Darcy's personality. In addition, much to her embarrassment, she could not deny that his "Master of the Manor" bearing held a strong charm, and she guiltily found that her pulse quickened whenever she saw him unexpectedly. She experienced similar reactions when he kissed her hand as he had at Gracechurch Street all those months ago, and this too caused her some chagrin. Fortunately, sharing a bed with her husband each night made her forget her strange feelings, and she was able to explain them away, rationalizing that he was, after all, a very handsome gentleman, and it was normal to feel some attraction to him. It was nothing to worry over, for she loved her husband, and Mr. Darcy certainly had no interest in her beyond that of familial bonds.
The Christmas banquet was the culmination of the holiday celebrations. The feast was opulent, wine flowed like water, and cheer permeated everything. Georgiana did an admirable job as hostess; she had confided to Elizabeth that she had been practicing for weeks to make sure she knew how to act. She also expressed her eagerness to pass on the hosting duties of the Darcy household to her future sister-in-law, but worried that her brother seemed to be in no hurry to provide her with a replacement mistress of Pemberley. Elizabeth had assured her that someday her brother would marry, but for some reason the thought somewhat unsettled her; she brushed the feeling off.
After dinner, gifts were exchanged. The ladies were inundated with dresses, jewels, and fragrances, and the gentlemen with various accessories for sport and business. Darcy had debated what to give Elizabeth for weeks; it could not be too personal, but he did not wish it to be generic either. At last he chose a very fine pendant-watch, and to add a more intimate touch, had it engraved with, "To EBF, Best Regards, FD". He had been successful; she had loved it, and replaced her old one with it immediately.
In what seemed too short a time for everyone but Darcy (who was beginning to chafe at the constant exposure to an affectionate Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam), the day arrived for the departure of the guests. Elizabeth was warm and honest with her profuse compliments of Darcy hospitality, unable to thank them enough for giving her the best Christmas she could remember. Darcy glowed inwardly with the praise, and offered both couples an open invitation to Pemberley for the summer months. Georgiana, sad to see the company depart, passionately seconded her brother's statement. She also extracted a promise from her friends to call on her when they were next in town, as she would be returning to her masters soon after the new year. Tearful goodbyes were said, and with an entirely new image of one particular member of the Darcy household, Elizabeth returned home with her husband.
Chapter 8
Winter turned to spring, and March saw the Fitzwilliams still at Halgian, Elizabeth still childless and Richard more concerned about the escalating war. Everything hinted at his imminent departure to join the army on the Iberian Peninsula, but he was certain that they would at least respect his upcoming first wedding anniversary and wait until midsummer.
On a cool night in early March, the happy couple was getting cozy under a blanket near the fire when an express arrived for Fitzwilliam. His stomach tightened, but he kept a smile for Elizabeth's sake.
"I'll wager this is our invitation to Rosings for Easter darling," he joked, eliciting a sweet giggle from his wife. One glance at the seal, however, told him the missive was not from Lady Catherine, but his commanding officer. Fitzwilliam's jovial face suddenly turned grim as he read the letter. Concerned, Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm. "What is it my dear?" she asked softly. He did not reply until he had finished the letter and crumpled it in his fist.
"I am being sent to Portugal," he replied in a tone of quiet fury. "Portugal! I have not been married a year, and they are sending me to war!" he yelled. Elizabeth paled, her eyes wide with shock. Impulsively, she embraced him.
"Must you go? I don't understand why they must send you, now!" she sobbed into his shoulder. He held her possessively, his blood boiling with anger. He considered his situation, planning what to do to get out of this duty for just a little longer; the more he thought, though, the more he realized that it would be impossible. He had already been warned by his commander that they would be sent soon, and the shortage of men inevitably meant that he could not buy his way out of the battle. Anger turned to despair at the thought of leaving Elizabeth... perhaps forever.
"I must," he whispered in reply. "There is nothing that can be done. I must go."
"Portugal? Now? Is it absolutely certain?" Darcy asked frantically. Fitzwilliam nodded solemnly.
"The loss of men has been great, and I cannot buy my way out. I have already tried every avenue; I must go." Darcy placed a reassuring hand on Fitzwilliam's shoulder.
