Beginning, Previous Section, Section X, Next Section
As Elizabeth slowly made her way home, she could not help but glance furtively over her shoulder. She had never entirely recovered her fear that he might follow her to Padua. She had briefly caught sight of Mr. Smith retreating this morning, and was relieved his height and weight confirmed he could not possibly be Fitzwilliam Darcy. Each time she had been introduced to, or heard of, an Englishman in Padua her fear of discovery would return. It had been a risk to only change the timing of their trip and not their destination, and she often worried if she had made the right decision.
Mrs. Barnes, her housekeeper in London, had given her much needed relief when she described Mr. Bingley’s lack of wonder as to where they lived or any of their business. Indeed, the housekeeper assured her Mr. Bingley’s meeting them appeared entirely accidental, and he had not pressed them for any personal information. Both she and William corroborated the story of his apparently leaving town on business, and therefore could not spend even a short amount of time with them.
This seeming detachment on Darcy’s part, and the truth he had never approached her in all the time they had lived in London, convinced her that her plans to go to Padua were either unknown to him, or held no interest. However, despite having lived peacefully in the town for over seven months, she could not feel completely liberated from all her worries over him.
She had concocted the altered history of her now living husband soon after leaving England, when the men she had encountered had shown her too much interest. She had convinced William to allow her to say his father was still living. He understood his mother did not like the attentions of the gentlemen who looked upon her quite intently and agreed that saying she was still married would stop their pursuits.
Convincing William who Mr. Bingley was had been a bit more difficult. In the end, she told him
Mr. Bingley was his father’s twin brother, and therefore his uncle, hence the striking resemblance. The brothers had quarrelled many years earlier, which was why the Bingleys had never visited them, or acknowledged their relationship to him. William was happy he had relations, especially such a handsome aunt as Lady Angel, but being the clever fellow he was, demanded to know why they were Bingleys if his father was a Cartwright.
“Mrs. Thurgood adopted your father as her heir. Our home in Brampton, and our fortune come from her family‘s side, and they were Cartwrights. Changing your father’s name to theirs was one of the requirements for him to have the inheritance,” she offered simply.
He had thought on it a while, eventually decided her answers made sense, and bothered her no further on the subject.
She arrived at her house where William greeted her at the door, thrilled to see she had visited his favourite shop. He began to babble excitedly at her, inquiring after the pastry chef, who had she seen at the flower shop, when she managed to stop him.
“William! You must slow down, I cannot hope to follow your conversation, much less answer your questions when you talk so quickly, and more importantly, when you are speaking Italian!” she cried, exasperated.
It had been this way within a few short months after they had arrived. William, immersed in the language, picked it up so thoroughly his first thoughts now came to him in Italian instead of English. It was an excellent aide for his studies, as none of his teachers, save one, spoke English, but his mother had yet to catch up to him.
“Scusi, Mamma. How was your morning?”
She laughed and ruffled his hair. “Come, impertinent boy. You may have one of these before your first lesson if you are quick about it.” She was heading to her room when she heard the squeals of her son and their cook from the kitchen.
“Golosessi!” they cried.
On Saturday, Darcy and Higgins headed out of the city in a hired coach. The day was crisp without being too cold, and both men were grateful for the chance to breathe the sweet air of the countryside. They headed south on the main road until Darcy turned westward.
“Abano?” Higgins inquired.
“Yes, and the Euganean Hills. I think you will like it.”
“If it gets us out of the city, I will.” Darcy smiled.
Their horses soon pulled up to the surprise; a small villa Darcy had acquired. Higgins grinned at the sight of the simple, yet handsome stone building. It was not large, nor ornate, instead showing excellent repair, and a communion with the nature around it that appealed immediately.
The Po Valley lay beneath them, a charming, pastoral sight to behold from the windows, and rising behind the home was a vast forest of oak and chestnut, heading up into the hills. Nearby was Abano, a popular town for tourists who came for the spas and beautiful natural environment which abounded in the area.
“Only one thing missing to make this perfect.” Higgins slyly challenged as he stood on the front steps. In the next instant, a boy came round the front of the villa, two fine horses trailing after him, both saddled and ready for a ride.
“Ah, Son. Now you are going to make me cry,” Higgins said with feigned emotion.
“I suspect I may too, after seeing how you ride,” Darcy challenged.
“Oh, ho! If it is a proper fancy gentleman’s seat you would have me show you, you are wasting your breath. But if you want a real man’s race, I think I can teach you a thing or two, my lad.”
“A pity I know the area better than you, Papa.”
“An advantage you will only have once, figlio mio.”
They took off at a gallop not long after meeting their mounts.
When they later returned, they decided to spend the night in Darcy’s new home. They sent the stable boy into Abano for some fresh breads, meats and cheese for their supper as Darcy had not hired any other staff for the place. He felt no hurry to do so. He liked the privacy this arrangement afforded them, and with Higgins’ help they were able to keep the house sufficiently tidy, and the dishes clean and somewhat unbroken.
He turned to watch Higgins swirling his deep red Grappa in a glass in front of the fireplace of the simple drawing room. The fellow was a bit of a puzzle to Darcy, but he had to admit he counted the man as one of his good friends.
When he had gone to him after learning of Elizabeth and William’s departure to the continent, he was unsure of his welcome. Scarce moments had reassured him of Tom’s pleasure in seeing him again, and not ten minutes later had he been overwhelmingly relieved when the man agreed to leave the position he had held most of his life to accompany Darcy to Padua, posing as his father.
It was Georgiana who had come up with the idea of Darcy not travelling alone, and Higgins was the first man who had come to mind. He had never expected him to consent so easily. Most surprising of all had been Higgins’ one stipulation before agreeing to the scheme.
“I will not go as your servant, Mr. Darcy. You may pay my way and feed me; Lord knows I could never afford to do so myself, but I will not take wages from you. I go as your friend, or companion or I won’t go at all.”
Thus, their friendship had begun. At first, they spoke to one another in hesitant ways, testing out the comfort of easy banter between them. Darcy soon learned Higgins had a mind as sharp as a tack, though sadly uneducated. The things he did know, however, proved to work in concert perfectly with Darcy’s strengths. Tom had been right; the two of them combined were no match for Elizabeth. They had taught each other a level of stealth his majesty’s government would have been lucky to draw upon.
They had re-negotiated Elizabeth’s lease, cutting her cost in half, with ‘Signor Smith’ absorbing the other half in secret. William’s masters had all received a stipend through an unidentified benefactor, interested in educating Signora Cartwright’s brilliante little boy, and all had charged her a mere pittance for their services.
Little William had not yet received permission to attend the university. However, each of his masters held titles at the prestigious school, and had no qualms about tutoring the young boy in their leisure time. In truth, his studies were not quite to university standards. However, his professors in math and science admitted William’s studies would reach those levels within a year or two. His father, determined to be as educated as possible on his son’s favourite subjects, now studied with them.
After nearly seven months residence in the region, both men felt they could now take the time to relax and enjoy the riches the Northern Provinces had to offer. The secluded location of the house allowed Darcy the rare opportunity of freedom from the disguise he always felt compelled to wear while in Padua, while its easy distance to their city apartments ensured they would be able to visit the retreat often.
Over the next weeks, Darcy taught Higgins how to ride like a proper gentleman and Higgins began to teach Darcy everything he knew about horses. Darcy was surprised at how much more he could learn about one of his favourite subjects. He should have known Higgins’ declaration of liking horses had been the basis of his insatiable desire to learn all he could. The Caldharts had been very foolish not to use the man’s extraordinary talents in the past. If the chance presented itself, he would see these skills not go to waste in future.
