Beginning, Section III

Chapter 16

The next day Dr. Crain informed us that Miss Bennet would be well enough to leave her room that afternoon. This was especially welcome news as we anticipated the arrival of Mrs. Bennet in London along with her youngest daughters and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. I recalled Miss Bingley once asking, “Are we to be visited by every Bennet in the county?” I smiled ruefully. Only Mrs. Bennet would join her family in staying at Wenshurt. The younger girls and the Phillips would stay at the Gardiners’ home in Gracechurch Street.

I arranged with Mrs. Windham that a maid would assist Miss Bennet, seeing to her needs as she joined the party. I knew Elizabeth would be by her side as well, but wanted someone to serve them both. When Miss Bennet entered the room I was shocked by the bruising on her lovely face. It again brought home to me the violence the ladies had borne. I could understand how it must contribute to Elizabeth’s guilt.

Once she was seated and all the fuss one might expect had been made to ensure her comfort, she turned to me. She smiled warmly as she said, “I am delighted to hear that we will be sister and brother, Mr. Darcy.”

I acknowledged her congratulations with a bow and thanked her. We talked pleasantly for several minutes. Bingley hovered near her restlessly.

All too soon, our other visitors arrived. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips entered the room together and a painful wailing and fretting began. Mrs. Bennet was horrified at the damage done to Miss Bennet’s features and exclaimed over it again and again. She gasped with horror that they’d ever had Mr. Wickham in their home and listened to his lies and believed him their friend. She openly expressed her thanks that the girls had not been violated and spoke of the horror it had all been for her. Her delight over the news that Elizabeth and I had become engaged was utterly vulgar.

I watched with dismay as Mr. Bennet did nothing to check her and both Elizabeth and Miss Bennet grew pale and then flushed with embarrassment again and again. When an hour had passed and the Phillips left, Mr. Bennet suggested that Mrs. Bennet see her chamber and settle herself there to recover from her trip and exertions for a time. I had a maid escort her.

As she left the room I heard Miss Bennet exhale with relief. She looked embarrassed that we’d noticed but then surprised us all by saying, “Well, I may be forgiven such a reaction, mayn’t I? I vow that Mama truly outdid herself in bringing us all mortification this time!”

Elizabeth began to laugh, tears brightening her eyes. I, too, felt undue mirth. I supposed that after so much tension we were all due a bit of laughter. I endeavored to check mine, though, uncertain that Elizabeth and Miss Bennet would welcome it. Mr. Bennet ignored everything.

Bingley dropped into a chair and exhaled loudly. He chuckled, “Can you believe that we are undone by that after all we have overcome?” His perplexed tone amused us all and we all laughed together. He kissed Miss Bennet’s hand and apologized to her and was forgiven.

That night when Elizabeth entered my chamber she came to me. I obligingly moved over and let her lay down beside me. She laughed softly and said, “For all my worries I should have remembered that you’d already determined to marry me despite knowing my mother!”

I smiled and offered no reply but a passionate kiss. I was happy to see her in such good spirits. I sat up against my pillows and held her contentedly. I whispered, “Welcome, fiancée.” She smiled at this and kissed me. I noted, “You seem in fine spirits tonight, my love.”

She leaned against me and laughed lightly, “I spoke with Jane earlier and was amused, though very surprised, to find that she blamed herself for my suffering as heartily as I blamed myself for what could have happened to her.” She looked at me sideways and said, “It seems that Jane is not as innocent as I thought. She felt that since she was already acquainted with the way men and women come together she ought to have held Wickham’s interest and somehow spared me his attentions. And when I confessed my betrayal of her she cheered me for not believing him. She says that you are quite correct that he was lying and in her usual way she credits me on some level with realizing this and asserts that is why I would not cooperate. She’ll hear nothing more of any perceived guilt on my part and actually became angry with me for taking so much on myself.”

I commented, “I cannot imagine Miss Bennet angry.”

Elizabeth laughed and hugged me, “Honestly, I’d never seen such from her before. I could not have imagined it until tonight.”

I saw Elizabeth noting my furrowed brow. She said, “I puzzled over it, too, their opportunity I mean.” I did not reply, but continued to wonder when Jane’s innocence had been lost. Reviewing events I decided that as I’d furtively spent time with Elizabeth at Oakham Mount, Bingley and Jane must have had some privacy as well. I was flabbergasted. To think that all this time as I was endeavoring to maintain Elizabeth’s honor while yet expressing my desire for her, Bingley had not considered such notions. I felt great envy for his impulsiveness, a bit of disapprobation for him and curiosity as to Elizabeth’s opinion on the matter.

Elizabeth snuggled against me and said, “I would never have guessed that dear, sweet Jane would be one to give in to passion before matrimony.” She looked pleased with herself.

I noted teasingly, “You are a bit smug, my love. Please do not forget that you are having this conversation with me while in my bed.”

She sat back and looked amused. “But I am only enjoying your comforting embrace and your kisses. While much thought has been given to more, we have agreed that it is best to wait. I am pleased that I can have such faith in you as to come here. While I find great passion in you, I also find inestimable honor.” She noted, “Do not think you are alone in resisting temptation. I am as determined as you are on this matter.” She looked thoughtful then, “Do you think ill of me that I have such inappropriately behaving relatives? I must say that I am surprised that Jane, of all people…”

I laughed and replied, “I do not think ill of you, Elizabeth. Quite the contrary, I find it tantalizing that your blood carries such passion.” My passion and sense were yet at odds.

She laughed and said, “Of course I do see their point in one thing; we know not what tomorrow will bring. I should hate to die without having the chance to show you just how much I do love you, and how much I desire you.” I kissed her again. She noted lightly, “In recent days we have known typhoid, suffered a nearly fatal carriage accident, been hunted by gypsies and I have been abducted and ill treated. You at one point were facing the barrel of a pistol held by a man who envied and hated you. That man was murdered just outside your house.” She hugged me and then noted as an aside, “Oh, my mother fears that he will haunt Wenshurt as a result. I beg you not to allow her free rein on the subject.” She kissed me again and said wryly, “I begin to wonder what will befall us next! Perhaps Jane and Charles are not so very wrong…” Amused, I kissed her silent.

