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Chapter 55

Posted on Tuesday, 26 June 2001, at 4:32 a.m.

Elizabeth entered the library and looked around to ensure that she was alone. Solitude had become her closest companion of late, but on this particular occasion, the emptiness of the room didn't comfort her as she had hoped, rather it only added to her sense of sadness and confusion. Perhaps it was because she was going to leave this, her home, the only real home she had ever known. Not forever, but in a way, it was more definitive than it had ever been, even more so than when she had been married. She could never feel comfortable here again and although she knew not what other home she had, she could not very well continue to impose upon her parents in this manner. I would rather die first than become a burden on anyone. Elizabeth was proud and she knew it, but there was really nothing to be done about it. Not now anyway. It was too late for that. She slowly walked to the bookshelf and slid her hand across the volumes of books, her beloved companions, her continued sources of solace and peace. She had so many wonderful memories connected with this room. She remembered many winter evenings when she would just sit on her father's lap while he read one of her favorite stories to her. It always pleased her to escape the otherwise frenetic pace of the house and hide in the library as her father was disposed to do. And together they would explore the world of Shakespeare and Dante and Chaucer and Homer. The great poets and the prophetic thinkers. This was her education and she valued it greatly. Elizabeth gently pulled out an old, tattered copy of Shakespeare's sonnets, one of her absolute favorites. She opened to the first page and read the inscription. To my darling Lizzy, may you spend as many hours of enjoyment within these pages as I have. Love, papa. She had received this book as a birthday gift a long time ago, but had left it here because she had not known whether her new married abode would have an adequate library. She had meant to send for it later when she had a decent library in her own home, but the time had never come. And now it seemed, the time would never come.

"Why don't you take it with you?"

Elizabeth turned around, surprised at the sound of her father's voice. "Perhaps I will..."

"You always loved that book," said Mr. Bennet.

"Yes," smiled Elizabeth, "yes I did and I still do."

"Good." Mr. Bennet closed the door behind him. "I am glad to hear that." He sank into his armchair. "So I take it your trunks are all packed?"

"Yes they are," Elizabeth nodded. "I was only waiting for you...to say goodbye"

Mr. Bennet smiled affectionately. "I was waiting for you earlier, but you never came."

"I went to say goodbye to Charlotte," Elizabeth explained.

"Ah yes," nodded Mr. Bennet. "What about your mama?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "She seems indifferent to it all, I suppose, almost as if she's said all she needed to say about the subject."

"A small miracle in itself," muttered Mr. Bennet.

"I think it will be good for me to go, papa."

"I suppose so."

"It's not as if I want to leave Longbourn, per se," Elizabeth said, "but you know how mama can be sometimes."

"I know exactly how she can be and it does not please me that she is the reason you have to leave."

"Well, it is not the entire reason, no," Elizabeth said.

"Is it not?" Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows.

"I just need to distance myself from anything and everything that reminds me of the past." Elizabeth sighed. "I need to be in a place where everyone does not know of my troubles, a place where I can try and reestablish my own identity. I am a ghost of my former self, papa. I have shed more tears than I knew I possessed and that unnerves me more than anything else. I never cried before and now it seems as though I can't stop. This is not me and I am not even certain if I can find out who I am. But I can try and I know it will not happen here."

"I understand, my dear. I just wish that it were not so. I just wish that there was some way to reverse the past."

"I wish that every single day," smiled Elizabeth wanly, "but since that is impossible, I must do the next best thing."

"True," smiled Mr. Bennet. He longed to ask her about her "young man," as he had come to think of Darcy, but he refrained from that impulse since he doubted that he would be able to extract an intelligible response from his daughter. "So, you shall abandon us all for the wild beauty of the north?"

Elizabeth chuckled slightly. "Yes."

"Well, you must write to me often."

"I promise I will."

"Yes, good," nodded Mr. Bennet.

Elizabeth approached his chair and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I shall miss you."

Mr. Bennet was one of the men who were never very comfortable in expressing their affections, so he cleared his throat. "Now, now...very well. I will miss you too, Lizzy. Jane has left us for the greater comfort of Netherfield and now you leave me as well. Think of me, Lizzy. I shall not hear a single sensible word in this house till one of you returns to visit."

Elizabeth laughed. "Now I am truly sorry."

"Well, there is nothing to be done about it."

Elizabeth looked at her father, almost scrutinizing him intently. She wondered what he was thinking, what he thought about everything. He had never spoken of the past or the future and she wondered whether beneath the surface he regarded her in a similar light as Mrs. Bennet. It was never difficult to divine Mrs. Bennet's feelings on any matter; she had never mastered the art of concealment, but Mr. Bennet was different and Elizabeth had no idea whether he, too, thought she had failed him. He would never say so, of course; he was much too refined for that, but Elizabeth wondered if he harbored those same emotions on some level. It was quite plausible and although it would hurt her considerably, she would not be surprised. She had failed herself, so it would not be a surprise if she had failed him as well. Her judgement, her actions, her decisions -- they had disgraced and shamed her and she could only imagine what her father thought of them, of her. Elizabeth shook her head silently. It would not do to think of that now. She could not change his opinion, whatever it might be, so she might as well accept ignorance on that matter. She could have asked him, but she had not the courage to do so. So she mustered up all her energy to pretend to be tolerably cheerful and smiled a farewell smile, all the while wondering if he managed to see through her façade of normality.

"Goodbye, papa."

"Goodbye, Lizzy."

Mr. Bennet watched his beloved daughter leave the library and a few minutes later, he heard the carriage depart. He closed his book and sighed. He wished that there was something he could do, something more helpful than well wishes and prayers, but this was a journey that Elizabeth had to complete alone. He wished that she was six again so that he could seat her on his lap, read from her favorite book and shield her from all the terrible wrongs. It had been much simpler then. All he had to do was assure her that all was well with the world and she was satisfied. And now he had to struggle to keep the tears from her eyes. It was a disheartening position for a father to be in and Mr. Bennet wondered whether this was all a result of destiny or whether he had simply failed as a father.

~~

Elizabeth yawned slightly as the jolt of the carriage awoke her from her slumber. She had not managed to sleep much, but she could not fault her present mode of transportation for that. Sleep had eluded her more or less on a daily basis these past few weeks, causing the appearance of telling black circles under her eyes that gave her face a haggard look. If her face was to be studied, the observer would be struck by the troubling lines about her mouth and the tired look of her complexion, but more importantly by the haunting sadness of her eyes. Her entire countenance spoke of tragedy and for someone who had been so lively in the past, that was truly unfortunate. Elizabeth looked out at the passing terrain and wondered how much longer she would be confined in the carriage. She was impatient by nature and would rather run about in the meadows than sit quietly in the carriage. It was even more true now because she had so much restless energy, so much passion that had to be released in some way or the other. She was close, she knew, and expected to arrive at Julie's home within the hour. Elizabeth sighed. She had not seen her friend for quite sometime, but she had always enjoyed Julie's company. Julie had lived in Meryton and Elizabeth had often wandered there with Charlotte to see their mutual friend. Together the three girls had run amuck in the neighborhood, giggling, sharing horror stories of their mothers and climbing trees when no one was present to tell them it was not ladylike. That had all changed, however, when one Jason Bedwell, a dashing young gentleman from the north had come to Meryton to stay with his ailing aunt for a few months.

It was love at first sight, especially strange since Julie did not truly believe that such a thing existed, at least not till she became a victim of the phenomenon. The result was that Julie and her young man stole away to meet each other wherever they could -- balls, dinners, tea visits, gardens, mounts. It was not all very proper, but they cared little. Young Jason had just come into his fortune after his father's death and so he sought only Julie's approval, an approval that he had won before he knew that he was seeking it. Of course, this meant that Julie spent less and less time with her friends and although Elizabeth wanted to be cross with Jason for stealing away one of her best friends, he was much too amiable for her to remain upset with him for very long. Before long, Jason was asking Julie to marry him and she agreed and within a few months they were married and off to Jason's house in the north. Elizabeth had not seen her since. She had become much too occupied with her own affairs for no sooner had Julie left, a young officer named George Wickham had come to stay at Meryton. Elizabeth closed her eyes when she thought of that period of life and the only word that came to mind was stupid. She had been so stupid, so naïve, so much like Lydia that it scared her to even think of it. The warning signs had been there from the beginning and her family, especially her father, had never been entirely pleased with her for marrying a relatively poor officer, but she had been adamant. We will make our fortune together, she had told them again and again. A pleasant thought, a wonderful idea, that, Elizabeth thought bitterly. He had been after fortune, but not in any way she could ever have imagined. Together. The young, idealistic, romantic idea seemed so foreign to her now. She had become accustomed to feeling alone. She managed to feel alone in a crowd of people. It was an art in itself, an art that she had perfected. It was isolation not by choice, but by necessity. Her entire sanity depended on it. Still, I wonder if I am sane anymore? There was no way to tell. Many of her friends and family would say that she had lost her mind altogether and if pressed, she knew that she would not be able to disagree.