They chose to hire only the stable boy and a woman to come and clean the villa while they were away in Padua, and therefore had very secluded, restful visits when they were in residence.
It was the middle of February, with the icy rains of winter beating against the windowpanes of their modest apartments when someone rang the bell. Few visitors ever came to see Signor Smith and his son, and, as none were expected, and the cook rarely heard the bell, Signor Smith himself answered the door. Darcy could hear the man in the small entryway.
“Well, what a sight are you two! Welcome, welcome! Do let me take your things and bring you to the warm fire.”
He rose from his comfortable chair and waited impatiently for his guests to come in to their small parlour. When they rounded the corner, nothing could have prepared him for the burst of joy in his heart as he saw them.
“Georgie, Patrick!” he cried, as his sister rushed into his waiting arms.
The unexpected arrival of his sister and brother-in-law brought Darcy more happiness than he would have guessed possible. He had not realised how much he had missed them. Unfortunately, he did not communicate his initial delight in seeing them as eloquently as he might have preferred, nor as good breeding would have dictated. In fact, his first words to them might have been something about their utter foolhardiness in crossing the Channel and Continent in the dead of winter; followed by questioning whether they had lost all reasonable sense they were born with. Luckily, such spirited assertions could only be construed as the verbalisation of the highest form of regard the orator had for his victims, and was not considered insulting in any way by the lady or gentleman.
When he had calmed enough to thank them for coming the long way to see him, Darcy had a difficult time not holding his dear sister’s hand continuously, as if she would disappear if he did not anchor her to the sofa next to him. They exchanged all the news, both real and gossip, about their families and friends. Georgiana took every opportunity to tease him about his beard and moustache.
Darcy was thrilled to learn they had seen the new Miss Emily Bingley and she was very much the beauty her relatives had speculated a Bingley baby would be. Anne De Bourgh was firmly ensconced with her Aunt and Uncle Matlock and no amount of pleading, threats or cajoling on the part of her mother would convince her to return to Rosings Park. They had seen her often, and the McNally’s conjectured their Cousin Richard’s frequent attendance to Anne might have done much to lift her spirits.
That afternoon, Darcy suggested he and Patrick should secure rooms at a hotel in town, and they ventured out into the downpour. As soon as they had departed, Higgins turned to Mrs. McNally, just as she was beginning to ask him about her brother. They smiled in understanding of their shared concern over him.
“How is he, Mr. Higgins?”
“As well as a man who has nothing he wants can be, I suppose. From what I understand, I believe he is very much like what he was in London.”
Georgiana‘s face betrayed her disappointment. “I do not think he lived very well in London,” she whispered sadly.
“Exactly, Mrs. McNally. Now he has even less. He will not go out of doors without the disguise you saw him put on, and he rarely ventures out just for his pleasure. I do not think the amount of time he spends simply watching for her or his son from the back window can be good for him.
“His papers from his steward and attorneys keep him busy some days, and thank goodness he has his two classes at the university, but other days he only lives for the tiny bit of time he sees them from the window. The only time I think he finds peace is when we venture to the house in the hills. It is not right. A man ought to be more, to have more purpose I think.”
She nodded. In the brief time she had seen him she had been struck by his lack of vitality. He had never been a boisterous man, but he had at least always been strong and vigorous. Now he was a man withdrawing into shadows. Higgins’ assessments had been very accurate. While he was not unhappy, seeing the pathetic amount of joy he was able to muster from this paltry existence he was living was making her angrier by the moment.
Later in the evening, after dinner had been enjoyed and Signora Ariberti finished fussing over the handsome relatives who had come to visit her employers, Higgins announced his intentions of retiring early, knowing the family would wish to speak of more personal matters than had already been discussed in front of him. Georgiana gave him a kind smile and nod, silently thanking him as he departed.
She was bold enough to suggest Darcy should write his Aunt Catherine, telling her of his plans to reside in Europe permanently, with no chance of returning to England. He was about to deflect this request of what would be considered an open declaration of war when Georgiana countered, suggesting if his aunt knew of his intentions of never offering for Anne, it might give her and Richard a chance at happiness. At the very least, Anne would be free to pursue marriage with someone of her own choosing if her mother no longer considered her to be engaged to Darcy. He told her he would consider taking her advice. She was satisfied he was at least taking her suggestions seriously.
She then assured her brother of her continued good health, but could not help her tears when she finally came to the tale of her baby son who had come too early that autumn. They had named him Patrick, after his father, before he was buried. While her health had recovered completely, she did not try to lighten the grief both she and her husband felt. Darcy comforted her as best he could, and told her he had been moved greatly by the loss of his nephew as well. Her grief was natural, and she should not attempt to hide from it, he reassured her.
They ended the evening discussing his life in Padua, what he had done for Elizabeth and William and his studies at the university. Georgiana watched him carefully as he explained all he had been doing. He reminded her of Mrs. Reynolds, when she sometimes felt melancholy and would talk of her late husband. Part of her heart was breaking to see her brother in such a state, but a larger part was growing even angrier over the stalemate he had put himself in. She was determined to talk to Patrick at length to try to discover a way to end this unacceptable situation.
The couple left quite late, needing a good night’s rest before either could spend their usual hours dissecting all they learnt that day. The next morning they had a chance to share opinions on Darcy’s state of mind and health, and had just begun to try to find some solutions when Higgins came to their door. He apologised for intruding so early, but Darcy had come down with a very bad cold in the night, and was feeling miserable this morning. Signora Ariberti was not capable of tending a man nearly twice her size, besides having a very difficult time going up and down stairs, and Darcy did not like to ask the lady who cleaned for them to do such a personal job.
Georgiana understood her brother’s reluctance. His servants at Pemberley and in town had been with them most of their lives and his ease with them was pronounced against his nervousness with strangers, especially in the sick room. She immediately offered to nurse her brother. Patrick would be along shortly, and keep both the kitchen, and the sick room supplied along with Higgins’ help.
Darcy spent the next few days suffering with chills, aches, coughs and sniffles, while Georgiana did her best to keep him company and entertained when he was actually awake. She encouraged Patrick and Higgins to go out in the city and see the sights when the weather turned better three days later. Higgins begrudgingly donned his old wig once again, and escorted his guest into the city.
Darcy was sleeping peacefully for once and his breathing was much easier than it had been of late. She ventured downstairs to find something to read. She could not help but be disappointed by the limited choices her brother’s modest apartments afforded, yet she understood he did not wish to be bogged down with too many possessions to move, should he have to leave quickly to follow Elizabeth. She had all but given up hope of finding something good to indulge herself in when she spied a thick book peeking out of the centre drawer of his desk. Part of her flushed to think her brother might have purchased another one of his more…enticing… pieces of literature, given he was clearly hiding it away. However, she was not prepared for what she found when she opened the heavy red leather binding.
Elizabeth sat quietly mending a shirt in the window seat, relishing the sun’s recent return that morning. She could hear the occasional voices of William and his teacher in the room across the hall, lulling her as they methodically went through his lessons. She had not realised her inattentiveness to the rest of her surroundings, until her housekeeper interrupted her solitude by bringing her a calling card with an unfamiliar name,
Mrs. Patrick McNally
Elizabeth was intrigued over this stranger calling upon her. She stood to greet her guest, though later was still confused as to who she might be even after their introduction.
