Posted on: 2009-11-22
Author's Note: The following story is without a doubt, a most curious mix of happiness and sorrow. For how can one be enjoyed without the other, it hardly bears thought. Let it suffice, dear reader, that the fiction before you shall render you speechless, it shall pull at your heartstrings, your eyes will sting from the moisture of tears. All that said, I present to you a love story.
Blurb: When two lovers meant to be together deny their feelings, can they overcome their pride before it's too late?
Having never been romantically inclined, I find it difficult to empathize with the acute suffering now being felt, at this moment, by the rare and exquisite creature I shall refer to only as, A Lady of Distinction. Though true her heart had been abominably used and discarded, I feel safe in saying that instead of turning to tears or peevishness, I would have channeled the Righteous Anger of all women and smote my lover with its rage and power.
But, My Lady, who is such a lady of delicacy, could hardly be supposed to harbor such violent emotions and therefore, spent her time thus engaged; If she were not crying, she was moping… and if not moping, then she was brooding.
This behavior soon became tedious to all those within the Household. All manner of cheer was suppressed; every attempt at jollity fell before such gloomy resolve.
In desperation, the Lady's closest friend, if indeed she could be called a friend, was forced to take drastic measures, and with squared shoulders, approached the Middle-Age Man Who Had Taken And Broken The Heart of Our Lady of Distinction.
With every command of reason and persuasion she possessed did the Lady's friend plead the desperate case, and when this seemed to have no affect, the woman was not against using a more convincing argument. It was not long before the Man felt it wise to heed her suggestion… Indeed, though he was not vain, the thought of being separated from his Manhood was powerful motivation to at least attempt reconciliation.
And, if it were indeed hopeless, there was always America!
During the lengthy separation of our Lady of Distinction and her Man of Questionable Character, the feelings once excited had cooled and, I am convinced, would have ceased to exist without the help of her most devoted friend. And though the Man of Questionable Character felt that another meeting between himself and the Lady of Distinction would come to naught, he resigned himself to one final conference.
What was to be felt? Imagine the feelings of one, the dread of the other! Could She see Him one more time without the agonizingly painful feelings, could Her Heart withstand his nearness, knowing His feeling toward her were the opposite of Hers.
It was Agony. It was Hope.
The echoing of footsteps grew louder and upon the opening of the door, our Lady of Distinction had to glance away lest her feelings were given away in that first glance. She must steel herself against his possible rejection. To have lived it once was more than enough, but Hope made her turn toward him.
He stood in the doorway, his distant gaze sweeping her form, but nothing could be read in his look.
They each took one step forward. Their breathing halted, the air itself seemed to smother them. It was as it had always been.
How could he have forgotten her? How could he have been cool toward her? She who had been his most beloved from the start!
How could she have imagined his indifference? How could she doubt his sincerity? He who had been her most fervent supporter!
The distance between them closed without either of them being aware of moving.
"William, Oh, Dumple-Kins!" Her whispered words caught, her lips trembled.
"My Snooker-Bottoms! Oh, Catherine, I am so sorry." He rested his forehead against her for an instant, savoring this moment.
Then their lips met.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Rev. William Collins were never apart from that moment...