Section I, Next Section
Elizabeth Darcy quietly slipped, unnoticed into the music room at Pemberley House. A beautiful melody flowed freely from the piano in the corner, where her youngest daughter, seventeen year old Emily Elizabeth Darcy was practicing.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. All her other children were gone. Either married and settled and working elsewhere. Her eldest, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was in Boston, America. Her eldest daughter, Abigail Darcy was settled in Germany with her husband and four daughters and three sons. Sadly, the rest of Elizabeth's "Small Fry" were all married as well. Anna had just gotten married to the Duke of York. 'Our one claim to fame!' Elizabeth thought. The thought made Elizabeth smile a little. 'Everyone is gone!' she thought sentimentally. 'William is getting old and our only child still home is our little Emily...little Emily who is no longer little!' Only Emily. It sounded dreadful! 'All our Children are gone, and we are left with adults--real men and women,' Elizabeth thought. She turned from her little pianist to her music, and hurried to her room, where no one would see her cry.
Emily had been completely unaware of her mother's presence, as he was trying hard to get one little place in the music perfect. So far it wasn't going well. She sighed, and threw the music aside. Nothing seemed to please her anymore, she felt, no she knew something special was going to happen soon that would take away all those feelings of loneliness, and boredom.
Emily stood up and walked over to the window and stared out. She she saw two heads walking slowly through the gardens. As she leaned out the window to get a better look she realized that one of the men was her father. Who did she know with hair that dark and shiny? 'I wonder...' She thought. At that moment both heads turned around and looked towards the House. The young man Emily didn't recognize spotted her, and waved.
"Emily!" he called, "Are you not going to come down and greet your cousin."
"Alexander!" She whispered. How silly it had been of her not to recognize her cousin...it was only that he seemed so changed from his last visit. He seemed so...handsome...
Alexander was her aunt Jane's eldest son. He was in his late twenties, Emily wasn't quite sure how old he was other than that. He had not been to Pemberley in at least two years. Everyone had believed that he was courting Anna two years ago, and that when he learned the Duke of York had been courting Anna as well, Alexander gave up and vowed never to return. Somehow Emily had always been certain that Alexander hadn't been courting Anna, and the truth be known, Emily was right.
Emily hurried out of the room and out the door into the back garden. "Why Alexander! This is a surprise to see you!" Emily said as she hurried to him. At the last minute Poor Little Emily's boot caught on a root, and she fell at Alexander's feet.
"Little Emily!" Alexander laughing at her, "You need not bow to me, I may be the King, but you are family."
"Thank you," Emily said blushing fiercely, "Would you be so kind as to help me up?"
Alexander laughed, "Kings needn't pick up the peasants...although you are family." Alexander smiled up at his Uncle Darcy, who tried to return the smile, but failed greatly.
Emily had always been a klutz. He wanted to have one meal with a guest where his youngest daughter didn't spill something on her dress, or worse yet, the guests' cloths. Darcy felt sure a big girl of seventeen should learn to keep control of her arms and legs. It was a miracle the poor girl was able to play the piano so well. "I must learn patiences. Just remember what Eliza said..." he thought.
"Your Mother said you were practicing the piano, little cousin," Alexander said, after he got Emily picked up.
"I was but then I saw you and Papa, and I felt I would much rather be with you. Today you are much more interesting than Mozart, or whoever."
Alexander just laughed, and said, "I'll take that as a compliment," and asked where her mother was. They all started towards the house when Elizabeth walked out the door.
"Alexander! How good it is to see you! How is your mother?"
"How are you Aunt Elizabeth? Mother is doing fine and they are still in London actually...."
"You may tell us all about it over dinner," Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth looked around the table. There were only four people. Elizabeth could remember a time when four was a welcome number for dinner, because normally there would be thirteen people. Elizabeth remembered sitting around the table, talking and laughing with her husband, and their eleven beautiful children. Suddenly those good old days were gone forever. Struck by the moment, Elizabeth knew she could not eat. She excused herself as best she could, and went to her room.
Mr. Darcy watched his wife go, and lay down his fork. He couldn't eat without his wife. Without Elizabeth, food tasted bland. Elizabeth had brought so much flavor to his life. He made his apologies, and left to go to his wife.
Emily and Alexander found themselves suddenly alone. Alexander looked at Emily, and smiled to himself. She looked so beautiful when the sun reflected off her dark curly hair, the way it was at that moment. He knew he had to say something, before he lost the moment.
Emily glanced across the table at Alexander. He was so handsome. She could never remember a time before that day when Alexander looked so handsome. Alexander caught her eyes, and held her gaze. She found she could not move her eyes from his.
Alexander leaned forward in his chair. Alexander's eyes deepened into darkness as he held his lady's eyes. His still boyish lips opened to murmer something of the dream that thrilled his heart and soul.
Emily became nervous, as Alexander's gaze became more intent. She moved her hand, and tipped over the crystle glass. In her attempt to pick the glass up, she flipped her plate over, making a mess of food and wine all over the table. To make matters worse, the plate knocked the glass off the table, and the glass fell on the floor with a resounding crash, and broke into a million pieces.
Alexander leaned back in his chair once again. The sunlight, and the romance of the moment where gone. His dreams were broken into a million pieces like the glass. He would have to save his dreams for later, he thought with a heavy sigh.
"Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy whispered, as he leaned over his wifes shaking, and crying form, laying on the bed, "Can you tell me what is the matter?"
Elizabeth threw her arms around her husband, and cried into his shoulder, "I'm so lonely. Almost all our beautiful children are gone."
"We still have Emily, and--"
"I know, and Emily is the most wonderful of daughters, but I feel sure Alexander has come to take her away from me. Next time we see her, she won't be our girl. She'll be some other man's girl."
"Elizabeth, Even it a thousand men came to take Emily away, and she went with them, and they moved a million miles away, that wouldn't change what you have with her. Emily will always be you daugh--our daughter--and nothing can ever change that. You will always have your beautiful babies hear," he said, as he put his hand over Elizabeth's heart, "You will have Anna, and Fitzwilliam, and," Mr. Darcy paused to see what how his words were affecting his wife, "and you will always have me. When ever I'm with you, I can promise you, you will never be alone."
"And I will always be with you..." Elizabeth said, as she gazed up into her husbands eyes, "I can promise you that."
Mr. Darcy kissed Elizabeth, and gently wiped the last tear from her face. Oh, how he loved her. After all those years, he still found he couldn't believe he had Elizabeth's love. Her love still seemed like an unreachable prize, but the look in Elizabeth's eyes at that moment taught him that he had her heart forever.
Suddenly there was a loud crash from the kitchen, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy hurried to investigate.
Thanx for all the comments! Enjoy:)
Emily sat in the garden reading a book the next afternoon. It was a beautiful summer day. The birds where singing, and Emily felt light hearted, and happy-- when she wasn't thinking of her folly of the night before, that is. It was still hard for Emily to believe that she had made such a klutzy move in front of her cousin. If she was Alexander, she would leave Pemberley right away. Although she couldn't completely banish thoughts of dinner, ever since she woke up that morning, she had had a feeling that something wonderful was about to happen that day.
Alexander walked into the garden. When he saw Emily, he almost turned around. After what had happened last night, he wasn't sure what Emily must think of him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "You must be brave, Alexander Bingley!" he ordered himself in a whisper, and walked over to where Emily was sitting.
Emily heard a twig crunch behind her, and turned. "Alexander," she said bravely, lest Alexander should guess where her thoughts were at that moment, "How are you today?"
Alexander was cornered. He wanted to turn around and walk away. He was sure Emily had guessed what he was going to tell her the night before. Now that she had seen him, he had no choice but to talk to her.