"I am grieved indeed Fitzwilliam. This could not have come at a worse time, I am sure." His cousin smiled bitterly.
"Well, I suppose it could ... at least Elizabeth is not with child." Darcy swallowed hard, unable to support the thought of Elizabeth carrying anyone's child but his own. It was indeed a blessing that she had not yet conceived. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and tried to change the subject.
"So what brings you here? I imagine that you would rather be home than with me!" he said, hoping to sound lighthearted.
"I wish to ask a favor of you Darcy. I ... I want you take care of Elizabeth," Fitzwilliam replied shakily, wishing (for many reasons, not the least of which was jealousy) that he did not have to ask this favor of the man before him. "I want you to take her to Pemberley with Georgiana and yourself while I am gone. I do not wish to leave her alone in our house, and I don't think Hertfordshire is the ideal place for her either, not even Netherfield." Darcy nodded, agreeing with the wisdom of not sending her to Mrs. Bennet in her time of distress. However, he was almost equally certain that entrusting Elizabeth to his care was not a prudent decision either.
"Can she not stay with your parents, or your brother?" Richard shook his head.
"My parents are out of the question. For one thing, they are they going to be traveling in Ireland through the summer, a trip Elizabeth is not interested in at the moment. And then, you know my mother; she would condole with Elizabeth daily of my absence, meaning well but succeeding only in hurting her more. As for my brother... would you leave someone you cared about with that wife of his?" he shuddered. "No, Darcy, she must go to Pemberley. Please ... I am begging you." Reluctantly, Darcy extended his hand.
"Very well ... if she desires it, Georgiana and I shall take her to Pemberley." Fitzwilliam shook Darcy's hand forcefully.
"Thank you Darcy. You know not what this means to me. You are a true friend." Darcy forced a smile and waved off the compliment. Do not be too hasty with your praise, cousin. Let us see how true I prove to be with the constant temptation of the woman I love under my roof! he thought ruefully, praying that his sense of honor would carry him through the ordeal with no greater sin on his soul than impure thoughts of another man's wife.
The Fitzwilliams returned to their home in the country, but came to London a fortnight before Richard was to ship out. They stayed at the Darcy townhouse to allow for easier preparation to Elizabeth's removal to Pemberley. This was a difficult time for Darcy; his cousin had requested only one room for himself and Elizabeth instead of separate chambers, and the thought that he fell asleep each night and awoke each morning with Elizabeth by his side was enough to drive Darcy mad. He tried to force images of the two of them making love out of his head, but Fate was cruel.
At last, the day arrived for Fitzwilliam to leave for Portugal. Goodbyes were long and painful, and Darcy and Elizabeth stood on the dock until the ship was long out of sight. When the mast was no more than a dot against the horizon, Elizabeth fell to her knees and began to weep. Darcy quickly helped her up and kept his hold so she would remain standing. She wept into his shoulder for God knows how long, while he kept his arms around her and closed his eyes, allowing himself to pretend for just a moment that she was his. When she finally stopped crying, he forced himself to pull away slightly and ask if she was ready to return to the townhouse. She nodded and they were on their way.
The trip to Pemberley was a painful ordeal for them all. Elizabeth had reluctantly agreed to go, as her other options were not quite so palatable as spending time with an understanding friend in the form of Georgiana in a place large enough for her to have relative solitude. She dearly wished to have Jane with her, but the thought of her mother being so near made going to Netherfield impossibility. No, Pemberley was the best place, although she dearly wished the choice didn't need to have been made at all.
Darcy watched Elizabeth in silence for most of the two-day journey. Even with her face drawn and streaked with tears she was still as beautiful to him as when she smiled. This was going to be difficult indeed.
There are few sights more beautiful than Derbyshire in the summer, and even Elizabeth's melancholy could not resist the joys to be found in the wild, untamed beauty of Pemberley's grounds. She walked outdoors often, sometimes alone, sometimes with Darcy or Georgiana or both. Every two or three weeks, when a letter would come from Richard, she would take it out to some hidden grove and weep as she read of his peril. He tried to keep them general, making only the vaguest comments about their position, never mentioning casualties, and repeating over and over how much he loved and missed her. She faithfully sent her replies to whatever address he instructed her to send them to, and was gratified when he mentioned receiving them. On the day of their first wedding anniversary, she took the short stack of letters she had to her favorite spot and cried more passionately than she had ever done.