“Thank you for receiving me today, Mrs. Cartwright.” Georgiana began as the two women eyed one another carefully.
Elizabeth could not help but be impressed by the lady’s fine garments and sophisticated air. However, her visitor showed not the least sign of haughtiness. Surprisingly, Mrs. McNally’s face exuded a warm regard for her. They were about to take their seats after answering each other politely when a hard knock was heard upon the door followed by William bounding happily into the room.
“Signora told me you have a lady visitor, Mamma, and I have been given a short leave from lessons to come and greet our guest.” He turned to Georgiana, who took the advantage to stare at her nephew while his mother shook her head in dismay.
“William, this is Mrs. McNally. Madam, my son, William Cartwright, who likes nothing better than to meet a pretty lady.”
William blushed to his roots, but could not keep his eyes off the lovely Mrs. McNally. Georgiana laughed heartily as she curtseyed to his bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Cartwright. What lessons am I keeping you from, Mr. Cartwright?”
“It is mathematics; I do not mind.”
“You do not enjoy your mathematics lessons?”
“No, you do not understand, Ma’am. They are my favourites along with the sciences, and I study them constantly even for pleasure. Therefore, I can spend time with you and not get behind in my studies.”
“How happy you must be to near the university where Galileo himself was professore, si?
William’s eyes lit up. “Si, Si, Signora! Do you study physics? Have you read his works?” he asked excitedly.
She laughed lightly. “I did have some lessons in physics, but my master was not well versed, and I had to give it up. I did enjoy much of what we were able to learn, though. Are you planning on studying it?”
Elizabeth stood silent, enchanted by this fine lady who was taking such an eager interest in her son. He made friends easily, however fine English ladies were not typically interested in reciprocating the relationship.
“Perhaps someday, when I have studied longer. I want to study so many things; I do not know what I will choose.”
“Of course, Master William. You are very young and have years before you will need to decide.” She then gave him a rather longing smile with a barely perceptible sigh, which reminded Elizabeth of the amount of time that had passed.
“I think your leave has come to an end, William,” his mother gently reminded him.
He smiled at both women. “I hope you will come again, Mrs. McNally. Mamma does not get many visitors here in Padova, especially English ladies. I hope you will be her friend.”
“Thank you, Master William, I would like to visit you again. It was delightful to meet you.”
He bid them both adieu and left the ladies alone. Mrs. McNally continued to look to the door he had exited through, deep in thought. “He is a beautiful boy. You are very fortunate,” she said sincerely.
“I… thank you.” Elizabeth answered, attempting to understand her visitor’s sudden melancholy.
“I expect you must be confused as to my purpose in coming here.”
“I must admit to being a little muddled, Mrs. McNally. Can I be of help to you in some way?”
Georgiana smiled ruefully. “You could be, Mrs. Cartwright. However, whether you will, is quite another matter. Please allow me to introduce myself more properly, I am Mrs. Georgiana McNally formerly Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
It took several minutes’ time for Elizabeth to speak again. “Why?” she managed to say.
“Why am I here?” Elizabeth nodded. “He is my nephew, Mrs. Cartwright. I want to know him and help him.”
“You know?” Her hands began to tremble.
“Nearly two years.”
Elizabeth sat stunned, breathing heavily. Then she became angry. “Jane! I would never have thought my sister could be so little trusted.”
“You are wrong. Your dear sister said nothing. I am afraid it was you, Mrs. Cartwright.”
Georgiana nodded knowingly, as the truth began to dawn over Elizabeth. “Yes, my brother was at the Bingley’s house the day you came to see your sister and he heard your every word. He even managed to meet William in their library.”
Elizabeth sat shaking her head back and forth, as if she could will these truths to disappear. She knew he had met William, but did not know what extent of her conversation with Jane he might have overheard.
Mrs. McNally continued. “All this time he has known everything, and yet he has left you alone, made no attempt to take your son from you or force your hand.”
Elizabeth’s emotions were torn between wishing to burst into tears and venting her anger now that her world was collapsing with each word his sister spoke. Her anger won out. “I would hardly expect him to acknowledge me or his son, Mrs. McNally. Our acquaintance ended years ago. That will never change.”
“You believe he had no desire to contact you again?”
Elizabeth’s defiant face was resolute.
Georgiana replied with steady conviction, “I assure you, Madam, you could not be more wrong.”
Elizabeth could barely ask the next question. “Is he here?”
“Yes.”
She gasped, and started shaking her head again. “He should return to his home. I cannot see him.” Then without thinking she added, “Is he well?”
Georgiana bit back her smile at Elizabeth unwittingly showing her affections were still engaged. “He will not leave, Mrs. Cartwright, for he no longer lives in England; he has lived in Padua for nearly a year. As for his health, I am sorry to say he has recently been taken ill.”
“He is in no danger?” she could not help blurting out.
“It was a bad cold and fever, but he is already recovering. I expect he will be up and about by tomorrow.”
Elizabeth suddenly realised the impropriety of asking into the concerns of the man. “I apologise, I have no right to ask.”
“Do you think I would be here, telling you about him, if I did not believe you had any rights? I am sorry for the pain this interview will bring, but I must tell you: I know everything. My brother and I share confidences, and I know he loves you. I think you love him as well.”
“But I am not worthy of his regard, much less anything more! If your purpose in coming here was to persuade me to speak with him, I must refuse.”
“Why can you not? What are you not worthy of?”
Elizabeth refused to answer her.
“Or is it easier to hide behind your martyrdom and take up your role as mother, forsaking all others or the pursuit of your own happiness? Are you truly living, Mrs. Cartwright? What example of adult life are you teaching your son? What will happen to you when William grows up and leaves you? What life will you have after his has begun?”
“I cannot let Will disgrace himself, or you and your husband! He would lose everything he has, all that he is and cares for. You do not know what it is to live in a society that shuns you, whispers behind your back and holds you in contempt. Why would I wish it upon someone I love?”
Georgiana shook her head. “You do not know him. I see that now. He has spent so long in your shadow and knows you so well, but you have not seen him these past six years. You have no idea what he has become. You have no idea what he values most in the world. Can you imagine what it does to him to know you use professors and masters as substitute fathers to the son he would happily embrace?”
Elizabeth gasped. “I will face the penance for my sins someday, but I refuse to let people of whom I ask nothing to sit in judgement of me. You have no idea what I suffer. You cannot judge my actions.”
“You are worthy to be forgiven for most of your transgressions, Mrs. Cartwright, and I would happily give it if you asked.
“However, there is one thing you have done which cannot be forgiven, for you do not repent it, and continue in its abuse. You have forbidden my brother his free will. You think you cannot marry him, yet you do not give him the opportunity to choose. If this is not cruelty, I do not know what is. You see; the choice was not yours alone to make, yet you did make it, and without knowing everything.
“If you were a gentleman I would call you out for your arrogance.”
Elizabeth flinched.
“Yes arrogance, Mrs. Cartwright. You presume to know what is best for many; I suggest you do not.”
Georgiana brought forth her satchel, removed a thick tome and dropped the book heavily upon the table. “I will save you the pain you might have suffered under my foil.”
Elizabeth looked shocked.
“Oh, yes. Fitzwilliam spent years teaching me to master fencing. One of many examples of what you do not know about him.
“Instead I challenge you to an emotional, no… an intellectual duel. I give you this,” she gestured to the book, “as proof of your folly and lay it out before you, Madam. Read this in its entirety and then come to me and justify your actions and wishes. If you can prove to me their righteousness, I will never bother you again.”