Alexander talked on about this and that, but he said nothing about what both he and Emily had dreamed for years--each other. Emily listened...a little. It was hard to listen when it was such a beautiful day, and the night before had been so awful. Emily couldn't imagine Alexander looking at her the way he had the night before. It seemed an impossible dream, that Alexander would lean forward with a divine love light in his eyes, a light that beamed only for her--Emily Elizabeth Darcy. Had she imagined the whole thing? Could this unsentimental creature before her be the same Alexander of the night before? Emily saw the look of his eyes the night before in her mind, and it made her catch her breath quickly.
"Is something wrong, Emily?" Alexander asked, when he Emily suddenly caught her breath.
"Huh?" Emily said looking at him blankly. Why couldn't she learn to pay attention?
"Are you okay?"
Emily gave the affirmative, and got up, "I'm just tired," she said, trying to excuse herself.
"Maybe we have been sitting to long, would you care to walk around the park with me?" Alexander asked.
Emily got up, "Yes," she agreed. She hoped Alexander wouldn't say anything during the walk, then she could forget about the embarrassment of the night before.
Emily and Alexander walked along the edge of the pond, it was so beautiful. The sky was sunny and bright. Alexander noticed his companion's quietness, and he wisely chose not to say anything.
Emily saw a few ducks in the pond, and slowly walked toward them, so she could get a closer look. "Look at the ducks, Alexander," Emily said, as she walked closer to the edge of the pond. As she walked, she turned around to smile at Alexander. She was so close to the edge of the pond, that when she did this, she took one step too close to the edge of the pond. Emily let out a little scream, and Alexander ran toward her to help her up. He was too late, however, Emily lost her footing, and screamed as she slipped into the water.
"Emily, give me your hand!" Alexander shouted. Emily gave him her hand. Rather than pulling her out of the water, as Alexander had at first anticipated, Emily, although she was light and thin, pulled Alexander into the water with her.
"I'm sorry!" Emily shouted sincerely.
"I'm sure you are, Emily," Alexander responded. He knew Emily's klutzy nature well--after the night before! He decided that the best thing to do was force Emily to laugh at herself. He had noticed Emily's self-consciousness all that morning, and he knew it was because of the disastrous dinner.
Emily splashed water all over him, and laughed.
"No you don't, Emily!" Alexander shouted, as he splashed Emily. After that all hell broke lose in the little pond at Pemberley. If either of them hadn't been soaking wet before, they both were now.
Elizabeth looked out the window of the house, and saw the violent battle in the pond. Although it was highly improper, Elizabeth found herself laughing, as she remembered a certain young man swimming in the pond one afternoon many years ago. "And I fell in love..." Elizabeth thought. Mr. Darcy walked into the room, and noticed the funny smile on her face, and asked her what she was laughing at. "Just the pond, Dear," Elizabeth said, and kissed her husband on the cheek, and quickly lead him away from the window.
Meanwhile, Emily and Alexander finished their battle, and laughing, they got out of the pond.
"So how did you like the ducks, Emily?" Alexander asked.
Emily smiled, but she didn't say anything, because she saw the figure of her best friend, Elanore Walker, walking toward them, and rushed to meet her. She had hoped Elanore would come, because she had always wanted to introduce Elanore to her cousin.
Alexander watched Emily rush to meet the light haired girl. Emily had always been his favorite Cousin. She was always so light-hearted. She took after her mother in many respects. He had always known that one day he was going to marry Emily, but that moment seemed ages away, and he didn't know if Emily could love him, she never acted like she did. Also it was hard to love a girl he hadn't seen in two years--two very long years--and she just didn't seem to return the affection. How could he ever dream he could obtain the heart of the women he longed for?
Elanore Walker was two years older then Emily, and unmarried. Elanore was Emily's model and Elanore loved Emily as a friend and sister.
"Why are you so wet?" Elanore asked. Emily only shrugged, she didn't feel like explaining.
"My cousin is here!" Emily said instead, "Oh Elanore you must come and meet him! I feel sure the two of you will get along beautifully."
Elanore laughed and said, "Well he seems very handsome from this distance, Emily."
Emily felt some jealousy, did Elanore mean...was Elanore talking about loving Alexander already? Elanore couldn't marry Alexander! Alexander was Emily's. Emily caught her breath. Was she in love with Alexander?
"He's wet too," Elanore looked at Emily critically. It was highly improper for a young lady to go swimming with a young man.
The girls walked over to Alexander. Emily found herself watching Alexander for any sign of affection or love toward Elanore. Could it be that Alexander was happier now that he had met Elanore? He seemed happy while they were in the pond, but at that moment, he seemed happy, like a man who had just met the women of his dreams.
Alexander Bingley was quite pleased with Elanore. She was a lot like Emily Darcy herself, but she wasn't Emily. Emily decided after watching Elanore with Alexander that Elanore really liked him, and was well on her way to falling deeply in love with Alexander, and she was right. But if Alexander was falling in love with Elanore, he didn't show it.
Alexander was going to stay at Pemberley for a few weeks. Emily knew she would enjoy his visit. Sometimes Alexander would walk through the garden with Emily, and he would say things that made her hope he really did love her. Emily was beginning to realize that she really loved Alexander more than any man in the world...even more than she loved her father. Alexander was charming, and handsome, and...and...well, words could not express how wonderful Alexander was. As Emily wrote in her diary, "He's just so 'Alexander', that I have t love him with all my heart!"
Elanore came to Pemberley often, to talk with Alexander. Often, Emily would sit at her window and watch Elanore flirt with Alexander. It was obvious that Elanore was in love with Alexander, and Emily was sure the affection was returned. How could Alexander do this to her, Emily wondered bitterly.
"Emily," Elanore said, walking into Emily's room one day, "I have a confession to make."
Emily looked up at Elanore expectantly.
"I'm in love with your cousin. Oh Emily, he is the most wonderful man I have ever met. I feel sure he loves me too. Thank you for introducing me to him. Mr. Bingley is truly the right man for me. I just wanted to tell you..." Elanore said, her voice trailed off, as she blushed her hardest.
Emily tried her hardest to smile, but it was so hard to smile, when her world was crashing down around her. Of course Alexander loved Elanore. Elanore was beautiful, and fun to be around, and extremely stupid. Emily never wanted to see Elanore again. Never. Emily coldly congratulated Elanore on the revolution of her feelings, and kindly asked her to close the door behind her.
Elanore was taken aback. Never in her entire life had Emily treated her in this fashion. Emily must be jealous because Elanore had a beau, and she didn't. That would soon pass, though, Emily was very pretty.
After Elanore revealed her deep feelings for Alexander to Emily, Emily burred herself in trying to take her mind off him. She tried practicing the piano more than usual, but she only gave herself a bad head ache. She tried reading more than usual, but could Emily possibly read more than she already did? (she had inherited her fathers love for books). Finally Emily found her forte in cross stitching. Emily found that she really enjoyed cross stitching, and spent a lot of her time sitting in the sitting room, by the window, which afforded her a good view of Alexander and Elanore strolling through the garden together, arm in arm.
A few weeks passed. Emily sat quietly stitching, and looking out the window. Elanore was in the garden with Alexander at that very minute. They were probably confessing their love to each other right at that moment. It was fine with Emily, she didn't really care what either of them did.
Emily found herself looking out the window, rather than looking at what she was sewing. She wondered if when Alexander and Elanore came inside later, they would be engaged. Elanore stood on her tip toes and kissed Alexander on the cheek--that was more inappropriate that Emily swimming with Alexander! Emily was quite unconscious of herself, as she sewed the bit of cloth to her dress.
"Miss Emily, a visitor to see you," one of the servants said.
