Beginning, Previous Section, Section XV, Next Section

Chapter 61

Posted on Monday, 8 July 2002, at 7:48 p.m.

Elizabeth followed Darcy to the dance floor, still somewhat dazed, uncertain of whether she even wished to discover what she was feeling. She tried not to think too much, not to ponder on what she was doing, what Darcy was doing, what any of it meant. She knew that if she descended down that path, she would only confuse herself more with questions she could not, in good conscience, answer. She heard a few murmurs as she stood opposite Darcy; it was obvious that Darcy did not dance that often, in fact it was an occurrence rare enough to raise some speculation as to the inducement that brought him away from his trusted window. She colored despite herself with the knowledge that she was that inducement. It scared her a little because of the implied importance attached to this dance, but for Elizabeth the significance was greater because her mind instantly flew to the one other occasion on which they had danced together. She remembered that night very well. The solitary dance. The recital of Shakespeare. How could she forget? Indeed, many a time during the course of the past few months, only the memory of that night had allowed her to maintain her sanity. But now as Elizabeth stood in front of Darcy, facing him, with no place to retreat to, nowhere to hide, she had to tell herself again and again that this was not really so significant. The easiest person to lie to is oneself and so Elizabeth almost managed to convince herself of the veracity of that claim, almost. The music began playing and as his fingers touched hers, Elizabeth felt a familiar thrill that made her catch her breath. She looked at Darcy and was somewhat annoyed to see a small smile on his lips. So he finds this all very entertaining, does he? It's not fair. He should suffer as much as I am. It didn't occur to her that perhaps he was suffering as well and that the smile was just a token of happiness and triumph that he could not help but feel at having prevailed her to dance with him.

"Perhaps this was not such a good idea," said Elizabeth.

It's the best idea I've had in a while. "Are you scared, Miss Bennet?"

"No, not exactly," said Elizabeth, studying his face carefully, "I'm terrified." She searched his face for his reaction to her bold statement and was gratified to see undisguised surprise. Well, at least he is not smiling that smug smile anymore. "Why, Mr. Darcy, surprised by my honesty, are you?"

"I confess I am."

"I surprised myself as well," she replied sincerely.

"I take it, then, that your frankness stemmed from an unguarded moment?"

"Doesn't it always?"

Darcy raised his eyebrows. "Only if one is not accustomed to speaking one's mind."

"I believe most of us hesitate from speaking our minds, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth. "We like to think that we are frank and honest, but more often then not, we do not speak the absolute truth. That is how it works. In polite society, at any rate."

"I suppose you are right," Darcy conceded.

"Of course I am," Elizabeth smiled.

"May I be frank with you now, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth bit her lips. "Yes, I suppose so." I am inviting trouble.

"Do not sound so pained," Darcy smiled. "It is not that bad. I only wished to say that a smile becomes you very well."

Elizabeth colored. "I...uh...thank you."

Elizabeth was spared from the necessity of making any further comment by a movement in the dance which separated her from Darcy. Which was just as well as far as Darcy was concerned; it gave him time to reflect, a luxury that was denied him when he found himself in close proximity to Elizabeth. Such had always been the case, Darcy mused. He had never been able to maintain the clear-headed sense of judgment and reflection that he was accustomed to when Elizabeth had been near. It was almost as though she numbed all his senses by her beauty, her wit, her smile, her laugh. No, that was not entirely correct either for he had never been numbed to the extent that he could not feel. That was one sense that always remained intact. He had always been able to feel, feel anything and everything and nothing. Feel quite acutely, actually. Feel every little bristle in his body stand up in anticipation of an accidental touch. Feel the thuds of his abnormally beating heart echo in his ears. Feel all peripheral thoughts vanish completely. Feel the capacity of coherent speech exit from his set of useful life skills. Darcy had analyzed the sum total of all these feelings on several lonely nights when sleep had eluded him and he had found himself wandering in the gardens admiring the beauty of the moonlit skies just as he had done with her once. He couldn't quite define the feeling, that feeling he sensed whenever he was near her. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, painful and satisfying. If forced to name it, he would call it love, he supposed, but he knew that such a simple word would never do justice to what he felt for her. It never could. Love was too nebulous a term. Lady Catherine claimed to 'love' Anne. Mrs. Bennet also 'loved' her children and her family. Caroline Bingley 'loved' him, or rather his wealth and power. The term had lost its purity when people had begun to apply it to emotions that could never equal what he felt for Elizabeth. As Darcy glanced at his dance partner, he felt a wave of gratitude at having been born in the same universe as her and knew that this is what love really was.

"You are awfully silent, Mr. Darcy. Should I be alarmed?" asked Elizabeth playfully.

"Pray, why should you be alarmed?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Well, it has been my experience that a long silence is symptomatic of a brooding mind and nothing truly desirable can ever result from brooding, especially when one is brooding on the dance floor. So I would conjecture that either you are distracted by matters of business or are appalled with my dancing. In either case, I fear I am boring you."

