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Part 1

Posted on Tuesday, 2 November 1999

It was a cool, crisp late October morning. The sky so blue that one could miss the hint of clouds gliding along the horizon. It was a perfect morning for a stroll about this magnificent Derbyshire estate and so it was that Elizabeth took a turn about the grounds of her beloved home called Pemberley. As was her habit, Elizabeth first wandered through the woods where the falling leaves created a crimson colored shower about her. No matter how many times she walked these woods each step, each turn brought new wonders. A doe wandering across the path, red squirrels barking from neighboring trees, or a migratory flock of birds overhead.

Upon emerging from the woods, Elizabeth would wander over to the great fields freshly worked by the tenant farmers and then finish her round by wandering up to the lake in front of house. In all these years, she had never tired of the fine prospect while standing at the lake shore looking up the hill to the big house. And so, her ritual was borne and so her ritual continued for many years this walk around the grounds of Pemberley.

During this time, Elizabeth would contemplate for a few moments her day and other upcoming activities. Being mistress of such a large estate kept our dear Lizzie quite busy and the early morning stroll through the woods afforded her a moment to herself. This particular morning, she chose to look back on her life. It had been more than anyone could have predicted and certainly more than she could have hoped for. Never had she imagined that her life would be so full.

Fifty-two years - nearly fifty-three, she thought to herself. None of her acquaintance had been married for so many years. All too often a life was taken too soon due to childbirth, accident, or illness. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had truly been blessed and they did thank their Lord everyday. Yes, the Darcy's were fortunate though they did have their share of tragedy as well. Seven of twelve children were seen into adulthood. Of the five who did not survive, two passed before their appointed time of birth and those two seem to have hurt Elizabeth the most. Losing children after birth did not seem nearly as painful to her as she at least had some opportunity to know and love the child before they were gone. But losing a child at anytime is a time of sorrow and so Elizabeth did mourn each of those five babies when they passed and everyday since.

Some days she would wonder if the passing of those children affected her husband at all. Even after so many years of marriage, Fitzwilliam could be a very emotionally reserved person. Aunt Gardiner once wrote that if he married prudently that his wife could teach him to be more lively. That much was true for all those emotions which surround positive feelings such as joy, love, hope and happiness, Fitzwilliam did indeed learn to share with those around him especially his wife. But the dark emotions of anger, sadness, and grief he could never seem to share and this pained Elizabeth. There were many times when she tried to gently coax her husband into sharing those dark feelings but little ever came of it. Anger he could share (sometimes) but grief he could not. Perhaps for some grief must be a singular experience.

Elizabeth sighed quietly and continued on her walk emerging from the fields to stand before the lake. A smile formed on her lips as she thought of many summers past. Summer brought renewed life to Pemberley and so, mixed with her sorrow was the joy of seven grown children (four boys and three girls). When the families would come to stay at Pemberley during the summer, the house was alive with children and adults alike. The house fairly seems to burst with the Darcy's children and their spouses, the 34 grandchildren some of whom were also married, and the four great-grandchildren (with two more on the way). In recent years with the growing number of Darcy progeny, the visits have been in shifts with some of the families overlapping their visits but no longer did all get together at the same time.

Elizabeth's eldest son, Richard (himself an old man of 51 years), would inherit Pemberley soon. The accident earlier this year had taken it's toll on her beloved husband and now all were waiting for the inevitable. Fitzwilliam who had been so strong at 80 years of age was now a frail man at 81. And though his vision had dimmed somewhat, he was still as attentive as ever to his wife. Their conversations together were not filled of what could have been or what might be but of today. Their friendship had grown stronger over these many years and the companionship was indeed a great comfort in their advancing years.

Glancing up to the big house, Elizabeth felt a sense of loss. Her beloved husband could no longer take leisurely strolls about the grounds with her and she so missed that time together. But the reality was that her husband was now confined to a wheelchair and unable to enjoy the simple pleasures of a gorgeous October morning stroll. It was Elizabeth's duty (or so she thought) to make sure that Fitzwilliam could enjoy the beauty of nature for as long as he was unable to wander about on his own. Every day she would pick a new flower, gather a new leaf, or just soak in the world around her so that she might share all of its bounty with him. This simple task made her feel useful at a time when she felt so helpless.