Emily stood up, and wondered who was at Pemberley calling on her, of all people. She looked down at her dress. 'On no!' Emily thought, when she caught sight of the piece of cloth. This couldn't be, who knew what the person would think of her. Emily tried to rip out the stitches, but the would not budge. Out of desperation, Emily ripped hard at the piece of cloth. The cloth ripped off, taking a piece of her dress off with it. Things just seemed to go from bad to worse to terrible for Emily.
Just as Emily reached this moment of desperation, a handsome young man walked into the room, and bowed to Emily. Emily curtsied, keeping her dress folded, so the ripped area would not show, but never took her eyes off the strange young man. He was indeed the most handsome man she had ever seen, even more so than Alexander, although she wouldn't let herself admit it. Her heart knew the truth...no handsome face would replace that of Alexander in her heart.
"You must be Miss Darcy, it is indeed a pleasure to finally meet you," the young man said.
"Indeed?" Emily questioned. She was confused as to who this man was, since she had never seen him before in her entire life.
He kissed her hand, "You don't know me. I am your humble cousin, George Wickham Jr."
"I can't believe Lydia and Wickham sent there son to us," Mr. Darcy muttered to his wife as he paced restlessly back and fourth in his study, "And why did he present himself to Emily before you or me? I am the master of this house, not Emily."
"We can not throw him out. We must let him stay. His father may be many things, but his son is still family. We must treat him accordingly. It we mean to throw out family, we may as well throw Alexander out now. Also given your opinion of his father, he probably knew we would not welcome him with open arms. We must get past our prejudices, and except him as a completely separate person," Elizabeth said, as she tried to calm him down.
"You are wise, my dear, but if he shows only a little of his father in his actions, I'm sending him home immediately."
"He told me he has come to stay with us because his father lost his home. Lydia is staying with Jane and Charles and her husband is--"
"I don't want to hear where Wickham is staying. I don't care whose charity case he has made himself," Mr. Darcy said passionately. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy had seen or heard from The Wickhams since they got married, until now.
Emily was upset. Alexander seemed displeased that Mr. Wickham would be staying at Pemberley. Alexander had only given a stiff bow when he saw Mr. Wickham. She was even more upset that her parents were displeased at the prospect of Mr. Wickham staying with them. Emily decided that she would befriend Mr. Wickham. She would not shun him as her parents and Alexander did.
Emily and Mr. Wickham were sitting in the garden sipping tea together, when Emily asked, "Why is it that my parents and Alexander hate you, Mr. Wickham?"
"Because they are all Prejudice fools, Miss Emily. Something happened years ago, and your whole 'family' has held a grudge against us ever since."
"What happened?" Emily asked.
"Nothing that you need to concern yourself about, my dear cousin. I am here to change everything. I am here to heal the bruises inflicted by my fathers poor judgment, and your fathers foolish love... or lust."
Emily was confused. She had never known she had a cousin Wickham, or that she was even related to any one by that name until he had surprised her in the sitting room a few hours prior. "Oh please tell me, Mr. Wickham," She begged.
"No. Maybe some other time. You are still to young to hear about it. You still believe your father is perfect and immortal, and your parents are truly in love."
"My father is perfect, and immortal, and I know my parents are truly in love," Emily said defiantly.
"Yes, yes, children believe everything," Wickham said.
"Children?"
Yes, you are but a child," Wickham said.
"I'm seventeen years old!" Emily said harshly.
"Have you taken a good look at your father lately? He's getting old, very old. He has gray hair, and his face is wrinkled, and he is going bald. Soon he is going to die, and you and your mother will be left alone, with out a man to protect you from the world."
"Protect us from the world?" Emily asked angrily, "My brothers will protect us--if we actually needed protection! My father will always be hear to protect us, though. He is still young and handsome, not wrinkled and bald."
"As I said before, you are still young, you don't understand adult matters."
"And you understand adult matters any better? I understand important adult matters quite will, because I am an adult," Emily stopped, and blushed. She had completely forgot herself, she was talking to a man whom she had met not three hours ago, and she was talking to him like she would talk to Alexander. Alexander wouldn't put her down like Mr. Wickham had.
"Practically an adult, Miss Emily, practically," When Mr. Wickham said this, he looked at Emily in a certain way that made her forgive him for everything he had said about her father being old.
"Maybe tomorrow?" Emily asked.
"Defiantly. Tomorrow you will be adult enough. But today, you need a lesson in--"
"Hello there!" Alexander said, as he and Elanore walked up behind Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham rolled his eyes at Emily, and Emily wondered what he was going to say before Alexander interrupted them, and why he and Alexander seemed to hate each other so much.
Emily noticed that Elanore looked especially happy, it probably had something to do with that little kiss Elanore had snuck in the garden. Emily half wondered if they had come to announce their engagement to her and Mr. Wickham. half of Emily knew they weren't engaged...not yet at least.
Elizabeth looked happily around the dinner table. It was so wonderful. Anne and her husband had come for a visit, and Mr. Wickham was there, and Elanore had been coaxed into dinning with them, so there were eight people total, sitting around the table. Every thing was cheery, every one was laughing and talking...just like old times. Wickham's son seemed to have that sort of effect on people. Elizabeth recalled a similar response from the presence of his father in a given area. All Elizabeth could do was smile.
Elanore was sitting in Emily's usual spot, across from Alexander, "Hummm, I wonder if they are a couple now," Elizabeth thought, as she watched Alexander and Elanore lock eyes. Elanore blushed, and looked determinedly at her food.
Emily was sitting across from Mr. Wickham, "Could it be possible that they are falling in love? He has not been here a week, has he won her affection already?" Elizabeth questioned, she glanced at her husband, to see if he was thinking the same thing, but he was talking to Anne, and her husband. Elizabeth noticed quite a few significant looks between Emily and Mr. Wickham. Could it be...? Elizabeth dared not even think it. She grimaced at what her husbands response would be. What would her husband say if Emily married the son of a man he hated with all his heart?
"I lost her forever," Alexander muttered as he climbed into bed that night. "Those Wickhams are always so sly. Emily doesn't even know the story about Uncle Wickham. She has never even heard of Mr. Wickham before he arrived. Blast those Wickhams!"
Alexander went to sleep, feeling sure that Emily would soon come to her senses, and realize that Mr. Wickham meant nothing to her. He hoped she would, at least.
Emily smiled faintly as she picked up the note someone had slipped under her bedroom door. "Miss Emily Darcy" was written in big, beautiful letters, in some unknown hand across the top. "I wonder who this could be from." She carefully opened her door, to see if the writer was still in the hall, but the hall was empty. Emily shut the door, and went to sit down while as she opened the letter. In a foreign hand was written:
My Dear Emily Darcy,
I think you are ready to hear the story. If you possibly can, meet me in the library at midnight. We have many things to discuss. I hope you will join me.
Yours,
George Wickham Jr.
Emily kissed the letter. In the few days he had been at Pemberley, she realized that she really liked, perhaps even loved, Mr. Wickham. A midnight rendezvous sounded incredibly romantic. Alexander would never think of something like this! "To think that I once imagined my self quite in love with him." Emily laughed, then shivered.
At midnight, Emily slipped out of her room, carefully, so as not to wake any of her family, or the guests. She hoped Mr. Wickham would be there. It was entirely improper to meet a man in the middle of the night. To ease her soul, Emily put on a dress and did her hair. Before had she left the room, she looked in the mirror. She thought she looked especially pretty, and she hoped Mr. Wickham would agree. He always complimented Emily on her looks, that made her feel good. It made her feel pretty. Alexander never commented on how she looked. When Emily spent an especially long time on making herself perfect for him, she always felt let down when he didn't notice her hair or cloths.
