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Chapter 52

Posted on Monday, 7 May 2001, at 8:58 p.m.

Jane, Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and Kitty quitted town soon after without having found all the appropriate trousseau, a fact that made Elizabeth highly suspicious as to Jane's motives in coming to town altogether. From the beginning, Jane had seemed curiously at ease about buying her wedding gown and such and Elizabeth had assumed that Jane was simply being her naturally serene self. But now that they were gone - just that morning, in fact - and Elizabeth sat alone in the Gardiners' parlor, she could help but suspect that something was amiss. She had a suspicion, a highly unsubstantiated one, but a suspicion nonetheless that Jane had come to town only because Darcy was in town. The more she pondered it, the more sense it made and Elizabeth did not know whether to be amused or angered. She had no doubt who was involved in this plan either. It must have been Anne's doing, it had to be. She could just picture Anne and Jane conspiring together and that mental picture brought a small smile to her lips. She knew that they were just trying to do what they thought was in her best interests, so she could not allow herself to remain cross with them for any amount of time. They were just misguided in their assumption that if they pursued this long enough, she would surrender to their wishes and marry Darcy. If they did think thus, Elizabeth felt sorry in anticipation of their disappointment when their wishes did not come true. She was rather stubborn and she thought they were already aware of that. Then why the deception, Elizabeth wondered. It did not serve any purpose; it simply wasted the time of all parties involved. Darcy and her. Her and Darcy. It was simply not meant to be or so many obstacles would never have been strewn across their paths, Elizabeth was convinced. She believed in fate and in destiny and had she been destined for Darcy, she would have met him first without ever having been acquainted with Wickham. But it had not happened thus and Elizabeth was led to believe the destiny, that Anne and Jane championed, was forbidden and would forever remain so.

Elizabeth could, however, find little fault with what Jane and Anne had done - there was no question in her mind that it had been done on purpose - because she had enjoyed her time in town. She had just admitted that fact to herself and would be hard pressed to express it to anyone else, but it was the truth. Even though her mother had accompanied them, Elizabeth had been isolated from her mother and had not been forced to deal regularly with her mother's barbed comments about her current situation. It was soothing to be away from her and when Mrs. Gardiner had entreated her to stay behind in town for another week, Elizabeth had accepted the offer gratefully with little pressing, even if it meant that she might be thrown in Darcy's company again. She had learnt from Jane that even though Bingley was returning to Netherfield (and unfortunately was taking Caroline with him), Darcy had no immediate plans to return due to some unfinished business. Elizabeth had taken that news tolerably well for she knew not how to react to it. The past few times that she had been in Darcy's company, her confusion had escalated to new heights. She had no idea what she had expected from him, but certainly not what she had found. He had been polite, but aloof on most occasions. She found that he looked at her a great deal, but that could result as much from habit as anything else. When they had been alone together in the carriage, she had felt the tension between them and had wondered if it would always be thus. But what had really surprised her was his good humor and sense of mischief when he had persuaded her to trick Anne into thinking she was joining a nunnery. She had never witnessed this lighthearted side of him before and she confessed it was very charming, indeed. He had laughed heartily and she had laughed with him and she knew she treasured the moment. Transient as it had been, she treasured the moment, standing by his side, laughing without a worry of the past or the future. All that mattered was the present and nothing more. She had felt giddy and overwhelmed. She had not thought it possible to laugh again and yet he had made it possible. She knew not if she was more surprised or thankful.

Elizabeth had promised herself when she was a little girl that she would never cease to laugh like a child. She had loved to a good laugh and her greatest fear had been losing the gift of laughter when she grew older. In recent times, she had lost her laugh, her will to laugh, her ability to laugh. The end of her laughter had begun when she had married Wickham. It had been a long, slow death, a painful end of an era. It had happened so gradually that before she knew it, her laughter had become alarmingly infrequent. There was little to laugh about. As much as she had denied it at first, she had come to realize that she did not love her husband. It had been a girlish, passing fancy and she had impetuously given into her fancy and unfortunately for her, she knew not of a way to reverse the situation. She had borne it, however, with tolerable equanimity, but the more shocking realization had been that her husband did not love, had never loved her. At least when she had married him, she had thought herself in love, but the fact that he had been playing games wounded her more than anything else. Elizabeth had been in shock when she had learnt of it for the first time that night after Wickham had reappeared. Since then she had reevaluated what she had previously imagined to be a relatively happy marriage. Even when she had discovered that she did not love him, she had still possessed an affection for him and had concealed her own change of heart. But it had been a sham, a dreadful sham. He had never loved her. He had fooled and used her. And Elizabeth felt like an unequivocally dirty object, a convenient object, a means to an end. It had been her own fault. She had always trusted her own judgment. She had prided herself to be quite the expert when it came to judging people. In spite of her father's better judgment, she had married the man who would eventually ruin her. And she knew that she deserved every last morsel of bad luck that came her way. She had ruined her own life and there was no one else to blame. She accepted the blame, the guilt, she embraced it all, but she also accepted the fact that she could never be happy again.

That realization had come as a shock to her at first. She, who had always laughed without restraint, would never have a reason to laugh again. Which was why her laughter the other day surprised her. She had never thought she would allow Darcy to make her laugh, but he had. It was so confusing, her laugh was confusing, he was confusing. She could not believe that he loved her still, that he was willing to marry her still. Actually he had not alluded to marriage at all, that had been very much Anne and Jane's imagination. Even if he did wish to marry her, she knew that she could never...Elizabeth sighed and closed her eyes. How many times would she cover the same ground over and over again? She was tired of thinking of it, tired of feeling like a failure. She was tired of reminding herself of her misery. She did not want to be unhappy. Maybe in a few years, she would learn to be happy without a husband, without Darcy. Maybe she would even forgive herself. But it was difficult to imagine that when Victor's name echoed in her ears. His face and his voice and his smile was branded in her memory forever. If she forgot abut him for a few moments, an intense feeling of guilt assailed her immediately. She knew that this was not what he had wanted. He had wished her to be happy and she owed him as much, but it was too difficult. I'm trying, Victor. I really am, but...it's much too difficult. I can't be happy knowing what I have done, knowing how many lives I have ruined. Your mother, your father - they will never forgive me and they have no reason to. I caused your death and I must live with the pain forever. Elizabeth sighed again. You asked me to be happy...but how can I? Did you really expect I would marry Darcy? I would give anything to see you again; your smile, your face, your blue eyes. You were such a wonderful friend. I treated you so horribly and yet you loved me. I didn't deserve it, Victor. I didn't deserve you and I don't deserve Darcy. It should have been me that night.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth looked up to see her aunt enter the room. "Yes?"

"There you are," Mrs. Gardiner smiled as she sat down. "John was having trouble finding his new book, we spent the entire morning looking for it."

"You must be exhausted, then?" Elizabeth said.

"A little," Mrs. Gardiner admitted. "But it was well worth the effort to see the smile on his face. Children are such blessings."

"Indeed they are," Elizabeth murmured.

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece and instantly knew that she was wondering whether she would ever have any children of her own. "When there is love between the parents, Lizzy, the children will always be happy. And if they are happy, then you have done your job well. You will learn that in your own time."

Elizabeth ignored the last comment. "How did you know you loved uncle?"

"Well..." said Mrs. Gardiner. "It was not as easy as it seems. I didn't fancy him very much, actually, when I first made his acquaintance. And he was very much enchanted by my good friend Lillian -- she's Mrs. Coleridge now - and he was much too self-assured for my tastes. But slowly, I am not quite sure how, we came to be good friends. We spent many a afternoon in each other's company and talked of goodness knows what. Eventually he discovered he did not fancy Lillian and liked me, instead. By that time I was hopelessly in love with him, you know. I think I truly knew that I loved him when he went away to Meryton on business for a week and I missed him so terribly that I actually cried myself to sleep." She smiled. "It sounds melodramatic, I know, but it is true. I could not imagine living without him, Lizzy and that was when I knew that I loved him."

Elizabeth smiled. "Sounds so wonderful."

"It was," Mrs. Gardiner agreed. "I consider myself very fortunate."

"You are fortunate," Elizabeth said. "Many people are not blessed enough to marry whom they love."

"True," said Mrs. Gardiner. "But we make our own fortune, do we not, Lizzy?"

"Perhaps," said Elizabeth. "It is not easy, though."

"It is never easy," replied Mrs. Gardiner. "One has to want it badly enough."

"But sometimes it is best to not want it."

"It is never good to deny your heart, Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner pointedly.

"Even if you know you will only bring ruin?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Gardiner said. "I do not think that any person "brings ruin" as you say. It is just a matter of luck, Lizzy, you must know that."

"In that case, bad luck seems to pursue some people more than others."