Her loneliness, however, was not nearly as acute as her husband's. She had Georgiana as a confidante, Darcy was even kinder now than he had been at Christmas, and she was surrounded by luxury and beauty. The separation was still difficult, but at least she did not have to be alone, or at war. Her biggest difficulty, to be honest, was fighting her growing attraction for Darcy. Without Richard's presence, she found it more difficult to keep his cousin out of her mind. It had not worried before because she had written it off as mere physical attraction for an obviously handsome man. Now, though, she found herself becoming attracted to the man for who he was: someone thoughtful, considerate, generous, and whose tastes were, much to her surprise, often compatible with hers. She knew her feelings were dangerous and that she should avoid him, but she felt drawn to him, finding his presence comforting when her loneliness was at its worst.
Darcy was fighting similar battles within himself, though his were far more raging and violent. Each morning he awoke determined not to seek her out, or, if he did run into her, keep conversation brief and leave as soon as possible. He was sometimes successful, on his strongest days, in his resolution not to seek her out; he was less so when it came to avoiding her when she was already in his company. All it took was one smile in his direction, and he would melt completely; he could not deny an invitation to walk the gardens or listen to the latest duet she and Georgiana had been practicing. His mind screamed at him to keep his distance, but every other particle in his body gravitated towards her as if by some indomitable force.
Things grew more difficult for them when Elizabeth didn't hear from Fitzwilliam for the entire month of July. Her grief reached its highest peak, and Darcy did his best to comfort her during this difficult time. She confided her deepest fears to Darcy: that Fitzwilliam was dead, or if not yet dead, would die in battle and never return. When she broke down sobbing, he did not resist the urge to hold her in his arms. In fact, as time wore on, he stopped resisting many urges; he kissed her hand each night, accompanied her on a daily hour-long stroll, and always found something to do in the library when she was there reading. At last, two letters arrived from Fitzwilliam in August, forcing Darcy to remember his duty to his cousin and giving Elizabeth much needed respite from her anxiety over her husband's condition. Watching the relief and happiness that the letters brought to Elizabeth, Darcy tried to appease his own consciousness by attributing his more personal attentions to the care she needed and was entitled to.
Fitzwilliam's recent letters spoke of the soldiers moving into Spain, getting nearer to France. He had been unable to send the first letter immediately because of this displacement, and by some postal fluke the two had arrived simultaneously. She read them over and over, relieved that her husband was still alive and thriving on the continent. What she did not foresee was that now her mind, less troubled by thoughts of Fitzwilliam, turned again to thoughts of Darcy. She thought of his compassion during her darkest moments, and how concerned he had looked, holding her hand, whispering in her ear that it would be alright. She denied it to herself over and over again, but the truth was gnawing away at her heart: she was falling in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Days turned into weeks, and the inhabitants of Pemberley felt the chill of autumn descending as September arrived. Both Elizabeth and Darcy knew that they spent too much time together, that it was almost indecent and may soon cause speculation, but neither one had the heart to stop; they had a bittersweet joy in each other. He felt himself to be in particular danger because each day he saw new signs of an awakening of feeling in her. As long as he knew that she loved only her husband, nothing could defeat his sense of honor; however, if she loved him in return, he would no longer be able to vouch for his self-control. At least evenings were spent with Georgiana in the music room, often with the three of them performing together: Georgiana on piano, Elizabeth sometimes joining her and usually singing, and Darcy adding his rich baritone to Elizabeth's alto. One night, however, the entertainment changed.
Elizabeth had declined to sing that evening, a sore throat brought on by the cooling weather preventing her from performing. Instead, she and Darcy read as Georgiana played several new pieces she had been learning. When she began to play a lively Scottish air, Darcy smiled mischievously, put down his book, and leaned over to speak to Elizabeth.
"Do not you feel a great inclination, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?" She looked up at him oddly, as if trying to discern where she had heard those words before. To help jog her memory, he continued, "You may reply however you wish. I shall not dare despise you for any answer you make." Her lips curled into a smile when she finally recognized their dialogue from Netherfield.