Emily reached the library, took a deep breath, and opened the door. She got a sudden twinge in her stomach, it was almost as if she thought Alexander was the man who sat behind the heavy door waiting for her. When she looked inside, she felt an incredible let down, it was only Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Wickham smiled and rose to his feet when he saw Emily. She looked so beautiful tonight. She looked gullible, and naive. If he played his cards right, his fathers revenge complete.
"Emily," he exclaimed, "I wasn't sure you were going to show up."
"Well, I did. I want to hear the story."
"Indeed, sit here, and I will tell you the true story of what happened between my father and your father."
"You were right, Mr. Wickham, my father is getting old. He isn't immortal."
"No indeed, you were wise to figure that out yourself," he said, rewarding Emily with a smile.
"Now the story. Your father came to Hertfordshire with Uncle Bingley and his sisters, that's where your mother lived--"
"Yes, we used to visit Hertfordshire often. That is where Alexander's family lives," Emily interrupted.
"Mr. Bingley immediately fell in love with Aunt Bingley," Mr. Wickham continued.
"Yes, well, that same fall, my father came to Hertfordshire with his troop of solders, and he met your mother. My father fell head over heals in love with your mother, and the feelings were returned. That whole time Mr. Darcy was madly, and jealously in love with your mother. When he heard my father was visiting your mother quite often, he became enraged, and removed Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and his brother-in-law from Hertfordshire. He didn't want Bingley to marry Jane, because it would remind him of what he wasn't good enough to have."
"He is good enough for my mother," Emily interrupted.
"No, he's not, because he took Bingley away from his true love, for selfish reasons. No man with a decent bone in his body would do something like that."
"Oh," Emily said. Mr. Wickham must be right, he was right about her father getting old, so he must be right about everything.
"Your mother went to visit a good friend in Hunsford. Your father heard about her trip to Hunsford, and conveniently went to visit his aunt. He wanted to see if his charms would work on her if my father wasn't around. His charms didn't work any better, until he told her lies about my father, saying he was a crook. Your mother believed him for some reason."
"Was your father a crook?" Emily asked. Mr. Wickham shook his head.
"The next time my father saw her, your mother was cold and uncivil to him. He took her coldness to mean that she didn't love him anymore, but I believe she did really love him, but she was afraid of him because of what your father told her.
"His regiment left Meryton, and he left without her love. My mother, Lydia, joined the general and his wife. My father saw that Lydia was quite like your mother, and he began to visit her often. One day they ran off together, but they weren't staying in the same room. They planned to get married once my father had enough money.
"As the weeks passed, your mother realized that she was still in love with my father. Your mother visited this beautiful house with her Aunt and Uncle, and Mr. Darcy again tried to win her affections. He didn't succeed, but he heard her say that my father and mother had run off together, but weren't married. He knew he had to act at that moment, or he would loosed his chances with your mother. He knew if your mom saw my father again, she would tell him she loved him, and they would get married. Your father found my parents, and paid for the wedding. My father has been broken hearted ever since, because he married a women he didn't really love. Your mother married your father only because he seemed like a nice man, he loved her, and he was handsome and rich--my father was poor--but she didn't love him."
"That is so sad. My father didn't really do that, did he?" Emily asked. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly Mr. Wickham was next too her, wiping the tears from her face.
"I'm sorry I told you, Miss Emily," he began, "but I'm glad it worked out that way, because if my father had married your mother," he lifted her face up to his, and put his close to hers, "I wouldn't be able to do this." He gently kissed her. When they finally pulled away, he smiled and said, "Are you happier now?" Emily nodded, and kissed him again.
"I better go now," Emily said. She got up and began to walk toward the door.
Mr. Wickham grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him, "I love you...Emily...will you marry me?"
"Yes," Emily whispered.
This wasn't what he wanted to do, but he could tell that Emily was untouchable. At least he could make his uncles life miserable. He made Emily hate her father, and she was in love with him, and they were going to get married. It was all good.
He pulled Emily close to him for one more kiss before she left. Emily moved back, and ran into a bookshelf in the middle of the room. The shelf swayed back and forth, and fell to the ground with a crash.
Mr. Wickham gave her a book, and said, "When they come, say you were looking for a book, and you bumped into the bookshelf." Mr. Wickham ran toward the back door.
"I love you," Emily said in a loud whisper.
"Yeah," Mr. Wickham said as he opened the door. He walked through the door without even giving Emily a second look. Emily watched him leave as her first kisses still burned on her lips.
When Emily's parents walked through the door, she explained that she was looking for a book to read because she couldn't sleep. Normally Emily would feel bad about telling such a lie to her beloved family, but Mr. Wickham had taken away most of her love for her family--her father especially.
The morning after Mr. Wickham proposed to Emily, Alexander asked Emily to take a walk in the garden with him. Emily slowly consented, wondering at how appropriate it was for an engaged women to walk with another man.
The two walked in silence for a several minutes, then Alexander broke the silence by saying, "Emily, there is something I desperately need to tell you. I have kept it to myself for so long. I'm sure if I don't tell you soon, it will drive me mad."
Alexander looked at Emily in a certain way that almost made her fall in love with him all over again, but the thought of Mr. Wickham stopped her. "I have something to tell you, too," Emily said.
"You first," Alexander said gallantly. Somewhere in his heart, he wanted to make Emily realize what a true gentleman was.
Emily took a deep breath and said quickly, "I am going to marry George Wickham, he is inside asking fathers permission right now." It was strange how the words were so heavy on her tongue. Emily was sure that if she was engaged to Alexander, the words would not be so heavy and sticky if she was telling Mr. Wickham. Did that mean something?
Her companion had been quiet for some time. Emily finally worked up the courage to look up at him. The look on Alexander's face almost made her cry. Alexander was as white to the lips. He looked like he was going to faint.
"Alexander are you--"
"EMILY!" her father shouted.
"Don't marry Mr. Wickham, Emily, he isn't trustworthy. You don't even know his fathers story you--" Alexander said.
"Yes I do. Mr. Wickham told me the whole story. My father is a disgusting, despicable man, and I can not believe I am his daughter. He is getting old, and deserves to die," Emily said bluntly.
"Come now, Emily, those are all lies. Lies, Emily. You can't believe that of your father. What on earth has possessed you to believe George Wickham's lies? Emily I love you and your family, of course, I don't want to see you do this to them! " With the small confession of his feelings for Emily, his cheeks turned from a ghostly white, to a deep red.
"I don't care about my 'family'. What George said was the truth," Emily said, "My father is an awful, evil man." Emily looked up, and saw her father standing a little distance away from them. By the look on his face, Emily knew he had heard the whole thing. Her father turned around and began to walk toward the house. Emily called for him, but he just kept walking. Emily fell to the ground and began to sob into her handkerchief.
"I have to go, Emily," Alexander said, "I'm sure you will be happy with Mr. Wickham."
"Where are you going?" Emily cried. She felt like her world was tumbling down around her. She didn't want Alexander to leave her. She loved him. She loved him...
"I'm going home...to Netherfield," he replied
"What did you want to tell me?" Emily asked.
"I guess that's it. I wanted to tell you I'm leaving."
Emily watched him go. She had lost everything. She knew she was a very stupid girl. She lost her fathers love, and she lost the one man she loved--Alexander. She no longer wanted Mr. Wickham. She was no longer under his spell. She didn't love him. She realized all this as she sat sobbing in the dirt in front of Pemberley.
Emily eventually went in the house. She went to her room, and sat at her writing desk. Something had to be done to win back her fathers love, but first she needed to retrieve her heart form Mr. Wickham. She wanted him to leave her life forever.