"Perhaps, but it does not follow that they are responsible for their bad luck."

"Should they not keep a distance from others, lest their bad luck affect their loved ones?"

"That is an unduly cautious way to live, Lizzy."

"Caution does not take lives," said Elizabeth.

"Neither do unlucky people," replied Mrs. Gardiner. "There are some wicked people in this world, Lizzy and it serves no purpose whatsoever to accept blame for their actions. They, alone, are responsible for their actions and just because one is associated with them does not mean the guilt is transferable." Mrs. Gardiner could not speak any plainer without alluding to Wickham, whose name she was studiously avoiding.

"Perhaps, but people who allow bad things to happen are as much to blame."

"Some things cannot be prevented."

"And some can," Elizabeth countered.

Mrs. Gardiner did not wish to argue. "So...what are your plans, Lizzy?"

"After Jane's wedding, I am going to visit my friend Julie in the north. And then - " Elizabeth paused. "I do not know."

"You know that you can stay with us whenever you want. You are always welcome here. I hope your uncle and I made that clear."

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth smiled. "You are too kind."

"Kindness has nothing to do with it," smiled Mrs. Gardiner. "I am selfish. I just enjoy your company." She paused. "Elizabeth, I know that your mother has been upset with you for refusing to marry again." Elizabeth began to say something, but Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. "No let me finish - I want you to know that no matter what you decide to do eventually, your uncle and I, we will always support your decision."

Tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes. "That means a lot to me."

"Your father, too, I am sure," said Mrs. Gardiner. "You must realize, Lizzy, that we all love you very much and just wish you to be happy."

"I know," Elizabeth said softly.

"Just whatever you do," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Let it be for your own happiness. Do not become a martyr or do something because you think it will make others happy. Do what is best for you. And I do not care what that is. If you continue to have an aversion to marriage, then by all means, do not marry. If, on the other hand, you find love, then perhaps you should marry. Either way, do what feels right, Lizzy and I will support your decision."

"Thank you," Elizabeth smiled.

"Very well then," Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "I should go and see how John is faring."

"Do you wish me to help you?"

"No," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Rest yourself. Sarah is helping me already."

"Well, if you do require my services, I shall be right here."

"Alright, dear." Mrs. Gardiner rose. "Shall I have tea sent for you?"

"No, that is not necessary," said Elizabeth. "I will ring for tea later."

Elizabeth smiled as her aunt took her leave to tend to her youngest son. Elizabeth should not have been surprised. Her aunt had always proved different than her mother, but Elizabeth had feared that this time, her aunt would side with her mother in wishing her to marry within the year. Elizabeth was thankful that her aunt somewhat removed the pressure that Mrs. Bennet had long applied. It was such a good feeling to know that she was loved unconditionally. No matter what mistakes she had made in the past, no matter what she decided to do in the future, Elizabeth knew that these people who loved her would always help her and support her. Her aunt and uncle had opened their home and their hearts to her and Jane ever since they had been little girls. Elizabeth remembered fondly so many summer months spent in this very house. When they had become old enough their aunt and uncle took them everywhere; to the opera, to the theater, to the shops, to balls. Those were happy times. Those were innocent times. Those were carefree times. Those were times when she still believed that she would marry for love and live happily ever after. It seemed like such a naïve idea to her now, such an idealistic perception of reality. But she had believed in it then and Elizabeth knew that in a tiny portion of her heart, she believed in it still. Had Elizabeth not witnessed the marital love shared by the Gardiners, perhaps she would not have believed in true love so fervently since a similar model was not to be had at home. Many things that a mother teaches a daughter - instruction on being a woman, a lady, a wife - Mrs. Gardiner taught Elizabeth and for that, Elizabeth was eternally grateful. Mrs. Gardiner proved herself to be more of a mother than Mrs. Bennet could ever hope or wish to be. It pained Elizabeth to think of her mother thus, but she hardly knew how to avoid it. Mrs. Bennet never understood and now when Elizabeth needed motherly affection the most, once again Mrs. Bennet failed to provide it and Elizabeth was forced to seek it elsewhere. She knew not if it stemmed from a defection in herself or her mother, but it had always been so. And now, I suppose, it is too late for either of us to change. The sound of a carriage roused Elizabeth from her reverie and moments later, Georgie was shown into the parlor.

"Elizabeth, I hope I am not intruding?" said Georgie as they embraced.

"No, not at all," smiled Elizabeth. "Jane, as you know, returned home this morning, so I am quite alone."

"I would have brought Anne, but she is waiting on someone. She might be here later."

"Is she still upset?"

"About that trick that you played on her?" Georgie asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "She seemed rather cross about it."

Georgie smiled. "She still cannot believe that you and William tricked her."

"And you too," Elizabeth reminded her.

"But I played such a small part in it," said Georgie. "I simply kept the knowledge from her while you and William --- it was marvelous. You are quite an accomplished actress, I must say. I nearly believed you myself and I knew you were lying."

"Thank you, I think," smiled Elizabeth. "I did not know I could lie that well either."

"I can still picture the look on Anne's face when she realized she had been fooled." Georgie laughed. "It was priceless."

Elizabeth agreed. "I dare say she is not used to being tricked for she is always the one who tricks people, not the other way around."

"It was a good lesson for her then," Georgie said.

"Very good - now if she would only forgive me."

"She has forgiven you," said Georgie. "For she does not believe she lost. She keeps mumbling about how she won in actuality."

"Poor Anne, how delusional of her," said Elizabeth. "If it were anyone else, I would worry for their sanity, but I suppose she has really convinced herself, so let her have her illusions. Meanwhile, I take it, all is going well with her and Richard?"

"Too well," Georgie rolled her eyes. "You could not behold a happier couple. Sometimes I wish they would have a good fight."

Elizabeth laughed. "It would be more interesting for us, I dare say."

"Indeed, people need some angst in their lives," Georgie said solemnly. "Otherwise it would be too smooth, too boring by far."

Elizabeth smiled. "I believe Anne has had enough angst as it is."

"True," agreed Georgie. "But a little more cannot hurt, can it?"

"I am not sure if she would agree."

"That is what William said as well," smiled Georgie.

"Did he really?" Elizabeth tried to sound nonchalant.

"Yes," Georgie nodded. "I believe his exact words were - 'Stay out of it; Anne and Richard have had enough trouble already' --- he insinuated that I would actually interfere and do something to cause a fight between them to amuse myself."

"You would never dream of doing anything of the sort," Elizabeth smiled.

"Of course not," Georgie said. "I am not Anne."

"Fortunately," said Elizabeth. "There are only so many 'Anne's that this world can bear."

Georgie laughed. "She has always been like this, although I believe she became worse with time. You would think that she would improve - grow up, mature - but you would be wrong." Georgie paused. "I was very scared of her when I was little. She intimidated me. She always played with William and Richard, never with me. I was too young for her, she was more William's age, so she fancied herself above me. I actually thought her to be rather quiet and timid because she appeared thus before Lady Catherine."

"She had you fooled, did she?" said Elizabeth.

Georgie nodded. "I realized my folly soon enough. She was a fierce child."

"I can very well imagine it," laughed Elizabeth. "She must have terrorized everyone."

"William, included, though he will never admit it," smiled Georgie fondly. "But I loved Anne. She was the only womanly influence I had, you know? My mother died when I was born and there was no other woman in my life. I looked up to Anne. I still do, I suppose. She has so much confidence and mischief and good intentions."

"She does, indeed," said Elizabeth, but was more interested in something else Georgie said. "You must really miss your mother."

"I did not know her," said Georgie. "Though I wish I did. My father died shortly thereafter, so William raised me alone mostly."

"Really? He must have been rather young?"

"He was barely 18 when our father died and I was just 6," Georgie said.

"I am so sorry, Georgie," Elizabeth said. "You probably do not wish to talk about it."

"It is alright, really," said Georgie. "William was a wonderful brother and parent. He was so attentive and caring, he still is. He and cousin Richard took very good care of me. I never felt like an orphan. I never felt sad or lonely. They were always there. They did the best they could, but I suppose I wished I had a sister as well." Georgie looked at Elizabeth. "A sister would be able to tell me things and share with me all that a brother cannot. That is why I valued Anne, I suppose. But apart from that, William never let me feel the loss of our parents."

Elizabeth felt a wave of love and respect for Darcy wash over her. "He sounds like a wonderful brother."

"Oh he is," said Georgie enthusiastically.

"You are making me jealous. I have, as you know, no brothers; only 4 sisters."

"I would have liked a sister."

Elizabeth blushed, the thought on Georgie's mind apparent. "I like having sisters, even if they can get tiresome after a while. Jane is always a veritable angel, but my other sisters can be trying sometimes."

"They seemed nice when I met them," Georgie said.

Elizabeth laughed. "You are too polite."