"In that case, Mr. Darcy, I shall say that yes, I do feel an inclination to dance a reel, regardless of whether it will earn your contempt to say so," she replied impertinently.
"No contempt at all, my dear lady. I would be very happy if you honored me with this dance." With a smile, she put down her book and took his hand. They danced playfully, laughing more than talking. Halfway through they began inventing their own steps, and Darcy pulled her a bit closer to himself than was customary, close enough to detect her lavender fragrance. He spun her around under his arm, making her laugh that delightful laugh he so adored. Not for a moment did he release her hand. When the song ended, he drew her near again and clasped her other hand. She looked up at him laughing and blushing, and their eyes met for one terrible, wonderful instant. Elizabeth was first to look away and take a step back, and freed her hands to applaud Georgiana. Darcy continued to stare at her, wondering at her reaction.
Elizabeth turned back to Darcy and curtseyed, not daring to meet his eye again. She had seen a depth of emotion there that she had been trying to ignore in him for several weeks, and it frightened her. Not trusting herself to remain downstairs any longer, she pleaded overexertion and needing rest for her cold and retired early. Her thoughts, however, did not leave the room with her. Her mind was full of him, her heart swelling with fear and desire. She admitted to herself that she had never reacted as strongly to Fitzwilliam as she did to Darcy, but she could not decide if this was due to the lure of forbidden fruit or because she truly loved Darcy more than she loved her husband. It was not a pleasant question to have to answer, and the debate raging in her brain refused to let her sleep.
She tried desperately to relive her happiest moments with Fitzwilliam: evenings spent cuddling at Halgian, walks in the garden, their first Christmas together ... But in all of these thoughts, Darcy would intrude. She could not think of her home without thinking that Darcy's generosity had made it possible for them to live there. She could not think of Christmas, for that had been at Pemberley, and the time when she had first begun to feel a deeper regard for Darcy. It was not that loving Darcy made her love Fitzwilliam any less, that was not where her guilt lay; rather, it was the fact that she thought about any man at all, particularly her husband's cousin, while still loving her husband as dearly as she ever did. She didn't understand how it was possible, but she finally had to acknowledge that she loved two men, in different ways, the second with an ardor at least equal to that for the first. It disturbed her, and she hated herself for it.
Long after the ladies had retired, Darcy sat in his library, coat, vest, and cravat discarded, sipping thoughtfully on a brandy. He allowed himself the pleasure of reliving his dance with Elizabeth, the feel of her delicate fingers in his. He could still smell the delightful scent of her hair and hear the sparkling sound of her laughter. This was torture; the way she had looked at him, her sweet blush, had convinced him once and for all that his love was not unrequited, and yet he could not have her. Each day he felt his heart break into smaller and smaller pieces with the knowledge that she would never be his. With one large swallow, he drowned his sorrows in brandy and poured himself another. Halfway through the emptying of this one, he heard the library door open and someone enter. His breath caught in his throat when he realized that it was Elizabeth, and he jumped to his feet.
"Eli ... Mrs. Fitzwilliam!" he forced himself to say. Elizabeth gasped in surprise.
"Mr. Darcy! You frightened me!"
"My apologies madam, I was surprised myself." He felt his mouth go dry as his eyes took her in. She wore a thin robe over her nightgown, and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. The image was too similar to his dreams; it took all his will power to stand still. Elizabeth, too, was having a difficult time keeping her composure when she realized that he was clad only in shirt and breeches.
"I am sorry to invade your privacy. I will merely take my book and return to bed." He only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Tearing her eyes from his form, Elizabeth turned to the shelf to get the book she was seeking. Unfortunately it was just beyond her reach; she stood on the tips of her toes, but could not quite grasp it. Darcy quickly strode over.
"Allow me," he said as he reached over her to get the sought-after book. She was so close he could feel the warmth emanating from her body. He knew that he should step away, that this was terribly improper, but he could not help himself. "Here you are," he said softly, handing her the book.
"Thank you," she choked out. Then she made her fatal mistake: she lifted her eyes to meet his. Not even the strongest will could hide the depth of her emotions. Darcy saw the struggle within her, her reason battling her heart, and at that moment he knew that she loved him. His heart swelled with bittersweet joy, and in a sudden impulse, he drew her into his arms and embraced her tightly. She was at first too surprised to react, but before long she escaped his arms. "Mr. Darcy, please!"