"We are here, miss." The coachman's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh," Elizabeth murmured as she alighted from the carriage and beheld a beautiful manor. She squinted her eyes and smiled slightly as she saw her friend running towards the carriage to meet her. A warm smile diffused over her face as she realized that her friend looked much the same with her lovely dark hair, her intriguing eyes and her brilliant smile. Elizabeth felt infinitely better just looking at her. "Julie!"

"Lizzy! Finally I managed to get you here!" Julie embraced her friend.

"Mama -- " A little boy peeked from behind Julie's gown.

"Oh, Lizzy, I want you to meet my son, Samuel Edward Bedwell," Julie grinned. "We like to call him Sam. Sam, say hello to aunt Lizzy."

"Hewwo." Sam appeared briefly from behind the skirt only to disappear again.

"Come, Lizzy, you must be tired, let us go inside."

And so the two friends proceeded inside arm-in-arm as Julie instructed a few servants to remove Elizabeth's trunks from the carriage and deposit them in her chamber. Julie led Elizabeth to the parlor, a bright, pleasant room with a view of the shrubbery, arranged undoubtedly to suit Julie's fancy. It had a temperate, amiable, carefree air meant to delight any occupant. Elizabeth complimented Julie on the room, aware that her friend was probably responsible for its present condition.

"Oh, Jason was very nice about it, you know," Julie said. "He told me I could rearrange it in any manner I chose."

"Very charitable of him," smiled Elizabeth, "but I expected nothing less. He is madly in love with you."

"I suppose so," Julie smiled.

"You suppose so?" Elizabeth repeated. "Does he or does he not attend to your every whim and fulfil your every secret desire?"

Julie laughed. "Yes, he does. You know, Lizzy, he will do the silliest of things to make me happy."

"Really?"

"Yes," Julie nodded. "I once told him that a man cannot be considered truly attractive unless he looks well in a wet shirt. And so, the next day, Jason told me to come with him to witness a 'surprise.' I followed him, very curious. He led me to the lake on our grounds, made certain that we were alone and then jumped into the lake fully clothed. When he emerged from the lake, his shirt was, needless to say, wet. He looked at me and asked, 'so do I pass the test?' I nearly died of laughter and am happy to report that he looks very well in a wet shirt."

Elizabeth giggled. "Only you can come up with such a test."

"Well, you know, a woman must have her fantasies," Julie chuckled. "I am just fortunate that Jason is bold or stupid enough to fulfil mine." She paused. "On another note, I am sorry I was not able to attend Jane's wedding. Sam was much too sick to travel and I could not very well leave him here."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. "Is he better?"

"Yes, much better, thank you," Julie nodded. "So, how was the wedding? How is this Mr. Bingley?"

"It was a truly wonderful ceremony, Julie," Elizabeth said. "I have never seen Jane look so radiant and happy. And Charles is a dear. He loves Jane very much, you know. They are so happy together." Elizabeth grinned. "It is positively sickening."

Julie laughed. "Charlotte and you always said that about Jason and me as well."

"Oh, don't mind us," Elizabeth said. "We are simply jealous for you and Jane found the one thing that eludes us - true love."

Julie smiled. "Well, I am very fortunate."

"Yes you are," Elizabeth said.

Julie saw the nearly wistful look in her friend's eyes and instantly regretted her words. She knew of all that had happened for Jane had written to her about it. She could not imagine how Elizabeth must have suffered. She remembered the early days of her marriage when Elizabeth had often written to her about a wonderful man named Wickham. Julie had been happy at the thought that her best friend would find love just as she had. She had not attended the wedding because she had been in confinement, but she had sent her best wishes and had been truly overjoyed at the sparkling happiness in Elizabeth's correspondence. It did not last, however. As Elizabeth began her married life, she wrote less often to Julie, especially since Elizabeth was too proud to admit that she had run into troubles. So Julie had learnt more of Elizabeth's problems through Jane. It had pained her and she had wished she could ease Elizabeth's anguish somewhat. That was what prompted her to extend an invitation to visit her. That the fresh country air and distance from everything familiar might be beneficial for Elizabeth was the thought foremost in Julie's mind and she sincerely hoped she was correct. Elizabeth, of course, knew that Julie was aware of her situation - Jane had told her as much - but she knew that her friend would not broach the subject. Elizabeth was thankful for Julie's tact. The last thing she wanted was to revive the past and discuss it again with anyone. Maybe sometime in the future, she would be comfortable enough to do so, but not now. In the meantime, she just wished to talk to Julie about their carefree days and reminisce on one aspect of her past that did not give her pain.

"Do you remember our tree, Julie?" asked Elizabeth.

"The one on Oakham Mount?" Julie said. "How could I forget? Is it still there?"

"Oh yes," nodded Elizabeth. "It is still there and strong as ever."

"Remember the one time when you and I were seven," Julie said. "You were climbing it and Charlotte and I were watching you. You fell and broke your arm and the only reason you almost cried was because you were afraid of what your parents might say."

"I had good reason to be afraid too," said Elizabeth. "Mama was scandalized that a 'young lady,' such as myself was climbing trees. Who would dare to explain to her that I was not, by any stretch of imagination, a young lady?"

"Who, indeed," giggled Julie. "I was always scared of her, you know."

"Of mama? Really?" Elizabeth was surprised.

"Oh yes," Julie nodded. "Many of us were. We never wanted to excite Mrs. Bennet's wrath for we did not want to be scolded and admonished by her."

"I do not blame you," laughed Elizabeth, "for she can be quite intimidating."

"Indeed!" smiled Julie. "Is she much the same now?"

"As much as ever," sighed Elizabeth. "You should have seen her on poor Jane's wedding day. She was running around the house, screaming at whoever was unfortunate enough to cross her path. Jane is the only one who could have endured such a display with patience. She is quite a saint when it comes to patience, but even Jane rolled her eyes a few times and you know that in Jane's world that means severe disapproval."

Julie laughed. "She is living very close to Longbourn though, is she not?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth, "but I would not be surprised if she were to move within the year. Charles is as amiable as Jane, but I am afraid that even with such sweet dispositions as theirs, they will not be able to bear mama's constant prying visits. She has not enough sense to leave them alone and they will not be able to have a day of peace if they remain in Netherfield. I give them six months, or a year at most and they will quit Netherfield."

"So much the better," said Julie. "I cannot imagine having to live close to Meryton."

"No, nor I," shuddered Elizabeth.

The two friends laughed heartily at their mutual distaste of living in proximity of relatives and proceeded to exchange several other stories, comments and such. Sam, of course, would not remain out of the conversation for much longer, so he joined in on occasion, pointing out a butterfly from the open window. He ran around the parlor, circling Julie and Elizabeth, all the while grinning at both ladies. Elizabeth asked if he had a nurse. He did, but Julie preferred to tend to him herself. And so a good hour was spent in pleasant conversation. It was time for dinner, however, and Elizabeth decided to go to her chamber and refresh herself before joining the family at the table. As Julie led her to the staircase, Jason entered the house and stopped upon seeing the company. He bowed and grinned at Elizabeth.

"So, you are finally here."

Elizabeth smiled, wondering how much Jason knew of her recent troubles. Probably the entire dismal story because Julie had never concealed anything from him. At any rate, Jason gave no hint that anything was amiss, so she answered him in a similar vein. "Indeed, I hope you are not too disappointed."

Jason laughed, "Not at all. You make Julie happy, which is all I ask."

Elizabeth smiled. "Very well said, sir, now I shall have to see just how happy and comfortable you are able to make her."

"Testing me again, are you?" Jason referred to the old days when Elizabeth had been skeptical of Jason's suitableness for her friend.

"Of course," Elizabeth said, "would you expect any less from me?"

"No, indeed," Jason said. "And let me be the first to say, I am not afraid of you."

"I would not have you be," said Elizabeth.

"Oh, come, you two," Julie interrupted their banter. "Lizzy probably wishes to go to her chamber. You can continue with this nonsense at dinner."

Elizabeth smiled. "I look forward to it."

"As do I," Jason grinned.

~~

Elizabeth was seated comfortably in the parlor one morning, a week or so after her arrival, watching Sam play with a cushion. Julie was engaged in some housework, instructing the cook or something of that sort and Elizabeth had agreed to watch Sam for the duration. He was a restless child, as boys his age tended to be, but when he was distracted, he was not much trouble at all. Elizabeth smiled slightly. He was a dear, resembling Jason so much that it was frightening. The past week had been extremely therapeutic for Elizabeth. She had not been able to forget her problems - that was impossible - but she had managed to relegate it to the depths of her memory. There were a great many things to think about, but Elizabeth felt the need to replenish her energy and her vitality before she attacked her demons. As Elizabeth pondered those thoughts, a footman entered and handed her a letter that had arrived for her. It was addressed from Rosings and Elizabeth knew instantly that it was from Anne. She tore it open with impatience for she had missed Anne more than she thought possible. It read:

Dearest Elizabeth,

I hope this missive finds you in excellent health and even better spirits. I also hope that you have missed me as much as I have missed you, which is a great deal - rather surprising since it has only been a week since our separation, but Richard points out that you are like a sister I never had so it is natural for me to miss you terribly.