"No, really," said Georgie. "Your youngest two sisters seemed to have a lot of energy."

"That is a euphemism if I have ever heard one," said Elizabeth. "Do not worry about offending me, Georgie, I know my sisters' faults well enough. They are wild and giddy and have not matured as yet. They have some time, they are quite young still, so I do have hope for the future. I have heard worse said about my sisters and my family." She paused. "I believe it was your brother who once pointed out that my family can be rather indiscreet and improper."

William, what were you thinking? How can you ever hope to win her if you tell her that her family is 'indiscreet and improper?' Do you really wish to be advised on the matters of the heart from an inexperienced girl like myself? And even I know better than to say such things. "I am sure he meant nothing by it."

Elizabeth noticed the younger woman's discomfort. "I am sure he did not."

"You must forgive William - he is not very comfortable with strangers or new acquaintances."

"So I gathered," smiled Elizabeth.

"It is not his fault, Elizabeth, it is his nature."

"I forgive him, Georgie. I was just teasing."

At that moment, the butler entered the parlor. "Miss de Bourgh, ma'am."

Anne entered moments later. "Georgie, Elizabeth - my two favorite conspirators plotting again?"

"Indeed," said Elizabeth. "Which means you are unwelcome since we cannot plot your downfall while you are present."

"Downfall?" Anne said. "Generals like me never have a downfall."

"Not even when there is a mutiny and a coup?" said Elizabeth.

"I crush mutinies before they become threats," said Anne.

"You also claimed that you could never be fooled," Georgie pointed out.

Anne glared at her. "That was hardly significant. I knew what you were about; truly, I did."

"Save your breath, Anne," said Elizabeth. "We both witnessed the look on your face when I said that I was joining the nunnery. You were shocked, unpleasantly shocked, I might add. Indeed, for the next half hour, you tried to change my mind."

Anne shook her head. "All an act, my dear."

"Really?" Georgie said.

Anne nodded. "And even if I did think, for a second, that Elizabeth was speaking the truth, it does not mean that I lost."

"Then what does it mean?" asked Georgie.

"It means that I did not win that battle," said Anne.

"Anne..." Georgie was confused. "Isn't 'not wining' the same as losing?"

"That is where you err, Georgie dear," said Anne. "Losing implies an utter and complete defeat. Not wining means that I was fooled temporarily, but have enough sense of the situation to win the war. There is a difference."

Elizabeth shrugged. "There is no difference as far as I am concerned."

"You and Darce are the same," Anne complained. "He has not ceased gloating either."

"I do not blame him," smiled Elizabeth.

"It is rather sad, really, that you both derive so much pleasure from playing one measly trick on me," said Anne with a shake of her head. "I would never have thought you would be so easily amused or distracted."

"Come, Anne, admit it, it was rather amusing," Georgie said.

"It was somewhat amusing, but nothing to be so tickled by," Anne said.

"Next time then," said Elizabeth. "I shall try to meet your standards of a good trick."

"There will be no next time," Anne said decisively.

"How can you be so certain?" said Elizabeth. "You did not anticipate the first?"

"I have my ways," said Anne. "I shall never believe a word that comes out of either of your mouths, to begin with. Or Darce's. I have learnt my lesson well."

"That is truly unfortunate," said Elizabeth. "But I am certain that when the time comes, we shall repeat the performance again."

"Highly doubtful," said Anne. She paused. "So, I hear that mother is returning to Rosings tomorrow."

"Is she really?" said Elizabeth. "Did you speak with her?"

"No," Anne shook her head. "I do not think she wishes to see me yet. Uncle Henry will go to see her, though. I believe he will speak to her about the engagement. Aunt Helen decided it was prudent that she not go because she would not be able to hold her temper. She is very sensitive when it comes to her sons, you know? And she is particularly fond of Richard. And well, you know mother. She will likely insult Richard in some way. So uncle Henry is the best person to speak with her."

"Will it make much of a difference?" asked Georgie.

"I have no idea," said Anne. "And I do not care either."

Elizabeth did not believe Anne's nonchalant tone for a second. She knew her friend was very upset beneath the surface. "I am sorry, Anne."

Anne looked at her. "We should begin a 'Dissatisfactory Mother Society' for both our mothers fail us on regular basis."

"Well," Elizabeth looked away. "I have given up on her."

"It is a shame," said Anne. "You deserve better."

"So do you," said Elizabeth. "And besides, I have my aunt Gardiner."

"Yes you do," Anne smiled triumphantly, overjoyed that this ruse to bring Elizabeth to town had proved successful.

"Shall I ring for tea?" asked Elizabeth, almost forgetting her duties as hostess.

"Yes, please," said Georgie.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I am very thirsty," said Anne. "And you are an awful hostess."

"You distracted me," said Elizabeth.

"Blame me, by all means," said Anne. "It is always convenient to blame me."

"Of course it is," laughed Elizabeth.

Elizabeth rang for tea and her guests stayed for another hour before taking their leaves. Elizabeth stayed in town for another week. In that time, she saw Anne and Georgie once when she returned their call, but fortunately or unfortunately, the gentlemen were away from home, so Elizabeth did not accidentally meet the one gentleman she was loathe to see so soon again. The week was relaxing for Elizabeth. She stayed at home mostly, assisting her aunt and playing with her little cousins, especially John who tended to perch himself on her lap and demand a story. Elizabeth gathered him in her arms and told him a story, a fairy tale, whatever came to her mind. She believed that she enjoyed telling those stories more than John enjoyed listening to them. She knew not if she would ever have that pleasure, that elusive pleasure of holding a child in her arms, her own child. She often felt tears sting in her eyes and at that moment, wanted no great persuasion to run to Darcy and bury herself in his arms. Thankfully Darcy was never present to avail himself of that opportunity and that moment of weakness passed. Elizabeth believed her maternal instincts were overwhelming her and she tried her best to conceal her inherent sadness and despair on that score. The week was otherwise uneventful. She did not see Darcy at all, spending a great deal of time with her aunt instead. They had many conversations about the past and the present and the future and Elizabeth felt calmer than she had in a long time. And so when it came time for her to return to Longbourn, Elizabeth said adieu with a sad smile and parted from the Gardiners, grateful not only for their kind hospitality, but for their assurance that such a thing as a happy family did exist.

Chapter 53

Posted on Monday, 7 May 2001, at 8:59 p.m.

Elizabeth's reception at Longbourn was fairly cordial, meaning Mrs. Bennet stayed out of her way and her younger sisters acknowledged her return. Jane, of course, was more than delighted to see her sister again, but without doubt, the person most overjoyed to see her was her father. Mr. Bennet summoned her to his library once she had settled down and she obliged gladly. He was gratified to behold a healthy smile grace his daughter's face, a smile that had eluded her recently, a smile that he had not hoped to see again so soon. She seemed relaxed, rested, somewhat healed. He understood that the Gardiners' home always soothed her spirit like a balm on sore wounds and in this instance, the balm could not have been applied at a more appropriate time. Of course, Mr. Bennet knew that a mere fortnight was not enough to correct all the wrongs that had been waged against his daughter, but it was a fortnight more of loving care than she would have received at Longbourn, and so he was satisfied with the outcome. He expressed his delight at seeing her again and asked her how she had employed her time in town. He listened keenly and even though she mentioned "Mr. Darcy" just once in the entire narrative, he knew that the gentleman was foremost in her thoughts. Mr. Bennet wondered how much longer the saga would continue since both the protagonists seemed unduly obdurate. From his conversation with the gentleman, Mr. Bennet had gathered that Darcy would not rest till he had claimed Elizabeth's hand and from his daughter's present countenance, he could infer that she was not yet prepared to listen to her heart. This shall prove interesting, indeed. A war between two more determined individuals has never been waged before and who shall be victorious in the end remains a mystery to us all. Mr. Bennet fervently hoped and wished it was Darcy, not only because he believed that the gentleman was most conducive to his daughter's happiness, but also because he had come to think of Darcy in rather affectionate terms and wished to relieve him of this great suffering.