Darcy was prevented from replying as Elizabeth moved away from him. Why is she is being so playful? he wondered. But he was not exactly complaining. He had sorely missed this aspect of her and was gratified to see it return, if only for a while. "Your reasoning is flawed, Miss Bennet."

"Is it? Pray, enlighten me."

"Your premise is false. A long silence need not always indicate a brooding mind; it can also attest to a mind in awe."

"I see. Then I shall flatter myself that my superior dancing has awed you into silence."

"By all means," Darcy grinned.

"If only I had known that my dancing possessed such powers," said Elizabeth, "I would have used it to my advantage on previous occasions."

"To what end?" Darcy approved of this idea though, if it meant she would dance with him to implement it.

"To silence people whom I did not wish to attend to."

"Such as your mother?" Darcy ventured to guess.

"Among others, yes. Perhaps Anne as well."

"Silence Anne? That would be a wondrous feat, indeed."

"I know, but she has reformed already, you know."

"Has she? I would be a little suspicious."

"I was suspicious myself," said Elizabeth. "That is until I saw the results myself."

"What results?"

"A subtle, non-intrusive Anne."

Darcy pretended to gasp. "Is that possible?"

"I suppose so. Let us only see how long it shall last."

"Not too long, if I know Anne."

Elizabeth laughed. "Then I shall have to retreat to my dance-and-silence plan."

Darcy smiled. "And I shall always be happy to assist you towards that end.."

"Thank you." She paused. "A pity life does not quite operate in that manner."

He watched her weave through the line of dancers. "A great pity indeed," he murmured.

The song concluded and Darcy led off the dance floor. He thanked her with a bow and left her side. Elizabeth stood still, her eyes following Darcy as he disappeared in the crowd. She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she did not even notice that Anne was at her side.

"It was that mesmerizing, was it?"

"Anne," Elizabeth turned around. "you scared me."

"Sorry, that was not my intention," Anne smiled, "but you were so dazed that I had to gain your attention somehow."

"I was not dazed," Elizabeth colored. "I was just thinking."

"As you wish." She said no more.

Elizabeth looked at Anne. "That is all? You will not ask me a hundred questions?"

"I am reformed, remember? You need only tell me what you wish to tell me."

Elizabeth laughed. "I never thought I would live to hear that."

"Miracles happen everyday," Anne said wryly. "But if you must know, I am rather curious. But that goes without saying, I suppose."

"It does, indeed." Elizabeth sighed. "It was nice."

"Nice?" Anne raised her eyebrows.

"Yes. I would tell you more about it, but I do not know myself."

"A little confused, are we?" said Anne. Elizabeth nodded. "No matter, you are an intelligent woman, Elizabeth, I dare say you will sort it out. It's just a matter of time. And of course, if I can be of any service, you simply have to let me know."

"Thank you, Anne, for the most generous offer." Elizabeth laughed.

Anne wrinkled her nose. "It's no laughing matter."

"What isn't?" asked Richard as he joined them.

"My offer to help Elizabeth in any way I can."

"I was not laughing at the offer," said Elizabeth. "It is just entertaining to see you prevent yourself from badgering me with questions."

Anne smiled. "What can I say? I'm trying." She looked around. "Excuse me, I think I might be needed somewhere."

Richard watched her leave. "She is an excellent hostess, wouldn't you say?"

Elizabeth smiled at Richard's lovelorn expression. "Yes, of course."

Richard looked at her. "She tries really hard, you know, to do the right thing. And I don't mean just now. In everything she does. I hope you know that. I hope you know that she never meant to hurt you or Darce. She just could not bear to see those whom she loves so dearly in so much suffering. That is all. Maybe it was not her place to intervene. Right or wrong, it is done. I hope you forgive her for that."

"Richard, I forgave her a long time ago," replied Elizabeth sincerely. "I know her motives were always pure. And although the interventions did bother me sometimes, I never blamed her for it. Had I been in her place, perhaps I would acted in a similar manner. I love Anne dearly. I could never hold anything against her. If she has a fault, it is that she is too good a friend. I don't deserve it."

"I am certain you do," Richard smiled. "Anne thinks you do and as you know, she can never be wrong."

Elizabeth grinned. "Of course not, what was I thinking?"

"I am glad you are not upset with her. I was worried that you might be and that would truly break her heart. You know she is more fragile than she seems. But perhaps you have already discovered that."

Elizabeth nodded. "I have, indeed."