Emily took out a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote:
"Dear Mr. Wickham,"Before I begin to tell you what desperately needs to be said, I must tell you that my father is not making me write you this letter. I am writing because of my poor judgment, and my unwise actions last night. I have given your proposal much thought since last night, and I have come to the conclusion that I can not marry you. I do not love you as a women should love the man she is to marry. For a second, I thought I could last night, but after giving it careful thought, I realize that I cannot. I am heartily sorry for any grievance I may have caused you by this refusal, and please do not hold this against me.
Your friend,
Miss Emily Elizabeth Darcy"
Emily found one of the servants, and asked him to deliver her letter to Mr. George Wickham's room, then she went to talk to her father.
Emily told her father every thing Mr. Wickham had told her the night before. Mr. Darcy agreed that he too would hate himself if he treated another man that badly, but he also admitted that he had not been very kind in his youth--which was the real reason behind her mother's refusal. He told Emily that he had his wife's love, a real true love, and she had his.
"I suppose I should tell you the whole story about Wickham," her father said, sighing heavily, "we have kept you--all of you--in the dark about him for years. For that I am heartily sorry, and I hope you can forgive me." Mr. Darcy laughed ruefully, and added, "You aren't a little girl anymore. You are a grown woman."
Emily felt proud that her father had said she of all people was a grown women. She smiled and said quickly, "Yes, Papa, I can forgive you, if you will forgive me for all the awful things I said about you outside, and the awful things I thought about you."
Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had been standing outside her husband's study and overheard the entire conversation. "And that is how a happy story should end," she thought to herself, as she smiled again.
After George Wickham read Emily's letter, he left for London. He hadn't really loved Emily, so he wasn't too bothered by her rejection. The only thing she had hurt was his pride. It would be a long time before he would trust a woman to be gullible again. He would always wounded what it was that made Emily fall out of love so fast.
The days since Mr. Wickham, and more importantly Alexander, had left passed slowly for Emily. Slow days faded softly into quiet weeks, and the weeks soon dissolved into months. Soon the turmoil caused be Mr. Wickham's arrival had been all but forgotten in the minds of the little family occupying Pemberley. The pain he had caused had been almost completely healed, but Emily was still not ready to taste love again, not until Alexander returned again, at least.
Elizabeth got used to the quietness of Pemberley, and actually grew to enjoy it. She was able to have a conversation with her husband, without any interruption, and she suddenly got to know her youngest daughter, who had faded into the woodwork because of her brothers and sisters. To Elizabeth Emily had always been, and would be indefinitely the baby. Now Elizabeth learned that although Emily was the "baby of the family", she was no longer a baby at heart...she was a beautiful young women, who had grown up right under Elizabeth's nose, unnoticed. Emily would never be overlooked again though, Elizabeth promised herself that. Emily quickly became her favorite daughter, almost filling the place Anne had left when she got married.
Soon the lazy, sunny days of Summer where gone, leaving a drab fall, which was quickly replace with the snowy landscape of winter. That winter, although it was especially snowy, Mr. Darcy took several trips to Rosings, to visit his sick Aunt, Lady Catherine, for she was on her death bed. Elizabeth and Emily stayed home while Darcy was away, because Lady Catherine held a grudge against Elizabeth. This suited Emily, because she had no great love for Great Aunt Catherine, or her ever sickly daughter, Anne (not to be confused with Emily's sister Anne). Anne De Bourgh had grown into a snobby, crabby old spinster, because, Elizabeth told Emily, no one loved her. Her mother didn't even love her, because she felt Anne had fallen short, because she wasn't able to secure Darcy's affections, or any man's affections, for that matter.
The day before Christmas Mr. Darcy was expected home. Emily had been at the window all day, watching for her fathers carriage to arrive. "Mama," Emily said, as Elizabeth walked into the room, "Do you think Papa will get home before dinner?" It seemed almost scandalous to Emily that her father should not come home in time for dinner on Christmas Eve. He had been there every year Emily could remember.
"I'm sure he is trying his hardest, darling, but the roads are all snowed in."
"But Mama, it's Christmas Eve!"
Elizabeth smiled at her daughter. She was still so much like a girl in some ways, but a women in others. She really had grown up since the encounter with Mr. Wickham.
Emily turned back to the window, and wondered at her mother's calmness, suddenly she saw a carriage coming down the road toward the house. "Mama! It's Papa! He's here, Mama. He made it," Emily cried, as she jumped up from her spot at the window.
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed. Her husband was home for the holidays. It made Elizabeth so happy, she felt like a small child again. Mr. Darcy always told her she was a child in a women's body, now she quit agreed. She felt like Emily, a little girl watching at the window for her papa to come home. If only her Papa was coming home for the holidays. Elizabeth shivered. She wished her father hadn't died. If he was still alive he'd be there with them too...
"Mama? Who's that with him?" Emily asked.
Elizabeth walked over to the window, almost wondering if it was her father, and looked out through the peep hole Emily had made by wiping away the frost on the glass. "It looks like...Mr. and Mrs. Collins and their son, and...Anne De Bourgh?" Elizabeth said, she sounded excited, "Oh, dear Charlotte has come to Pemberley at last!"
"Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy voice called, as he walked through the door. His heart was full, he was going to see his wife...his wife...HIS wife!
Elizabeth hurried down the flight of stairs, not even taking the time to check herself in the mirror, or adjust her hair. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Darcy caught her up in his arms and kissed her, "Merry Christmas, My Elizabeth," he said.
"Papa," Emily said smiling. Mr. Darcy let go of his wife for a moment to gave his daughter a hug, "We weren't sure you were going to make it, Papa," Emily said, as she burred her head in his chest.
"I will always be with you on Christmas," he said with a smile, as he looked up into his wife's smiling eyes. "I love you," he mouthed to Elizabeth, and she responded in kind...moving closer, and kissing him ever so gently, as Emily still held on to him, in a big hug.
The guests stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortably on to the scene of the happy family holding each other like there was no tomorrow. Elizabeth suddenly realized their presence, and said, "Darling, you bought us guests for Christmas?"
Mr. Darcy cleared his thought uncomfortable, and said, "Yes, you all remember my dear wife, Elizabeth, and our youngest daughter, Emily?"
"Oh, Dear Cousin Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins said eloquently, stepping out from the rest of his party. "How good it is to see you and your lovely daughter once again! I am deeply indebted to you for letting us stay with you on our trek to Longbourn. This is our son Andrew," Mr. Collins added, motioning to the young man at his side, who had a surprising resemblance to Mr. Collins himself.
"I am pleased to see you once again, Mrs. Darcy, Miss Darcy," he quickly said. He looked uncomfortably around him at the vaguely familiar faces.
Emily eyed Andrew Collins for a moment, and quickly decided that he was not a bit like his father, and this pleased her very much.
Mr. Collins began to talk again, saying, "Might I express our deepest thanks for allowing our Dear Miss Anne De Bourgh live with you, after her own most excellent mother's death."
Elizabeth flinched. Anne De Bourgh, staying at Pemberley? It couldn't be possible that her husband would invite Anne De Bourgh to live with them. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy for some answers.
"Surprise," he said uncertainly, as he looked at his wife's face.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. 'All she needs is a little love, and she'll be a little more tolerable,' Elizabeth thought. She took another deep breath, and found her voice, and a smile, and said, "We are happy to have you with us, Miss De Bourgh, let's have one of the servants take your things up to the room you will be staying in. I am sorry to hear about your mother's death. It is quite hard to have one of your parents die. We grow quite attached to them in this life," Elizabeth looked sympathetically at Miss De Bourgh
"You are too kind, Mrs. Darcy," Anne De Bourgh said, condescendingly, almost making Elizabeth want to take back her words.
Mr. Darcy gave his wife a look of relief, and thanks, before he went up to his room to change for out of his dirty cloths.