"I am sorry, very sorry my dear lady. I know not what came over me," he replied sadly. "Please forgive me." She nodded, unable to think ill of him for exercising an impulse she shared. Touching his hand lightly, she whispered good night and smiled. This was too much for him. He gripped her hand tightly. "I love nothing in the world so well as you Elizabeth!" he cried.
She stared at him in shock. Surely her ears had betrayed her! Had he just spoken of his love for her? He loves me?! That thought echoed inside many parts of her body before she could make complete sense of his words, and when she finally did, her surprise was no less intense. The face that looked back at her spoke not of love, but of intense pain. "Do not look at me so! Surely this is not so great a surprise!"
"Indeed, sir, I knew nothing of it, and I think it better that way," she lied, her voice trembling. "I am a married woman, and you should not be making such declarations to me."
"I would not do so if I did not know that you love me too!" She stared at him with wide eyes. "I can see it, Elizabeth, the struggle within you. You love me as much as I love you! I know it!" He gripped her arms tightly. "Let me love you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth... love me in return!"
"Mr. Darcy! You are asking me to betray my husband, your cousin! He is at war, risking his life, and you talk of adulterous love!"
What he saw in her eyes obliterated the meaning of her words. Honor, loyalty, propriety were defeated by a mere glance. Right and wrong; good or bad no longer made sense to him. There are moments in which reason amounts to nothing at all. He replied in the only manner he could. He took her in his arms and passionately kissed her.
First Elizabeth tensed; she did not return his kiss, nor did she push him away. Then, for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the pleasure of his lips, tilting her head to allow him better access. Suddenly, she remembered herself, and pulled away forcefully. "How dare you!" she cried and slapped him hard across the face. Darcy put his hand to his cheek, shocked back into reality by the sting of her hand.
"My God! I am so sorry Elizabeth!" he pleaded in shame, stumbling away from her. "Please, please forgive me! I beg you!" And with tears falling from his eyes, he ran from the library. Elizabeth could do nothing but stare as he disappeared.
Chapter 9
Darcy awoke early the next day fearful of seeing Elizabeth. His behavior had been absolutely irresponsible, unjustified, and unpardonable. He had taken advantage of her in a weak moment, and he would likely suffer the consequences the rest of his life. Perhaps he would never see her again ... he shuddered at the thought. A life bereft of her was no life at all. Still, today it was probably best that they be apart, so he dressed quickly and left the house to conduct estate business long before the ladies were up and about.
When Elizabeth awoke, the same feelings of dread filled her. Darcy had seen through her mask last night, had seen the love she felt for him, and this left her more vulnerable to him than ever. Her lips still burned from his fiery kiss; she could not help thinking that she had never felt such intense passion with Richard. When she at last went down to breakfast, Georgiana informed her that Darcy had left early and would likely not return until late. This news brought relief and disappointment, but she knew this was the best way. The events of the library were still too fresh on their minds to allow for much interaction. She tried as best as she could to keep herself occupied throughout the day and not think of him.
Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, an express came addressed to Elizabeth. Her heart froze with fear when she saw that it came from France.
Mrs. Fitzwilliam,I regret to inform you that your husband, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, has been injured in battle in the Pyrenees with Lord Wellington's army. He was moved with the army to a hospital in Gascony in the hopes of transporting him to England, but I fear that passage in military ships is impossible at this point, and his condition has deteriorated to a point where it is no longer safe to move him. He asked that you be informed of his condition and that you inform whomever you see fit. I am sorry, madam, but it is unlikely that he will survive this injury.
Regretfully,
Major G. Stokes
As the words sank in Elizabeth felt another dread fill her soul. She may soon be a widow, that was bad enough. However, she realized that she may also not see her husband again before he died. Her ability to go to France was entirely dependent on Darcy, and after her violent rejection of him the night before, she was certain that he would not be of a mind to help her get to her husband. Unless... Elizabeth stopped her tears, resigning herself to what she knew must be done. She had to get to her husband, no matter what the cost.