They chatted amicably for a little while before Richard took his leave to attend to some other guests. Elizabeth smiled as left, her heart glowing at the proof of the deep attachment between Anne and Richard. She looked around, her eyes pausing at Georgie, who was speaking to a handsome young gentleman. Elizabeth looked at Georgie with interest; the young woman's eyes were shining and a becoming blush graced her cheeks. It was also obvious to Elizabeth that the gentleman was more than interested in Georgie. He was tall with golden blond hair that rivaled Georgie's and dark, piercing eyes. Elizabeth liked the way he laughed and made Georgie laugh. Soon, he led her to the dance floor and Elizabeth wondered who he was; he seemed suitable enough. I dare say Mr. Darcy will not approve. She is still a child in his eyes. But he must see this is good for Georgie. She has recovered enough from the painful past to look to the future. Elizabeth frowned. She was thinking of Georgie's interests as though she were her own sister. You have no say in the matter, Elizabeth, you are not her sister. What was even scarier was the small voice that whispered in her head, Not yet. She shook her head and looked at Georgie's throughout the dance. The young woman was constantly engaged in conversation, a little shy at first, but becoming more and more bold as the dance progressed. Elizabeth could tell because towards the end of the dance Georgie seemed to say things that surprised her partner and he seemed at a loss for words. It was a good sign, in Elizabeth's eyes, it meant that Georgie was allowing her natural wit overcome her shy exterior. As the song ended, the couple left the dance floor, laughing.

"Thank you for the dance, Lord Horton," Georgie smiled shyly.

"It was my pleasure, Miss Darcy," he replied, laughing.

"Am I amusing you, John?"

"Extremely, Georgie. All that formal nonsense - "Lord Horton." You almost made it seem as though you have not known me all your life."

"Well, it is the proper way to thank a gentleman for a dance."

"Is it now?" John's eyes shone with amusement. "I wasn't aware that you considered me to be a gentleman."

"Well, whether you are or not is a different question," said Georgie. "But I decided to treat you as such. Momentarily, anyway."

"I am wounded, Georgie. You are questioning me."

Georgie looked at him, wondering whether she had wounded him by her remarks. She had felt comfortable enough to converse with him in a playful manner, similar to the way she had seen Anne converse with Richard or Elizabeth with William. But perhaps she had overstepped the bounds of propriety. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

John laughed. "It is much too easy to alarm you."

Georgie frowned. "I am glad you are enjoying yourself."

"Oh, come, do not tell me you did not enjoy yourself as well. Just a little?" He asked. Georgie smiled. "See, you cannot hide anything from me."

"John, you are incorrigible. You should have stayed in the continent. I am sure you would have been more welcome there."

"Harsh words, but I know you don't mean them, Miss Darcy."

"What makes you so certain, Lord Horton?" Georgie smiled in spite of herself.

"There you are, Georgie," said Anne as she joined them. "Darce was looking for you earlier, did he find you?" She looked at John and then at Georgie. "Oh, sorry for interrupting you."

"William was looking for me? I did not see him," Georgie confessed. She cleared her throat. "Anne, I would like to introduce you to Lord John Horton. John, this is my cousin, Anne Fitzwilliam."

"Her cousin and your hostess, pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Horton."

"As am I, Mrs. Fitzwilliam."

"I assume you are Lord Geoffrey's son?" Anne said and John nodded in response. "Ah yes, I was just speaking to him. Delightful man. He kept talking about one of his sons who just returned from the continent. Is that you, by any chance?"

"Yes it is, as a matter of fact."

"How fascinating, I have never been there myself, but my husband tells me many exciting stories. He used to be in the army, you know, so he has seen much of the continent. I am certain you had a wonderful time."

"I did, indeed. The continent is full of many treasures; well worth a visit, I would say. But," he said, glancing at Georgie, "we are not lacking treasures here and I am glad to be home."

Anne suppressed a smile. "I am sure you are." At that moment, John discovered that he was wanted by his father, so he took his leave. Anne, then, turned her attention towards a blushing Georgie. "Well, he is quite the charmer, isn't he?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"How long have you known him?"

"Ever since I was little," replied Georgie. "His family lives but a few miles from Pemberley. I believe our parents were good friends."

"I think I have heard Darce mention them on occasion," Anne nodded. "So, what does Darce think of him?"

"I don't know," Anne said. "But I don't think he likes him very much."

What a surprise. "Really?"

"Well, we used to play games when we were little and once he attempted to climb my balcony, pretending to be Romeo seeking his Juliet. William found him dangling, holding on to his dear life. It was quite amusing, but William did not like it and I believe scolded John thoroughly. It's been a long time, but I think William still remembers that. He thinks John is quite childish and spoiled."

"And is he?"

Georgie shrugged. "A little, I suppose. But he has quite matured since I saw him last."

"That's nice to hear." Anne smiled slyly. Oh Darce, you won't be able to stop this. She is going to marry him.

"But William will still not like him too much, I think."

"Georgie." It was Darcy.

"Speak of the devil," smiled Anne.

"Who will I still not like?" asked Darcy.

"John."

"John Horton?" asked Darcy. Georgie nodded. "You might be right."

"Oh come, Darce, do give the poor boy a chance. I thought he was quite charming."

Darcy looked at her. "That is not a good recommendation."

Anne smiled. "Well, it does not matter what I say, Darce. You will always dislike anyone with whom Georgie dances."

"She danced with him?" Darcy said. He looked at his sister. "You danced with him?"

"Yes, William, he is not that bad."

Darcy sighed. "I suppose not."

Georgie smiled. "I knew you would not disapprove. I think I see Martha. Excuse me."

As Georgie went to greet a friend, Anne looked at Darcy. "Cheer up, Darce, she has to grow up sooner or later."