I miss you too, Anne.

At any rate, I have a great deal to tell you, so I will get to the point immediately. You must have noticed, undoubtedly, that this letter has been mailed from Rosings. You probably have many questions, I dare say, so I will allay all your fears and suspicions and tell you that yes, indeed, I am at Rosings again. How was such a miracle achieved, you may ask? Well, it is quite simple, actually. Through intimidation and terrorization. Do not be afraid, Elizabeth, no one and nothing was hurt in this process, well perhaps with the exception of my mother's pride and ego. But that is just as well.

We returned to town, as you know, after Jane's wedding. Mother was there and I was loathe to speak to her again. Richard was much more charitable than I could have been and said that he did not wish to alienate her. He wanted her blessings, he said, and I did my best to dissuade him. The problem with Richard is that he is much too nice for his own good. He cannot stand the idea of marrying without the consent of my mother. He says it has something to do with the sanctity of a family. It is all very silly, if you ask me, silly and old-fashioned, but Richard persisted. You know, that is why we make such a good match. He is nice and I am mean. Do not even try to desist from that opinion. I know I am mean and I am proud of it. We balance each other out and that is just as well, I suppose, although sometimes I wish he was not that nice. Can get a little sickening, but then again, I love him for it, so I suppose I cannot fault him too much. Oh my, seems as though I have managed to ramble away again. Let me get back to the matter at hand.

So, what happened is that Richard spoke to his father, uncle Henry and he agreed to go and speak with mother. Aunt Helen refused to go, of course, which is good because she has little patience for mother's tantrums. She is just like me, you know, aunt Helen is -- that is probably why we get along so well. At any rate, I stayed with aunt Helen while Richard and uncle Henry went to see mother. This is where the intimidation and terrorization comes into the picture. Richard claims that all they did was talk in a civilized manner, but I do not believe him, of course. Years of living with mother has shown me that she does not respond very well to civilized conversation. So I am rather certain that she was intimidated by uncle Henry, who although seemingly nice and kindly, is a rather large and menacing-looking man. I can just picture it now. Mother sitting in her chair in the parlor of our townhouse - you know the big, green one she loves so much - and uncle Henry standing and looking at her with an evil look in his eyes. Priceless. Well, that is how I imagine it, anyway, and I dare anyone to take the image away from me. Whatever happened that night, the result is that mother saw reason and agreed that Richard was really a 'good sort of boy.' Those were her exact words, mind you. A good sort of boy? Richard is the epitome of all things good and noble! Mother has no idea what she is talking about. She is the queen of understatement. Well, anyway, so she finally condescended to give Richard her blessings and asked to see me. I heard the news and was dumfounded.

So am I...Lady Catherine being nice? What's next, pigs flying?

So, I went. I didn't want to. I was still upset with her, but Richard made me go. He said that she was my mother (like I didn't know that already) and that she deserved a second chance. I asked him whether she had ever given anyone else a second chance, but Richard said that was hardly the point. He is quite frustrating, sometimes. More so than Darce. But of course, Darce and Richard always agree with each other, so Richard brought Darce with him and Darce solemnly told me that I ought to give my mother another chance. You know, Darce is quite egotistical. Just because he thinks I should do something does not mean I will do it. Anyway, Richard managed to smile at me and I had to agree. He is rather conniving in his own way. He knows I cannot resist his smile and he took advantage of it. Well, so, I prepared to meet mother. Do you think I gave in too quickly, Elizabeth? I think I did and Georgie agreed with me. I should have made Richard squirm and beg a little more. But then again, she is my mother and Richard only wants me to be happy. Secretly though, I would not have been happy to walk down the aisle without her approval. Strange as it sounds, even though mother can be rather annoying, I still want her approval. Do you know what I mean?

All too well, Elizabeth thought of her own troubles with Mrs. Bennet.

I went to see mother and she was very gracious. She did not say she was sorry, exactly, but she came as close to it as she possibly could. She told me that she just wanted me to be happy and I reminded her that Richard was the only one who could make me happy (Richard was not there, by the way. He insisted that I go alone). She told me that she now saw that Richard would make me happy and that she approved of the match. I almost wanted to ask what led to the change of heart, but I resisted, knowing full well that she would not wish to accept that she had been intimidated by uncle Henry. I don't blame her. I would be embarrassed too if I was intimidated by the likes of uncle Henry. I mean there is no one more harmless than uncle Henry. Truly, Elizabeth, if it ever comes to that, please slap me very hard because it would mean that I lost all my spirit and meanness and I cannot bear to live in that manner. So, as I was saying, mother was very nice about everything and she even embraced me. I was pleased and triumphant. She asked me to come back to Rosings with her and even though I knew I would miss Richard, I agreed because I missed my home. I broke the news to Richard the next day and he took it well -- too well, if you ask me. Really, does he not love me enough? Will he not miss me? I voiced some of my concerns, but he said that I ought to spend time with my mother for the last time because I would be married soon and would never have such an opportunity. A reasonable argument, I suppose, but I am still not certain whether that is the only reason he wished me to go to Rosings. Well, I should trust him, although is it not possible that he is sick of me?

If you think that, then you're a dolt.

And this is how I came to Rosings. I have not seen Richard for a few days - he went to Matlock with his parents - and I miss him already. I hope that is normal. I am not some sort of an anomaly, am I? Wait, do not answer that question. It is pleasant to be back. Mother has been on her best behavior, so much so that it frightens me. I wonder if uncle Henry drugged her and if so, when will it wear of? Seriously though, it is quite strange. Almost seems as though she is repentant and my mother is never repentant. Well, I should make the most of it while it lasts. But you know, Elizabeth, it is a little dull here without you. I wish you could have been here to keep me company, but I would be selfish to keep you all to myself. How are you enjoying your visit at your friend's? I hope you are content and happy there. I know you really wanted to escape Longbourn, so it is a good opportunity for you. A change of scenery is always welcome and I am certain you appreciate it. Do tell me how you are finding your stay there. I long to hear from you.

Well, I seem to have written a great deal, have I not? But you don't mind (or so I hope) and even if you do, that is too bad for it will persuade me to write even more and you will never escape my ramblings! Anyway, I received a missive from Georgie this morning and thought I ought to share some of what she said with you. She will write to you soon, by the bye, so do not get upset with her just yet. She is now at Pemberley, where she is to stay for sometime. Darce did not want to remain in town, it seems and I do not blame him for Caroline Bingley was there and we both know how she pursues poor Darce. Pemberley was his only escape and so, thither he went. Georgie is a little bored there, as you can imagine. She plays and sings and reads, but there is a limit to such occupation. She wishes for the company of other ladies her own age or other sensible ladies of any age, but such ladies are lacking in her society. That is not to say that they are not available, but Darce does not entertain company very much in Pemberley these days. He is quite sullen, Georgie says, and spends his day in his study or the library. Very dull company, I dare say, even though Georgie is much too polite to say it. You know Darce -- he glowers and he stares out windows, which is entertaining to a point, but after that, one fails to be amused by his taciturnity. There is only one remedy for his particular problem, but well, you know what it is and I will not repeat it. In the meantime, he remains miserable and poor Georgie is the one who has to endure his dark moods. He does even realize it, I dare say, but I suppose there is nothing to be done about it.

Oh, Anne, why do you even try to be subtle. Why don't you just say that you think that it is I who is causing him to be so miserable? Elizabeth paused. She must be exaggerating. She is painting a horrid picture for my benefit. I cannot believe that he is in such a state. It is impossible. Anne is trying to play with my emotions once again. Elizabeth shook her head. It can't be true. He cannot love me, not like that. No, she is lying.

You must think I am lying, don't deny it, I know you think so, but I am not. He is very miserable and I will not tell you to do anything about it. I will only say this. Do not discount my account entirely. It is the plain truth. Now what you shall do with this knowledge is your business. It is your life, Elizabeth, and only you can decide what to do. This saga has gone on long enough, now it is time for you to decide how it will end. The choice is yours and although you do not have to make the decision this very moment, remember that more lives than just yours are affected by any decision that you make. It might sound like a burden, but so it is. I trust that you will be able to make the right decision for your sake and everyone else's.

And what exactly is the "right" decision, pray?