The party from town, consisting of Darcy, Georgie, Anne and Richard arrived at Netherfield about two days after Elizabeth returned to Longbourn. This time, however, Caroline was the esteemed hostess and she undertook her duties very seriously indeed. She was overjoyed at the prospect of ingratiating herself in the circles that had hitherto denied her access, and accordingly, she ordered Darcy's favorite dishes and asked Georgie to kindly amuse them on the piano-forte. She steered away from Anne on most occasions because both women maintained a thorough and mutual disrespect and dislike for each other and moreover, Caroline was not a little intimidated by Anne's sharp tongue and somewhat acerbic wit. Caroline, likewise, stayed clear of Richard since this gentleman was now engaged to Anne and Caroline had no wish to invite that lady's wrath. Moreover, no clear purpose could dictate her pursuit of Richard since he was now an engaged man and even if he had not been engaged, he was merely a colonel and Darcy's ten thousand pounds seemed much more attractive. Despite the momentary annoyance that Caroline had entertained when she had heard the news of her brother's betrothal to Jane Bennet, she had quickly calculated the importance of winning her future sister's good opinion. And so Caroline invited Jane to Netherfield and sought her approval and whatever Jane might have felt towards her old friend, for Bingley's sake and due to her own natural goodness, she forgave and forgot the past and embraced Caroline like a sister. Elizabeth, on her part, was not so easily convinced of Caroline's change of heart, nor was she fooled by her professed sincerity, so she treated Caroline with only the most indifferent civility, a gesture that was likewise returned.

With the elapse of a few weeks in frustrating status quo, Anne was beginning to become alarmed that her approach towards Operation Love was not as successful as she had previously thought possible. Indeed the basics of the plan remained the same. Anne arranged, in what she believed a subtle manner, the meeting -- accidental or otherwise -- of Darcy and Elizabeth. These meetings ranged from the ordinary and obvious such as dinners, balls, assemblies and other social gatherings to the more creative such as chance encounters in the woods, Oakham Mount or other shrubbery and such. Anne, with the aid of Richard, Georgie, Jane and on occasion Mr. Bennet, orchestrated many such meetings with no obvious results. It was as though all her efforts were for naught since no progress seemed to be made. Elizabeth and Darcy met with forced civility and awkwardness, but the tension between them did not dispel as she had hoped. Anne was loathe to abandon the operation just yet, but she was beginning to become slightly disheartened. The observations she made gave her mixed signals as well. Sometimes she fancied that she saw a glimmer of love in Elizabeth's eyes or a prolonged look or an unnecessary lingering touch when Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage. Those were heartening signs as Anne was assured that the love she believed to exist between the two was not a figment of her active imagination. However the amount of self restraint employed by both Darcy and Elizabeth was unbelievable, to Anne, at least, who could not conceal the slightest emotion of like and dislike, let alone such powerful expressions of love. It was, therefore, disconcerting for Anne to watch the skill with which Darcy could sit by Elizabeth at dinner in Longbourn and talk of the weather or some other trivial matter without screaming in frustration that he loved her more than anything else on earth. And Elizabeth was even more determined for there were very few unguarded moments when she allowed her love to become obvious and even those moments were transient - one look, one word, one glance - that was all that she ever allowed herself. Darcy, at least, stared at Elizabeth a great deal, but Anne was not satisfied with that proof of his passion. Too tame by far, she thought in despair, I have never known two people more determined to be unhappy in my life. Lord, what am I to do with them? The answer for any other normal person would be nothing, but Anne could never be mistaken for a normal person, and so the wheels of her mind never ceased to think of new maneuvers.

Darcy appreciated Anne's spirited battle to bring him and Elizabeth together, truly he did, but he wished to heaven that she would just stop. It was not that he did not enjoy stolen moments with Elizabeth together. It was not that he would not give up everything he owned to spend few moments in her company. That was all very well and good, but Darcy was not a fool and so he was aware that Elizabeth only suffered when she was in his company. And the only thing worse than being separated from Elizabeth was seeing her suffer. Had he not promised her - and himself - a long time ago that he would be her friend without demanding anything more than she was willing to give? Then how could he continue to meet her and force his company upon her when it gave her nothing but pain. Darcy did not claim to know what Elizabeth felt. He had no way of knowing that, she guarded her emotions much too fiercely. But what he knew, what he could see and feel, was the tension in the air between them whether they were alone or in the company of countless others. He could hear the veiled entreaty in her voice, begging him to end her misery. He could see the sadness in her eyes and even though he knew he had not caused all of it, he had no way of dispelling it either. It was frustrating to be in his position - helpless, powerless, hopeless. In his heart, Darcy had not given up hope, but there were few reasons to hope. At times Elizabeth would look at him for a few moments and that look would sustain him for the next week, steel him for countless other instances of rejection that were to come. It was no way to live; from one look to another, one meeting to the next; anxious, hopeful, despondent, hapless. And yet, Darcy would not part with any of his suffering; he was a true masochist, he embraced his suffering. Only on some occasions when the pain became unbearable, Darcy would go away to town for a few days, but he returned with renewed zest, he always returned. He knew not why he returned. Perhaps it would be best for Elizabeth if he did not return, but he could not do it. No matter how convinced he was that it pained her to see him, he could not stay away for this might be his last opportunity of seeing her in a long time. So for weeks, Darcy remained in Netherfield, going away for brief intervals, but always returning to face the pain of attrition. Love had been likened to war and Darcy had never truly comprehended that metaphor till he had met Elizabeth. From the very beginning, he had been in war; with himself, with Elizabeth, with the past, with reality, with illusions. It was all just a massive war and he was the lone soldier fighting an uphill battle. Anne would claim to be the general of the war, but he knew not how much credit he could give to that claim. Her tactics had proved unsuccessful as yet and Darcy knew he would have to rely on his own brand of warfare to win the ultimate war.

Elizabeth. What can be said of Elizabeth? She lived, she breathed, she talked, she ate, she drank, she walked, she ran, she slept. She did all the things that makes one human. But what of the supreme emotion that sets us apart from all else? Yes, she felt. She felt every emotion, she savored every moment, she relished every touch. Only, it was all in silence. She felt keenly, but she never showed. Concealment was an art that she had mastered and continued to excel in. Rare were the occasions when her feelings escaped concealment and made themselves public. It was not a conscious deception, but almost an instinctual dictate for survival. If Elizabeth hoped to survive the weeks when Darcy would remain in close proximity, she would have to conceal all; otherwise, she would be driven insane by her own conflicted emotions. And so she concealed every emotion and suppressed every impulse. When she saw Darcy, she did not run into his arms and hide in them forever as her heart dictated her to do; instead, she politely said "how do you do?" and agreed that the weather was relatively nice for the time of year. At times she felt like screaming and shouting and crying; instead she froze a smile on her face and nodded civilly. She never cracked, she never lapsed into craziness, she maintained the equanimity that had always been associated with Jane. It seemed as though nothing could touch her anymore, nothing and no one. But the truth was that everything touched her. She would cry if she found out that the gardenias had been trampled and she would laugh if the newborn kittens survived the week. She found that she laughed and cried over the most trivial things; she had to, else one day she would break down and release tears from months of frustration. She had to laugh and cry at trivial things so that when she met Darcy she could freeze that smile on her face and comment on the weather and pretend to be perfect strangers. That was what they had been reduced to: perfect strangers, strangers who had nothing to say for themselves. Actually it was a lie, they had too much to say, but had not enough courage or foolhardiness to say it. Elizabeth often wondered whose fault it was that she was where she was -- George, fate, herself? She did not know and did not care to find out. It was too late to lay the blame anywhere. Elizabeth's only goal was to survive these few weeks in Darcy's company with little conflict. She lived from day to day, meeting to meeting, situation to situation. And with every day that passed in which Elizabeth did not scream and cry in front of the world, she declared victory. Little victories, small triumphs. That is what she lived for. Elizabeth asked very little to be happy. She did not even ask to be happy. She just wanted to live through those few weeks and then forever escape him, the one reminder of what could have been. This war of wills was tiring, it was exhausting and Elizabeth had no more will to fight.

~~

"I knew I would find you here."

Elizabeth looked up from the flowers and smiled at her friend. "Good morning, Anne. Am I that predictable?"

"Yes, the garden has become your haven, it seems." Anne returned the smile.

"The garden never argues with me, Anne," said Elizabeth with a pointed smile.

"It doesn't?" Anne said. "It argues with me."

"No great wonder," Elizabeth laughed. "You can argue with the furniture."

Anne laughed. "I actually came to see Jane, but she is not here."

"Yes, she is visiting aunt Philips for the last time as Miss Bennet," Elizabeth said. "Mother insisted that she go and Jane had not the heart to decline."

"It is always like that with her," Anne said.

"Indeed," said Elizabeth. "Is there any particular reason you wished to see her?"

"Not really," said Anne. "I just wanted to see how she was faring, is all."

"She seemed a curious blend of nervousness and excitement," Elizabeth said. "Reminded me of myself...," she paused. "When I got married." She cleared her throat and looked shakily at Anne. "But that was a long time ago. So how does Charles fare? I suppose he is probably as nervous as Jane, if not more so?"

"He was out riding when I left," said Anne. "All alone too, since Darce is not here and Richard is too lazy to go." Anne looked at Elizabeth carefully as she spoke.

Elizabeth's color heightened. "Yes...I heard...must be some urgent business, that."

"Yes, he got an express from town two days ago," said Anne.