"I would rather it be later."

"Well, it is not something you can dictate."

Darcy looked at her. "John is in love with Georgie, I am certain. Why would he not be? She is perfect."

"He might be, but is that such a bad thing?"

"I don't know if he is suitable," Darcy pouted.

"Then try to find out if he is," Anne said. "Give the poor boy a chance, Darce. He might be just what Georgie needs. Besides, I don't think you have to worry just yet. If he is in love with Georgie, I don't think he knows it just yet. They will take their own time. They are young still."

Darcy sighed. "You are right. No point worrying about it just yet."

"Exactly, now if you will excuse me, Darce, I must save Elizabeth from Lady Suzanne." Anne claimed her friend, who was more than happy to be saved from hearing the same story about Lady Suzanne's grandson for the fifteenth time.

"That woman possibly talks more than my aunt Phillips," Elizabeth said. "I did not think it was possible."

Anne smiled. "Yes, she talks quite a lot. Her daughter just had a son a few months ago. Did she tell you about little Frederick?"

"Only a hundred times," laughed Elizabeth. "But she is a good woman."

"Aren't they always?"

Elizabeth nodded. "So...I saw you spoke with Georgie's gentleman. Who is he?"

"Lord John Horton, a childhood friend and neighbor."

"She is going to marry him," said Elizabeth.

Anne looked at her. "I think so too. I am glad you agree."

"It is obvious from the way they were looking at each other, from the way they were interacting. I am almost certain of it. But I dare say they do not know it themselves. It is so entertaining how people in love can be so blind. The most obvious thing is apparent to the whole world but not to them."

"Sounds ironic, coming from you," Anne smiled.

Elizabeth colored and changed the subject. "So I take it Mr. Darcy does not approve."

"Of course he does not. But it is not about the boy, really. He would disapprove if the prince himself came to ask for Georgie's hands. She is his little sister and he views her as a child. He is too protective, to be sure, but he will learn, in time, that she is going to lead her own life."

"Well, he is a good brother; that is why he is so protective."

"I know," said Anne. "I am not blaming him."

"Perhaps if I had had an older brother, someone like Mr. Darcy to look after me, I would not be in the state I am now," Elizabeth murmured.

Anne looked at her. "Perhaps." He can look after you now, if you let him.

"But that's all idle talk. You can't change destiny. Or fight it. And who knows what it has in store for me now?" I, for one, have no idea.

Anne sighed. "Who, indeed."

"There is no point in fighting the inevitable." I should never have danced with him. I thought I knew what the 'inevitable' in my life was...but now....

"That's what I always say," Anne said.

Elizabeth smiled. "I believe it too. All will be as it should."

Anne linked arms with her friend as they walked to the dinner table. Let's hope so.

Chapter 62

"Good morning, Anne," Elizabeth greeted her friend as she entered the breakfast parlor.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," said Anne brightly. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"You suppose? I did not know matters such as this were open for debate."

"Well, they are," said Elizabeth. "Where is Richard?"

"He went for a morning ride. Would you care for some tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you, I think I will postpone breakfast till after my morning walk." Elizabeth sighed. "I think I need to clear my head a little."

"Poor Elizabeth, still confused?" Anne smiled.

"If you must know," said Elizabeth, "yes, yes I am."

"You know what they say..." Anne trailed off.

Elizabeth looked up. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you not going to complete your thought?"

"I was going to," said Anne. "Then I recalled my promise not to interfere and thought that perhaps it would be against the rules."

"Anne," Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation. "You really do take everything to the extreme. I said that I do not wish for you to interfere officiously in all my affairs. But I never said that I wished you to stop being my friend. I still want to know your opinions and your advice. Especially now when I barely know what I think about anything."

"You must also see my point of view, Elizabeth. This whole situation is hard for me. I do not want to upset you or Darce and I have no idea where the line should be drawn. You understand? One moment I might be telling you my opinion, the next moment I would probably tell you what you should do. I get carried away very easily. What would you have me do?"

"Anne, I do not want you to stop being yourself," said Elizabeth. "I love you just the way you are, please never try to alter yourself." She paused. "And I think that anything you say or do cannot be that damaging. As long as you do not lock Mr. Darcy and myself in a room to solve our problems."

"Now that is an excellent idea," Anne laughed.

"I have a feeling I am going to regret this."

"You probably are."

"Well, anyway, back to the matter at hand. What were you going to say?"

"Oh that, right. Well, all I was going to say was that a confused mind is very dangerous."

"How so?" Elizabeth frowned.

"I think you will discover, Elizabeth, that it is extraordinarily easy to deceive oneself. To lie to oneself and be utterly convinced that things are one way when, in fact, they are not. Therefore, it is essential to know one's own mind, one's own thoughts and feelings very well. Because if you do not know yourself, then you will lie to yourself doubly so and nothing good can ever come out of deceiving yourself."

"I know," sighed Elizabeth. "But it is so hard."

"I know it is. I never said it would be easy."