This was just before the first cry of “Fire!” rang out. On hearing it we looked at one another in disbelief. We leapt up from the bed and donned our robes. Elizabeth ran to the passage entrance and carefully opened the door and ran for her chamber. My stomach tightened as she left. I could not like to be parted from her when there was danger. I strode into the hallway. There I met Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, the latter wailing pitiably. I walked past them to Elizabeth’s door and knocked loudly. She came out after a moment and moved to her parents’ side. I then knocked on Miss Bennet’s chamber door. To my dismay, Bingley came out supporting Miss Bennet. Mrs. Bennet fainted at the sight, falling against her husband who barely caught her.

I took Mrs. Bennet in my arms and carried her down the stairs, urging the others to follow me. My first thought was to lead my guests out of the house. Then I would see to the efforts to fight the fire. As we reached the smoke-filled front hall, I began to cough. I saw Bingley carry Miss Bennet down the lower flight of stairs and rush past me to the outside door. My carriage had been brought up. I saw Bingley and the others into it and gave the driver Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s address. I charged Bingley with their care. As I handed her into the carriage, Elizabeth grasped my hand and pleaded, “Please keep safe, my love!” I kissed her hand and gave my word. She looked back at me as they drove away.

I returned to the house. Fitzwilliam was directing efforts to douse flames at the southwest corner of the first level. The fire looked to have started in the kitchens and spread from there. I asked if all the staff were accounted for. They were, but for one of the cook’s assistants. I joined the party attempting to reach the area where she should have been at work. I saw a hand beneath a fallen timber and stepped forward to reach out to the woman. I heard a strange noise, like wood cracking. I looked up and saw more timbers of the ceiling falling towards me.

Chapter 17

Posted on Tuesday, 18 April 2006

When I awoke I was in my bed and morning had come. The scent of smoke hung in the air. I wondered what had happened to the chimney that it should give off such a distinct odor and decided that at first opportunity I would speak with someone about the problem. I sat up and then nearly fell back from the pain in my head. I groaned aloud. I heard Fitzwilliam saying, “Well, thank God, Darcy! I feared we’d lost you.” I gingerly lay down. He continued, “I will send a messenger to Miss Elizabeth now. I wanted to wait for you to regain consciousness before I did so.”

I grimaced from both the pain in my head and the pain in my heart and asked, “What manner of joke do you play on me, Cousin?” I sat up slowly and looked around me, confused as I realized that I was in my chamber at Wenshurst. I glared at Fitzwilliam accusingly.

He paled and said, “I do not jest. I would send word to your fiancée, Darcy, to let her know you are well.” He looked agitated of a sudden.

The anger fairly raced through me. I growled, “Fiancée? That is a poor jest! How can you mock me so? How do you know of my failed proposal? I do not recall speaking of it. What is happening?” I wondered how I’d gotten to London without knowing it. Yet there was no doubt that I was at Wenshurst and not Rosings.

Fitzwilliam’s mouth hung open. He stammered, “J-jest?”

I held my hands over my eyes. My head ached terribly. I said, “I ache. What has happened to cause this pain?”

Dr. Crain entered the room then. He said, “Mr. Darcy! I am glad to see you awake, sir. How do you feel?”

Fitzwilliam said with evident horror, “He seems not to remember…”

Dr. Crain examined me in his usual efficient manner. I asked, “How are you, Dr. Crain? It has been an age, has it not?” He stopped and stared at me oddly. As I know Dr. Crain to be a very reserved man, this gave me pause.

He asked, “When do you remember last seeing me, Mr. Darcy?”

I considered the question and replied, “I believe it was in the dead of winter when Mrs. Windham was ill, was it not?”

He nodded slowly and said, “Yes, sir. Mrs. Windham was ill then. You do not recall seeing me since?”

I shook my head, a sense of unease filling me as I noted his look to Fitzwilliam. I asked, “What have I forgotten? How was I injured?”

Fitzwilliam replied slowly, “There was a fire.”

I said, “Oh! I smell the smoke. I hope no one was hurt.”

He sat down suddenly and said, “A cook’s assistant was killed. You were injured trying to reach her.”

I nodded and said, “Ah! Did something fall on me?” He nodded and looked at me wide eyed, as though shocked. I asked with concern, “Were you also injured, Fitzwilliam? You do not look at all well.” He shook his head and continued to stare at me.

Dr. Crain had continued his examination of me as we spoke. He said, “What is the last thing you remember, Mr. Darcy?”

I closed my eyes as I struggled to recall. Finally I said, “I was walking in the grove at Rosings Park.” I rubbed my head and said, “I must be more careful of low-hanging branches…” Dr. Crain closely examined the spot I indicated. I did not like the expression of confusion and concern I saw on his face then.

Fitzwilliam asked, “Did you meet anyone there?”

I frowned as I admitted, “I did… happen upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet as she was out walking.” I sighed and shook my head to dismiss that sad recollection, noting that both men seemed to be staring at me. “And then I was walking toward the parsonage to take my leave of the party there.” I thought of the look on Elizabeth’s face as I’d handed her the letter I’d written. I wondered if she’d read it and if she at least gave my assertions concerning Wickham credit. I asked Fitzwilliam, “Did Miss Bennet ask you any questions about events at Ramsgate, Cousin?” I glanced at Dr. Crain carefully to remind Fitzwilliam that what I spoke of was secret. My cousin can be a bit indiscreet sometimes.

Fitzwilliam only shook his head. Then he turned to the doctor. “What is to be done?”

Dr. Crain said, “Please remain calm, Colonel. Mr. Darcy seems fine but for the loss of recent memory. Perhaps with time, that may return.”