Darcy did arrive late that evening, after 10 o'clock, and went straight to his chamber. He had tried to exhaust himself with his work, but nothing had kept thoughts of Elizabeth at bay. As he slid into his bath, he let the warm water envelop him and soothe his pain. He stayed until the water began to turn cold, then dried off as best he could and put on his robe to sit by the fire a while. So deep was he in his thoughts that he barely heard the soft knock on his door. He stood in confusion, not knowing who it could be at this hour. When he opened the door, there, to his great surprise, stood Elizabeth, dressed as she had been the night before.
"Elizabeth!" he whispered. "Are you unwell?" She made no reply, but stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She took in the sight of him in only his robe and felt her heart pound; she took a deep breath and removed her own robe, leaving only her thin nightgown. His eyes wide, he drank in the sight of her, unable to account for the present circumstances. Was she...? No, it could not be! "What ... what are you doing?" he asked hoarsely. Again she did not speak, and instead stepped close to him and placed her hands on his chest. The feel of his muscles excited her, but she kept telling herself, This is for Richard!, and tried to ignore that voice that said, No, this is for you! She slowly moved her hands up on his shoulders and down his back, sending chills down his spine. At last he could contain himself no longer and threw his arms around her. Her work was now done; she would let him do the rest.
He began to kiss her neck and face with fervor of passion long-denied. Her treacherous body responded with a desire that matched his own, but as his caresses grew bolder, her heart began to ache with guilt. Richard... he would die if he knew of this betrayal... Despite herself, her steely resolve began to weaken, and she felt the tears begin to fall. Darcy sensed the tension enter her body, and reluctantly pulled away. The look on her face shocked him. It was obvious that she did not want this.
"Elizabeth, why are you here?" he asked, stepping away from her.
"I'm sorry Mr. Darcy ... I can't!" she sobbed, and threw herself on the floor. "I received a letter today ... Richard is wounded, and I must go to him."
"I repeat ... why are you here?" he asked, unable to feel anger but only a deep sorrow. He felt as if a dagger was being twisted into his heart.
"I ... I rejected you so terribly last night, I knew you must be furious with me. I thought that perhaps if I ... gave myself to you, you would take me to France to see him." He sat on his chair dejectedly.
"I am sorry, very sorry that you thought you had to do this to get my help. I assure you it is unnecessary. I would do anything for you, whenever you need me, without condition or price. My love for you is without condition or price," he added softly. "Where is he?"
"At a military hospital, on the Golfe de Gascogne. He is too hurt to be moved, but they fear he may not recover and have asked for my presence." He nodded.
"I shall make the arrangements at once. Go to bed, I will send for you when I have news." Her eyes shone with gratitude, love, and admiration for this man who gave so unselfishly, even when it meant giving up that which he most wanted. She stepped over to the chair and stood over him, her hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you Mr. Darcy... you know not what this means to me ... what you mean to me," she whispered tearfully. He put his arms around her waist and cried into the folds of her nightgown.
"Please forgive me Elizabeth, all the wrongs I have done you ... especially for loving you, for that is something I shall never be able to take back!" he sobbed. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head as she cried with him.
"If you will forgive me for loving you back," she replied. They held each other this way until the tears stopped, and Darcy finally forced himself to pull away.
"Thank you for comforting me Mrs. Fitzwilliam," he said, reminding himself of his duty to his cousin. "I will dress and begin planning our journey at once. Try to sleep for a few hours." She nodded, disappointed that he had returned to the more formal appellation, but knowing it was right to do so.
"Good night sir. I thank you again, a thousand times over." With one last glance over her shoulder, she disappeared into the corridor, leaving both to wonder how something as profoundly wrong as their betrayal of cousin, friend, husband, could feel so intensely natural and right when he put his arms around her?
True to his word, by the time Elizabeth was at breakfast the next morning, an express was already two hours on its way to Dover to inquire about passage to France. A few days later they had their reply: a ship bound for Medoc (to serve the illegal and very profitable trade) left in a week, and from there they could hire safe land passage to Southwest France along the coast. Darcy called Elizabeth to the library to share the news with her.
"Can you be prepared to leave by sunrise tomorrow, Eli ...Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" She took his hands and kissed them gratefully.