Emily wondered at her mother's bravery. She wished she could be like that. Emily wondered if she would ever be able to accept the idea of awful Anne De Bourgh staying with them.
Somewhere during the Collins visit, Emily took pity on Andrew. One night as she was laying awake in bed, she realized how lonely Andrew always seemed. As she had gotten to know him, she realized how little like his father he actually was, and how nice he would be, if he only had a little love. Emily knew deep down in her heart that he craved love with a vengeance, but no women would have him. As Emily looked at a mental picture of him, she decided that he was quite handsome, but those good-looks had been formed by the loving hand of inner beauty, and needed very much to be worked with, by the gentle touch of a women's love.
It was while she was in bed that an idea popped into her head. Emily quickly sat up. Andrew needed love, and Elanore was the perfect women to give it too him. Why hadn't she thought of this before? Elanore would fall in love with Andrew, freeing up Alexander's heart once again. If Alexander truly loved Elanore, which Emily could not doubt, he would be upset, and use Emily's shoulder to cry on. From there, maybe he would fall in love with her, and realize she was no longer the girl, Little Emily Darcy, but a women, Miss Darcy.
Emily fell back onto the pillows. No, she could never try her hand in something so sinister. It was likely that Elanore's heart was untouchable, now that she was in love with Alexander. For all Emily knew, they were secretly engaged. Maybe they weren't secretly engaged, and the whole world, except Emily knew about it. Emily knew she couldn't break Alexander's heart like that.
"Well, I suppose I could introduce Elanore to Andrew," Emily thought. "I miss having Elanore around, anyway."
Emily got out of bed quickly, and walked across the floor to her desk, and wrote Elanore a note, inviting her to tea the next day.
Elanore arrived at Pemberley promptly at tea time. She was somewhat weary of Emily's presence, and spur of the moment invitation, since they hadn't parted on the best of terms the last time she had spoken to Emily. It seemed odd that Emily had been so offended by her confession of so long ago, and it seemed even stranger that Emily had not forgiven her right away.
A servant guided Elanore into the parlor, where Emily sat nervously, awaiting Elanore's arrival.
"Miss Walker to see you, Miss," The servant said, peaking into the parlor, where Emily sat.
"Yes, show her in," Emily said. She rose from her seat, and adjusted her hair, hoping she looked less disheartened than she felt. Why had she come up with this stupid idea anyway? She could end this misery simply by leaving through the other door. 'No!' Emily ordered herself, 'you must be brave, and face Elanore!'
Elanore walked through the door, and stopped abruptly when she saw Emily. "Emily, I want to thank you for inviting me to tea today," she said politely.
"Yes," Emily said, "It has been too long since we talked, and I fear it's all my fault. Come, sit down here and join me for tea. My mother and father are taking Mr. and Mrs. Collins and Miss De Bourgh to town today, leaving me and Mr. Andrew Collins home alone."
"Who are the Collins' and Miss De Bourgh, Emily? I have been away so long, I don't even know your guests," Elanore said.
"Mr. Collins is my mother's cousin, and Mrs. Collins is my mother's good friend from when she was a little girl. Mr. Collins is moving into my grandparents house in Hertfordshire, because their patroness, my fathers Aunt died. My father's Great Aunt was Miss De Bourgh's mother, and since we can't leave Miss De Bourgh in that big house all alone, we have agreed to let her live with us. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are leaving tomorrow for Hertfordshire, but their son is staying with us for a few more weeks. Something about our 'superior society'," Emily stopped talking for some input from Elanore.
"Well, it seems you have been awful busy since I was last here. All these relations have come to visit you! Oh, speaking of your relations, have you by any chance heard from Alexander since he left?"
Emily flinched, but regained her courage and said, "No, indeed. We haven't heard from him in quite a while."
"Do you think it's something I might have done? It seams he left in quite a huff. The day before he left, he came to my house and paced back in fourth in front of me, muttering things like, 'I should have known she wouldn't love me,' and, 'Why do I bother with her, when she has someone else?' Finally I said, 'I do love you Alexander. I couldn't possibly love anyone else.' He gave me the strangest look, and left right away, without making any apologies, or explanations for his behavior. It was all very strange, Emily. Could it be possible that he didn't love me, and he was actually in love with another, the whole time he was wooing me in your garden?"
Emily's heart began pounding uncontrollably. Who did Alexander love if it wasn't Elanore? Could it be that he loved Emily?
Andrew walked listlessly through the winding halls of Pemberley. He had tried sitting, he had tried reading, he had even tried sleeping, but found it all quite impossible. There is nothing to do, when one can't concentrate. He felt an eerie sort of anticipation. He felt like he knew something was going to happen soon, but he didn't know whether it would be good or bad. He hoped and prayed it would be the former.
As Andrew neared the parlor, he heard two feminine voices. On he recognized immediately as Emily Darcy's, but the other was completely unfamiliar. The voice was musical, and delighted him immensely, so much so, it took all his strength not to open the door to sneak a peek at the owner of the voice.
"Would you care to stay until after dinner?" Emily's voice asked.
"And will I get to meet your relations?" The other asked back. Andrew could hear a smile in the voice. He knew immediately that the owner of the voice had the prettiest smile.
"Yes, you will see all but Mr. and Mrs. Collins," Emily responded. "They are staying in town tonight, and leaving tomorrow."
"Well, that shall be good enough, I suppose. Come, let us write a note to my family to tell them about my change in plans. I am so happy we are speaking to one another once again, Emily. I was afraid last summer was the end of our friendship!"
"As was I, Elanore. I too am happy to possess your friendship once again. It has been too long, Elanore."
Andrew leaned against the wall. There were only a few inches between that women and himself. He hardly breathed. To see her, all he had to do was open the door, and look in. He was in love, and he hadn't even seen the lady yet!
"I can't wait to meet your guests, Emily," the 'Elanore' said.
"I can't wait to meet you either," Andrew breathed, as he closed his eyes, and sunk to the floor.
Emily Darcy sat dejectedly in front of her dressing room mirror. "Why me?" she asked her reflection, pleading for some sort of answer. All the Emily in front of her did was mockingly mouth her question back to her. Emily turned from her mirror, angrily. The last person she needed advice from at that moment in time was herself. She was far too stupid to be listened to. Klutzy Emily had struck again. How on earth could she have ever thought Andrew and Elanore would make any kind of good couple?
The awfulness of the evening flooded quickly back into poor Emily's mind. The disastrous evening had started when Emily took Elanore out the back door of the sitting room. They had found Andrew sitting by the door, as if listening in on their conversation. Of course Andrew denied it when Elanore pointed her figure at him. Elanore was quite offended, and asked him to "Please leave her sight." As poor Andrew left their presence as a coward with his tail between his legs, Elanore unmistakably added insult upon injury, by saying crossly, "Really Emily, I thought you had better servants at Pemberley." It was obvious that Andrew had heard that, as that was Elanore's entire, cruel intent.
Elanore had, of course, been much more cross when she learned Andrew was not in fact a servant; he was the highly respectable relation of the Darcy family--and Alexander Bingley--Andrew Collins.
"After meeting Alexander, I should have expected all your relations to be as good natured as him. Now I am quite distressed to learn how wrong I was." Elanore complained.
"Really Elanore--" Emily began, rushing to protect Andrew's character. But Elanore cut her off. Emily would not be listened to, as it would pertain to the experience with Andrew. Elanore instead demanded dinner be served immediately, so she could go home and "rest her nerves."
"My goodness," Emily whispered as she stood in the middle of her dressing room, "Elanore is beginning to sound more and more like Grandmamma Bennet everyday!" This sudden realization made Emily laugh. She looked back at herself in the mirror. Her eyes danced with laughter back at her now. "I do believe I'm laughing at my friend and my grandmother. Naughty Emily!" She said, trying in vain to command herself to stop. But she laughed still harder. She believed that being in the same room with Elanore and Andrew was forcing her to go insane...on the other hand, laughter was the best medicine, and Emily had never felt better in her life--at least not since dinner!