"It's so unfair," Elizabeth pouted. "All of this. Everything."

Anne reached across the breakfast table and touched Elizabeth's hands. "I know, dear, I know. Life is unfair. I'm sorry, but such is the case and I dare say even I cannot change that." Anne smiled. "Well, that is the pessimistic view of things. It does not have to be that way, you know."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth almost dreaded the reply.

"You have to search deep in your soul and discover what you truly feel about...well, everything. And then, you have to decide what, if anything, you wish to do about these feelings. And finally, you must just go ahead and do it. Simple as that. Bold and simple. You can vow to be a victim no more and make a decision, whatever that might be."

"If it were as simple as that," said Elizabeth, "do you not think I would have made a final decision by now?"

"But it is simple, my dear." Anne saw the dubious look on Elizabeth's face. "I am quite serious. Knowing what lies in your heart is quite simple. It's your head and conscience that adds all the confusion. Step away from all the unnecessary nonsense for a moment and the answer will appear instantly."

Elizabeth still did not look convinced. "I hardly know what to think..."

"Well, let us try another approach then. Tell me about the dance."

"I already told you. It was..." Her eyes brightened. "It was nice."

"Yes, yes, I know that," Anne said. "That's not what I meant. How did you feel? How did you act? How did he act? I need details."

"I hardly know. It all happened so quickly. I was almost in a trance."

"Elizabeth," said Anne in her most stern voice. "Can you please stop lying to me? You know exactly how you felt."

"What would you have me say?" Elizabeth cried. "That it thrilled me to be near him. That just touching his fingertips made my pulse quicken. That I found myself chatting playfully with him, even though I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life. Or would you rather that I tell you that I have not managed to remove the memory of that dance from my mind for a single moment thereafter?"

"Well," said Anne. "That's much better. See, we are progressing quite nicely."

Elizabeth sighed. "Anne...this still does not change anything."

"Of course it doesn't," said Anne. "You are far too pig-headed."

Elizabeth smiled wanly. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"Take it any way you wish. It is the truth."

"Anne, I truly do not deserve anything good."

"Yes, I know. You are a horrible human being."

"I am. I don't deserve happiness, Anne, you know that."

"Listen, Elizabeth. I don't deserve Richard. I know I don't." Elizabeth began to protest, but Anne continued. "But even though I know that, you don't find me throwing everything away. I just accept the fact that Richard finds me worthy enough; I see it as a piece of incredible good luck."

"Anne, that's bizarre. You are worthy of Richard; in fact, more than worthy."

"That is your opinion. Anyway, the point is that I don't know whether you deserve Darce just as I don't know whether he deserves you. Well, if you ask my opinion, I think you both are pig-headed enough to deserve each other." At this point, Anne smiled. "See, what I am trying to say is that it does not matter what you think you deserve. It's not necessarily in your hands to decide what gifts you receive. Just think of it as a benevolent Christmas gift and accept it. Stop fighting it so much. Was it not you who said there is no point fighting the inevitable?"

Elizabeth nodded. "As long as I knew what that 'inevitable' was."

"True."

"And like you said, it's not necessarily in my hands. Let us not forget Mr. Darcy."

"Of course not. What about Darce?"

"You are assuming that he loves me," Elizabeth said, biting her lips.

"Elizabeth Bennet, that has to be the stupidest thing you have ever said!" Anne cried. "Do you think the man likes to wallow in pain and misery? I mean, I know he has always been sort of somber, but this has progressed far beyond staring out of windows in balls. That man has suffered a vast deal, Elizabeth. I have seen it myself throughout the months. A lesser man would not have been as patient and understanding and loving. I cannot allow you to question that love. The love that has allowed him not to demand anything from you, the love that has allowed him to remain so strong and so free of any bitter resentment. Such love is hard to come by, Elizabeth. It's the only certainty in your life - you cannot, nay, I will not allow you to dismiss it so easily."

Elizabeth just looked at Anne, entirely silent.

Anne sighed. "I am sorry. I-I let my feelings run away..."

"It is alright."

"I meant everything I said. I just should have been more...well, tactful."

"Tact has never been your strongest quality." Elizabeth smiled.

"I suppose not." Anne smiled as well.

"It's just that things are easier if I believe that he does not," Elizabeth paused, "love me."

"It would be more convenient, yes," said Anne, "but then you'd be deceiving yourself."

"We have never exchanged words about it."

"Actions speak louder than words," said Anne. "Come, Elizabeth, it's a poor excuse, can you honestly tell me that you can doubt Darce's love for you because he has not made a formal declaration? What would you have him do, write you sonnets or some other such foolishness?"

"No," said Elizabeth, then smiled. "Although sonnets are rather nice."

Anne looked at her, then laughed. "I am glad you can make light of this."

"I need something to laugh about. Might as well be my pitiable life."

"Oh Elizabeth....I'm so sorry about everything."

"Why? Did you cause any of it?"

"No, neither did you," said Anne. "Remember that." Elizabeth was silent. "I am not trying to tell you what to do."

"Is that so? Since when?" Elizabeth grinned.