"You may call me Elizabeth sir," she whispered. "Yes, I can. Thank you." He closed his eyes and stepped away from her.
"Then we shall leave at that time." He paused and took a deep breath, as if gathering strength, before continuing. "Obviously I must accompany you, and we may each take one personal servant, but we shall basically be traveling alone. You have my word that you can trust me not to take advantage of you during this journey. I realize that my behavior last night ... and the night before were absolutely unpardonable, and I apologize. I promise that it will not happen again."
"Mr. Darcy, please, you are hardly the only one to blame. Do recall that I came knocking on your door in the middle of the night and offered myself to you. We both gave in to it, but we stopped. That is what matters."
"Believe me Elizabeth, I will recall the particulars of last night for a very long time," Darcy replied, his voice straining. "But I swear to you that I will not lose my self-control again. You have no reason to fear me."
"Do you really think that I am afraid of you? I know that you would never harm me, or force yourself upon me. You proved that last night. At my slightest sign of hesitation you pulled away and honorably allowed me to walk away from the situation. No, sir, the only things I fear are my feelings towards you, and my absolute inability to control them. In all my thoughts I betray my husband ... I don't understand how either one of you could love me," she confessed, the weight of her tormented mind at last forcing the tears to fall fast and hard. Darcy debated within himself for a moment, then again gave in to his heart as he took Elizabeth in his arms to comfort her.
"Elizabeth, you are a beautiful, unique, incredible woman. I don't understand how any man can keep from loving you," he whispered as he stroked her hair. "I am to blame for your confusion; I have done everything in my power to become a man you could love, and I cannot say I do not at least partially rejoice in my success. I beg you, think on me no more ... Richard needs you, he deserves you, he earned your love and your hand. I have only tried to steal it." Elizabeth laughed through her tears.
"I think we will never agree where the blame lays, sir. Let us agree to share it and be done." She stepped away and extended her hand in truce. He took it gratefully. "Well, I should go pack I suppose. Thank you again Mr. Darcy, for everything." She embraced him warmly, kissed his cheek, and left the library.
The journey to France was as uneventful as a trip during war time can be. They were fortunate enough to have good winds and fast land transport all the way, and were able to procure separate chambers in all but one inn; even Darcy had been impressed at his self-control that night. So it was with honor intact and one day ahead of schedule that Darcy and Elizabeth arrived on the outskirts of ____, where the military hospital was located. He swiftly located the man in charge and arranged to have them in to see Richard immediately. As they walked through the hospital, Elizabeth tried to shut out the grisly images of the terribly wounded soldiers, and hoped Richard was not suffering nearly as much as they.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have a visitor," said the doctor jovially. The young officer had become a favorite of his for his continued good humor despite his dire prognosis. Each day the colonel had become more drawn and pale, however, and he feared there was not much time left.
"Who might that be doctor? I've told you, I'm a married man, no pretty young French girls for me!" Fitzwilliam laughed in reply.
"No, not exactly..." The doctor nodded towards the unseen visitor and stepped out of his patient's line of vision just before she reached him. Fitzwilliam sat up, his eyes wide and quickly misting over.
"ELIZABETH! Elizabeth, my darling, is it really you?" he cried out, arms extended. Elizabeth flew into them sobbing.
"Richard, I received a letter, I had to come see you! How I've missed you!" They held each other for several moments, murmuring endearments, exchanging kisses.
"However did you get here?" Richard asked at last. Elizabeth kissed him again, then turned her head and nodded to where the doctor was standing and speaking to her travel companion. "Darcy?! He brought you here?" Elizabeth nodded. "Then I am yet again in his debt. Darce! Come here old man!" Darcy strode over and shook his cousin's extended hand. "I understand that I have you to thank for bringing Elizabeth to me. You do not know what it means to me," he said gratefully, voice choking with emotion. Darcy brushed him off.
"Fitzwilliam, I have been speaking with your doctor. I've informed him that I will arrange transport for you and we shall all return to England together. You can receive far superior medical attention in London. Hopefully we will leave on the morrow."
"Thank you Darce," Fitzwilliam replied weakly. "I appreciate your help." Darcy smiled, then returned to the doctor to make further arrangements. "Elizabeth ... I don't think I'll be returning to England with you."