And so with a smile on her face, Elizabeth quickly ascended the steps to the manor house to share this glorious October morning with her ailing husband.

Part 2

Posted on Saturday, 6 November 1999

"Damme... Damme.... Damme!" Darcy pounded the sides of his wheelchair. All his life, he had been a proud and independent man. Never had he imagined that the day would come when he was no longer able to walk to his library, take a stroll with his lovely wife, or even simply get into or out of bed without assistance. Why did life have to become so complicated? What did he do to deserve this?

He bent over again and reached, using every last bit of energy, to retrieve the dropped letter. Darcy knew he could easily have rung for a servant to pick up the note but this was too important. He needed to accomplish something -- anything. With one hand on the back of the chair, he stretched out to the floor as far as his frame would allow wiggling his fingers to get close to the elusive piece of paper. "Yes!" - with a triumphant shout, Darcy raised the letter overhead as if it were a prize. The accomplishment small to the casual viewer was great to this man.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was a proud man from a very old and respectable family, as his Aunt Catherine would remind him regularly. She was attentive to those sorts of things you know. Lady Catherine de Bourgh - Darcy chuckled as he had not thought of her in years. She was the sort of woman who would not let you forget her during life but after she passed was easily forgotten. It had been many years since the consumption lay waste to her body and eventually took her soul. Oddly, Darcy did now miss her, but he certainly did not miss her noxious remarks about his wife. With the encouragement of Elizabeth and after many years, Darcy finally did come to terms with that woman. And as he grew older, he better understood Lady Catherine and how family was central to her life's mission. However misguided the opinions dear Aunt Catherine conveyed, no one could doubt her loyalty to family.

Family. Darcy took a moment to reflect on 52 years (nearly 53) of blissful marriage. His beloved wife, Elizabeth, had blessed him with seven fine children. As the family grew, his pride swelled. His children had grown strong and passed among the finest in society. His wife was as beautiful - nay - more beautiful than the day they were wed. How could one man be so fortunate? Why was he to be so truly blessed?

All his dreams had come true until the accident -- that dammed accident.... Darcy had made it a custom to bestow a fine riding horse upon each grandchild at fifteen years of age. Each horse was carefully selected for temperament by the master himself and before the gift was made he would take the horse on a short jaunt through the woods. Four months ago, Darcy chose a fine spirited Arabian for Thomas, son of Jane Anne. With fire in his eyes, Darcy took the reins and guided his mount out into the open field. Across the field, past the lake, and into the woods, horse and rider flew. At this moment, time stood still and perhaps reversed just a little as our fearless rider laughed and encouraged the animal to go just a little faster. But something spooked the chestnut-colored horse and in an instant the rider was on the ground in a broken heap.

When Darcy awoke, he found himself in his bed with the physician standing over him poking and prodding. It did not look good. Darcy was fortunate not to have died when he went head-first over the horse, but the injuries were great nonetheless. He had broken his hip, 3 ribs, right arm, clavicle and he most likely had internal injuries. The pain was great and at times nearly too much to endure, but he was alive and for that his family was most grateful.

Over time his body healed a bit. Darcy regained use of his arm and in time much of the pain subsided but there were signs that his time was drawing near. He found himself short of breath often, and his cough drew up materials. There were other signs too that his body was failing, but Darcy would not let himself succumb. Not yet at least -- there was a very important date that he had to keep with his beloved wife and make it he would.

"Elizabeth, my love, how I will miss you," he sighed as he rolled the chair toward the window.