Fitzwilliam paced, his great distress obvious.

I noted, “Dr. Crain, I do have significant pain in my head.” He nodded as though unsurprised and reluctantly offered laudanum, but I refused it and asked for a glass of port and endeavored to relax. Then I quizzed Fitzwilliam, “What have I forgotten, Fitzwilliam? Perhaps if you remind me it might bring back the memories. Surely it cannot be so bad as you look, old man!” I sipped the port and chuckled at the sad sight he was.

He stared at me and then turned to the doctor and asked, “What would you advise? Is it best that I tell him what he has forgotten or should he be allowed to recall it on his own?”

Dr. Crain looked at me for a moment as he considered his reply. He finally said, “Give him a day or two to find his own way, Colonel. If it seems that the damage is permanent then you may help him.”

I asked, “May I get up? Or should I restrict my activity?”

He urged, “Rest for today, please. Tomorrow you may resume light activity, if you feel no worse. I would not take any vigorous exercise for some time.” I agreed. He told me he would return in the afternoon.

Fitzwilliam could not seem to sit still. He paced back and forth in an agitated fashion, his face filled with dread. Finally he said, “I do not wish to bother you right now, Darcy. Rest. Please tell me if you recall… anything!” He excused himself, saying he would return shortly. His behavior was very odd.

After he left I took a good biscuit from the tray next to my bed. The smell of smoke still hung in the air. I wondered about the damage the fire had done and hoped Fitzwilliam would see to that until I could be of more use. As I did not feel ready to sleep again, I rang for my valet and asked that my correspondence be brought to me. I would not attempt to respond to anything, lest my decisions be affected as Fitzwilliam’s reactions caused me to fear, but I could read.

The stack of correspondence arrived. Atop it was a small package from a reputable jeweler I employ from time to time to maintain my mother’s jewels and provide appropriate pieces for Georgiana. I did not recall that I should expect something from them, so I was puzzled. I opened the box and found within a delicate silver chain with a small garnet cross. I stared at it with immediate recognition, for I’d noted it about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s sweet neck nearly every time we’d met. But I could not at all account for its being now in my possession. I set it aside and resolved that I would ask Fitzwilliam about it if the answer did not come to me. Yet as I read letters I would glance at it from time to time. It struck an emotional chord in me that I did not understand.

Reading my letters left me drowsy. I set them aside and lay down against my pillow. Even with the odor of smoke yet drifting through the house I thought it smelled lightly of lavender, feminine and intoxicating. I found the scent very soothing as I drifted to sleep.

Chapter 18

My dreams were extremely vivid. Not for the first time, I dreamt that Elizabeth lay in my bed, wanting my kisses. I dreamed that she loved me and desired me. When I awoke it was some time before I wished to leave the bed where I dreamed of such unattainable joy. It seemed to me that my dreams had been even more vivid than in the past, more realistic. I reluctantly considered mentioning that to Dr. Crain when I saw him next.

I finally sat up and rang for a tray of more substantial food. I was terribly hungry. More alert now, I looked at myself in the mirror in my room. I checked myself over for injuries and made a list of questions for the doctor.

That night my dreams were more and more intense. I awoke with a groan from a dream in which I saw Elizabeth sitting in the bath. I wondered where I had seen that tub. It seemed familiar to me, yet looked nothing like any tub I owned or in truth recalled. Again I looked at the jewel box I’d kept on the table beside my bed. I knew not why it was in my possession, yet I somehow wanted it near. I puzzled over a sense of relief that the necklace was whole and well. Knowing that I lacked memories augmented my frustration.

The next day dawned and I felt much better. My head no longer ached. I decided that I must bathe and dress for the day and leave my chamber. When I entered the breakfast room I found to my surprise that Bingley sat there with Fitzwilliam. They both stared at me somberly as I entered the room. I asked wryly, “Do I look so ill, gentlemen?”

Bingley shook his head and said, “No. You look well enough, Darcy. How do you feel?”

I smiled slightly. He seemed so anxious! I reassured him, “I feel well, Bingley. It would take more than falling timbers to damage this proud skull.” This last was an insult to myself. After a nightmare in the early hours I’d recalled Miss Elizabeth’s words to me at the Hunsford Parsonage. Interestingly, most of my nightmares about her were less vivid than my dreams, yet I felt the wounds she’d dealt me then keenly.

Bingley asked eagerly, “Then do you remember recent events?” I saw Fitzwilliam somberly shake his head with doubt as he looked at me.

I reached for the newspaper and responded, “I am not so concerned with the particulars of how I traveled from Kent to London as you and Fitzwilliam seem to be. It has ever been an unremarkable journey. So, if that memory is lost to me I shall have to learn to live without it.” I was trying to be pleasant and civil, but the principle concern I had for such a memory was in Bingley and Fitzwilliam’s behavior. I tasted the coffee and took a bite of my breakfast food.

Suddenly I stopped and looked at my companions. I asked, “Say, Bingley? When did you arrive? I thought you were yet in Scarborough with family.” Bingley groaned and put his face in his hands. Concerned, I asked, “Whatever is the matter?”

He looked again at Fitzwilliam and said in a choked tone, “I must be off, Darcy. I am expected in Gracechurch Street.”

I paused to think where I’d heard mention of that address. Finally I recalled that the Bennet family had relations there. I asked wonderingly, “What takes you there, Bingley?”

He turned red and then paled. Finally he blurted out, “My fiancée and her family take me there, Darcy, that’s what!” He turned and rushed out of the room, obviously greatly bothered.

I called after him, “Bingley! What is wrong?” But he was gone. I turned to Fitzwilliam and asked, “Fiancée?”

He nodded and said, “Miss Jane Bennet agreed to marry your friend.”