Georgiana then leaned in closely to Elizabeth’s face. “But if your heart can be opened and you can see the justice in what I accuse; then I demand satisfaction.”
She faltered, shocked at this brave woman who confronted her. “What… what satisfaction would you require?”
Georgiana smiled. “Ah, Mrs. Cartwright, this is no time to feign ignorance. You know exactly what I would expect. If I am proved correct, the demand is both reasonable and, if I may be so bold, highly desirable to myself.”
“You would want me for a sister?”
Georgiana put a comforting hand on her arm. “I would, and I would want a life enriched by the presence of my nephew in it. Most importantly, there is an extraordinary boy who deserves the best life possible, not due to material wealth, but because he has two loving parents willing to raise him together.”
Elizabeth’s lip trembled at hearing the one argument she could never reconcile herself against.
“Now, I suggest you have a great deal of studying to do and should start. My brother was a difficult taskmaster the years he taught me, but I suspect you will not shirk from learning this particular lesson he needs to teach you. Be brave, my Dear.”
Georgiana had nearly reached the door when Elizabeth’s cry stopped her.
“Mrs. McNally!”
Georgiana turned. Elizabeth lifted the heavy journal. “Does he…”
“He does not know I am here, Mrs. Cartwright. Nor that I have brought you the book. It is a transgression Iwill have to beg his forgiveness for. I hope you do not make me regret my actions.”
Georgiana attempted to control her heavy breathing in the cold February air. She had to stop more than once to calm herself on the short walk back to her brother’s apartments. Despite her bold and brave statements, the fear she had made a terrible mistake began to take hold in her heart. She entered the modest rooms and immediately went up to check upon her brother. He was awake and surprisingly lively. His illness was at last abating.
She fed him a goodly portion of soup laced with plenty of meat, and he at last showed himself to be an accommodating patient. He bade her spend the night with her husband as she had shown Patrick so little attention the past few days. She did not hesitate to agree, relieved to escape his scrutiny lest he notice the guilt in her countenance.
Georgiana climbed the steps to their hotel. She felt worn like an old leather strap. Each rise took the remaining shreds of energy out of her. When she at last saw her beloved Patrick, she broke down in his arms, confident he would take care of her, now that she was with him.
“Oh, Patrick! What have I done?”
Elizabeth had spent most of the day reverting to an old habit she had forgotten she possessed - avoiding the uncomfortable. She had left the book on the table of her sitting room and proceeded to keep very busy the rest of the day. Her duties often brought her into the vicinity of the fine leather bound missive, where she would often watch it. Once she was forced to move the object to another resting place in the late afternoon and she took the opportunity to further inspect it, without opening the pages.
Late in the night, after the household was fast asleep, she crept down with her candle, curled up on her sofa and apprehensively turned to the first page.
My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy and I love nothing more in the world than Elizabeth Bennet and our son, William Bennet Cartwright.
Posted on Monday, 6 February 2006
“My darling, why do you doubt yourself now?” Patrick asked, attempting to calm her.
“What if it all comes to naught? What if they cannot see past their misconceptions and reconcile?”
“You have done what needed to be done and broken the stalemate. They might have continued on forever had no one interfered. If I may say so, Georgiana, you have finally made the last transition; your metamorphosis is complete.”
“Metamorphosis?”
“Yes, you are finally a completely female incarnation of Fitzwilliam Darcy; charging in to save the day. Congratulations, my Dear. Shall we get you outfitted for breeches now?”
She slapped his chest playfully. “I am no knight in shining armour.”
He wrapped his long arms around her as he chuckled. “No, your figure is too magnificent to belong to a knight. However, you need only ask, and I will draw forth my lance to aid you in any quest.”
She was about to chide her husband for his scandalous words when a knock was heard upon their bedchamber door, and the servant called for him. Patrick returned with a note for Georgiana.
She swallowed hard and read it. “My brother requests my presence as soon as may be.”
“As you knew he would, when he discovered the diary missing.”
She grimaced and nodded.
My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy and I love nothing more in the world than Elizabeth Bennet and our son, William Bennet Cartwright.
Such are the words I wish to write first in this book, for they encompass the most important thing I would wish you, the reader, to know about me. Most diaries are mere accounts of a person’s daily life, thoughts and experiences, but I wish for this journal to be more.
Last night I stood and contemplated my ancestor’s portrait and told myself he was a good man, a fair man, a loving man; but in truth, no one knows if this is correct, least of all me. I am now determined that the thoughts and actions of my life should be laid forth in this book. Whoever reads this, perhaps even my grandchildren, can judge me and my worth after I am gone by what I have written. I hope I will be worthy of your esteem and plan to work hard to earn it…
Elizabeth stopped and attempted to steady her heart. Her guilt at having started the journal had quickly abated when she realised she was not reading Will’s diary; she was reading his autobiography. She was completely undone by this intensely private man’s wish to leave a written legacy of himself.
She continued reading page after page, held rapt by the unaccustomed honesty with which he described his history, actions, hopes and dreams.
Her fingers had been absent-mindedly stroking the smooth edges of the fine leather as her eyes devoured each word he had written. The clock struck six, breaking the trance she had been in for the past several hours as she came to his final entry,
Georgie’s recent letter gave me hope that her heart may someday reconcile itself to her grief over the loss of her baby son. I cannot begin to know what they two have suffered, but when I think of the possibility of being separated from William, my heart constricts and pain grips at my chest. Georgiana’s sorrow must be a thousand fold. I am determined not to be grieved over living apart from William. I am blessed. I see my son each day, and provide for him and my beloved in every way possible.
She had cried, gasped and bitten her lips until they nearly bled as she read this insight into the man she had not seen in almost six years. Such pursuits came with a high price: she was physically and emotionally exhausted.
Just then her cook and housekeeper came in, surprised to see their mistress sitting in the near dark, neither ready for breakfast nor dressed. William ran in behind them, and Elizabeth could not help but choke back a sob as she grabbed him in a fierce embrace.
“Signora Cartwright, you are well?” her housekeeper asked.
“Please do not be concerned,” she managed to say with a small amount of calm. “We will be in to breakfast directly.”
The two left the room slowly, eyeing the mistress the entire time with frowns upon their faces, clearly unconvinced she was well.
As soon as the door was closed, Elizabeth took her son’s face in her hands.
“My Love, you know everything I have ever done was to make your life better, to help you in any way I could?”
“Mama?”
“My darling boy, I am not a perfect woman; but please remember, I wanted to be the best mother I could be for you.”
William frowned and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Is this one of your sad days, Mama?”
Her eyes glistened from emotions running too high. “No, William, but it has been difficult. I promise you; I am not sad. Now let us see to our breakfast.”
Georgiana did not hurry her morning ablutions, or her pace in walking to his lodgings. She steadied herself for the onslaught she knew was coming with each step until at last, confident in her purpose, she was upon his doorstep. Unsurprisingly, he was in the doorway before she had lifted her hand to knock. He opened it wide and bade her enter by cocking his head. She looked boldly into his apprehensive eyes, and quickly entered.
“I am glad to see you up and about; do you feel yourself recovered?”
He was momentarily taken aback. “I… yes, I feel very well today, if only a little fatigued. I thank you for all you have done these past days in nursing me.”
“It was my pleasure, Brother. You are very welcome.”
“Where is it?” he suddenly spurted out.
She drew a great breath. “I do not have it.”