"Let me finish," smiled Anne. "Will you please promise me to think about what I said?"

"Yes." Elizabeth paused.

"Honestly?" Anne persisted and Elizabeth nodded. "You will not dismiss it then?"

"No, I think you made some good points."

"I am glad to hear that." Anne beamed. "You have some hope still."

"You think so?"

Anne nodded. "Your spirit is still intact."

"I am not so certain about that."

"It is, Elizabeth, it has to be. Or else George Wickham has already won."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, then cleared her throat. "Well, I think I should go for my walk now. It is getting late."

"You have enough food for thought, I suppose."

"Indeed," said Elizabeth as she arose from her seat. As she neared the door, Richard walked in. "Good morning, Richard," said Elizabeth brightly, then as she breezed past him, she said, "Goodbye, Richard."

Richard watched her leave. "Where is she going?"

"For a morning walk," Anne informed him. "I thought you went riding with Darce?"

"I thought so too," Richard smiled, "but he was too preoccupied. Very boring company, actually. So I told him I was going home and suggested that he do the same. I think he said he would go for a walk or something of that sort. You know, he might meet Elizabeth - he is walking in this area since he was too lazy to return to Pemberley. Said he has too many things to think about."

"So much the better," Anne grinned. "I think I have left her quite vulnerable."

"Anne," Richard shook his head. "Is it not a bit early in the morning to start manhandling our guests? Even for you?"

"It's never too early, my dear." Anne laughed as maniacally as she could.

Richard shook his head. "And here I began to think that you had reformed yourself. Why do I always fall for such falsehoods?"

"Because you love me," Anne grinned. "Besides, today I was going to behave myself, but Elizabeth asked for my advice and opinion."

Richard laughed as he accepted a cup of coffee from his wife. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"It is the truth!" cried Anne. "And then, I could not lie about how I really felt, so I told her a few things and she promised to think about it."

"So that's progress, I take it?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Anne nodded. "So what about Darce?"

"Like I said, he seemed rather preoccupied today. Must be thinking about last night."

Anne murmured her agreement. "So was it a good preoccupied or a bad preoccupied?"

Richard shook his head. "I won't even pretend to try and understand what that means. Please explain, my dear."

"What I mean, of course," replied his wife, "is that did he seem as though all he wanted to do was relive some precious moments, in which case, you were obviously an unwelcome intruder. Or did it seem like his heart was being wrenched from his chest and he was in agony."

"You paint quite a picture," laughed Richard. "But I think that Darce was a mixture of both, if that's possible."

"I suppose it is possible. Interesting."

"I am glad you approve. So, do you think they will finally admit their feelings now?"

Anne shrugged. "It's hard to tell. I never know with these two."

"I thought you knew everything." Richard grinned mischievously.

"Generally speaking, I do," smiled Anne. "But they are much too obstinate."

"Very true. So you think your mission might fail?"

"You mean Operation Love?"

Richard nodded with a grin. "I cannot believe you actually call it that."

"Why I do believe you are mocking me. It is an excellent name."

"Indeed."

Anne grinned. "And to answer your question, no, it's not going to fail."

"That certain of it, are you?"

"Not of it," said Anne, "of myself. Operation Love will succeed, Richard, you mark my words. It's only a matter of time."

"I shall take your word for it. Now enough about Darce and Elizabeth --- " Richard grinned mischievously as he leaned towards his wife.

"Oh Richard," giggled Anne. "You are so wicked." And then she was duly silenced.

~~

The morning sun shone in Elizabeth's face, making her cheeks flush somewhat. It was a clear, country summer day and the world seemed at peace, unequivocally so. No clouds intruded upon the perfect blue skies, a gentle breeze alleviated any undesirable heat, even the birds chirped softly enough to avoid the disturbing the calm. The calm before the storm, it seemed to Elizabeth. In fact, a storm was already raging within her and so the hurricane that commanded her mind negated the need for any external stimulus. It was not all Anne's doing as much as the general would like to think so. The doubts, the dilemma had been circulating in Elizabeth's mind for some time now and the previous night's dance had just served as a catalyst that allowed her to ignore those inner questions no more. But of course, Anne's words did not make life any simpler for her, which was just as well. The time of convenience was over, that much was certain. She had managed to avoid the difficult questions, the painful choices, the ultimate decision. But not anymore; it was impossible. Too many things depended on it. Did she want him in her life and if so, then in what capacity? Actually that was a rather simple question, its answer was apparent. The real point was whether she deserved such happiness. Deserve. She had never truly pondered that word before. Did anyone deserve anything or was every reward earned on the basis of merit? Who ultimately decided what she, or anyone else, deserved? Was it really in her hands?