Down the hall, Andrew was pacing the floor of his room. He heard the hysterical laughter coming from Emily's bedroom, and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger.
"She's undoubtedly laughing at my pitiful display at dinner," he murmured. He felt like a miserable fool. "How idiotic she must think me!"
He had quickly fallen in love with her voice, and it took even less time to fall in love with her face. She was an angel to him. He had never seen a more charming countenance in his entire life. She had a lovely rose leaf complexion, curly blond hair, and a willowy figure. But what had really struck him was her expressive blue eyes. The secrets that were hidden from him seemed to be made clear in her eyes. Those eyes were meant to express love of the deepest kind...a love Andrew could only wish was meant for him.
Her eyes had expressed a wide variety of emotion toward Andrew, but it had not included any love. She had obviously formed the deepest of hatreds toward him. Andrew pressed his fist angrily on his forehead. Why had he stayed to overhear their conversation? Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone?
He had spent a good deal of dinner taking in all the pleasures of Miss Elanore Walker. It seemed the only man she took pleasure in, however, was Alexander Bingley. She had talked with Emily about him the entire meal. She had questioned him from every angle. She wanted to know what he was doing. Was he engaged? Married? In love...? It was obvious to anyone with a brain the size of a pea that Alexander was the man Elanore loved. The room was dripping with Alexander's countenance by the time the meal had ended. The only thing lacking was Alexander's personal presence.
Remarkably, none of this ruined Andrew's most excellent opinion of Miss Walker. He some how didn't seem to care that her heart was pre-attached. He thought it was a scandal that he still loved her just as much.
He sat down on the edge of his bed. "I still love her. That ought to count for something." He knew no unattached man could go through a night like that and still feel the way he felt. He almost felt good.
All was quiet in the Walker home. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago. Everyone was sound asleep, dreaming of everything wonderful--everyone except Elanore, that is. Elanore couldn't sleep, for she too felt the bitterness of dinner at Pemberley. Somehow, some way, she felt awful about the way she had treated Andrew Collins.
"He deserved it!" She said, sitting up in bed. She angrily recalled his presence behind the door. "Imagine! Listening in on a conversation!"
She fell back down on the pile of quilts and covers. All her conviction was gone, only leaving a foreboding feeling at the thought of meeting Andrew Collins again.
She recalled the feelings generated within her heart when Emily asked her to play the piano. Andrew seconded the motion, and Elanore knew propriety called for her playing, whether she wanted to or not. She didn't want to play for Andrew Collins, although she did so love playing...
As Elanore played, she felt Andrew Collins's steady gaze. His handsome eyes were ceaselessly upon her. This gaze forced her eyes from the music, toward him. Immediately she felt her cheeks grow warm, as a blush crept across her face. The piece went down hill after that. Mistakes dotted the piece, and turned it into a huge mess.
"Will I ever meet him again?" She asked herself out loud. She immediately answered her own question, "God forbid..."
Some how there was even less conviction in that statement, for a deep feeling was surfacing in her heart. Elanore realized that she really wouldn't mind running into him again.
Little did she know how soon that would be...
Mozart's beautiful chords twinkled throughout Pemberley. The piece was perfection in itself. Not a flaw could be detected by even the most closest listener. Every note was in it's place. The dynamics added character to the piece. It reflected not only the composers personality, but more over it reflected the pianists most excellent personality. Any listener would be amazed by the beauty of the piece, as the young man seated behind the piano forte put his entire heart and soul into the piece.
But Andrew was sure no one was listening to his performance. The Darcy's and Miss de Bourgh had gone to Lambton for the day. Andrew had asked to be left out of the excursion, and the Darcy's had complied. Andrew was so shy about his talent, that no one but his parents knew he could even play, let alone play well, and he hoped desperately to keep it that way.
The piece came to an end. Andrew ran his fingers through his thick, jet black hair, and stood up at the key board. He heard a gasp from the end of the room, and looked fearfully toward the noise. He looked up, directly into the eyes of Miss Elanore Walker, who stood in the doorway, blushing vigorously.
She had walked to Pemberley in hopes of visiting Emily. When she heard the music, she naturally assumed it was Emily, although the playing was far better than what Emily could even dream of playing. How shocked she had been to find that it was not Emily, and instead it was Mr. Andrew Collins!
Propriety demanded Elanore to say something to Mr. Collins, but what could she say? Nothing could be called upon, she knew not what to say.
"Forgive me," she murmured, and turned quickly toward the door.
Andrew stopped her. "No, Miss Walker, forgive me," he said.
Elanore turned back to him, confusion spread across her face. "Forgive you? For what?" She asked.
"Forgive me for the other night," he answered. "I made you very uncomfortable. I was wrong to--" Andrew took a deep breath, and continued, "To sit outside the sitting room door. I can assure you I meant you no harm. I was only mesmerized by--by your voice. It is the voice of an angel; not meant to complain, but to sing. I could not begin to tell you what it was that you and Emily were talking of, for it was not the speaking, but the speaker I was listening to. I beg you, nay, implore you to forgive me. I don't believe I can go through life with out a word of forgiveness from yourself."
As he spoke, Andrew walked steadily closer to Elanore. By the time he had reached the end of his speech, he found himself directly in front of her. Elanore gazed up at him. Her eyes would not be moved from his. She tried several times, but found it to be useless.
Andrew took her hand in his, and pressed it too his heart. "Forgive me, Elanore. Oh how I wish you would forgive me."
Elanore was quite struck by this. She had thought Andrew Collins was far too proud to ask for forgiveness from anyone. She was so touched by his words. His words had been music to her starved for love ears. She had never known true happiness and delight until that moment...that dear moment when Andrew Collins had apologized. Not only had he apologized in a pleasing way, but he had complimented her. There was truly nothing else Elanore could do...
"I forgive you, Mr. Collins. I can't begin to express MY most humble apologies for my own rude behavior the other night as well. I was not being very considerate of your feelings. I am a very selfish being--" Here Elanore was interrupted by Andrew who disagreed, saying he didn't believe her to have a selfish bone in her body.
"You flatter me," Elanore said, as a rosy glow inflamed her face.
"Indeed?" Andrew questioned. "Is it 'flattery' then to tell the truth about a person's character? The truth be known, Miss Walker, I only say what I know to be true. I, unlike my father, do not spend my entire life in attempts to impress those around me...but you, Miss Walker, Shall undoubtedly be the only human being on this planet who will receive my spoken praise--and I do hope you will receive it...?" With those words, Andrew took the small hand he which was still pressed to his heart, and kissed it. He murmured his thanks for her forgiveness as he released her hand. Then he left Elanore alone in the music room to ponder what had just happened, and reevaluate her feelings.
Emily found Elanore still sitting alone in the music room three hours later. Emily was quite surprised. She had assumed Elanore did not have any intention of returning to Pemberley after Andrew's little scene a few nights earlier. But there Elanore sat, looking as white as a ghost. Emily wondered if Andrew had overheard another conversation...
"Elanore!" Emily exclaimed. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Hum?" Elanore grunted. She was upset at being suddenly jolted from her reverie, back into the real world.
"How long have you been here?" Emily asked again.
"I--I don't remember. Maybe ten minutes...maybe ten hours. Time was non-existent. Time no longer matters. How dreadful time used to be, Emily! I can not believe I was so caught under it's bitter thumbnail for so many years. I feel like a little girl again, but I feel like I'm ninety years old--as wise as the oldest and wisest person on earth. And yet, I know my self to be twenty years old; no more, no less. The whole world has become so clear to me Emily." All this was said very quickly, in such raptures that Emily was very surprised. Could this be the Elanore of three days earlier? She was so changed, yet so the same.