He closed his eyes and frowned hard. The next voice was one she had never heard before. It was small, frightened and pleading. “Please, tell me you did not give it to her.”
At first Georgiana was touched by a motherly instinct to help him and wanted nothing more than to reach out and take him in her arms and soothe his worries. But quickly she recognised the example of what she had seen these past days. This was not her fault; it was his and Elizabeth’s. They had carefully orchestrated events over the years to put each of them in this impossible sham of an existence.
She steadied herself and answered in a voice she hoped brooked no opposition, “I did the one thing you were not brave enough to do, yet had to be done. Yes, Fitzwilliam, she has your diary.”
“You have taken my life!” he cried.
“No! I have given you a chance to finally have a life!”
“You have no right to decide what is best for me.”
“You would be right, if you were acting as a reasonable man. However, I have seen your reason turn to trepidation. You live the life of half a man. Look at you! You hide yourself away from the world. The only joy or happiness you have comes from observing people you are too afraid to claim for yourself. You cannot bind yourself to a painting!”
“This is your opinion of me? After all I have endeavoured to do for those I love, you hold my life in such contempt?”
“You do not have a life with them. You are no more to them than a patron to an orphanage!”
“How dare you compare me in such a way!”
“I dare for I am my brother’s protégée. If you wanted a quiet, demure woman you should never have sat me astride that horse! You turned me into the woman I am and that woman does not back down.
“You once told me it was fear itself that cost people their lives when up against an enemy, not their skills. The fear of taking the final step to Elizabeth has crippled you. You are not brave enough to try to make her yours.”
“It is not possible!”
“Yes, it is!” she countered forcefully. “If all you truly desire is to marry and have a family with Elizabeth, it is possible. What would either of you have to give up? Your place in society? You have not moved amongst society in over two years. I no longer need your name or connections in the ton ; if you wish to turn your back on them, I shall have no cause to repine.
“You can return to England every year to keep your claim on the estate and when William makes his way in the world, return with Elizabeth and live out your days. The shades of Pemberley will hardly have noticed your absence.”
“Forgive me for refusing, but I have not been used to submit to any person’s whims.”
“You are so obstinate and headstrong, Fitzwilliam! This is no whim! I say if you are willing to live anonymously as a pauper, you can certainly do so while married to her.”
“No! This match to which you presumptuously wish me to aspire can never take place!”
He rose and took up his accustomed post at the windows, his hand twisting the signet ring on his finger. In another meek voice he revealed his true worry. “She will not have me.”
Georgiana was caught by his honesty, but refused to treat him with pity. “She might not have wished to marry the man she knew six years ago. Tell me what of that man still exists?”
“What if she can only love the man she knew? What if she can no longer love the man I have become?”
“Do you think you have not improved? Are you in any way less than you once were? I think you are so much more now, but she does not know you.”
“Exactly! What makes you think she would give me the chance to court her, to allow me into her life long enough to win her again? The last time I spoke with her I told her never to seek me out or speak to me. I told her she had no right to tell me she loved me. I am afraid, Georgie! Afraid she will run and then the pittance I have will once again be lost to me.”
“You refuse to oblige me then? I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable, but I find you too caught up in your self-pity and fear.
“But you are not my only concern; William is estranged from his true father. She has done this, and you support her deception by staying away. Your son suffers unknowingly because of the lie the two of you live. Every child deserves its mother and its father. My true contempt comes from watching the two of you, with a living, breathing son who deserves better, yet is treated as if he does not exist. You scorn God and his gift to you by cheating William of his due.” She choked out her last words. “You do not know the blessing you have been given.”
“Oh, Georgie!” He opened his arms to comfort her.
She held out her hand abruptly. “No! I do not want your pity! I want you to take action and do what you should have done two years ago!”
He hung his head. “I can only act in a manner which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness.”
“Untrue,” she admonished bitterly. “You can act for someone other than yourself.”
He scowled at her and stormed out of the room. Moments later her shoulders flinched as she heard the front door slam and saw his shadow pass by the front windows.
Several hours later Higgins came in to find a worried Georgiana awaiting. She briefly explained the circumstances under which her brother had left and her concern of his poor health being compromised in the inclement weather. Higgins agreed he should not be out this long in the cold and departed immediately to fetch Mr. McNally and begin a search for Darcy.
By sundown, Georgiana was beginning to feel the effects of the guilt at having caused the rift between herself and her brother. Not normally one to give in to flutterings and imaginings, each passing hour tried her nerves greatly. Her relief was quick when she heard voices upon the front steps and the sounds of the men entering. Sadly, only Higgins and Patrick rounded the corner.
The two had searched the city, including inquiring at Mrs. Cartwright’s house, without success. Fortunately, Higgins had suggested they see the man he and Darcy had often used to hire horses and coaches for travelling to the house in Abano. Signor Smith had indeed hired a horse in the early afternoon.
As they neared the small town, a chill winter fog descended, making the journey more difficult and adding to Georgiana’s worries.
“I am sure he is merely nursing his wounds in front of the fire at the villa,” Higgins attempted to reassure her.
She gave a small smile. “I hope you are right, Mr. Higgins. I can only hope he will be willing to speak to me when we arrive.”
“He is a good man, Ma’am. When his anger wears off, he must come to see you have done the right thing. I will be happy to support your campaign.”
“Thank you, Sir. You are a good friend to us both.”
Georgiana’s fears were unfortunately for naught. When they finally arrived at the villa, the group was disappointed to find the horse in the stable, but no sign of Darcy.
It was nearly an hour later before the stable boy was found. He had not seen their arrival due to the dense mist, and was contentedly sitting in his parent’s small cottage when Higgins found him. He confirmed that Darcy had arrived earlier, then sent him into the village for some provisions for dinner. When the boy returned in the late afternoon, Darcy set out for the woods. He had not been seen or heard from since.
“Can you help us look for him?” Higgins asked.
“ Si, Signore . I will have my Papa and brother come, too.”
Patrick addressed Georgiana. “We will find him, Lass. Higgins and I will light the fires and you must keep them going while we are gone.” Georgiana nodded obediently. “I would put on the water for tea or coffee. If we are out long, we will need to eat and get warm when we can.” A lump formed in her throat which she tried to squelch.
“You shall do admirably, Mrs. McNally. Now show me the formidable woman I know you to be, and take charge here. If the lad’s mother comes by, you ask her for help without hesitation, yes?”
“I will. Please be careful, Patrick. The hills are steep and the weather is so cold and damp now…”
“Take heart, my Love. We will find him and you will not lose me, I promise.”
The next hours moved slowly as she attempted to keep busy. She sat in the rustic drawing room, occasionally stoked the fires throughout the house, stood guard at the windows and regretted not having better employment to distract her nerves.
When she heard the sound of horses and wheels nearby, she ran to the front entrance before the bell had rung. Throwing the door open expecting to see the mother of the stable boy, she was instead startled by the face before her.
“Mrs. Cartwright!”
Elizabeth stood unsure upon the front threshold. “Mrs. McNally, I apologise for intruding upon you at such a late hour. I went to your brother’s lodgings this evening and his cook told me he had gone missing. She said you were hoping to find him here and I … I wished to confirm he is well.”
“Oh God!” Georgiana blurted. “I am so sorry, he has not been found.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to cover her mouth as she stifled her moan. “What has been done, what has been attempted to find him?”
“The men are out searching the woods as we speak. We know he arrived here earlier and went out in the late afternoon but he has not been seen since. I take it he did not see you today?”