I was stupefied. “How did he happen to see her again? Surely his sisters would not countenance their meeting! I am astonished.” I wondered how Bingley had overcome my assertion that she loved him not, yet I was relieved that he’d settled his affairs without further interference from me. So, I was brought up short by my cousin’s next words.

Fitzwilliam looked at me evenly. “You told him of your deceit and errors and encouraged him to follow his heart, I believe.” He stared at me as he sipped his tea.

I sat very still. I had a brief recollection of Bingley punching me. I rubbed my jaw thoughtfully. And then it was gone. I could follow the memory no further. Slowly I said, “And it would seem he harbors resentment for me. More importantly though, I was under the impression that I only lost one day of travel. This gap in my memory… how significant is it?”

He sat and considered his reply for a long moment. He said, “In time, the gap seems to measure a little over three weeks.” I could see that he was deeply distressed.

Taken aback, I frowned and asked, “And has anything else of import occurred in that time, Cousin?” He nodded slowly. I asked, “Will you tell me what I have forgotten?”

At that moment Dr. Crain was announced. He entered and bowed to us. He said, “Good day, sir. How are you feeling?” I indicated that I felt fine. He asked, “And have any memories returned?”

I started to say that none had, but then thought of the flash I’d seen in my mind’s eye of Bingley. I said, “It is possible that I remember my friend punching me in the jaw, but I am unsure. Perhaps I only imagined that.”

Dr. Crain asked, “And do you remember any dreams or nightmares from your sleep periods?”

I felt my face turn scarlet as I admitted with reluctance, “Yes. I am unsure if it is significant, but such dreams seem somehow more vivid and realistic to me.” I could sense amusement and a slight relaxation from Fitzwilliam. I endeavored to ignore him.

Dr. Crain asked politely, “How so?” I could have sworn that Fitzwilliam stifled laughter at that moment. I uncomfortably wondered how he could guess the content of my dreams.

I only shook my head and said, “I do not know how to explain it. It is utterly impossible that such dreams reflect lost memories, however, I assure you. Impossible!” I knew I would never know Elizabeth’s kisses or love or desire. I suddenly felt a deep sense of loss as I recalled the hopes I’d had of marrying. The sting of rejection was one thing I wished I could no longer recall!

Fitzwilliam grinned slightly as he murmured, “Perhaps not so impossible!” I glared at him as I wondered how he now misunderstood me.

I asked the doctor, “Can my cousin tell me what I’ve forgotten? Wouldn’t that help me remember?”

The doctor looked at me seriously. He said, “I am unsure what is best in a case of this nature, Mr. Darcy. We know little about remedies for such injuries as of yet. I feel certain from what I know of you, though, that you would want to recall for yourself rather than hearing of things second hand. My fear is that if someone tells you rather than allowing your memory to heal in its own way, you may never fully remember and know what has left your thoughts now.”

Fitzwilliam no longer smiled. He said, “How long would you advise we wait?”

Dr. Crain said, “Find out if he was punched by a friend. I find myself in the odd position of hoping that is so. If it is, then it is an encouraging sign.”

Fitzwilliam turned to me and asked, “Bingley?” I nodded, feeling at an unpleasant disadvantage.

Dr. Crain turned to me, “Mr. Darcy I advise you to write down any recollections that come to you. We can discuss them each day when I attend you. Also, if you can remember your dreams it would be helpful if you could share them with me, too. There may be subconscious recollection occurring in your sleep.” Again the blush was rising in my face.

I felt and looked rueful as I replied, “If only that were the case!” Fitzwilliam fairly choked with laughter. I glared at him, embarrassed and annoyed with his unseemly mirth. He smiled kindly and wished me a good day and sweet dreams. I fought the urge to punch him!

Later that afternoon I felt restless and bored. I went to my club for a bit and joined in a few hands of cards and played billiards with an old school fellow. The stress-free structure of these activities was soothing to my mind. I found it interesting that my old memories were intact, while new ones were gone. I was very puzzled when a passing friend referred to me as “Gypsy King,” for instance. My emotional reaction was extremely negative, though I endeavored to keep my feelings to myself. I’d never given the gypsy problem much thought before but I apparently held them in contempt I’d not realized. I then began to fear I had lost memories from further back than the past three weeks. My mood was growing darker and I returned home.

In the night I awoke and wrote down the dreams I recalled, including the one where I proposed to her and was accepted. I did not use Elizabeth’s name in my description, only calling her a lady of my acquaintance. Yet I found myself longing for her and saying her name out loud in the deafening silence of my lonely room. It was as though she ought to be there, or at least nearby. Why did I feel that she ought to be with me when I knew myself to be the ‘last man in the world’ she could love?

I awoke the next morning deeply puzzled by a nightmare I’d had in which Elizabeth had been proposed to by my aunt’s clergyman. I did not write that one down. It was utterly ridiculous and surely unrelated to my current ills. I simply did not wish to explain the uncomfortable and embarrassing feelings it generated. There is only so much a man should have to bear! With Dr. Crain’s dispassionate reactions to all and Fitzwilliam’s tittering I was at my limit.

I decided the next night that I would take in a play. Fitzwilliam arranged a box for us for a performance of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ I saw that Miss Wright sat just below us and to the left, guest there of a wealthy friend. Fitzwilliam would be melancholy from seeing her, I thought. I also noted at least once that her eyes turned to him with longing.

I found quickly that I was not in the mood for a comedy, especially about the difficulties of love. I felt like an ass already when Fitzwilliam said to me, “Say! Isn’t that Bingley?” I looked over to a lower box and indeed saw Bingley there. I trained my glasses on him and saw that he sat by his Miss Bennet, leaning close to whisper to her. She was as lovely as ever, though the dim light did not flatter her complexion. It almost looked as though she was bruised on one side of her face. Seemingly all her family was present. Miss Lydia leaned over the edge of the box giggling inappropriately and openly admiring one of the actors, her sister Kitty following her every motion. Miss Mary sat behind those two, lips pursed in disapproval. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet sat with the Gardiners and Phillips behind Bingley and their daughters. Next to Miss Bennet was Elizabeth. I could not help but stare at her. I wondered what she thought of the performance. I was sure she would have interesting observations to make about the actors and the story and the comedy inherent in the lovelorn. I longed so to hear them! I then thought of the necklace in my rooms. Her neck was unadorned. I felt warm as I thought of how much I longed to trail kisses over that tender skin. I could imagine the taste of her. I swallowed hard as my thoughts raced. I could almost hear her gasping with pleasure at my nearness, feel her tremble against me. I shook my head. These hopeless fantasies must stop! I really was an ass!