Anyway, I dare say you are bored beyond your mind, so I will conclude with hopes of seeing you again in the near future. Do not forget to write to me, my darling friend, and remember that no matter how obnoxious or interfering you think I am, there are far worse people in this world (Mr. Collins and Caroline Bingley, to name a few), so you should rejoice in your good fortune and be happy that I remain,

your ever machinating friend,
Anne

Oh, have I ever mentioned that Machiavelli is my idol?

Elizabeth sighed as she finished reading. She was more than a little upset by the concluding part of Anne's letter. She could not bear to think of the condition Darce was in if, indeed, Anne's version of it was true. It was unthinkable and she knew she would torture herself on many nights, just thinking of it. Anne could not be lying. Whatever else she was guilty of, Anne was not a liar. But then that meant that her story was true and that Darcy was miserable. Elizabeth brushed a stray tear that had escaped her eyes and was rolling down her cheeks. How will this saga end? Anne had asked her that question and she wished she could answer it. At some point, she thought she knew, but if there was one thing she had learnt, it was that she didn't know everything. She could never be certain about anything ever again, certainly not her future. How will this saga end? I don't know, Anne. I just don't know.

~~

Chapter 56

"Elizabeth, I love you."

Elizabeth looked into his clear blue eyes. She had never realized how blue his eyes really were. Blue like sparkling gems of sapphire. Blue like the ocean on a cloudless summer day. There was so much merriment in his eyes. Such joy, such laughter, such mischief. They gleamed and they sparkled. They twinkled and they dazzled. Elizabeth could not resist the power of his eyes. She felt as though she was drowning in them.

"Victor, I am so sorry."

"Sorry?" He frowned. "Why should you be sorry?"

"You know why," she said with a sigh.

"I confess I am no mind reader," laughed Victor.

"You trifle with me," she reproached.

"Indeed, I would not dare," claimed Victor.

"How can you love me when I killed you?"

"You killed me?" repeated Victor. "Did you pull the trigger?"

"No..."

"Did you ask Wickham to pull the trigger?"

"No..." She knew where he was headed.

"Did you ask me to bring the gun?"

"No...but..."

"Well, then, how, on earth, could you have killed me?" asked Victor.

"I am the reason you were in the inn that night," said Elizabeth. "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have died. Not then, not that night, not like that. I am the reason you died, Victor. I might as well have pulled the trigger. You did it because of me."

"And I would do it again," he said.

"Why?" She felt like screaming.

"Because I love you," he said.

"I am a horrible, horrible person. Why would you love me?" she asked.

"Do you suppose I have a choice?" he asked with a grin. "If I had any say in the matter, I would run a thousand miles in the other direction when I saw you approach! Do you think it is easy loving you? You are so complex, so frustrating, sometimes. You can melt my heart with one maddening glance and put me in the depths of depression with the next. I did not choose to love you, Elizabeth Bennet, but I do. And that cannot be helped - or cured."

She half-smiled. "You make it sound like a disease."

"It is a disease, my dear, love is." smiled Victor. "A dangerous disease, in my case. But that was a risk I chose to accept."

"I am sorry."

"I already told you that you have no reason to be sorry. Or did you not hear me?"

"I heard you," she said. "I just can't seem to believe you..."

"Elizabeth, I must admit, I do not understand this obsession. What could you have done differently to prevent me from dying?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't know." She looked at him. "I don't know." She paused. "When George came back, I didn't know what to do - I went with him because he was my husband. I didn't know how to refuse. To that point, I still trusted him, in a way, I suppose." She paused again and smiled a twisted smile. "Yes, I trusted that he wouldn't hurt me. But what I did not know was that George Wickham was capable of only one kind of love - the love of money. The only reason he decided to reappear in my life was because I was living in Mr. Darcy's house. He wanted to extract as much money from Mr. Darcy as possible because he knew that Mr. Darcy would give it to him..." She trailed off.

Victor looked at her. "And then?"

"As soon as I learnt of George's plan, I told him that I wouldn't stay with him. I didn't have to. I had no obligation to. He might have been my husband, but he had abandoned me and I had every reason to leave him."

"Then, why didn't you?" asked Victor.

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Because he said that if I did, he would...he would kill Mr. Darcy." Tears were flowing down her cheeks. "He said that if I even told Mr. Darcy or anyone else of my troubles - if I asked them to help me - he would kill them all. I couldn't do it, Victor. I couldn't ask him to help me. George would have killed him."

"I am beginning to understand," said Victor. "You feel guilty because you think you chose Darcy over me? That you saved Darcy, but couldn't save me." Elizabeth didn't answer him. "I am correct, am I not?"

"I don't know."

"But you do, Elizabeth, look at me," Victor ordered. She obliged. "You feel guilty because you can never love me as much as I do you. You feel guilty because you did everything in your power to save Darcy's life, but could do nothing to save mine. This might come as a huge surprise to you, Elizabeth, but you cannot control destiny. You cannot control what happens in everyone's lives. You would have saved me too, Elizabeth, if it had been in your power, but I didn't give you the opportunity." He paused. "If Wickham had threatened to kill me, instead of Darcy, would you have done the same thing? Would you have endured all the pain just to save my life?"

"What a question to ask? Of course."

"Then, what is there to be guilty about?" he said. She didn't reply. "Are you happy, Elizabeth?" he asked suddenly.

"I suppose not..."

"You are unhappy by your own choice, are you not?" he said.

"No, I have no other choice," she said.

"What about that other man who would also willingly die for you?"

"Mr. Darcy has nothing to do with this," she said hastily.

"Indeed?" he raised his eyebrows. "I am certain he would disagree."

"I can't destroy his life, too, Victor. He doesn't deserve someone like him. He...he needs someone better, someone more worthy, someone who is not me."

"Why not let him decide that?" asked Victor.

She shook her head. "I married George with my eyes open and I must face the consequences myself. I allowed myself to be fooled and used by that man. I allowed him the opportunity to destroy the lives of my dearest and closest friends. If it wasn't for my stupidity, everything would be so much better."

"You made one bad choice. Alright, a really dreadful choice. But you cannot punish yourself forever for that." Victor paused. "You must give Darcy a chance."

"His reputation would be ruined," she said. "He wouldn't want me."

"If you really suppose that to be true, then you are a bigger fool than I thought."

"Why are you being so adamant about this?" asked Elizabeth. "You, of all people. You cannot enjoy seeing me with Mr. Darcy."

"I just want to see you happy. And if Darcy will make you happy, then so be it."

"I don't deserve to be happy," said Elizabeth.

"I think you do," said Victor. "And I sacrificed my life to make certain that you would be happy. Did I do that for naught, Elizabeth? Will you waste your life being miserable, wallowing in misplaced guilt and self-pity, instead of being happy? Will my sacrifice be useless? Will I never grow old to see the smile in my grandchildren's eyes for no good reason?"

"Victor, no, please stop," she cried.

"You can't avoid those questions forever," he said.

She sighed. "I know."

"So?"

"I don't want to forget you," she said.

"You won't, I'll make sure of that," he said.

"But I feel so guilty..."

"You should never feel guilty for being happy," he said.

"Easier said than done," she muttered.

He looked at her. "I know it is difficult, but you must let go of the guilt."

"You don't blame me?" she asked.

"Blame you?!" he said. "Far from it."

"Your mother does."

"My mother was just...being a mother," he said. "So have I convinced you?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Perhaps."

"I am glad, then," he said. "Will you do me a great favor, Elizabeth?"

"Anything, Victor," she said.

"Promise me you will listen to your heart."

"I don't know what it says," she said.

"You do," Victor said. "I am quite certain of it."

She looked into his eyes. "Are you, really? Then perhaps you'd care to enlighten me?"

"You love Darcy and wish to marry him," he replied.

"And you know that how, exactly?" she asked.

"It is written in your eyes," he said. "Your eyes, Elizabeth, provide the answer to every question. You only need to look into them to divine your feelings, your frustrations, your joys, your woes."

"So what are my eyes saying right now?" she whispered.

"That you wish that you could love me as much as I love you," he replied. Elizabeth averted her gaze. "Love can't be forced, Elizabeth and I don't wish for you to try and force yourself to love me. I am content to be a friend, a beloved friend." He paused. "So will you promise me to listen to your heart?"

She was silent for a moment. "I promise that I will try."

He smiled, "Remember that. I shall hold you to it."

She reached out and touched his face. "Thank you, Victor."

"For making you see what a fool you are being?" remarked Victor.

"Yes, although Anne does a remarkable job of it, too," smiled Elizabeth. "But I meant thank you for...everything."

"You are most welcome, my love," he said.

Elizabeth saw him fading slowly in the mist. "Please don't leave me," she cried, but it was too late. He was gone.