“No, not at all.”
“They have yet to return or send word. Would…would you consider staying here for the night? I would welcome the company whilst I wait, and I suspect you could be of great help when they return.”
Elizabeth’s hesitation was obvious.
“Please. I could not send you back to Padua so late and surely you will desire to see for yourself he has come to no harm?”
Georgiana then noticed the couple behind them in a small carriage, obviously concerned for Mrs. Cartwright’s well-being and welcome into the house at such an unseemly hour.
Elizabeth saw where her eyes were directed and explained. “My cook and her husband were kind enough to offer to bring me here tonight. She is very protective of me and worries easily.”
“Please reassure them I am happy to receive you. Oh, but your son! Is he travelling with you?”
“He is at home with my housekeeper, who is looking after him. I thank you for your invitation, Mrs. McNally, but do not wish to intrude upon you further; I merely came for my peace of mind.”
Georgiana had nearly come to the end of her fortitude and reached out a trembling hand to Elizabeth’s forearm. Her voice betrayed her anxiety. “Please, I cannot bear this waiting alone. My brother and my husband are out in this dreadful mire and the quiet of this house preys upon my feelings. Please, Mrs. Cartwright, I could bear this torture if only you would stay with me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes softened instantly. “Then I shall stay,” she stated quietly, and Georgiana whispered her sincere thanks.
The two women later sat in the drawing room, sipping the tea Georgiana had, with Elizabeth’s help, made in the great fireplace of the kitchen.
“It is a lovely home, despite the lack of furnishings,” Elizabeth remarked nervously.
“I believe its simplicity is what drew my brother to it.”
Elizabeth set her teacup down. “I am sorry if his disappearance today was due to me,” she said solemnly whilst studying her hands clasped in her lap.
“No, it was not you. We did not see eye to eye on the subject of the two of you, Mrs. Cartwright. The conversation was long overdue, I am afraid. Yet, it gives me little comfort. The fault is mine, the danger he may now be in is… my doing. It was a risk to bring you his journal. He did not wish you to have it, but I was willing to gamble, and have risked something infinitely precious to him. He may never forgive me.”
Georgiana took another sip of her tea. “Have you read it?” she asked, while her lips perched at the edge of the rim.
Elizabeth nodded, unable to meet her eye.
“Then you know it all. I have not read it. I merely saw the first page and knew what my brother intended it to be, so decided you should have it. You have seen into his mind and heart and know what he wants. Is it not time for you to put aside your fears and trust in him and his abilities? I would rather see him give you both up than continue living as the shadow of a man he has become whilst following you.”
Elizabeth fidgeted. “You are very much like your brother, Mrs. McNally,” she said while wringing her hands. “You argue just like him.”
Georgie laughed. “You cannot know how much, Mrs. Cartwright.”
“Actually, I … I do. He wrote about your years at Pemberley…
Before Elizabeth could finish, they heard the shouts from far off, full of urgency and approaching quickly. Georgiana said a small prayer of thanks before rushing once again to the door. The stable boy had run ahead and reached them first, chattering quickly in Italian as he came in.
“They have found him, but he is wet and very cold. He says they will need dry clothes and a warm bed for him at once,” Georgiana translated. She was hastening down the hallway to the bedrooms before she had finished the sentence.
Elizabeth thanked the boy for all his help and asked if Signore Smith was walking back to the villa on his own. The boy’s mouth went grim and his dark eyes widened as he told her the big man was carrying the gentleman. She was unable to translate one word he kept repeating until its meaning was made dreadfully apparent.
Higgins approached while carrying a lamp to light the way for Patrick, who struggled with the cumbersome load over his shoulder. A limp human form hung from him. ‘ Addormentato ’, the boy had been saying; ‘asleep’. Darcy was unconscious.
Within minutes, the men had carried him into the bedroom. Patrick and Georgiana removed his wet clothing and dried him as best they could before covering him with a dry nightshirt and placing him in the bed.
Georgiana had sent Higgins to fetch the blankets off the other bed in an attempt to warm him up. When he returned, the McNallys were sitting next to Darcy, holding his cold hands in theirs. His face was a sickly shade and his lips a pale blue. There had been no injuries to him when they found him. Apparently, he had simply lost his way, exhausted himself in the night and finally collapsed. Now they could only try to warm him up and hope he would awaken. They took turns placing their ears to his chest and listening for his heartbeat.
“It is so slow, Patrick. I am worried how slowly his heart beats.”
“He was out in very cold weather a long time, Georgiana; I think his body decided it was best to rest until he could warm up again.”
She nodded her head.
Higgins had gone out to the empty drawing room but heard noises in the kitchen. When he entered, he found Elizabeth acting as hostess to the three who had helped in the search. They stood and bowed to Higgins and thanked Elizabeth for the food and hot drinks. Before they departed, Elizabeth assured them they should return the next day after resting, as no doubt the master would wish to thank them for their help.
She and Higgins regarded each other tentatively until she held out her hand and he took it firmly.
“Hello, Mr. Higgins.”
“Ma’am.”
“How did he find you?”
“He saw the two of us talking in Hyde Park.”
She nodded, lost in thought for several moments, then without hesitating asked, “Did you betray me?”
“I have kept your secrets, save one; I told him you didn’t kill your brother-in-law Wickham, when he thought you might have. Tell me, did I do wrong?”
She looked to the floor and shook her head.
“I don’t owe you anything, but still I kept your secrets. He doesn’t know them all but I think you should tell him, including about your sister.”
Her face betrayed her surprise and her rising anger.
“You think your son is so sharp from only your wits? You don’t know Darcy, then. He is every bit as clever as you ever are, maybe even more so. Look at all he has done without your knowing, and pulled it all off just the way you wanted. You get his son, you get the love and the chance to be with that boy and he sits back and gives it all to you. Because it was what you wanted and no other reason.
“The only thing he ever asked was to be able to watch. To look at you like some fine painting in a gallery but never touch you, or talk to you, or live the life he wants so badly with you and that boy he loves so much. So before you run, or rant at me or him about how angry you are, or whether anyone has betrayed you, think about what others have done for you and for your son. You are not the only one, Miss Bennet.”
He turned his back on her and walked back to Darcy’s room. There he found Georgiana and Patrick, still holding their brother’s cold pale hands.
“Does he seem to be warming?” he asked. Patrick looked up and shook his head. Higgins approached and examined Darcy closely, touching his skin and assessing his progress. When he had finished, he called Patrick into the hallway.
“Mr. McNally, I have seen people exposed to the cold too long before, some gone as much as Darcy. In Derbyshire, we have an old remedy we practice when nothing else is available. I fear it will never get very warm in this stone house and we should try this other… method. You could see it done while I ride into Abano and find the doctor. I’m sure we could use more help if I have your approval.”
“Certainly, Higgins. Please explain your idea.”
Higgins left soon afterwards while Patrick sought out Mrs. Cartwright to bring to his wife. Elizabeth agreed to enter Darcy’s bedroom, as she had little choice with Mrs. McNally refusing to leave it.
She slowly walked into the brightly lit room. The cheerfulness from the fire sharply contrasted the danger for the man in the bed. She did not take her eyes off his pale, unmoving form.
Patrick drew Georgiana to the door, embraced her tenderly and told her what Higgins had said. He did not try to sweeten the threat to Darcy, and Georgiana’s eyes betrayed the worry she had been stifling.
“Now, Lass. Your brother needs you,” he whispered quietly to her. “And he needs her, too. The both of you have it in your power to save him. You have to convince her.”