And yet I was lost in admiration of her. I admired her sweet lips. In my mind I heard her call me ‘Will.’ Where in the world did that come from? No one has ever called me that. Yet I could hear her voice murmuring that name tenderly. Her voice urged me to keep safe and claimed me as her love. I began to fear for my sanity. I turned my glass to the stage once more, but my hands shook so that I could not see through the glass anymore. From the corner of my eye I saw that Fitzwilliam watched me carefully. I finally looked at him questioningly.

He asked, “All right there?” I nodded. He said, “You look a bit flushed.” I rolled my eyes a bit, annoyed with him for no good reason. I turned my eyes to the stage again.

But very soon I turned again to look at Elizabeth. She did not smile, even when much of the audience laughed uproariously. She seemed a bit pale and very sad. Her hands worked the handkerchief in her lap into a tight twist. I puzzled over her apparent anguish and the feelings the sight of her provoked. My mind only knew that she’d refused me, but my heart pounded with joy at the sight of her. It made no sense.

I also considered the others. Once they’d been naught to me but a source of derision. Now I regarded Mrs. Bennet with exasperated tenderness. She loved her children and feared for their futures. And her husband was one of the weakest men I’d ever known. Yet I was moved to pity for him, not disgust. I passed my eyes quickly over the Phillips, whom I did not know well. When I looked at the Gardiners I felt strange. How did I know their name? I felt that I knew and liked these people well. I remembered Mr. Gardiner walking the passages of Wenshurst. Yet I could not remember having ever met them. A sense of panic rose within me.

I looked again at Elizabeth. I could almost feel her hand caressing my cheek and the warmth of her body pressed against my own. I was ill. My head ached. And then the most incredible thing happened. It was as though she felt my eyes on her. Elizabeth looked directly at me. I could see tears in her eyes and I longed to kiss them away and serve as her shield. There were words for what I felt, but I could not find them. She wiped the tears away. For a moment she looked down and then she looked back at me. I saw her lips form one word, “Remember!” And then she stood and fled the box crying.

I left my seat and headed to the lobby of the theater. I heard Elizabeth sobbing and heard a woman’s voice murmuring kindly. I saw them in the hallway below. The woman was Elizabeth’s Aunt Gardiner. I felt an inexplicable sense of relief that she was so well attended. And then I heard Elizabeth’s voice saying, “I cannot bear it, Aunt! I cannot!” And they left my sight and hearing. I slowly returned to my box. Fitzwilliam looked at me, a faint air of disappointment apparent at the sight of me returning alone.

He and I were both melancholy as we returned home after the play, not at all the usual affect of a comedy.

Chapter 19

Posted on Friday, 28 April 2006

Through the night I awoke several times. My dreams continued to be vivid and for the most part intensely pleasant, though some recollections of childhood clashes with Wickham had a particularly nightmarish quality. As I lay awake savoring the imaginings of my mind and dreams I began to consider the possibility that I was not insane, but remembering time spent with Elizabeth. When I first woke up after the fire, Fitzwilliam called her my fiancée. When she’d seen me looking at her during the play she’d urged me to ‘remember.’ Yet I clearly remembered her words to me inside the Hunsford Parsonage and they were at odds with the thought of being accepted by her.

I clutched the pillow tightly, thinking of the slight scent of lavender it had carried but a few days before. That thought was the one that gave me the most hope, for if she had ever lain with me then that would have been her scent on my pillow. I thrashed about as my opinions veered from hour to hour, unsure whether to hope she loved me or accept my fevered thoughts and dreams as madness.

The next morning I decided I would demand that Dr. Crain and Fitzwilliam enlighten me as to what I could not remember. My dreams stayed with me so vividly I could hardly believe they did not reflect reality. Again I saw Elizabeth bathing. Again I held her close and kissed her. Again I proposed and was accepted. Again I heard her refer to me as ‘Will’ and say that she loved me.

As I waited for them, hope left me and my mood again turned dark. I decided that I was going insane. I had lost my memory and in its place was madness, brought on by the loss of the one woman I could ever truly love. I felt dizzy and my head ached painfully. I feared for what would become of me and I feared for Georgiana and for Pemberley. I was very ill.

Therefore, I was startled and not at all pleased when Lady Catherine was announced. She, oddly enough, wore black from head to toe, as though in mourning. It lent her an air even more severe than usual. I looked past her expecting to see Anne. Regardless of how ill my cousin was ever rumored to be, Lady Catherine was known for keeping her with her. My wait was in vain.

Lady Catherine stood before me fairly radiating rage. She was silent for a moment and then exploded. “How dare you show such disrespect for my daughter? How could you so soon propose to a country nobody to take her place? Wretched, wretched heartless boy! I am ashamed of you!”

I bowed to her, the ache in my head an agony. I blinked quickly and said, “I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Madam.”

She turned an alarming shade of red and then went pale with anger. As a boy I’d been terribly frightened of her, afraid that she might ever look as she did in this moment. I winced as she shrieked, “Do not dissemble! Do not lie to me! I know what you have done. You have proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

I was shocked to think that she’d heard of my failed proposal. I could not imagine Elizabeth being indiscreet. Perhaps she spoke of her distress to Mrs. Collins? A small voice in my mind said she could not have as Mrs. Collins was quarantined at Rosings. I closed my eyes as I clung to that thread of memory and tried to follow where it led. And the tantalizing ideas I’d considered in the night came to mind forcefully.