~~

It had been more than three weeks since Elizabeth had woken up in the middle of the night to that particular dream, but the details of it still remained fresh in her mind. She remembered every feeling, every sensation, every quiver of her lip as if it had been real. She remembered the look in Victor's eyes, she remembered the feeling of relief when she heard that he did not blame her, she remembered feeling as close to happy as she had in many months. Of course those were deceptive feelings. It was not real, none of it was. No matter how real it had seemed then and still seemed now, Elizabeth knew that it had simply been a dream. A hopeless dream, a desperate dream even, but still a dream. To even attempt to convince herself that any of the sentiments expressed by "Victor" in that dream was real would be to consciously fool herself for a few moments of consolation. Elizabeth knew that it was not real and yet, she could not shake the persistent, nagging feeling that somehow it was. That somehow Victor, the real Victor had tried to communicate with her, to reason with her. As she had done many times before, Elizabeth replayed the conversation in her head while she sat in the garden bench. It seemed so logical, all of Victor's arguments seemed so logical. It was a tempting notion to believe, even for a second, that the arguments were valid. She had been unable to protect Victor, that much was true. But had she been given the slightest opportunity to do so, she would have done it without another thought. She didn't doubt that. So then what prompted her to blame herself? Elizabeth didn't know exactly. Even if she had had no choice in the matter, she knew that Victor's involvement in the whole affair was her fault. So how could she shirk the blame? A full circle. I am back where I began. Elizabeth sighed. She was tired of playing mind games.

Elizabeth had always been one of those people who wanted to see the world in clearly defined colors, in black and white. That was her biggest dilemma. Nothing was clear anymore, nothing was steadfast and true. It was all in shades of gray, her entire life was a spectrum of overlapping, indistinguishable colors. There were no clear boundaries between right and wrong, between guilt and innocence. And it was maddening. There were some days when Elizabeth felt as if she had pulled the trigger on Victor and there were others when she felt as though she had done her best to protect him. There was no real answer to that question because there were no concrete facts or evidence. Largely, the entire case was in her head. She was her greatest critique and she, alone, supplied the evidence and the arguments for her own indictment. Conflicting thoughts raged in her head and threatened to drive her more insane than she already felt, but there was no escaping it. The sequence of queries and responses always followed the same pattern: was I able to save Victor? No. Did I kill Victor? No. Could I have saved him somehow? Maybe. Am I to blame for his death? Maybe. Maybe? That had almost become a dirty, forbidden word for her. She was tired of all the uncertainties, all the 'maybes.' All she wanted was someone to put her on trial and either declare that she had killed Victor or set her free forever. But it was not so easy. Nothing was ever so easy. And in the meantime, she would continue to be tormented. Perhaps this was her ultimate punishment for having been stupid enough to marry George Wickham. She wouldn't be surprised if it were so. If anyone should have suffered through George's hands, it should have been her. She had escaped with little external damage then, but now she had to face the consequences.

Sometimes Elizabeth remembered Victor's dying words. You deserve to be happy. He had been thinking of her future even then. Was she happy? Not by any stretch of imagination. It had been so long since she had felt anything close to happiness, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel anything but utter depression. She could almost hear Victor's voice in her ears. There was a small gust of wind and in the breeze, she fancied she could hear his voice. Elizabeth, did I die for nothing? She shivered, suddenly struck by the feeling that she was not alone. She looked around in spite of herself. It was chilling. She knew she was alone and yet she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. Elizabeth shook her head. Was she finally losing her mind? So much time and energy was spent pondering Victor and the past that she would not be surprised if she had completely lost her grip on reality. She stood up from the bench and began walking towards the house. Julie would be looking for her, dinner would be served within a half hour. I am avoiding the question. If I cannot be honest with myself, who can I be honest with? Trust, honesty and frankness. What foreign concepts. Answer the question, Elizabeth. She shook her head. And what if I cannot? Had Victor died for nothing? She was out of Wickham's captivity, but was she any less miserable? And was not her misery self-inflicted? No, Victor, you did not die for nothing. I am alive because of you. She knew what his response would be -- but you are not happy, Elizabeth. But how can I dare to be happy again? I do not deserve it. Elizabeth sighed. Again and again Victor's words from the dream swirled in her head and she could not stop herself from listening. He does not blame me. Victor does not blame me. It was a strangely cheering thought.

Elizabeth stopped walking and then said in a loud voice, "I am not to blame." She stood motionless for a moment, then resumed her walk back to the house.

~~

"Lizzy, what are you doing?"

Elizabeth looked up and smiled at her friend. "I am reading a letter from Georgiana Darcy."

"Oh, your Miss Darcy," Julie said as she picked up her needlework.

Elizabeth looked at Julie for a moment. "Well, why do you not just ask me?"

"Ask you? Ask you what?" Julie claimed innocence.

"Julie, please, I have known you for longer than I can remember," Elizabeth said. "I can decipher all your enigmatic comments and expressions. You have been meaning to ask me more about Mr. Darcy since the moment I came here. No, do not deny it, I can see it in your smile. You have been very tactful these past six weeks, but I know you, so do not even try to deny it. What do you wish to know?"

"Honestly?" Julie said.

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded.

"Does he look well in a wet shirt?" Julie tried not to smile.

Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, then giggled. "I cannot say. I have never seen him in a wet shirt."

"Maybe the time will come yet," Julie smiled.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I should hope not."

"Really?" Julie raised her eyebrows. "Jane gave me the impression that you were quite in love with him."

"What does Jane know?"

"So, you do not love him?"

"No, I did not say that exactly," Elizabeth said.

"So what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Lizzy, will you please cease playing word games with me? I should remind you that you were the one to bring up the subject. I did not invade your privacy. I did not pry or bother you about your Mr. Darcy."

"He is not my Mr. Darcy."

"But you wish he was?"

"No."

"No?" Julie did not believe it for a moment.

"No," Elizabeth said firmly.

"Lizzy, you have not improved at all. You still scratch your nose when you lie."

Elizabeth stopped scratching her nose immediately. "I am not lying."

"So, why did you even want to talk about it? It certainly does not seem as though there is anything to talk about."

Elizabeth looked at her. "It is your fault."

"Really? How so?"

"You made me feel compelled to say something."

"I did not know I had that power."

"Well, you do," complained Elizabeth. "You never say anything, you never badger me with questions. I feel as though I owe you some explanation."

"Well, explain it to me, then."

"Explain what?"

Julie smiled. "Fine, I will ask you a simple question. What is he like?"

"Mr. Darcy?"

"No, the king," retorted Julie. "Of course Mr. Darcy."

"Well..." Elizabeth said as her eyes trained on a vacant spot in the distance. "He is a very noble man, very kind and generous. He is very responsible and reliable. You know, he brought up his little sister Georgie after his parents died. He takes care of her so well -- he is, indeed, a wonderful brother." She smiled slightly. "He is rather reserved and taciturn by nature, but that aspect of him is for strangers. When he becomes acquainted with people, he can be very pleasing and delightful, even teasing at times. He is, of course, rather handsome. You should see him when he smiles, Julie. He has the most flattering dimples I have ever seen." Elizabeth stopped, aware that Julie's eyes were trained on her. She blushed and finished awkwardly. "That is...um...my impression of him, at least."

"He sounds wonderful," Julie said.

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes."

"Now if only you could see him in a wet shirt."

Elizabeth giggled.

Julie smiled. "Well, Lizzy, I hope you find happiness."

"With Mr. Darcy, you mean," Elizabeth said.

"Would he make you happy?" Julie asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. "There is no point in wondering."

"You were such a curious girl once, Lizzy, always wondering about everything."

"Well, that was almost a lifetime ago."

"Was it really?"

Elizabeth nodded. "A lot has changed."

"Too much." Julie paused. "Do you remember when we used to steal away to Oakham mount late at night and watch the falling stars?" Elizabeth nodded, smiling fondly. "We always made a wish. We closed our eyes and made secret wishes. Do you remember that?"

"Of course," smiled Elizabeth.

"What did you wish for, Lizzy?" Julie asked.

Elizabeth paused to think. To find love. "If I told you that," Elizabeth said, "my wish would never come true."

~~

Elizabeth had spent almost six weeks with Julie and she could scarcely believe it. She had become quite accustomed to her surroundings there. She would walk for hours in the woods near the house, sometimes with Sam and Julie, but often alone. Julie and Jason led a quiet life, attending to the neighbors but a little. So Elizabeth had more than adequate time to be alone, to reflect on, well, everything. Ever since that dream with Victor, Elizabeth had stopped having constant nightmares. She did not sleep as well as she once had, but at least, her condition to that end was improving. While the black circles under her eyes did not vanish completely, they did fade a little. Elizabeth's constant debate with herself regarding Victor continued, of course. The answer to that dilemma could not be easily retrieved, but Elizabeth somehow felt a little less traumatized than she once had. She attributed this development to her change of residence. Away from Mrs. Bennet's constant nagging remarks and from the prying eyes and wayward mouths of all the Meryton busybodies, Elizabeth felt safe. Julie never breathed a word about anything, well except for that one conversation about Darcy and even that, Elizabeth herself had instigated. It was a healing time for Elizabeth, a healing, a balm for all the old wounds. Nothing would be cured, of course, but Elizabeth's wounds were less abrasive than they had once been. It was the miracle of time, of course. Nearly four months had passed since the tragedy and with every passing day, the memory of that day faded just a little. It would never be erased from her memory, but it weighed on her consciousness with reduced rigor. The details were not as fresh in her mind and the shock had somewhat been allayed. For the first time, Elizabeth was able to accept what had happened. She had been distanced enough - in both time and place - from that disastrous night in the inn to be able to regard it with certain degree of objectivity. She did not have any conclusions yet; surely she could not be expected to, but she was on the path to answer her own persistent questions.