Georgiana looked to him, glassy-eyed.
“You are the bravest woman I know but you also have the biggest heart of any person on earth. Show her, Georgie, be sister to her and convince her to be wife to him.”
He dismissed her with a kiss to her forehead, and told her he would wait outside until she called, before closing the door firmly behind him.
Elizabeth looked up from her stolid vigil at the end of the bed. “What has happened? Why have the men left?”
“Higgins has gone to find a doctor and my husband is in the hallway should we need him.”
Georgiana took a deep breath, sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to remove her boots and then her stockings. She stopped for a moment, observing Elizabeth calmly.
“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out to meet it," she said steadily as she stared at the woman her brother loved.
She then felt into her hair and removed the pins, placing them methodically on the stand next to Darcy’s bed.
Elizabeth frowned while watching her odd movements steadily. “I do not recognise the quote.”
“Thucydides, a wise Greek whose words we must heed tonight.” She shook out her long dark tresses. “Higgins has told us of a method which may help my brother. I am willing to try it, but in truth, it is not my place to do so.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Georgiana ignored her as she unbuttoned the front of her dress. “Fitzwilliam is nearly frozen through. This room will never be warm enough and we have no bath to put him in to try to bring his body temperature up. The common folk have a practice, apparently used for generations whenever such a situation arises. It is very simple; one uses the application of body heat against the patient. The warmth of the healthy skin against the cold skin is very effective.” The dress was now carefully removed and placed over the chair in the corner.
“Could you help me with my corset and stays, please?” Georgiana asked without pause. Elizabeth absently went to her and helped her remove them, along with her petticoats until she stood only in her thin chemise.
Georgiana could see the shock on Elizabeth’s face. “I am more than willing to throw aside convention, propriety and modesty to help my brother, but it would be more effective, as well as your place… to join me.”
Elizabeth sputtered. Georgiana grasped her hands firmly before she could move away.
“You know how he feels about you; he has long considered you his wife. He will never give you up, surely you know that now? Can you not take your place by his side?”
“I…I am unsure.”
“Has he not proven himself worthy enough for you to help him? How much more must he sacrifice to satisfy you?” Georgiana’s face was pleading with all her heart, a heart that shared the blood of Elizabeth’s beloved, and for a brief moment Will’s face became hers, asking Elizabeth to save them both.
“I have been my own master for so long…” She looked down at Darcy, eyes filling, then pulled her hands out of Georgiana’s grasp and clutched them to her bosom as she turned away and strode to the fire. Georgiana spoke to her back.
“Have faith, Elizabeth. Have faith in him, his love and all the family who have supported you and William. Give him the chance, but first come to him and help him.”
Georgiana could see her shoulders shaking but refused to comfort her. She knew Elizabeth must be standing on the precipice of her final decision and must be allowed to make her choice by herself.
She turned finally, tears streaming down her cheeks. Georgiana feared she was about to refuse to capitulate and leave, when Elizabeth took a deep breath and, shaking her arms violently, pitched her dress to the floor in a heap.
Darcy woke before dawn to find something tickling his nose. He tried to shake his head to dislodge the annoyance from his face, to no avail. When he attempted to raise his hands to move the object, he found they were bound by some unknown force holding him tightly. When he tried to pull them free again he realised they were grasped strongly to a person’s body.
“Be still,” a warm, yet sleepy voice admonished. He froze. A woman’s voice.
He moved his fingers tentatively against the warmth surrounding them to discover a thin layer of silk and soft bare skin under his touch. He began to withdraw his fingers slowly and had them almost freed, when she, in her semi-conscious state reached out and purposely placed his hands back to their original position; which Darcy could now comprehend was crossed over her chest, and tucked under her arms. Satisfied he was now in the correct position, she patted his wrists gently, sighed lightly and quickly fell back asleep.
“Elizabeth?” he whispered disbelieving.
“Hmmmm?” she answered, still falling into her sleep.
He had to stifle his cry. He was mad for a candle. He felt if he could not see her face, it might not be true. Perhaps he was dreaming her - here in his arms, purposely taking care of him.
He looked to the windows, the barest of change evident in the indigo of the night sky now becoming lighter. He turned back to the angel in his arms. He leaned his head forward, now welcoming the mass of waves in front of him and breathed in her scent deeply. Roses. She always smelled of roses.
An annoying twinge in his feet reminded him of his folly the night before. Georgiana must be sick with worry over him. She might not know of his whereabouts. Two choices lay before him; to wake Elizabeth and be apprised of all that had happened and make sure his relatives knew he was well, or possibly extend his family’s suffering by languishing in the arms of his lover until the morning came.
In the end, the choice was not left to him. He had been unconsciously stroking the smooth skin of her ribs as he laid thinking. Just as he had determined to indulge himself and stay with her, he nuzzled her ear and murmured, “Elizabeth, my dearest.”
She was instantly awake, and rolled over in a flash. “Will? Oh, you are awake!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. Their bodies moulded against one another as he threw his leg over her hip and crushed her tightly to him. She seemed to suddenly remember his pains, and searched his face earnestly while her hands took stock of his shoulders and arms, as if feeling them would allow her to assess his good health.
“Please tell me, are you well?”
“I feel well, except my feet tingle.”
She was immediately up and lighting a candle before he could stop her. Darcy was shocked when he realised he was wearing a nightshirt and nothing else, and she was in the thinnest chemise, her body only too plain for him to see. He was about to protest the loss of her warmth when she threw the bedding back and positioned herself at the end of the bed. She did not hesitate to send his hem past his knees and position each foot back under her arms again, this time covering the rest of his feet with her own arms.
“I need you to position the rest of the blankets around us both, especially my chest. My warmth will help your feet recover. They were very nearly frozen, Will.”
His face fell. “You are here,” he indicated the bed, “because of my injuries?” He tried not to sound disappointed, yet failed miserably.
He saw her hold back a tiny smile at his obvious frustration and shake her head. “Would that every man had a lady friend so willing to come to his aid.”
She absently stroked his ankles while her breathing began to increase. His feet could feel her heart beating faster inside in her ribs. It was both comforting and arousing.
She seemed to find the courage she needed as she leaned her head down against the arch of his elegant foot, hugging him to her. “No, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am here because this is where I belong.”
He stopped breathing.
She could not meet his eye as she whispered, “You have only to request it, and I shall never leave you again.”
The cry that left his throat startled her and she looked up again in time to see him lunging forward, dislodging his feet from under her and trapping her against the foot of the bed under his great mass. His unshed tears allowed his eyes to speak the volumes he still had not uttered. He stroked her face with trembling fingers and she mimicked the action and tears.
“You are my only love,” he whispered to her and kissed her lips with reverent tenderness. Heaving a great calming sigh, he pressed his forehead to hers.
“Never leave me, Elizabeth, not for as long as we live?”
She closed her eyes in sweet relief. “Until death parts us then, Will.”
Posted on Monday, 6 March 2006
The log in the fireplace cracked in half, exposing new flesh to fuel the blaze, but neither of the occupants of the room noticed. The two softly cocooned under the bedding, completely caught up in the tender joy of rediscovering the feel of their beloved’s skin under their fingertips while gently exchanging kisses when desired. Their ministrations were slow and purposeful, anchoring each in the truth of the other’s presence and dedication.