"Oh." Elizabeth bit her lips. "Charles must be worried if his friend will be able to attend the ceremony tomorrow..."

"Perhaps." Anne decided to be as vague as possible.

"So, Mr. Darcy did not say when he would return?" Elizabeth probed.

"He did, actually." Anne said no more. If you wish to know, you will have to ask.

"Oh?" Elizabeth uttered. "I trust he will not disappoint Jane and Charles...?"

Anne looked at Elizabeth. "Oh, please, Elizabeth --- disappoint Jane and Charles? Why can you not just ask me if he will be there or not? Why does it have to be so difficult with you? It is a simple question. You could ask me when Darce will return and I would tell you tonight and that would be the end of it." Anne paused. "It is very tiring, Elizabeth. We have spent weeks playing this game and I must confess that I thought it would be over by now. At the very least, I thought we would have made some progress. But I can see no progress. It is as though no time has passed. You cling on to the past so steadfastly that it might all have happened yesterday." Anne sighed. "I am tired of it all."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment before speaking. "What do you want me to do?"

"Admit that you love him."

"I..." Elizabeth looked away.

"If you can't admit it to me or yourself, how will you ever admit it to him?"

"I won't."

"Why not?"

"It makes no difference, Anne. In the grand scheme of things, it just makes no difference what I think or I feel. It's not important." She paused. "So why should I waste his time and mine in useless admissions of love? What possible difference does it make?"

Anne sighed; there was no point in arguing. "If I feel this frustrated, I can only imagine what Darce must feel."

"I never asked for any of this," Elizabeth said.

"I know."

Elizabeth was silent again. "Do you ever have nightmares, Anne?" She asked suddenly.

"I --- no, I can't say that I do," Anne admitted, a little confused.

"Well, I do," said Elizabeth. "Almost every night. Anne, every single night I have nightmares and I relive the past again and again. I see Victor. I see him, I hear him and I wake up crying, wishing that the dream, the nightmare would last only a few more moments so I could tell him how sorry I was. But it never happens. Before I can say anything, he disappears. He doesn't know how sorry I am. I didn't have time to tell him. He didn't have enough time." There were a few tears in her eyes. "You should see the look in his eyes. He has the saddest look in his eyes. It is the same look he had that night -- and the smile on his face, always the smile. He is always smiling, you know, just like he used to." She stopped and looked at Anne. "Do you still remember his smile?"

"Of course," said Anne. "I am so sorry -- I...I know how much pain you are in."

"No, you don't," said Elizabeth. "Until you experience it yourself, you can't know, Anne. That is why you - all of you - think that I am being unreasonable, that I am clinging to the past. None of you understand. I am not clinging to the past. The past is clinging to me. Do you think I want to wake up crying every night? It is not very pleasant and I am not enjoying myself, but it is my destiny and I have come to accept it. The only question is, can you?"

"No," Anne shook her head. "I cannot accept that this is what you are destined for. I will not accept it, Elizabeth. Mark my words. This, too, shall pass. Before long, it will be in the past and you will have moved on with your life. Victor wished it to be so and so it will be. I know it."

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "Always the optimist."

"I prefer it that way."

"I thought you were tired of it?"

"A little frustrated," said Anne. "But nothing I cannot handle."

"I suppose not," said Elizabeth.

"So when do you leave?"

"Day after tomorrow," said Elizabeth. "And you?"

"Me too." Anne paused. "So I suppose I have just one more full day in Hertfordshire."

Elizabeth smiled. "I hope you have enjoyed your visit?"

"Indeed," said Anne. "It has been rather informative."

"Has it?" said Elizabeth. "And pray, how were you enlightened?"

"I learnt a great deal about the human spirit," said Anne.

"And what did you learn?"

"It is very resilient, Elizabeth," said Anne. "More than I had ever imagined. With a little determination and a lot of courage, miracles can be accomplished."

"What kind of miracles?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"All kinds," said Anne. "And If I am correct - mind you, I am never wrong - the most amazing of miracles is yet to be seen."

~~

It had been a ritual of sorts, a ritual that she would always try and adhere to ever since she had been a little girl. Sunset at Oakham Mount. Few other things could rival its beauty. It always cheered her immensely and Elizabeth definitely needed some cheering. She had avoided it recently since Darcy had "accidentally" been present there, thanks to Anne, undoubtedly. But he was in town and Elizabeth needn't worry and so she quietly walked to her destination. Her mind was still dwelling on the conversation she had had with Anne that morning. Elizabeth sighed. She wondered if the general view among her friends and family was that she was unreasonably clinging to the past. More than two months had passed since Victor's death, but Elizabeth had not yet escaped the nightmares. Perhaps all she needed was an escape from the familiar faces for even Anne reminded her of him; she had been there that night, she had practically introduced them. But it was more than that. No matter what else was said, Elizabeth knew that she was not at fault. She could not abide by anyone else's sense of propriety or time; she had to follow her own. Perhaps it was time for her to relinquish the past, perhaps it had all gone on long enough, but she was not ready to let go and until she was, she would not allow Anne or anyone else badger her into it. It would never work. Until she was ready to forget the past, all the arguments and discussions would be just noise in her ears. And Anne had not spoken the complete truth. Some progress had been made. Elizabeth had come to recognize that she could not continue to live in this manner with such pain and passion trapped inside her. It would choke her, throttle her, overwhelm her eventually. She longed to revert back to her old, carefree self and while that was not possible, she could at least come in terms with Victor's death. Elizabeth knew not what it would take, she knew not if she could ever forgive herself, but she did know that she had to face it, face him somehow, someway. What happened after that was unclear to Elizabeth, but in her heart, she knew that she had to resolve that dark episode and the sooner she did, the closer she would come to the woman she wanted to be.

Elizabeth was almost upon Oakham Mount and would have continued walking had she not spotted a familiar figure. Hastily retreating, she would have retraced her steps entirely had some telltale twigs not snapped underneath her foot and announced her presence. The gentleman instantly turned around, the surprise apparent in his face. He did not speak immediately and Elizabeth observed ruefully that the fading streaks of sun illuminated his face just enough to emphasize the brightness of his eyes. It was an unlucky realization for it forced her eyes to dwell on his a few moments longer than necessary. There lay the danger. Elizabeth was afraid of eyes, they said too much, they were too unruly, too subversive. They listened not to the hasty commands of the brain to cease, desist and withdraw, but like maverick soldiers they boldly followed their own agenda. Elizabeth felt herself color and so she looked away, finally winning the battle with her eyes. There was not much to say. This was their private farewell, she supposed. Goodbye, the end. After the wedding, he would be gone tomorrow and there would be nothing left but a handful of memories, few regrets and a broken heart. It seemed silly to speak of the weather now; she could not bring herself to comment on the weather. It was demeaning, almost. This day, this last time alone together, she could not bring herself to speak of the weather. She might never see him again after tomorrow. Elizabeth knew that it was possible. He could avoid her and she, him and the problem would be solved. And so it might be adieu for good. And so they could not speak of the weather. Anne's words echoed in her head. Admit that you love him. Now would be a time to tell him. She would not, of course. As she had pointed out, it would serve no purpose. Not weather, not love, so what else could they speak of? Elizabeth suddenly remembered that he had been away and so she cleared her throat.

"I did not know you were back in Hertfordshire."

"I just arrived," he said. "You are the first one to see me."

"Oh."

"I..." he began. "I have come to feel a deep attachment for this mount myself."

"I have always loved it," she confessed.

"I can see why." Darcy glanced at the sky, then back at Elizabeth. "It's beautiful."

His intense gaze brought a blush to her cheeks. "It is."

"So..."

"Tomorrow is the day," Elizabeth said.

"It is, indeed," he said. "They have waited a long time for this and they deserve it."

"Jane is deliriously happy," she said. "It is nice to see her so happy."

"I am certain it is."

"Time certainly flew by," she said.

"Yes it did," he said softly.

"These few weeks have flown past me, in a blur almost," she said. "And now it is time for reality."

"And what is reality?" He had to ask.

She shrugged. "Something that is different from this, from now, from this sunset, this mount."

"This is not real?"

She shook her head. "It has the illusion of reality, but it is far from it."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I have no rational explanation for it, Mr. Darcy." She spoke in low tones. She had not spoken frankly with him in recent memory and so if this was to be their last conversation, at least it could be honest. "It is more of a feeling, a sense that I have that I am dreaming. I do things, but in my mind, I see myself doing them. It is not real for me, none of it is. And I am only waiting to wake up from this dream - or nightmare, whichever." She looked at him. "That is my problem, you know. I have no conception of when the reality ends and my nightmare begins."

He spoke slowly and deliberately. "So how will you ever find reality?"