Intertwined with the business of that night - an inherent part of it, actually - was the man who claimed her thoughts more often than not. If Elizabeth had ever thought that she would be able to make a clear decision regarding Darcy, she had been decidedly mistaken. Her feelings regarding Darcy were probably more confusing, if that was possible, than her indecision over her part in Victor's death. Well, she loved him; she knew that much, but it was the future that concerned her more than the past. So what if she loved him? What did that mean? Elizabeth did not know. She could never marry him. Or so she often thought. It made sense, to her at least. She would ruin him completely. He would be ridiculed wherever she went. She could not risk his reputation in that manner. Besides, why would he ever want to be connected with someone who had made the disastrous decision to marry a man like Wickham. She did not deserve him surely and that, as they say, was that. Just when Elizabeth had settled the question in her mind, she would have the recurring dream that had plagued her on and off for many weeks now. It always began in the same manner with her standing at the top of Oakham Mount. After that the details would change slightly. Sometimes, Darcy would come riding on a horse and other times, he would walk behind her in that soft, noiseless way that had always surprised, perplexed and unnerved her. But no matter how he would reach that point, he would always manage to arrive at the spot where she stood and then their conversation would always follow a pattern similar to this:

"You insist on following me, Mr. Darcy?"

"No, indeed. Our meeting here is purely coincidental."

"You know that I always come to this mount."

"Well, I come here too."

"This is my mount."

"I did not know that it was private property, Miss Bennet."

"Well, it is."

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"Will you, please?"

"I will, but only if you allow me to do the thing I have wanted to since the first moment I laid my eyes on you."

"And what might that be?"

"Why, kiss you, of course."

"Whatever you may have heard, I am a decent sort of girl, Mr. Darcy. I do not kiss strange men I am not engaged to."

"You think I am strange?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Well, I suppose you have nothing against kissing strange men you are engaged to?"

"Hmmm...I suppose not. What is your point?"

"Will you do me the great honor of -- that is, will you bestow upon me...I mean, will you --- oh dash it all -- Elizabeth, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I said yes."

"You did, didn't you? I thought I was dreaming."

"No, you aren't dreaming. Now kiss me before I change my mind."

Needless to say, that dream disturbed Elizabeth a great deal, not only because it manifested emotions she did not know she possessed, but also because it repeated itself at such an alarming frequency. The details would change sure enough, but she would always end up kissing Darcy. Elizabeth could not lie to herself -- she enjoyed it tremendously. She had flirted with the idea of becoming Mrs. Darcy often enough, but she could not afford to think of such things. I am past Mr. Darcy. I do not want to become his wife. I do not even want to be in his company. Elizabeth repeated those words to herself again and again, enough times so that she began to believe them. And so, as she stood in the shrubbery, Elizabeth felt fairly certain that she had no desire, whatsoever, to see Darcy again. Dreams were just dreams, she reasoned. They did not really count for anything. Her imagination needed an avenue to express itself and so it chose to replay a scene that would never happen. Why, Elizabeth thought, if I really wanted to marry him now, I would miss him every day. Well, truth be told, she did miss him a little, but Elizabeth told herself that it was quite normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Was it not customary to miss one's acquaintances. So one did not always dream about kissing all of one's acquaintances, but that was only a slight detail, Elizabeth decided. It certainly did not mean anything. So what if I...well...sort of love him. That has nothing to do with it. This is for his own good. I do not want to marry him and I will certainly be quite content never to see him again. Even as Elizabeth reassured herself of the veracity of those thoughts, she felt a knot form in her throat which she attributed to the dry weather. I am perfectly alright. I might miss him a little, but well, nothing can be done about it. Elizabeth sighed. Well, that was all settled, then.

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes?" Elizabeth regarded the servant.

"A letter has arrived for you, ma'am."

Elizabeth thanked the man as she accepted the letter. She tore it open.

Dear Elizabeth,

Before you sigh and roll your eyes at receiving yet again, one of my famously long and pointless letters, let me assure you that this letter will be short and meaningful. I have not become magnanimous all of a sudden, in case you were wondering to what you owe this piece of luck, I simply have too many things to attend to. So, I shall remind you of something that you know very well, but it bears repetition as it is rather important. To me, anyway. My wedding, as you know, is fast approaching and I hereby request your attendance at the ceremony. There. Is that nice and formal? As if you ever needed an invitation. Jane and Charles are due to leave for Rosings within the fortnight, so I thought that you might wish to travel with them. I leave you to attend to the particulars. I am not asking you to come, Elizabeth, for you have no choice in the matter. I shall see you ere long, my friend, but till then I beg to remain,

Your half-witted, practically frantic friend,
Anne

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth looked up to see Julie. "Yes?"

"Who is that from?"

"Anne," said Elizabeth as she handed her friend the letter.

"Oh my, she seems like quite a character," Julie remarked as she concluded the letter.

"Yes, I suppose," smiled Elizabeth. Anne's wedding. She had known it would come, but she had not thought of it too much. She had tried to forget it purposefully, she supposed, simply because she did not want to think of it. Not because she did not love Anne, but because there were certain people she wished to avoid. I can't be seen at Rosings again. Lady Catherine and Victor's mother will be there. But more importantly, Darcy would be there as well.

"So, Lizzy, you will go, will you not?"

Elizabeth looked at Julie, an inscrutable look in her eyes.

Chapter 57

Posted on Sunday, 12 August 2001, at 11:57 a.m.

The loud silence continued for several seconds, the expression on Elizabeth's face not changing in the slightest. It was the exact mixture of distant coldness and subdued confusion that would puzzle those who did not know her well, but Julie recognized it as the thoughtfulness she had seen on her friend's face a million times before when she had tried to arrive at a particularly difficult decision. Even though Julie was aware of the implications of this silence, she could not allow herself to leave without extracting some sort of answer from Elizabeth. It did not seem as though Elizabeth was making much progress and left to her own devices, she might contemplate several possibilities for hours at end without arriving at a conclusion. Julie had to save Elizabeth from herself and so something had to be said.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth frowned. "I don't know, Julie."

"Well, it does not seem that your friend Anne is likely to be flexible about it," Julie observed. "In fact, she is not even asking that you come; rather she is demanding it. Rather strange, I must say, but then again, I suppose that is her style?"

"It is, indeed." Elizabeth allowed herself to smile. "She is quite brazen, you know. She does not believe in asking or requesting anything."

"I see," Julie said. "So...you don't wish to go to her wedding?"

"It's not so much that I don't wish to go," Elizabeth said, "I'd just rather not."

"Oh." Julie nodded slightly, attempting to comprehend.

Elizabeth broke the silence. "I love Anne, do not misunderstand me, Julie. I love her and I am terribly excited that she is to be married. But..."

"But?"

"I can't go there, I simply can't."

"In that case," Julie said, "I'm certain your Anne will understand."

"No, she won't," Elizabeth said with a groan.

"Well, if you have a reason for not going...?" Julie said.

"I do," Elizabeth said. "Well, in a manner of speaking. See, the problem is that I wish to avoid certain people who are bound to be present at the ceremony," Elizabeth looked at Julie, "like the bride's mother, the bride's cousin, the bride's neighbor. Nastiness of all kind is repugnant to me at this point, especially any coming from dear Lady de Bourgh. So, it seems rather appealing to me to forego the ceremony entirely. Does that not sound reasonable to you, Julie? I certainly am not obliged to go, in any way. I will pay my respects later. Anne will understand."

"Of course she will," Julie murmured.

Elizabeth groaned again. "Who am I trying to deceive? She will be furious. Oh, Julie, what am I to do?"

"Do you really want my honest opinion?"

"Yes, desperately."

Julie smiled. "Well, I think that you should go to this wedding."

"That's the advice?"

Julie thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so." Elizabeth did not seem impressed. "It's a wedding, Lizzy and from what you have told me of the grandeur of Rosings, I think it is safe to say that you can easily hide from the persons you wish to avoid. Besides, I am rather confident that the bride's mother -- Lady de Bourgh or whatever she calls herself -- will be too preoccupied with the guests and the wedding details to send any nasty comments in your direction."

"You think so?" Elizabeth brightened a little.

"Yes, I do," nodded Julie.

"Well, I suppose you might be right."