Lady Catherine continued, “Look at me! Do you expect me to stand by while you disgrace yourself and your family with such a union? Do you expect me to bear such disrespect to me and to your cousin?!” Her voice had reached an alarming pitch now. I could not account for her rage. I would have expected indignation and disapproval from her, but not this ferocity.

I replied softly, “I mean no disrespect to you or my cousin. I ought to have told you before that I have no intention of marrying Anne. It is not meant to be.”

Lady Catherine began to gasp. She choked out, “You… have… no… intention…” And then she shrieked beyond all previous noise, “May the devil take you, Fitzwilliam Darcy!” She whirled upon me, beating at me about the chest and face with her cane while crying pitifully. I dodged most of the blows, but one connected hard with my temple. There was sudden pain and the world swayed around me. I collapsed. I heard the sound of her keening as the world went black.

When I came to, Lady Catherine sat across the room facing away from me and silent but for occasional gasps and sobs. I sat up and moaned with pain. She whirled to look at me with relief and said hoarsely, “I thought I’d killed you, Nephew.” She looked at me with a tear-streaked face and said, “While I cannot excuse your teasing about Anne, I do not want for the devil to take you.” She covered her eyes with her hands and wept.

There was a lump in my throat as I saw her pain. I said, “Lady Catherine, I have no memory of anything that occurred in the past three weeks or so. It is all a blank to me.”

She nodded and sadly said, “That is how I feel, as though the time has disappeared into nothingness.” She sniffed and wiped at her tears.

I was puzzled and frustrated now. I said, “I speak literally. I was in an accident and have no memory of recent events.”

She asked starkly, “Then you do not remember Anne’s death?”

I gasped with shock, “What?! Anne is dead? How?”

She said slowly, “Then you did not mean to mock her memory when you said you will not marry her?”

I shook my head. The pain was blinding. I crawled to the edge of a sofa and sat upon it. I said, “I am sorry, Aunt Catherine. I did not know. I did not know.” I sighed, “Poor Anne! What happened?”

Lady Catherine stared at me for a moment. In a miserable tone she said, “She was tending the tenants without my knowledge. She was very good to them. And she contracted the typhoid.” She looked away and said, “I have prayed to God for the strength to bear it, to forgive Him for taking her.” She cleared her throat and said, “And I had hoped you mourned her as I do. Yet when I heard of your engagement, I realized that I am even more alone than I’d known.”

I offered, “I am so sorry for your pain. But I know of no engagement. Perhaps you heard an idle report of some kind?”

She shook her head and said in a tone of defeat, “Mrs. Collins had a letter from Miss Bennet. Her husband had a letter from the girl’s father. It was no idle report.”

As I looked at Lady Catherine the world seemed to spin and tilt all about me. I remembered walking in the grove at Rosings and being so distracted that I had bumped my head on a low-hanging tree branch. I closed my eyes and held my head with my hands. Images raced through my mind as in a flood of remembrance.

I murmured, “Typhoid. I must get her home since she cannot stay with Mr. Collins.”

Lady Catherine said primly, “There could have been talk since she’d refused him.”

Again I murmured, “Rain. Mud. Slipping. Cold water. Screams.”

Lady Catherine whispered, “The carriage accident.” She stood and came closer to me. “Are you well?”

I shook my head and began to weep, both from the pain in my head and the pain in my heart. I bowed my head and held it between my hands. She stood some distance away for a long moment. Then she moved to sit by me and put her hand on my arm comfortingly. I felt myself shaking. I said, “Gypsies. Not safe. Must protect her! At your service... Oh, Elizabeth!”

Lady Catherine confirmed, “There were gypsies in the wood in your path. By all accounts you acquitted yourself admirably, Nephew. You evaded them and reached a village.”

I said, “Newlin Inn.” In my mind’s eye I saw the inn and the smiles of the people as we laughed together at dinner. I saw Elizabeth bathing. I felt Elizabeth’s kisses and remembered our intimacy. My tears fell harder. I said, “I had never known what it was to love until that day, until I knew that her safety and happiness came first, before my own concerns. I had only been infatuated before that. And she loved me, too! It was a miracle. She saw past my wealth and my pride and my poor demeanor and loved my heart.”

Lady Catherine looked taken aback as she said carefully, “I know you went to Hertfordshire for a bit after that. I was concerned.” She now clasped my hand. I heard her swallow hard and could see that she was trying to reconcile herself to my preference for Elizabeth. I appreciated her effort more than I could say.

I thought of the expression on Elizabeth’s face the previous evening as she’d seen me looking at her and not knowing her. I groaned aloud. Lady Catherine stiffened, but then moved her arm up about my shoulders and embraced me. She was very awkward about it at first, but then seemed to relax as though she needed someone to comfort.

I whispered, “I love her. How she must hate me for forgetting!”

Lady Catherine was silent, but began to rock me, humming an old lullaby. I had not felt such a purely maternal comfort in many years. I relaxed against her. She finally said, “But now you do remember and all will be well.” She patted my back soothingly. It was strange yet right. I was in need and my aunt was yet lost in her own grief.

I sat back and kissed her hand with friendly respect. “I am sorry you are not happy with my choice.”

I looked at her tear-streaked face. She chided me and spoke in a matter of fact tone, “Well, I am not happy about much of anything these days. But I do not have so many worthy people in my life that I can spare you. So, I shall have to become reconciled to the match, I see.” She looked down and whispered, “I truly thought I had killed you.” Her expression was one of agony.

I grinned and said lightly, “No. But you did knock some sense into me.”

She pursed her lips and said, “Impertinence! Remember that you owe me a great deal. Who else do you know who would have beaten your ailing head in such a way?”

I chuckled and said, “Only you, Madam. You have been of infinite use.” I kissed her cheek.