"I hope to discover it someday," she said. "You find these things in the most unlikely places and when you are least expecting to find them. In green fields or the blue skies or a child's eyes."

"Would it not help you if you knew what you were looking for?"

"It might," she said. "But it might also limit my horizons, stint the possibilities."

He longed to ask her where he stood in this quest for reality, but the question died on his lips. "I hope you find whatever it is you are looking for."

"So do I," she sighed.

"So...you leave for the north soon?"

She nodded. "And you?"

"I shall remain in town for a few days and then off to Pemberley. I have been away too long." For I had promised myself, next time I would bring you back.

"And Georgie will travel with you, I trust?"

"Yes," he said. "But she will mourn the loss of your company. She had become much attached to you."

She colored. "She is a dear girl. I shall miss her as well."

Then come with us. Pemberley is nothing without you. "Prepare yourself for a tearful good-bye. Parting is not a sweet sorrow for her."

"For me neither," she smiled slightly. "You will behold a pitiful parting scene, I am afraid."

He smiled as well. "It is understandable." Tears only for Georgie?

"I hope she will write to me," she said. "I would love to hear from her."

"I am sure she would like that as well."

"She does you credit, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth had not spoken of this before, but in the spirit of goodbye, it seemed like the thing to say.

He seemed a little flustered. "Why...ah...thank you."

"She told me how you raised her at such a young age," Elizabeth continued. "It is commendable; many would have floundered with such a charge."

It was his turn to blush. "She was always very compliant; never gave me any trouble."

"Now if you had been charged with raising Anne, on the other hand," Elizabeth said. "I dare say you would not be quite so complacent."

Darcy smiled. "I believe I would be rendered prematurely old and gray."

Elizabeth laughed. "And thus Anne would have her revenge."

It was music to his ears, that laugh. Darcy hardly knew what had happened, why she was standing a few feet away from him, laughing. She was not exactly relaxed, but she did not seem rushed to leave her side either. He instinctively knew the reason behind her newfound nonchalance. This was her way of saying goodbye. Instead of bidding farewell with the tense awkwardness they were accustomed, she wanted to leave his side with laughter ringing in their ears. It was a commendable plan; yet Darcy was not comfortable with it. Goodbye. It had too ominous a ring. Somehow it implied forever. In her mind, he knew it implied forever. But he could not, would not accept that. He would triumph yet. He did not know how or where or when, but he would. So she could laugh all she wanted and say goodbye with as much tact as she wished to, but he would never accept forever. It was his little defiance. He would laugh and humor her, but he would never accept her goodbye. It was a temporary inconvenience, this, he would soon overcome it. Again he had no idea how that was to be accomplished, but he had faith in his stars. He had not come this far for nothing. That would be too cruel. It was not goodbye. It could not be goodbye. At least not forever.

"And we cannot let Anne triumph, can we?" He smiled.

"Never," said Elizabeth. "She is not exactly the gracious winner."

"We would never hear the end of it."

"Never." Elizabeth paused. "But I shall miss her, though, infuriating as she can be."

"She has a good heart. She wants the best for her friends."

"She's a little misguided, perhaps," Elizabeth said.

"The end justifies the means, remember?" he smiled.

"In Anne's and Machiavelli's world, yes. But in mine - and yours, I imagine - no."

"A pity," he murmured. Anne's end was his and could he really fault her for that?

"I beg your pardon?" She did not think she heard him right.

"Nothing," he said.

She cleared her throat. "The sun is almost down. I should probably leave."

"I will see you at the wedding tomorrow?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I will be there."

That assured him somewhat. One more day. One more chance. "Georgie is excited. This is her first wedding."

"That is exciting."

"Indeed," he smiled. "Till tomorrow then."

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy." It was better this way. For both of them. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Perhaps she was too naïve. But it was better to end it here, end it now. Now before she lost her courage. Now before she became too tempted. Hopefully, after tomorrow, I will never have to see you again.

Chapter 54

Posted on Sunday, 17 June 2001, at 11:50 p.m.

"Jane! Jane! Good heavens, are you dressed yet?!"

Mrs. Bennet's anxious inquiries could be heard even though she was still in the parlor downstairs. Indeed, the entire household seemed to be in an uproar and such had been the case for the past few days. It seemed as though Mrs. Bennet was not able to spend a half hour without screaming at Hill or one of the other servants and if nothing else, she did have five daughters she could be cross with. Inevitably, it was Elizabeth that felt the brunt of her mother's bad spirits for Mrs. Bennet had much to be cross about regarding this particular daughter. Elizabeth bore all attacks with equanimity, more for Jane's sake than her own. She knew that as long as Mrs. Bennet was occupied in chastising her, she could not bother Jane too much, leaving Jane to prepare for her upcoming wedding in relative peace and quiet. The tactic seemed to have worked well so far and now the grand day had finally arrived and no distraction could prevent Mrs. Bennet from properly expressing her anxiety about the pending ceremony. Jane had heard her mother's cries, of course and she glanced woefully at Elizabeth. That was all that Jane needed to do in order to show her own impatience with her mother. One simple glance was enough. It spoke volumes of her irritation, her exasperation. The past few months had been especially trying for Jane, but she had never complained. Not aloud anyway.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and promptly closed the door. "She will come up here in a moment. Till then, let us have some peace."

Jane smiled. "Thank you, Lizzy."

"Should I fetch Sarah to help you with your hair?"

"In a moment," said Jane as she regarded her reflection in the looking glass once again.

"You look beautiful, Jane," Elizabeth told her nervous sister.

The prospective bride colored prettily. "Thank you, Lizzy."

"It is the truth," said Elizabeth. "No need to thank me for it."

Jane colored even more. "I only hope that I do not disappoint...anyone..."

"You know that is impossible, dear Jane. The only other person who matters this day is Charles and I dare say you could walk down the aisle in a nightgown and he would scarcely notice." Elizabeth grinned. "Perhaps other people would notice -- Anne would congratulate you on your bold choice -- but Charles would be lost in your eyes. As always. You make him happy, Jane. Happier than he usually is and we know that he is always very happy. So you see, there is nothing to worry about."

Jane smiled shyly. "I certainly hope so. I was a little apprehensive before, but now...now I am simply nervous."

"You have no reason to be."

"Perhaps not," said Jane, looking down at her simple, elegant gown, "yet I cannot avoid this feeling...it is a strange feeling. Not exactly fear. Excitement, perhaps and nervousness. Coupled with a good measure of apprehension and pure happiness. It is indescribable, Lizzy."

Elizabeth knew exactly what Jane was referring to; she only hoped her sister's bliss would last longer than hers had. "I am so happy for you, Jane."

Jane hugged Elizabeth. "If only I could see you just as happy, Lizzy..."

Elizabeth's smile vanished. "I am tolerably happy."

It was a lie and both of them were aware of that. Jane looked at her sister's melancholy face, wondering which dark corner her ever-present, carefree smile had disappeared to. Ever since Victor's death 2 months ago, she had not seen a genuine smile on Lizzy's face. She missed her sister. She missed the free-spirited, adventurous, unruly Lizzy who cared naught for propriety or convention. She missed the happy, cheerful Lizzy who never frowned or cried. She missed the optimistic Lizzy who never believed that the outlook would be anything less than stellar. That Lizzy was inspired, that Lizzy was inspiring. But above all, that Lizzy was gone. Vanished. Perhaps forever. No matter how much time passed, Jane knew that the old Lizzy would never return. She had endured too much pain and suffering for that to happen. At best, Lizzy would regain some of her former gaiety, but all would never be well again. Jane had hoped that Darcy would be the one to help her sister. She harbored that hope, that wish still. It was not too late. Darcy was the only person who was capable of reviving Lizzy again. Not to the old carefree existence. Never to the past. But to a bright future, a brighter future than seemed possible, at any rate. And at that moment, on her wedding day, the happiest day of her life, Jane could desire nothing greater than similar happiness for her sister.

"Tolerably?" Jane raised her eyebrows.

"So happy that I can barely contain my mirth," Elizabeth said wryly.

"Lizzy, please be serious."

I am tired of being serious. "What would you have me say?"

Jane sighed. "That you will try and be happy?"

"I told you that I am happy," said Elizabeth, "for you."

"And for yourself?"

I would be, if there was anything to be happy about. "I can make no promises."

"Why not?"

"Because I am likely to break them."

"Will you not at least try?"

Elizabeth sighed. "If it means so much to you, then I suppose I will."

"Thank you." Jane smiled. She looked at her sister for a moment before continuing, "I am afraid, Lizzy. Now that I will leave Longbourn, you will have no one to tell you that mama does not mean what she says."

"I never pay heed to what mama has to say."

"You say that, yes, but I am certain that sometimes, her words hurt you."