"And even if I'm not, I always thought you were equal to every situation."

Elizabeth smiled a little. "I just wish to avoid any unpleasantness."

"I understand," Julie said. "It is your decision, ultimately, Lizzy. My opinion is just that: an opinion of someone who does not even know most of the parties involved. So do not feel obliged to abide by anything I say. Do what you feel is right. If you really feel unequal to facing the Lady and whoever else, then perhaps you should not go. But if you feel that you might be able to handle the situation, then you might want to attend your friend's wedding." Saying thus, Julie cleared her throat. "Well, I must attend to Sam now. I wish you luck in your decision, Lizzy."

Elizabeth watched her friend depart with a small smile on her lips. Julie was as different from Anne as two people could possibly be. Julie was so subtle that oftentimes it took several minutes of careful analysis for Elizabeth to determine what Julie really meant to say. Julie believed in meaningful glances and thoughtful pauses, an approach radically different from Anne's brand of subtlety, if it could be thus called. At any rate, Elizabeth was thankful to have this opportunity to make a decision in peace. She fingered the letter and reread it several times, tossing scenarios in her head. She truly did want to be present at Anne's wedding, but the possibility of encountering Lady Catherine or Lady Annabelle was not particularly pleasant. Elizabeth recalled past encounters with distaste, but Julie's words echoed in her head. It was true. She had been equal to every situation once and she did not know if she still possessed that faculty. Perhaps this was her chance of finding out? Any task seems infinitely less grotesque when masked as a challenge. If she morphed the proposed encounter into some sort of challenge to test her forbearance, perhaps it would seem a little more palatable. And of course, Anne truly did wish her presence at her wedding, a wedding that Elizabeth had helped to bring about. She could not forget the part she had played in the matter, so it seemed only right for her to witness the conclusion of it. Or the beginning perhaps. It depended on how one looked at it. On that philosophical note, Elizabeth decided to attend the wedding after all and communicated the decision to Julie. Preparations were made for the departure and a manservant was to travel with Elizabeth on Julie's insistence. The parting between the two friends was bittersweet. Elizabeth thanked her friend for her generosity while Julie encouraged her to return soon. And so three days after the letter's arrival, Elizabeth was on her way to Longbourn, feeling wiser than she had when she had quitted it nearly two months earlier. Wisdom accompanied suffering, Elizabeth determined, in which case she should have been the wisest woman in the world.

~~

"I am glad you are coming with us, Lizzy," said Jane.

"I appreciate it, Jane," said Elizabeth, "although I fear I am inconveniencing you and Charles."

"Not at all," Bingley assured.

"You are too kind."

Jane beamed and Elizabeth could barely conceal her delight at her sister's newfound bliss. Jane had always smiled by nature, but on her return from the north a week earlier, Elizabeth had found such unadulterated joy on Jane's face that it had brought tears to her eyes. There was no need to ask after her happiness, it was self-evident and Elizabeth was pleased. Not that she had expected any less from Jane, but it was still gratifying to see such instances of pure marital bliss, untouched by anyone or anything. Elizabeth had been a little concerned about Netherfield's proximity to Longbourn, but it did not seem to bother to newlyweds, so Elizabeth did not press the issue. Her week spent at Longbourn had been jarringly different from the peace and calm of Julie's manor, but Elizabeth had adapted to it as she adapted to any situation; with some understanding and a lot of patience. Her father was pleased to see her again and so was her mother; she only expressed it as only she could. But Elizabeth had come to accept her parents for who they were, not expecting to effect any kind of change in either of them. In fact it was probably best that they not change for it provided the modicum of stability still left in Elizabeth's life. At any rate, the week had passed with little conflict, so Elizabeth found herself in the carriage with the peace of mind to ponder whatever she fancied. Which was inevitably the same thing. Or the same person, rather. It had become a routine of sorts, she supposed, peculiarly predictable. She looked out at the passing scenery and sighed, her mind already engaged.

He never strayed far from her thoughts. It was a constant puzzle, the persistent question with no simple answer. Or rather it was a question with no answer at all because to admit that there was an answer would be to admit that the question was objective or reasonable. And it was neither. She hardly knew what the question was itself. It was more of an idea, an amorphous, nebulous idea of something that could have been. How perfectly boring and predictable that sounded, she mused, so tragically cliché. Yet it was what it was. Nothing more and certainly nothing less. She did not possess the fear of ideas that most people did. After the first few weeks of terror and confusion when she had held not a single coherent thought in her head, she had managed to deplete that fear of ideas and possibilities from her heart. So here she was, armed with nothing more than the desire to contemplate, to wonder, to think. Not only of what could have been, but also of what could never be. The finality of her thoughts was a mask that concealed the uncertainty she felt. She needed the illusion that things were final, that they were settled because in reality, nothing could be settled. She asked herself why that was so and she knew the reason before she could even pose the question. It couldn't ever be desirably settled in this way. It was not something she could settle alone, no matter how hard she tried. It was a hopeless struggle. She would always need him, even for this. It was this that scared her more than anything else ever had or ever would. That she needed him even for the resolution of the storm that he had helped create.

There was no escaping him. He was everywhere she looked, invading her thoughts, her dreams, her nightmares. There was nowhere to hide, no private retreats. She felt his presence more acutely than she felt her own breaths or heartbeats. She was hounded constantly by reminders of something he had said or the way he had looked at her or the way his face dimpled when he smiled. It was not by accident, either. She knew she embraced every memory, painful or otherwise, as she would embrace a lifeline, a guiding light. In short, it was inescapable, it was imposing, it was necessary. For survival, mere survival; which was all she allowed herself to ask for. Happiness appeared more and more as an elusive idea, a mirage, a goal that was not only unattainable, but also laughable. Suffering was the common thread that connected all human beings. There were those who spent their lives trying to escape it and those who embraced it. She supposed she was one of the latter, though she had hardly been aware of it before. It seemed like a foreign idea, but she had been privy to it all along; she had just not had the courage or the will to prove or disprove the theory of suffering. The opportunity had simply never presented itself and now that it had, she could not refuse to consider it. She still believed in such trite notions as destiny and if this was hers, she was prepared to accept it. All that she asked for in return was a handful of memories and the preservation of an idea, the idea that maybe in another time, another place, the outcome might have been different.

She smiled slightly, marveling at her skill in circumventing the matter at hand. She was rather skilled in this art, in fact. She could circle the issue and think of abstract ideas, but never of the specifics. Abstraction was comfortable in its vagueness. Words and theories and concepts always shielded one from the difficult and the uncomfortable, but there was nowhere to hide before bare questions. Specifics were frightening because all they presented were bare questions. However, she was prepared to delve into that uncharted territory as well. She loved him, of course. Repeating those words seemed strangely demeaning as if she was cheapening what she left somehow by attaching a name to it. Titles only created barriers and shackles and if she had learned one thing in all her soul-searching, it was that the emotion she felt, the emotion that most called love, was limitless boundless, endless. It transcended everything, everything she had ever felt or needed. It surpassed any other emotion, be it love or hate. Indeed, the lines between love and hate had been so blurred that all she experienced was a single, powerful emotion; an emotion so violent that she felt powerless against it, quite unaware of how to harness it or conceal it. But conceal it she must. That was the crux, the painful core of the issue. It had to be concealed from him, yet she knew that he understood everything. He understood her better than she understood herself, she was aware of that much; hence concealment was probably quite useless, but that would not stop her from trying. She had become accustomed to his prying stares and was aware that he knew every doubt, every worry in heart. But that only saved her the trouble of having to explain it to him; it changed little else.

She supposed she would see him again. She was perfectly ambivalent as she had been about everything else. It was not as revolting an idea as she had often professed, both loudly and silently. Sometimes she wondered what she expected -- or rather wanted -- from the future. She could imagine him married to a respectable woman with a few children, a blissfully happy and content family. And as much as it scared and astonished her, she knew that she never wanted to see that. She felt a possessiveness that she had no right to. And that was that. There was no explanation for it. She could not explain it to herself or anyone else. It made little sense to her, or rather, it made about as much sense as anything connected to him ever did. The future was still a mystery then because her conception of it was nothing but absurdity. He could not be expected to suffer as she planned to, yet she could not imagine him with anyone else. Just another one of those contradictions she had become accustomed to. And so she prepared to see him again, knowing perfectly well that there was no way to prepare for this eventuality. Every meeting assaulted her with violent, vicious, physical blows, the pain of which seemed nearly tangible. It was an inevitable meeting, though she had told herself many times that she never wished to see him again. It had to happen. She knew it would happen. What she did not know was whether she anticipated it or feared it. Either way, she reasoned, there could be no greater punishment than having to see him again and so if she was really bent upon suffering, then perhaps this should be her chosen way?

"You know," she said to no one in particular, "there is nothing more dangerous than a constantly curious mind. It asks more questions than it has the capacity to answer."