Part 3

Posted on Tuesday, 16 November 1999

Sonnets From the Portuguese - XXII

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either curved point,--what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contented ? Think. In mounting higher,
The angels would press on us and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay
Rather on earth, Beloved,--where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Fall was upon the whole of Derbyshire and winter nigh. With the season change came an anxiousness and perhaps a bit of dread that Elizabeth had never known before. Spring had always been her favorite season as it brought a renewal of life and redemption for the soul. Fall brought on the changes that marked the end -- the end of light, the end of warmth, the end of life's renewal. But for a moment in time, Elizabeth forgot that winter also marked a beginning -- for as the sun must rise in the east, so too must spring follow winter. Her preoccupation was with this moment and this season and this time.

Since the accident, she had come to fear what may be each passing hour, each passing day. There would be a day perhaps soon where she would be left a widow and the thought of such left her pale.

Shaking all these thoughts from her head, Elizabeth smoothed her dress and with a bit of trepidation quietly opened the bedchamber door.

"Elizabeth, my love, you have returned from your stroll about the grounds." Darcy said as he rolled away from the window. "And how fare our squirrels, birds, and other manner of beast this fine October day?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Your squirrels fare quite poorly I must report. They have overgrazed on the abundant chestnuts, walnuts, and other delights about the wood and become quite lazy. I fear that their larders will not be as full as need be for this winter."

With a bit of concern Darcy replied, "I see. Well this is a serious matter. I believe I shall at this moment pen an order for all of Pemberley. Shall we call this The Good Squirrels and Woodland Creature Benevolence Fund? We certainly could not stand by and allow these creatures to fare poorly when their larders will have become bare."

At this moment they both laughed and it was a good laugh. There was a sparkle in Fitzwilliam's eye that Elizabeth had not seen in many months. To Fitzwilliam, his wife's countenance was a blessing for it was perhaps the first time since the accident that she truly laughed with him. It felt good to be here and it felt good to be alive.

And so it continued through the month of October. Elizabeth wandered about the grounds of her beloved Pemberley soaking in the last of the warm days before winter's chill arrived and Fitzwilliam watching from his bedchamber window as his wife left each morning for her solitary stroll. Upon completion of her morning's turn about the grounds, Elizabeth would join her husband in the morning room for tea. For the remainder of the morning, Elizabeth would share with Fitzwilliam the changing of the season and how the changes affected the grounds about Pemberley.

"How are the plans for the ball coming along, my dear?" asked Darcy one fine early November morning.

"Ball? Pray tell Fitzwilliam to what ball do you refer?"

"The ball for our anniversary. Shall be three and fifty years now and this date is certainly worthy of a ball."

"No my love, there shan't be a ball this year. Why..." and in a teazing voice Elizabeth added "it would not do to have you napping in front of all those guests. The snoring from your chair would certainly send many away thinking that some dear soul had met with a most unfortunate incident."

With a chuckle, Fitzwilliam spoke "I am allowed to nap as I chose. I am an old man and the prattlers would have no story to tell as old men are expected to behave in odd manners. This is my privilege."

"It may be your privilege but it certainly is not proper. A Darcy who is not everything proper is certainly not a Darcy." said Elizabeth with the tiniest of smiles about her face. Then her expression changed, "Fitzwilliam, dearest, I do not believe it would be prudent to hold a ball so soon after... so soon since..."

"Nonsense. We did promise each other to celebrate each passing year with our dearest friends and family. I shall not allow this chair and my health to stand in the way of that celebration. I am proud to be your husband and even more proud that we have spent a lifetime together. This I must share with all our friends and family... especially the family. Nothing would please me more than to have a ball to celebrate our coming together." Darcy sat back in his chair. "Three and fifty years. We have been truly blessed Elizabeth, and I thank Providence every day that I am here with you."

There was a quiet about the room as Elizabeth pondered her beloved's words. She knew in her heart that a ball would be difficult for Fitzwilliam. Long days seemed to draw on his reserve and weakened him further. To bring all the family here would rob him of precious strength which Elizabeth jealously guarded. But to deny him an opportunity to be with those he loved most would be unconscionable.

"Then we shall have a ball, Fitzwilliam. We shall have a grand ball."