"Of course they do," said Elizabeth. "I cannot pretend otherwise. She is my mother, after all and it hurts that she believes me to be a failure. Do not waste your breath, Jane, I know that she believes it to be true. And in a way, she is right, I suppose."

"This is exactly why I am afraid for you, Lizzy. You cannot let yourself believe that."

Elizabeth had no wish to engage her sister in a long debate, so she simply said, "I shall be fine, Jane. I will survive."

"I never doubted that," Jane said. She embraced her sister. "I shall miss you, Lizzy."

"And I, you, Jane," said Elizabeth.

At that moment, a loud cry was heard outside the door and both sisters knew that their moments of peace had ended. "Sarah!! Why are you not helping Miss Jane yet? Heavens, girl, do not stand about in that stupid manner. Make haste! There is no time to waste. We must be at the church soon. Jane! Lizzy!" With another loud exclamation, Mrs. Bennet entered the chamber. "There you are, girls. Oh Jane, you look so lovely. I have never seen a more beautiful bride. You put everyone to shame, even Mrs. Long's nieces, who fancy themselves quite beautiful. Sarah!! Where are you?" The somewhat frightened maid scurried into the room.

"Calm down, mama," said Elizabeth. "We have enough time before we need to arrive at the church."

"Nonsense, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said. "What do you know about it?"

Lydia and Kitty ran into the room. "Mama, Lydia stole my favorite necklace again."

"It isn't yours!" exclaimed Lydia.

"Aunt Gardiner gave it to me," pouted Kitty.

"But it looks much better on me."

"That does not make it yours."

"Oh, let her have it, Kitty," scolded Mrs. Bennet.

Lydia left the room with a triumphant smile and Kitty followed her, sulking.

"Now Jane, remember everything I told you," said Mrs. Bennet as soon as the girls were gone, "about what to expect."

Elizabeth nearly burst out laughing. She remembered the "talk" that her mother had given her at the time of her own wedding and unless Mrs. Bennet had changed the substance of that conversation (which was doubtful), Elizabeth imagined that Jane was rather embarrassed. She glanced at her sister, who had turned to a flattering shade of crimson and smiled to herself. Just as she had suspected. Poor Jane seemed to require some rescuing at that moment, but unfortunately there did not seem to be any way to prevent Mrs. Bennet from further embarrassing her daughter. She assured Jane that there was "nothing to be afraid of" as long as she did her duty, of course. With every successive word, Jane seemed to blush even more and Elizabeth suspected that she was silently pretending that it was not happening. A good tactic, that. Always worked for Elizabeth. Just as Mrs. Bennet's animation threatened to become unbearable, Mrs. Gardiner entered the chamber and rescued Jane by distracting Mrs. Bennet's attention.

"Oh sister, I am glad you are here; come, see how pretty Jane looks," Mrs. Bennet said.

"Jane, you do look wonderful, dear," Mrs. Gardiner complimented her niece.

"Thank you, aunt."

"Does she not, sister?" said Mrs. Bennet. "The lace is outstanding, I do declare."

"Indeed," said Mrs. Gardiner.

"I am glad I insisted that we buy it," said Mrs. Bennet.

Mrs. Gardiner could have reminded her sister-in-law that her tastes had tended towards a much more extravagant and much less elegant gown, but she contracted a bad memory as was wise under such circumstances. "Oh yes, of course."

"Lady Lucas will be quite put out, I dare say," Mrs. Bennet observed with some satisfaction. "Charlotte will never look as well as my Jane."

Mrs. Gardiner only nodded slightly, which sufficed since Mrs. Bennet didn't often require responses to her statements or observations.

Mrs. Bennet smiled happily at the notion of displeasing both Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas at the same time, then returned her attention to Jane. "Make haste, Sarah!"

Mrs. Gardiner caught Elizabeth rolling her eyes and smiled. It was going to be a long morning.

~~

"Bingley, do stop pacing, you are making me dizzy," Darcy complained.

"I cannot help it," said Bingley with a small frown.

"It is simply a wedding," said Richard. "There is no need to be so nervous."

"Easy for you to say," Bingley muttered. "It is not as if either of you have been married before."

"That is true," Richard said. "Maybe you can enlighten us then. Tell me, Bingley, why exactly are you so nervous?"

"I can't say," Bingley said. "It is not one thing or the other, but rather my nervousness most certainly results from an amalgamation of several fears, worries and some perfectly nonsensical anxieties. I suppose the greatest fear of all is that somehow Jane will finally see reason and realize that she is making the biggest mistake of her life and leave me standing at the altar. It is quite possible, you know. She is much too good for me and she must see that...sooner or later." Bingley paused, briefly ceasing his pacing. "Darce, do you think she will break the engagement?"

"Bingley, you are worrying yourself without reason," Darcy assured him.

"You do not know that," Bingley said.

"I spoke with Elizabeth just yesterday," Darcy said, "and she told me that Jane was the picture of happiness. The only thing that can cause problem today is if you faint from dizziness after too much pacing. Do sit down and rest yourself." Bingley obliged him ruefully. "Good. Now, can I get you something to drink?"

"No," Bingley said. "I cannot fathom drinking or eating anything."

"You know, Bingley, it is really not romantic to faint of hunger and thirst on your own wedding day," Richard said helpfully.

Bingley shot him a glare. "Laugh all you want. I want to see how calm and collected you are on your wedding day."

"Oh, I will have no trouble of this sort," said Richard, "for I am eloping."

"Richard." Anne entered the parlor, her arms crossed.

"Anne..." Richard bit his lips and Darcy suppressed a smile.

"Trust you to spoil a surprise," Anne said.

"It was supposed to be a surprise?"

"Of course," said Anne. "There is no point in eloping if it is not a surprise to everyone else."

"And here I thought you wanted to elope simply because you were desperately in love with me?" Richard smiled.

"What an egotistical thought to entertain," Anne said. "Well, now that the secret is out, I suppose we will just have to kill Charles and Darce."

Darcy raised his eyebrows. "Jane would be devastated."

"True," Anne said. "Now this is a problem."

"Well, you could abandon the entire plan," smiled Darcy. "Your parents would never forgive you otherwise. You, Anne, are the only daughter and Andy has no immediate plans of marrying. They would be heartbroken if you robbed them of perhaps their only opportunity to witness an offspring's wedding."

"What nonsense," said Anne. "But fortunately for you, Darce, tempting as elopement seems, I am much too thrilled by the idea of marrying in a beautiful white gown, in front of all my friends and family to attempt such a thing."

Richard looked at Bingley. "So...you inclined to share those wonderful pieces of wisdom you were going to deliver about entering the married state?"

"If I had any pieces of wisdom," said Bingley, "I'd save them for myself."

"Charles, nothing can go wrong," Anne said. "You and Jane are perfect for each other."

Bingley looked at her. "Thank you."

"So, is this how you will act on our wedding day?" Anne looked at Richard.

"No," Richard shook his head. "I dare say I won't be nervous."

"Not even a little?" Anne raised her eyebrows.

Richard saw warning signs blazing in Anne's eyes. "Well...maybe a little."

Anne smiled. "You are entirely too certain of yourself, Richard. You need a good scare."

"I am not certain of myself," said Richard. "I am only certain of us."

"Oh Richard..." Anne sighed with a grin on her face.

Darcy amused himself by listening to the sweet exchanges between Anne and Richard, but soon tired of it. He glanced at Bingley, who seemed to be lost in reverie, so his mind was free to wander and wander it did, inevitably settling on the one subject that was never far from his thoughts. Elizabeth. All this talk of love and weddings made Darcy wonder whether he would ever be blessed with the same happiness and good fortune that his friends enjoyed. He had never seen Bingley this ecstatically happy and distracted before; it was truly a miracle. And of course, Richard and Anne had altered greatly since their own engagement; he scarcely heard a cross word escape their lips or saw a frown grace their foreheads. It was all giddy happiness and sometimes, Darcy wanted to escape it all. Sometimes he wanted to escape this world where it seemed that everyone but him was reveling in the glories of all, a world that scorned him and stripped him of every possible chance of happiness. The future seemed dismal to Darcy, no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise. He was not willing to give up; yet he knew that things very well might not be in his power. If Elizabeth wanted to avoid him, she could do so easily and he knew that he would not have the power to continually force his company on her. She had suffered too much already. He could not add to it, not with an easy conscience. He would hate himself if he discovered that she spent sleepless, tearful nights thinking of him. He would truly never forgive himself if he believed that he caused any more tears to fall from her eyes. Her eyes were nearly dry from too much crying and all that in the course of two months. She had never cried before, but in these two months, she had compensated for a lifetime. But Darcy knew, somewhere in his heart he knew that she did not cry for him. Not him specifically. It was more of a mourning for things gone wrong, things he could not change no matter how much he tried. It was realizations such as this one that made Darcy feel the most helpless. The realization that his money, his power, his position in society could not help him win a simple, honest smile on Elizabeth's face. Nothing and no one could help him in this battle. And it was a depressing thought.