She sniffed imperiously and said, “That is correct. I will expect to see you both at my house here in town this very week. I must be allowed my share in your nuptial planning. If you must marry her it should be done well enough to reflect the dignity of the houses of Darcy and Fitzwilliam.” I laughed at this. She tried to continued looking stern, but mirth overtook her finally. We laughed together quietly and I wiped tears from her cheek with my handkerchief. It was the closest I’d ever felt to my aunt.

Chapter 20

The doors to the room opened and Fitzwilliam stood in the hallway, gaping at the scene before him. His expression caused me to laugh. Lady Catherine choked out, “Fitzwilliam, do not stand there gaping so rudely! You’ll want to do a better job of attending me, Nephew. I have no heir and you are in need of an estate to inherit.” He stared at her, shocked. She continued, “Darcy has no need of my money, and is about to take on new responsibilities anyway. You, however, can help me to manage Rosings now and as you prove your worth, be named my heir.”

He managed to bow and reply, “Thank you for your confidence in me, Lady Catherine. I am honored.” I could see that he was much affected at this turn in his fortunes. I wondered how quickly he would renew his suit to Miss Wright. I thought it would be very soon.

The laughter left Lady Catherine’s face and I was sorry for it. Dr. Crain entered the room behind my cousin. He gasped and said, “Mr. Darcy! Your head is bleeding!” He stepped towards me to look more closely at it.

Lady Catherine stood, nodded to me, and said, “Fitzwilliam, I will allow you to escort me to my carriage now.” He did so and returned moments later, yet stunned.

As he entered the room again he asked, “What did happen to your head?”

I replied wryly, “Lady Catherine and I had a disagreement.”

His expression registered shock as he asked, “And she became violent with you? Is she mad?”

I shook my head and said, “No. She is only grieved. Well, perhaps she is a bit mad, but no more so than she’s ever been.” He looked at me questioningly. I added, “However, I am pleased to report that her unorthodox method did help heal me.”

He was very still. “What do you remember?”

I replied, “I remember Elizabeth’s sweet laugh and that she calls me ‘Will’ because the name Fitzwilliam causes her to think of you, and we can not have you between us. I remember everything. I remember why I have Elizabeth’s necklace and what its repair signifies to me, that even my hatred of Wickham pales by comparison to the affection I bear her. I remember the way Mr. Collins mangled the Twenty-third Psalm at Anne’s graveside.” He looked at me expectantly and I supplied, “I know not how being made ‘to lie down in the still waters’ is supposed to be of help, but that is what he spoke.” He nodded and chuckled ruefully. I continued, “I remember Wickham’s deserved death and being glad my father did not live to know of it. I remember your assistance in that awful matter. I recall your just concern that I ought to propose to Elizabeth again quickly.” I glared at him and said, “I realize why my confusion over my recent dreams has so amused you…” I glanced up at Dr. Crain and noted that his expression was carefully inscrutable, as ever.

Fitzwilliam’s smile grew. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, “This is wonderful, Cousin! I am very happy for you.”

My own smile faded as the doctor cleansed the wound Lady Catherine had given. With great feeling I said, “You said that I’d lost three weeks of my life, but not that they were the most important.”

He replied, “I was careful then to say that I spoke only of time, if you recall.”

I grimaced. “I recall!” I asked, “How can she forgive me?”

He chuckled, “Try some of the usual tricks for a change, Darcy. Flowers? Perfumes? Candies? Jewels? Pretty gifts? Oh, and groveling. She’s taught you that, I dare say.” He now paced the room with joyful energy, both for me and for himself I realized.

I looked at him askance and said, “Happily it did not come to that when I proposed this time.”

He only smiled at me. He said, “Really all you lack is time. Elizabeth will be here in an hour, escorted by her aunt. Dr. Crain and I planned last night’s ‘chance meeting’ at the theater. We hoped that the stimulus of the sight of her, along with all those you’ve seen so much of recently, would help you to recall things for yourself.” He paused, “As it did not seem so successful as we’d hoped, he asked that Miss Elizabeth come here today to help explain recent occurrences to you.” He looked very sober. “She comes here convinced that you’ve lost the essence of recent days, perhaps irretrievably.”

I said, “It did help me when I saw Elizabeth and her family. I measured my emotions and responses to them against what I knew and saw the gaps. It was just that I could not believe the good fortune of what I remembered. I had believed her lost to me forever on that day in Kent.”

He noted dryly, “Forever is of short duration in this case.”

I nodded and assured Fitzwilliam that I would find a way to explain all to Elizabeth. I urged him to go and see Lady Catherine to discuss her offer. While I’d never want him to bow and scrape to her, it could not hurt for him to let her know what it meant to him and pay her due respect. I could feel his anticipation as he agreed with me. He would now be free to live as he’d always wished.

Dr. Crain offered his good wishes, assurances of his discretion, congratulations and then departed. I went to my chamber. I took the jewel case with Elizabeth’s necklace and put it in my pocket. I also went to my safe and looked at the jewelry therein. I found my mother’s ring; a delicate piece with an exquisite diamond surrounded by diamonds and garnets, and put it in my pocket as well. I arranged that refreshments would be set up in the Conservatory and went in search of some peace there while I waited and considered my words.

I discovered that the house staff already knew of my recovery when one of the maids arranged several pots of pansies and irises around the area where I awaited Elizabeth. She explained, “Iris brings messages of love and pansies are for remembrance, Mr. Darcy. This kind has seven veins, which stands for constancy in love.” She smiled in a friendly way and said, “I’m so happy you’re feeling better, sir!”

I smiled appreciatively and thanked her. I recalled that ironically enough it was the juice of the pansy that caused so much trouble in the play I’d attended only the previous evening. “…the juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid will make a man or woman madly dote upon the next live creature that it sees.” I needed no such inducement!