Elizabeth sighed. These questions would have been much simplified if it had not been for her sins. Sins. It was quite a harsh term. Many would argue that all she was guilty of was error of judgment, but errors of judgment did not kill. No, what she had done, the mistakes she had made had transcended mere errors of judgment; her errors had taken lives, her errors had destroyed lives, her errors had touched innumerable people and continued to touch them still. Such enormous guilt, such responsibility could not be taken lightly. She could not acquit herself all those sins, those crimes so easily, no matter what anyone said. Perhaps she had not taken Victor's life directly, perhaps she was not the least responsible for any of the tragedy, yet she still could not shirk all responsibility for it. Some days she felt as though the guilt was suffocating her, making her physically ill, the pain almost unbearable. It was a heavy load to carry on her already tired shoulders and she felt herself weakening. She felt herself wishing she could just quell those angry little whispers in her head and seek solace in a pair of strong arms that she knew, in her heart, would be more than eager to comfort her. It was just a moment of weakness, thankfully. She still had some pride left, some dignity, some strength. She could not go to him in such a manner, so tired, so exhausted, so defeated. It would mean that she had lost. Utterly and completely. And she knew she would never be able to face herself again. Eventually, he would see her duplicity and would begin to hate her as well. How could he ever love her if she did not love herself? No, she could not go to him in that state; she had to destroy her demons first.

That thought shocked her somewhat. She had not known that it was even an option; going to him had never ever consciously been an option, but she supposed her mind had other ideas. Or perhaps her heart. She had decided a long time ago that she did not have the leisure, the liberty to listen to her heart. She closed her eyes. With her eyes closed, everything was simpler. With her eyes closed, she could listen to the rhythmic thumping of her heart. She could feel the breeze fan her face that glistened with sweat. She could imagine herself a thousand miles away, on an isolated island with him by her side. An island whether nothing mattered, not the past, not the future, nothing. An island where she could separate herself from all the unpleasantness, all the hurt, the pain, the anger, the guilt. She opened her eyes quickly. Such dreams were dangerous, she could not allow herself to dream, especially since no dream, whether by day or by night, was ever complete without him. No dream and no nightmare. The nightmares almost inevitably included the past, but recently they had shown her a drab future, a future without him. Her life had been reduced to a painful series of unlikely possibilities and missed opportunities and since she attempted not to dwell on any of this, her repressed emotions often manifested themselves in the form of dreams. Although it was not entirely unpleasant to indulge her fancy somewhat, she was tired of dreaming pointless dreams and wished it would all just stop.

Anne had told her that his love was the only certainty in her life. Elizabeth pondered that for a moment. Could it be true? Dare she hope it was true? In her heart, she knew it to be true, she had always known it to be true. Throughout the trials of the previous months, she had always known that his regard for her remained constant. There was no question about it, none at all. She knew this instinctively, yet it made little sense to her. In fact, it made no sense to her at all. Not only had she been married to Wickham, a man he rightfully abhorred with all his heart, but she had also been the catalyst in the series of events that led to Victor's death. She had rejected his help, driven him away with her silence when Wickham had forcibly taken her. She had done that to protect him, of course, but the truth was that she had done everything in her power to distance herself from him. With such a past, such an ignoble past, she did not understand how he could possibly respect her still. How could he possibly respect a woman whose errors of judgment had resulted in such havoc in so many lives? How could he look past those events and still find it in his heart to love her? It simply made no sense to Elizabeth. It just was not logical. Elizabeth could hear Anne's voice gently whispering, but love is seldom logical, Elizabeth. Perhaps that was so; yet it was still difficult to reconcile to. But it was possible, yes it was quite possible that he was able to overlook all her guilt, her mistakes and love her for the essence that was her, the essence that remained untouched and pure, the essence that George Wickham could never affect in any tangible manner. Such love scared her. Such love that asked nothing from her, that demanded nothing but for love in return was a foreign concept. She hardly knew how to respond. Respond with love, you fool, her heart told her. She shuddered. It seemed so deceptively simple, but life was never that simple; she had learned as much.

The battle that she was raging, ultimately, was within herself, Elizabeth knew. It had little to do with Darcy, very little. She had to learn to love herself again. She had to learn to forgive herself. She had to learnt to respect herself. The rest would follow suit. The rest did not matter. It was her own conscience, her own thoughts, her own guilt that she had to live with. What the remainder of the world thought of her mattered but a little. Once she had resolved this discord within herself, everything would be simpler. Only then could she even think of Darcy. Only then could she love or let herself be loved. It was as simple as that. No person could make her happy, she had discovered. Happiness was an elusive gift that each and every being must find within themselves. She had to make herself happy first and foremost, she could not depend on anyone else to do that for her. This realization had come to her after months of anguish and reflection and she dared to venture that not many people had come to this conclusion. It was a difficult concept since so much of the world sought happiness in foreign things - in other people, in material goods, in outwardly success. But Elizabeth knew that none of that mattered. She could be married to Darcy tomorrow and have everything she had ever wished for; a loving husband, a beautiful home, more wealth and prestige than she had ever dreamed of. But that could not make her happy. She had to be happy by herself, all alone. She had to be comfortable with her past. She had to respect and love herself above all else, otherwise she would never be happy. Perhaps this was selfish of her, but she was prepared to be labeled as such. She knew she was not in the wrong. She had to make herself happy first, otherwise she would never make anyone else so.