So much time had elapsed since the incident that sometimes Darcy forgot why exactly he was in the situation that he found himself in. It only took a moment to remember, however. Darcy unconsciously clenched his fists as he thought of Wickham. It was all Wickham's doing, of course. Elizabeth suffered tremendously and continued to suffer still because of that man. Darcy knew that she questioned herself day after day, questioned her judgement and her perception of people because she had been duped by him. She could never completely trust a man again and Wickham was to blame for that. Darcy knew that she was embarrassed and hurt and confused over the choices that she had made and he wished to god that he could make her see that it had been a mistake and that she could not berate herself endlessly for it. Jane had once told him that Elizabeth did not believe herself worthy of love or any other happiness. That revelation had frustrated Darcy more than anything else. That Wickham could have had such an enormous impact on someone so lively and confident was sickening. Yet there was nothing Darcy could do. She would have to see reason for herself. He could espouse all her lovely qualities every day and every night and she would still not believe him. She would have to recognize her strength and her worthiness herself. And then of course, there was Victor. She blamed herself for his death and while Darcy understood her reasoning, he knew it was flawed. If only she could see the intense love that had prompted Victor's actions. Darcy had never been particularly fond of the gentleman, but he had come to respect his sacrifice. Darcy had been fiercely jealous of Victor in the beginning, especially at the thought that Victor had proven his love so valiantly. But Darcy had come to accept a different role from fate and had realized that he would have to prove his love and devotion in another way. He would have to ignore all doubts and brave all disappointments and stand his ground for Elizabeth's sake and his own. No matter how bleak the outlook seemed, he had to remember that Elizabeth was suffering twice as much as he was, so he had no right to complain. She could try and escape him, but he would not abandon her. It was too late for such a thing to happen, anyway. He could not imagine life without Elizabeth. Darcy was determined that she would be a part of his life or he would spend it thinking of her. Either way, in his mind, she was - and always had been - his.

"William?"

Darcy broke out of his reverie. "Georgie...I --- ah....didn't see you enter."

"I know," Georgie smiled. "You were too engrossed in your own thoughts."

Darcy smiled sheepishly. "I suppose so."

"I came to fetch you," she said. "Everyone else is preparing to leave for the church."

Darcy looked around. The parlor was, indeed, empty. Strange.

"Caroline is finally ready; you should see the monstrosity she calls a gown," Georgie said. "Only Louisa seems to like it, but you know Louisa. She likes everything. Charles looks like he has just consumed some spoilt milk and Anne and Richard...well, they are just lovesick. All in all, I would say we are ready to head for the church."

Darcy sighed. "Sounds like it."

"Only promise you will not make me share a carriage with Caroline. I will go mad."

"I think you have little choice in the matter," said Darcy.

"I know," pouted Georgie. "I can still complain about it."

"I suppose," Darcy said as he walked, his mind still miles away.

"William," Georgie said, squeezing her brother's hand.

"Yes?" He looked at her inquiringly.

"It will happen for you one day."

Darcy could not mistake her meaning. "I hope so."

"Elizabeth loves you and she cannot resist you for too long. I know it."

Darcy smiled, but said nothing. If only it were that simple.

~~

"Well, now that wasn't so difficult. Wonder what they were so nervous about?" Anne glanced at the newly wed couple once again.

"I admit I have never seen Jane so nervous in my life." Elizabeth smiled, her eyes scanning all the guests present at the wedding breakfast. "It was rather disconcerting to see her so. She is always so calm. It is very rare that I am more placid and serene that she is and it simply does not seem right, you know?"

"You should have seen Charles," Anne said. "He was convinced that Jane would change her mind in the last moment. About the wedding, that is. I have never heard anything more preposterous, but he was rather worried about it."

"And look at them now," said Elizabeth.

"They are disgustingly happy," Anne said.

"Indeed," said Elizabeth, "and all is exactly as it should be."

Not everything. "Are you certain you cannot come with me?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "I promised to visit my friend Julie. I have not seen her for nearly two years."

"I cannot imagine life without you, that's all," Anne sighed.

Elizabeth looked at her. "You had no one to tease and bully."

Anne grinned. "No and I will miss teasing and bullying you."

Elizabeth laughed. "And you wonder why I won't come with you?"

"Oh, come, admit it, Elizabeth. You liked it very well indeed."

"I will admit no such thing."

"If it were not for me," said Anne, "you would lead quite a dull existence."

"How presumptuous," said Elizabeth. "I will have you know I am quite capable of amusing myself without your help."

"Very unlikely," muttered Anne. "You will cry of boredom and beg to be admitted back to my company."

"Such vivid imagination does you little credit," said Elizabeth. "Well, at least, it will keep you entertained on long evenings when you will have no one to bother."

"I always have someone to bother."

"Sadly enough," laughed Elizabeth, "that is true."

Richard joined the two friends soon after and the light banter continued. Neither friend was willing or prepared to bid adieu just yet and this humor was a way for them to postpone the inevitable. Georgie entered the conversation but briefly. She was more concerned about her brother, who had relegated himself to the periphery of the chamber and was gloomily glowering at no one in particular. She sighed inwardly as she saw him look at Elizabeth when he thought himself unobserved. He spoke very little; only when he was spoken to and when there was absolutely no way for him to escape conversation. Even then he muttered a few words and then returned to his former silence. Georgie noticed that Elizabeth glanced at him once or twice, obviously worried about his behavior. He had been making an effort to be civil of late and had even spoken with strangers on occasion, but it seemed that he was returning to his old habits. She approached him hesitantly and gently tapped his shoulders.

"William, what are you doing? You look very scary."

"Do I really?" he asked.

She nodded. "You have to talk to her. Standing here will not accomplish anything."

"I know," he said, "but I don't know what to say."

"You will think of something," said Georgie.

"I don't know..." He glanced at her. She was laughing at something Anne said. "She seems happy as she is. I dare say she does not want to talk to me."

"Nonsense," said Georgie. "We are leaving soon, William. If you say nothing now, you will regret it later. Trust me."

Darcy looked at his younger sister. "And since when have you become an expert on these matters?"

"I am not an expert, really," Georgie smiled, "I have just been taking lessons on purposeful meddling from Anne."

"Good heavens, no," muttered Darcy. "The world is not ready for another Anne."

Georgie smiled. "Now go."

Darcy hesitantly walked to where Anne and Elizabeth were standing.

"Darce," said Anne. "So you decided to stop glowering and join us."

"I was not glowering," Darcy said.

"Of course," smiled Anne. She pretended to look around the room. "Excuse me for a moment. I think Richard wants to talk to me." She curtsied, looked approvingly at the couple, winked as she passed Georgie, then went to find Richard to avoid being too obvious.

"So..." Darcy searched for words.

"The wedding was beautiful," Elizabeth said.

"Yes it was," he agreed. "They look happy together."

"Very happy," she said. "I heard Charles was very nervous this morning."

"Yes, he would not stop pacing."

"That's unusual. Jane was the same way. Well, she did not pace, but she wrenched her hands and checked her gown in the looking glass ceaselessly."

"Well, at least the wait is over."

"Yes, they deserve to be happy," Elizabeth said.

"Now it is Anne and Richard's turn."

"Indeed." Elizabeth looked at him. There was nothing to say. They could not keep talking about their friends in this manner and there was nothing more to say about anything else. Nothing more that she wished to say, anyway. Or hear.

Darcy read her thoughts. "Well..."

This is it. The end. "Well..." She bit her lips. "Thank you for coming. I know how the country must bore you."

"Not at all," he said. "It was my pleasure." An uncomfortable pause ensued. "Well, I need to attend to some last minute business before leaving Hertfordshire. So, I suppose I will give my best wishes to Jane and Bingley and then return to Netherfield."

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy looked at her for a long moment. "Goodbye."

He bowed and then quickly left her side. Elizabeth watched him speak with Jane and Charles for a few moments before quitting the chamber. She watched his exit with suppressed tears. At last it was over. He was gone and she was free. Free to cry and mourn and lament as she pleased. She should have been ecstatic. Instead, her heart was heavy. Not in spite of the fact that it was over, but because of it. It was over. And she was probably in worse condition than before. Elizabeth heard her mother calling her name. It was just as well. At least she would be distracted. At least she would cease pondering the end. The end of an era. The end of a chapter in her life. Elizabeth had no intention of seeing him again. She knew it might not be in her power to ensure it, but she could sincerely hope it were so. As far as she was concerned, this was the end. And no matter how much it pained her, she knew it was for the best.

Continued in the Next Section