"My dear Elanore, are you certain you are well?" Emily asked.
"Well?" Elanore asked, raising to her feet. "I have never felt better in my entire life. Oh Emily! I no longer hate Andrew Collins! Can you believe that? Yesterday I thought it would never be possible to forgive him, but when he spoke to me, I knew I could. Emily, he is like Shakespeare to my ears, and a beautiful rose to my eyes."
Emily stared at her friend in disbelief. "Are you saying you love Andrew?" She asked.
"Love? No, Emily. I don't love him in the way you are implying. I love him, as I love your dear family. I love him, and would plead with him for hours on end for his friendship. Even the smallest bit of friendship from a man such as himself would be like gold in my pocket."
"Indeed, Elanore. This is truly an odd and rapid change in feelings. But it does not matter. I had hoped the two of you would get along nicely. I was ashamed of myself for throwing the two of you together as I did that night. Since then, I didn't know how to hope the two of you would become friends. And now..." Emily left time to finish the sentence, as she knew it would.
A week or two passed quietly. Elanore and Andrew spent many hours strolling through the garden together. An casual observer would think the two of them had been friends since birth. Even Emily could scarcely believe the two of them had only known each other for a few weeks. Elanore herself admitted to Andrew one day as the loitered in the park, that she felt she had known him her entire life.
But all good things must eventually come to an end, how ever abrupt or slow in coming the end may be. It wasn't long before Andrew realized he had but two days left before he was to join his mother and father at Longbourn. And what was he to do about Elanore? In the past few weeks he had learned to love her as he had never dreamed possible. He knew in his heart what he had known from the first: that Elanore was the only women for him, and he was the only man for her. It was on this matter that Andrew went to talk to Emily about.
"Emily, you know Miss Walker quit well. Tell me: do you think she--do you think she loves me?" Andrew asked.
Emily looked at him seriously. Her eyes probed deep into his, and reached his soul. She then read what was written there.
"Andrew," she said, leaning closer to him. "You will never know if she loves you unless you go ask her yourself. Tell her of your feelings Andrew. As her friend and confidant, I cannot tell you anything she says to me, even if she did express love for you. It would be going against my morals of true friendship. Go find her, Andrew. Find her and ask."
Andrew began making plans to do just that.
An hour or so later Emily received a similar visit from the young lady in question. Elanore Walked into the library, where Emily was sitting in her favorite chair reading Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar". Elanore had the most determined look on her face. Emily, upon looking up, realized that Elanore meant business, so she set her book aside.
Elanore sat down in the chair across from Emily; the very chair Andrew had sat in when he visited Emily. "Emily," Elanore began. She cleared her throat nervously. It was so difficult to get the words out of her mouth. She had been planning her words most of the day. Now, however, she found herself quite at a loss. "Emily," She began again. Emily raised her eyebrows. "Em, we've been friends for a long time. You probably know me better than anyone else on this earth. You were there for me when I fell in love for the first time. Remember that Emily? I was eleven years old, and you were only eight. It was your older brother Thomas. That was a short lived love affair, was it not Em? Then there was that Doctor from Bath. I forget his name. Was it Johnson."
"No, I recall it perfectly, Elanore. It was Cole." Emily answered.
"Yes, that was right. Dr. Cole. He was quite handsome. However, that ended rather quickly as well. Then there was your cousin Alexander...It's funny Emily. A few months, even a few weeks ago, I thought Alexander Bingley was the only man for me."
"Has your opinion changed, Elanore?" Emily asked. She leaned forward. She hoped and prayed that Elanore no longer loved Alexander. Emily was the only women who should love him!
"Yes. Just as my 'love' for Dr...Cole? and your brother Thomas quickly disappeared, my 'love' for Mr. Bingley has left me forever. I love Mr. Collins, Emily!"
Emily jumped from her chair. She felt excited. This had been her dream since Andrew arrived. Now Her dream had come true. "I am very happy for you, Elanore," Emily said. She calmed her self by taking a few deep breaths. "But how do you know this is the real thing. I know you believed the other three loves to be real. How do you know this is what you really want?"
"I just do, Emily. I have never been so convinced of something in my life. I loved the other three men because they were handsome, and cleaver. It wasn't love, though. If I'm going to love, it is not going to be based on something trivial like good looks, or wit, or what have you. (granted Andrew posses both) I want to marry for something more profound than that. I want to marry the man I feel like I belong to. I belong to Andrew, and he belongs to me; whether he knows it or not!"
Emily gazed at her friend for a moment, studying her for sincerity and conviction, then said, "You almost have me convinced, Elanore. I just have one question: are you sure you don't love Alexander?"
"As sure as I have ever been about anything in my life," Elanore smiled.
"I suppose that will have to do for now," Emily said with a laugh. Then she shivered, thinking of how equally "sure" Elanore had been about the other three men she had at one time claimed to love.
"You don't trust me, Emily, but you will see how much I forever love a man when Andrew and I are married!"
"Was that all you wanted to tell me?" Emily asked, picking up her book once again. Somehow she sensed that there was something more to Elanore's visit.
"Yes," Elanore began. "I heard your father and mother talking a few minutes ago. They were talking about ordering a coach to take Andrew 'home'. Emily, please tell me he's not leaving already!"
Emily looked down at the cover of "Julius Caesar". She didn't know how to say he was leaving with out upsetting Elanore.
A wise man once said, "The darkest secrets are told in silence." Elanore read Emily's silence correctly, and got up savagely from her chair, and paced back and fourth wringing her hands. "It's true then?"
"Indeed."
"Then Emily, you must tell me the truth. Do you think he loves me?" Elanore looked pleadingly into Emily's eyes as she asked.
"I believe he is at least very close to loving you, but what is said to me in confidence is not mine to release to the public."
"The public? Oh well. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Very well. If Andrew doesn't propose to me before he leaves, I'll ask him myself!" Before Emily could say anything else, Elanore left the room.
Try as she might, for the remainder of the afternoon Emily could not concentrate on her book.
"Mr. Collins!" Andrew turned abruptly when he heard his name spoken from the lips of the women he loved. His pulse increased quickly.
"I had hoped you would be out here, Mr. Collins. I have been meaning to speak with you." Elanore said as she reached his side.
"And I you. You have heard by now, no doubt, that I am to leave on the morrow?" Andrew asked. He kicked nervously at a tuft of grass as the young couple stood still next to a rose bush.
"Yes. I am quite displeased that you did not tell me sooner. I shall miss you dearly, and this will only make it more painful," Elanore replied.
"Then it is safe to assume that you will...miss me?" Andrew asked.
"Miss you! That and more, Andr--Mr. Collins."
"No, no Miss Walker. You need not correct yourself. I have wished for sometime that you would call me 'Andrew'. Formality is for strangers," Andrew stopped here, and studied her face for a moment. "We are not strangers, are we?"
"Oh! No indeed...Andrew!" Elanore smiled. His name seemed to roll off her tongue so easily. "I would wish for you to call me Elanore."
"Then Elanore," Andrew said taking her hand small hand in his larger one. He got down on one knee, and whispered, "will you marry me?"
"Oh Andrew!" She breathed. "How could I refuse?"
"Does that mean yes?"
"No. That means 'yes indeed. With out a doubt. I will definitely marry you, and I will definitely love you forever and ever!' I want to marry you more than anything, Andrew."
Andrew took both her hands as he rose, and brought them gently to his lips and kissed them. Then he bent his handsome head down, and their lips met. Elanore didn't believe that any couple could be happier than she and her Andrew were at that moment.