During the last two days, Elizabeth’s heart had been pinpricked a thousand fold, splintering the shields she had built around her. Now, being the recipient of Will’s loving smiles and ardent gazes, along with the physical connection to him under the counterpane, the gates ruptured and a surge of intense emotions flowed into the breach. She knew she was inextricably committed to him and, in acknowledging that truth, was moved to open her heart to him.
“I have loved you since that day at Pemberley, but it was nothing to what I felt yesterday and only half of what I feel now in your arms. I have been a great fool, but my heart has always been yours.”
“Shhh..,” his fingers swept across her lips, “do not speak of regrets.”
“I…I cannot help it. I am so sorry, Will.” Her voice trembled. “I have cost us so much. All these years…” He drew her firmly to him and she wept against his chest.
“My darling, we have both made mistakes. If we stop to catalogue them all we will never get on with the business of starting our lives together. The past errors do not sit upon your shoulders alone. I am sorry I was not clever enough to find you. Two years ago I should have come to you and been brave enough to try to win you. Will you forgive my failings? Can we make a truce to learn from our mistakes, but not dwell upon them or allow them to overshadow the happiness we have now?”
She sniffled sweetly and wiped the tears from her cheeks, nodding. “There is nothing to forgive. I was mistaken about many things, most of all you. I was wrong to think I could not allow you into our lives.”
He shook his head. “Neither of us is without fault, let us agree on that and let the rest fall by the wayside.” She nodded.
He slowly searched her face, then reached over for her hand, kissed her palm deeply, and set it against his face. Outside the sun was finally rising, filling their room with a lambent glow which reflected the spirit in their hearts. Darcy looked about, then back at her. “We finally love in the light, Elizabeth. No disguises, no lies, just the two of us, our true selves, bared to the world. Hmmm… bared.”
He sat up and drew his nightshirt over his head, then looked to her, seeking permission. She was staring at the sight of his bare torso until she saw him regarding her, reddened, yet acquiesced. The two sat nude amongst the sheets and simply looked at one another in the streaming gold.
He then reached out and cupped her face in his hands. “You are so beautiful. I have not seen you so for so long and now I look upon you and… your eyes are so alive and full of love …I cannot breathe.”
A single tear crept out of Elizabeth’s shining eyes. He caught it before it disappeared into her waves which tumbled artlessly over her shoulders. “I think this is a happy one,” he whispered, as he inspected the little bubble.
“It is.”
He looked back to her face as he brought the tear to his lips and kissed it away, never moving his eyes from hers.
“I want to be there to kiss away all your tears, Elizabeth. I want to be there when William needs his tears kissed away, and I want to be there when our last tears are shed, when we are old and our bed is the only place we live. I want that right as your husband.” He smiled timidly, but suddenly pulled her firmly into his lap. She wrapped her legs tightly around him and he took both her hands in his. “I dearly hope this is the last time I shall ever do this,” he said, mostly to himself.
“Elizabeth, you have breathed life back into my hands. It only seems fair they be claimed by you, now. Will you do me the honour of accepting my hand?”
“But how…?”
He shook his head and put a finger to her lips. “I will find a way. All I ask now is your acceptance. Please, Elizabeth? Marry me?”
“Yes, Will.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, Si, oui, per sempre, zawsze tak. Forever yes, Will.”
“The most beautiful words I have ever heard you say, my Love,” he said, as his lips met hers once again.
A mourning dove lamented outside the window, awakening Georgiana to the budding light of day. Her foggy mind trailed behind her eyes and both forced themselves to alertness. She willed her aching body to rise, knowing she should look in on Elizabeth and her brother and confirm they were both resting. She could sleep again later.
She smiled and fetched her shawl while she remembered Elizabeth in her arms earlier, bemoaning her fears for the fate of the man who was so precious to her. The walls the woman had built up to protect her from relying on anyone else had been rigid and almost infallible, but when Elizabeth determined to let them fall, she did so like all her other pursuits in the world - with unrestrained passion.
The night before…
“I cannot lose him now.” Elizabeth cried in her arms. Georgiana attempted to calm her, and seemed to be successful when suddenly the elder woman scrambled out of her arms and turned her back abruptly on her. She was shocked at the move, about to voice her indignation, when Elizabeth lifted her hair.
“Please, Mrs. McNally, I cannot reach the top lacings,” she said, as she indicated her corset.
Georgiana laughed. “Elizabeth, I stand here in my shift, divesting you of your clothes; do you not think it is time to call me Georgiana?”
The laughter seemed to take Elizabeth aback, but then she too, began a nervous giggle, as her ties were unlaced and the last of her things removed. “Indeed, I do. How do you propose we go about this, Georgiana?”
“His extremities are the largest concern, according to Mr. Higgins. We must be careful to attend them diligently. I would suggest setting him on his side, one of us in front to warm his hands, the other wrapped around his back and feet.”
Georgiana was very grateful the choice of sides was not left up to her, for Elizabeth immediately climbed into the bed and rolled Fitzwilliam towards her. There were several more attempts at positioning before both women could be comfortable, yet keep Darcy secure. Only when the two agreed they had found the ideal positions, did Georgiana finally call out to her husband.
Patrick came in and beheld a sight unique in his lifetime: Darcy in bed with two beautiful, nearly naked women, yet unaware of his great good fortune.
His wife apparently was well acquainted with her husband’s jovial predilections as she interrupted his thoughts almost immediately.
“I will trust your good breeding and excellent gentlemanly manners preclude the necessity of my extracting your promise of never telling another soul what you are witnessing,” Georgiana admonished before her husband could make a single joke. He cleared his throat and looked guilty. Elizabeth, despite only her face peeking out from the blankets, blushed.
“Please examine us closely and see if the bedding covers all of him, and us. He is so chilled, I fear it will be quite some time before Elizabeth and I feel warm again.”
Both women shivered as they attempted to nestle up to the cold body. Georgiana had her brother’s feet wrapped in her arms and began rubbing them without thinking, as Elizabeth did the same to his hands. Patrick supplied them with hot tea for the next hours and slowly the patient began to warm. Unfortunately, as Darcy’s temperature rose, and some of his consciousness began to return, the uncomfortable feelings in his fingers and toes pained him and he began to thrash about. They struggled to restrain his limbs and attempted to soothe him.
The doctor arrived not long after his unpleasant outbursts started and examined Darcy while the two ladies took a much-needed respite to refresh and attend to personal needs after so much tea. The doctor was well pleased with Darcy’s recovery. He agreed the ladies’ attendance to his person was paramount and seemed unconcerned about the patient’s lack of consciousness. He attributed it to the exhaustion of having just recovered from an illness and too much walking while he was lost. He assured the family that the man merely needed to sleep and not to expect him to awaken fully until late morning.
By the wee hours of the morning, Elizabeth and Georgiana had nearly exhausted themselves keeping Darcy in the bed and warm, and with talking to one another. His body eventually showed signs of complete thawing; his skin temperature stayed warm, his colour returned and his jerking motions finally ceased. Around four in the morning, Elizabeth suggested Georgiana seek some much-needed sleep.
“I had the advantage of a very long nap yesterday afternoon, while you were no doubt fretting over your brother. I must insist you get some rest now. He is calm, and I think one of us is enough to keep him warm.”
Georgiana agreed, and was about to leave the bed when she felt a hand reach out to her. Soft fingers entwined with hers and she looked up to see Elizabeth regarding her with great tenderness. “I shall not leave him,” she whispered quietly.
Georgiana knew Elizabeth was referring to more than the present moment. She squeezed her hand and both women murmured “Thank you” at the same time, before sharing a knowing smile.