I turned as I heard people moving towards the door. I stood very still as Elizabeth was admitted. She was so lovely and grief-stricken that I could hardly breathe. The realization that she loved me and was to be my wife nearly overwhelmed. She stopped just inside the door. I stepped forward and said earnestly, “Elizabeth, I am so glad to see you, my love.”

Pain flashed across her face and she said, “I know you are the best of men and endeavoring to make this easier for me, Mr. Darcy, but I beg you to only speak the truth.”

I had puzzled over how I might convince her best. I walked to her and took her hands in my own. I knelt and looked up into her lovely eyes and said, “I do not endeavor to spare your feelings, only to convince you that my memories have returned. I know what it is to love you. I am at your service, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. I am at your service.”

I felt her begin to shake as I repeated the words that had come to mean so much to both of us. Tears ran down her face and she whispered, “How? I thought…”

I smiled ruefully and stood and led her to the table. I said, “Lady Catherine was angered when she thought I spoke mockingly of Anne’s passing. She flew at me in a rage and hit me on the head with her cane. The memories had been trying to return a bit at a time over the past days, but with her help I understood the truth. And I remembered that while walking in the grove at Rosings I also hit my head against a tree branch. Perhaps at that moment I injured it slightly, though it was not aggravated to a costly point until the more severe blow I took during the fire? Before talking with my aunt I thought my memories of your love to be a sign of mad longing, not fragments of the most significant time of my life.” I sat down by her and asked, “Can you forgive me?”

She nodded weakly and murmured that I was already forgiven. I served her a glass of wine which she sipped quickly. I had some as well. I offered her some food and she accepted, admitting that she’d not been eating well as consequence of anxiety.

I asked, “Has anything happened that I do not know of… since the fire?”

She reached out and took my hand as though to convince her self we were truly together again. She laughed nervously and said, “Well, Jane and Mr. Bingley have set a wedding date.”

I asked, “When will they marry?”

She blushed as she said, “They will marry two weeks from today.”

I observed approvingly, “Ah. Then your parents expressed their dismay about his presence in her chamber at Wenshurst on the night of the fire…”

She nodded and jested, “I told you that their way had its advantages!”

I smiled warmly at her and kissed her. Then I pulled the ring from my pocket and slipped it on her finger. She looked at it silently. I asked, “How soon may we marry, Elizabeth?”

She said, “I believe that we can hasten the schedule a bit in the interest of impressing people with procurement of a special license, but Mama insists that she will have at least one daughter properly wed and celebrated. I have never seen her so put out with Jane! I believe that two months is the earliest we could expect.”

I nodded grimly and said, “Then I will procure the license and set events in motion.”

She looked wary as she fretted, “But what else will happen to us before that time?”

I stood and led her to a chaise that was situated more privately. I sat and drew her into my arms. I tenderly returned her necklace to its proper place and rained kisses reverently over that soft skin. We hugged each other close for a very long time. I held her and kissed her again and again. She lay against me and cried. I reassured her as best I could, saying, “I love you. I will protect you. I will be safe. And I believe that though many things have befallen us God has brought us through it all to have a happy life together.”

Epilogue

We’d indeed had enough of dark adventure to last us a lifetime. Happily all my increases in security measures and staff were either unnecessary or perfectly effective from then on. I imagine that I drove those closest to me to distraction many times with my obsession for keeping those I love safe from harm. Yet I had learned the hard way that the worst can happen.

Two months passed with agonizing slowness, but the day finally dawned that Elizabeth and I met before the altar of Longbourn Church and became man and wife. We spent our first night together as man and wife in our chambers at Wenshurst House in London. Much as the day had done, the night went perfectly. I feared that our passion might somehow wane, but it did not. The explosive newness of our union deepened into a more assured part of each of us over time, but we were to have the magic of an abiding and wondrous love for always.

The spring after we married we returned to Newlin Inn. I had seen to it months earlier that the military unit closest removed the gypsy threat. Mr. Newlin was gracious in his thanks. Mrs. Chandler had a new babe for us to admire. We stayed in the suite of rooms we’d had before, but together alone in the large room. I am fairly certain that it was there that our first son, Richard Charles Darcy, was made. We returned to Newlin Inn each spring thereafter on our way to visit Rosings Park.

Lady Catherine relied more and more on Fitzwilliam to help her manage Rosings and named him her heir. She never became a gracious person, but loss and grief changed her. She long held a grudging respect for Elizabeth before she finally fully accepted her as my wife, but she ended counting on Elizabeth nearly as much as me or Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam retired honorably from the army and was finally able to marry as he wished. His improved situation recommended him as a proper suitor to Miss Wright’s father and they wed soon after Elizabeth and I did.

When Lady Catherine was buried next to her daughter and Sir Lewis a few years later, Mr. Collins again mangled the words of the Twenty-third Psalm during the burial service. Richard and Victoria Fitzwilliam took possession of Rosings. Fitzwilliam appointed an able assistant for Mr. Collins in hopes of offering the members of the parish some coherent sermons and attention. Mr. Collins was as tireless in his devotion to the Fitzwilliams as he had been to Lady Catherine, though he puzzled often over how to behave as they did not encourage such fawning as that of which he was capable. However, that was one light that was well hid beneath a bushel.

The Bingleys only remained in Hertfordshire a short time. Such close proximity to her family was not pleasing even to people of such good temper, especially as Mrs. Bennet remained indignant that so short an engagement had been necessary and admonished Mrs. Bingley often regarding that fact. Indeed, their first daughter arrived almost exactly nine months to the day after Bingley’s proposal was accepted.

Such scandal cast further shade on Miss Bingley’s prospects and made her more shrewish than ever. Her brother increased her allowance that she might live in comfort in London with the Hursts. Charles and Jane took a house only thirty miles from Pemberley, to the great joy of both sisters and Charles and me. Our many children played together as the best of friends as they grew to adulthood.

I remained for all my days happily at Elizabeth’s service.

The End