"Of course you will Richard! You cannot stay in this awful place ... it is only making your health worsen. When we reach London you will have better physicians, and..." he stopped her mouth with one finger.
"My love, I am dying." His words sank her heart like lead weights. "My leg was badly wounded by a bayonet, and I was not found for two days. It became infected, and the doctor says the infection has spread to my blood. The only way I am returning to England is in a box." Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him and resumed her weeping.
"No ... no, it cannot be so hopeless! Surely there is something that can be done!" He shook his head, attempting to soothe her with soft kisses.
"It's alright darling ... I've resigned myself to it. My only regret was that I would not live to see you again. And now, here you are ... more beautiful than I remembered. I'll admit - it is harder to be resigned with such an inducement to live." He tried to be lighthearted, but nothing could remove the solemnity of this moment. Darcy returned then, easing some of the tension.
"Alright, Fitzwilliam, you shall come with us to the inn tonight. We will take along a nurse who can care for you. In the morning we board a ship that will take us directly to Portsmouth, and thence to London. With any luck we shall be there in a few days." Fitzwilliam nodded; Elizabeth looked at Darcy with a look of utter gratefulness. The arrangements were made, and within the hour the three of them and a nurse were leaving the hospital. "I have arranged a room for the two of you, with the nurse's room next door and mine beside that," Darcy explained when they arrived at the inn. "Do not hesitate to call if you need either of us. Goodnight" He bowed and turned to go, but Fitzwilliam reached for his hand to have a private word.
"Darcy ... wait. Please allow me to thank you again, for all you have done for me. I don't just mean today, but always. I wish for you the same happiness that your generosity has allowed me to have. And ... you have my blessing, when I am gone, to achieve that happiness as you must." Darcy turned away uncomfortably.
"Your blessing to be happy? Well, thank you Fitz, but why would I need your blessing for that?" he laughed weakly.
"Darcy, I'm not blind," Fitzwilliam replied softly. "I've seen how you look at her. You shall be able to take better care of her than I ever could presume to. I know you love her ... she deserves to be loved like that always. I had hoped that I would be the one to do it, but I could only have a brief time. Just... just do not let her forget me entirely." Here he broke down and could speak no more.
"Richard, I..." Darcy began, but was silenced with a wave of Fitzwilliam's hand.
"Don't. Just let me have said it, and take it to heart. Good night."
"Good night," Darcy choked out as his cousin called back the nurse to take him to his room.
"There you are Richard," Elizabeth smiled as the nurse helped him over to her. "I was wondering what had become of you!" He kissed her gently.
"I had to speak with Darcy for a moment. Thank you Miss Smith, that will be all for tonight. I will not need the sleeping draughts." The nurse curtseyed and retired to her own room. "God how I have missed you!" he cried to his wife, embracing her tightly.
"And I you, my love." After several minutes of fervent kisses, Richard pulled away and stroked her cheek.
"Will you lay with me tonight darling?" She frowned with concern.
"Are you strong enough? I would not wish to make you more ill." He nodded.
"Please. I need you." She replied with the first of many kisses.
Sometime in the night, Elizabeth heard a strained voice calling her name. She turned to see her husband's pale face, eyes wide with fear. She knew: he was dying.
"Lizzy ... I'm so thankful I was able to hold you again. You have made me the happiest man alive from the moment you accepted my proposal. Thank you for making my life so wonderful." His breathing was labored, and each word seemed to pain him.
"Richard, please, you can't give up now," she sobbed.
"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry to leave you already. Promise me that you will go on. If you do not I will come back and haunt you!" he teased. She laughed weakly. "Elizabeth, I want you to remarry," he said with all seriousness. "You are too young, and have too much to give to remain a grieving widow for the rest of your life."
"No, Richard, don't do this." He silenced her with a kiss.
"Promise me Lizzy. Remember when you promised to love, honor, and obey? This is where the obey enters. Please promise me." Elizabeth nodded, clasping his hands tightly and kissing them over and over. He smiled and relaxed. "Now that that is settled, let us go back to sleep." He closed his eyes, and soon his breathing was slow and even. Elizabeth cried herself back into a deep slumber. When she awoke, she was a widow.