She looked at her companions, scarcely aware that she had spoken aloud and they, likewise, did not acknowledge her statement except by exchanging mildly worried glances. She did not notice those glances, however, for her constantly curious mind was already engaged elsewhere. A colorful imagination can be a rather bothersome gift, if it can be called that. She knew she was unafraid of ideas, which was why she allowed herself to indulge in them from time to time. It was one of the few indulgences left in her life. And so she indulged herself with a certain idea -- life spent with him rather than running away from him. She could picture picnics under cloudless blue skies. She could fathom an existence relatively devoid of any serious worry or annoyance. It was just an illusion, of course, because nothing could be so flawless. But in her mind, this idea came as close to her conception of a perfect existence as anything ever had, so she could not allow it to be tainted by reality. She allowed the wave of happiness wash over her before shaking her head silently. Ideas were such powerful things, she thought wistfully, sometimes they almost felt real. Perhaps she was a fool being this unafraid of ideas. The danger lay in the possibilities they produced and in the fact that sometimes, that which should be absurd and nonsensical, made the most sense of it all.

~~

When they arrived at Rosings, they were received by a jubilant Anne. Her figure could be seen as soon as the carriage entered the approach of the great house. She could barely contain her enthusiasm, her laughter ringing in their ears before they even alighted from the carriage. She embraced all of them properly while expressing her delight in seeing them again. It was all ease and laughter as only Anne could make it. She confessed that there were a great many persons in the house and vicinity already and that her mother was extremely busy with the final details. Which was just as well, as far as Anne was concerned for it commanded her full attention. After a few minutes of pleasant conversation in the parlor, Anne allowed the visitors to retire to their rooms to refresh themselves before dinner. Elizabeth joined the dinner party with many misgivings, but soon discovered that there was nothing to be worried about since it seemed that Lady Catherine was much too distracted by the other guests to pay much attention to her. She reveled in her freedom, pleased that she had made the right decision in coming to Rosings. Elizabeth did not get an opportunity to speak with Anne privately that day for Lady Catherine required Anne's presence for some matter or the other. But the next morning, when Elizabeth descended for her customary walk before breakfast, she found Anne sitting alone in the parlor, poring over some papers. She looked up at Elizabeth and put the papers away.

"Good morning, Elizabeth, going for your walk, I see?"

"Yes I am," smiled Elizabeth.

"I would accompany you, but mother will be awake any moment and she wishes to discuss these papers with me. But, you will sit with me a while, will you not?"

"Yes, of course," said Elizabeth and sat down accordingly.

"You seem well," said Anne.

"Do I, really?"

Anne nodded. "I can't explain it, but you seem happier than before. Are you?"

"Happier?" Elizabeth murmured. "I don't know."

"I think the fresh country air of the north did wonders," said Anne.

"And the distance from Longbourn, let us not forget," smiled Elizabeth.

"Indeed," nodded Anne. "I imagine you had a good time?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth, "the very best. There was nothing to do but converse with my friend Julie, play with her son and walk alone in the wilderness. I have seldom felt so calm in recent times. It was very relaxing and I owe a great deal of my present happiness, if you will, to living in such unobtrusive peace."

"I am glad to hear it," said Anne, "although I missed you terribly."

"And I, you," said Elizabeth. "But do tell me, how is Richard faring?"

"Very well," said Anne. "He and his family leased a house not three miles from here, you know? Yes, about two weeks ago. I see him nearly every day. He makes me so happy. And mother has been on her best behavior most of the time."

"Does that not make you suspicious?"

"Oh yes, of course, but I am willing to make the most of it while it lasts."

"How did you convince her to invite me?"

Anne shrugged. "I just told her. She protested a little, I cannot lie about that, but she saw that I was determined and so she said no more of it. She is much improved in that sense, I suppose. We have had fewer fights recently. You do not have to worry about her, Elizabeth. She will behave and besides, you saw how distracted she was. She does not have the time to misbehave. It was harder to convince her to invite Darce. She was very upset with him, but I think she has forgiven him. It is just a surmise, though; I have not spoken to her about the matter."

Elizabeth looked at her uneasily. "So...is he...here?"

Anne nodded. "He is living with Richard."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say.

"You will see him tonight at dinner, I dare say."

"Oh."

"Elizabeth?" Anne looked at her friend.

"Yes?"

"You will be civil to him, will you not?"

"I am always civil to him," replied Elizabeth.

"He will not be able to bear it if you are not," said Anne.

"Anne, please," said Elizabeth, "let us not talk of that."

"I am not asking for much," said Anne, "just your civility. You can be as cold and distant as you want, but do not ignore him. It will break his heart and he has already borne so much that I do not think he can take anymore. Georgie is quite concerned about him, you know. But I won't bore you with the details."

Elizabeth looked at her. "Is he...is he alright? His health is not in danger, is it?"

"Well no, I suppose not. Not in the traditional sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he seems healthy enough," said Anne, "but those who know him can see that something is amiss. Georgie says he hardly sleeps anymore. He talks little, even less than he did before. He sits in his library for hours. He insists that everything is fine, but well, you can see for yourself."

"I don't know what to say..."

"Well," said Anne, "you know how I feel about this subject, so I will spare you my usual speeches. But I will say this, do not pity him. I dare say he does not want your pity. Do not demean him like that."

"What do you want from me?" Elizabeth sighed wearily.

"I don't know," said Anne honestly. "I once thought that I understood the two of you -- the complex relationship that you have. But I don't think that's true. I will never be able to comprehend. It's something that only you and Darce understand, so I suppose there is nothing for me to do about the matter."

"Anne, do you feel alright? It doesn't sound like you."

Anne smiled. "I feel great. I have given this a lot of thought, is all."

"I see."

As the sound of fast approaching footsteps reached their ears, Anne said, "That must be mother."

"Then I think," said Elizabeth as she arose, "I will go on that walk now."

"Good idea," smiled Anne. "I will see you later."

"Yes."

Anne watched her friend leave and sighed. It was true. Everything she had said was true. She did not understand anything. It was beyond her or anyone else, she suspected. It was something they barely understood themselves, so it was definitely beyond her. That did not mean, however, that she had given up. No, indeed. Operation Love is still intact. I just have a different perspective now.

~~

The morning breeze fanned his face and he reveled in its coolness. He knew she had arrived. He could feel it. He did not know how or why. He just felt it in his heart. The air seemed different to him somehow now that she had arrived. There was more sweetness in it. He knew he was not mistaken. His senses never lied to him. And his every sense, every instinct told him the same thing. It was remarkable, the tension that swept through his body. Not a destructive, disruptive tension. It was the sort of tension that proceeded anticipation. It was a mixture of nerves and apprehension. Fresh air was just the thing to calm him down and so here he was, walking about in the groves like he had always done, but even that reminded him of her, of the walks they'd shared together. These days it was hard to think of anything, no matter how trivial without thinking of her. He had ceased trying to fight it. There was no point. There was nothing to be done about it. He had always been accustomed to being in control of every situation, whether it was some matter of business or some aspect of Pemberley. Not so anymore. He was no longer in control and he suspected that neither was she. He had come to that realization some time ago. She had no more control than he did; they were both powerless against something greater, something he could not quite grasp. He had long stopped resenting anything. There was nothing to be done about it. Being powerless had its own advantages. He had no reason to endeavor to mend everything. It was out of his control. That should have put his mind at ease, but it did not. Even if he could mend nothing, he still had the prerogative to ponder it ceaselessly and that is exactly what he did. Every day and every night. Not that it made an iota of difference.

A weaker man would have been frustrated by this point. He did not know if he was. He had become numb to all pain. He had to, otherwise he would not have survived. And accordingly, he became numb to frustrations and disappointments. The virtue that presided was patience and so he waited patiently. For what exactly, he did not know. For her, he supposed. But that was not exactly right either. He waited for some sign, some indication that all was well and that he could proceed. He had pondered this idea for a long time and had come to the conclusion that in a way, he was not entirely powerless. He knew that if he lay his heart before her, she would have no choice but to relent. He had no valid proof for this assumption, but he knew he was right. He had looked into her eyes often enough to know what lay inside. That was not the point, though. Even if she relented, she would not be happy. Her demons would not be defeated as yet. That is what he waited for, then. For her demons, her darkness to be vanquished because till that happened, there was nothing he could do. Except help her conquer that darkness, if she would let him. It was a stupefying idea that he could lay everything in the open if he so desired. But he knew he would never do that. It was too selfish a thought. He realized he was tired. The last few months had taken their toll on him, he supposed. Many were concerned about his health, but again, he could do nothing about it. He was not in any serious danger. All his problems would have to be solved simultaneously. And they would be, he knew that much. It was just a matter of time. He walked around a bend of trees and would have continued as usual had he not witnessed the only sight that held the power to arrest him in his tracks.

"Miss Bennet." It was no more than a whisper.

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