"Now all I have to do is communicate this to him," Elizabeth said aloud, pausing in her walk. But how? I can never speak so plainly to him. She felt her head spinning. The mixture of the sun and her disturbed thoughts had brought on an acute headache. She began walking towards a sheltered bench that she had spotted for her feet had begun to feel alarmingly weak. I have walked too far. But before she could reach the bench, she found the world blacken around her and she collapsed to the ground with a soft whimper.

Chapter 63

Posted on Monday, 19 August 2002, at 5:10 p.m.

I hope this is to your liking. :-)

Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly. She tried to move, but realized that she could not. Her head was still spinning somewhat, so moving from her current position would probably not be the wisest course of action. In fact, she was quite comfortable just as she was. But the question was, of course, where in the world was she? She let her eyes wander around. The ceiling, the armoire, the looking glass were all terribly familiar; they all signaled that she was in her own chamber in Hayfield. That confused Elizabeth somewhat for the last thing that she remembered distinctly was walking on the grounds, thinking, and then - well, it was all darkness after that. She recalled feeling a little unwell and walking towards a bench, but she had no idea whether she had, in fact, managed to reach that bench. She blinked a few more times and touched her forehead. The room was still spinning around her and she felt a little faint. She was not even certain whether she was awake or dreaming. It certainly feels real, but then again all her dreams always felt alarmingly real. The faintness of her head made her suspect that she was dreaming; perhaps she was lying on the grounds somewhere, dreaming of her bedchamber. The true test of whether this was a dream or reality would be the appearance of Darcy. He appeared in her dreams without fail; sometimes they talked, sometimes he just smiled at her, sometimes he just held her, but whatever the case might be, he was always there. At least in her dreams, she did not have to be alone. He was always there by her side, loving her unquestionably, loving her for no greater reason than the fact that she was Elizabeth Bennet, loving her as she loved him. And she knew there was not a greater gift in the universe.

"Well, you are finally awake."

Elizabeth turned her head slightly to the right and saw Darcy sitting on the armchair next to her bed. She smiled, nay beamed. He never failed her. Her dreams could never be complete without him and he ensured that her dreams were complete. "There you are, Mr. Darcy. I was wondering when you would appear."

He frowned slightly. "Miss Bennet, how do you feel now?"

She began to say that she was well, but then she asked, "Do you want the truth?"

"Always."

"Not too well, actually. I have a horrible headache."

"I am sorry to hear that. Can I get you something? Something to drink perhaps?"

"No, no, that is quite all right. I dare say I shall feel much better when I wake up."

He looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I do not wish you to get me anything. I would rather have you by my side."

Darcy seemed at a loss of words. "I...umm - are you quite certain?"

"Mr. Darcy, please, I think I know what I want."

"Miss Bennet, I fear you are unwell. Let me fetch some help."

He began to rise when Elizabeth said, "Stop."

He looked at her. There was a note of finality in her statement as if she would brook no opposition. Her face was determined, a small smile hinted but not quite present. He could not disobey the command, so he sat down once again. "Was that an order, Miss Bennet?"

"Of course it was. I am just surprised that you are so eager to leave my side."

"I would not wish anything to happen to you."

"What could happen to me?"

He shrugged. "I am no expert, but even I can see that you are unwell."

She laughed a childlike laugh, her eyes dancing with merriment. "Why do you say that?"

"It is quite obvious...you are acting differently."

"Mr. Darcy, you worry too much," she pronounced with a smile. "I shall be quite well by the time I awake." He looked at her gravely, a frown creasing his forehead. She studied the strong, firm lines of his jaw and the lines about his eyes. His concern for her well being was evident in the way he pressed his lips and the manner in which his eyes studied her face. She felt as though she ought to blush under his piercing gaze, but instead she basked in its intensity. "I believe you are rather worried about me, Mr. Darcy."

He sighed audibly. "Indeed, madam, I could not say otherwise."

"That is quite a shame."

"Why so?"

"I had hoped you would be in a lighter mood," she replied, "for I am in the humor to converse with you."

"About what?" he asked her.

"Why," she replied, "a great many things."

"What sort of things?"

"You are quite curious for a man who refuses to speak to me."

"I never refused to speak to you."

"Not in so many words, but you are so overwhelmed with useless anxiety that any attempts at conversation would be rather fruitless."

"I am only concerned about your health, Miss Bennet."

"Then please desist, sir."

"I am afraid that is impossible."

"And I say that anything is possible."

He looked at her. "Let me fetch the apothecary."

She frowned. "If you cannot bear my company, then leave, by all means." She turned her head in the opposite direction so as not to see his face any longer. He had never acted in such a manner in her dreams before. He had spoken a little, but had never shown such determination. She was in no condition to let herself be bothered by such trivialities. Her head throbbed too much and pondering his solemn demeanor would only add to her burgeoning headache. She closed her eyes, her breathing somewhat unsteady. "Miss Bennet..." She heard a voice whisper her name and opened her eyes. He had left his chair and was crouching next to her bed. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then said, "I thought you would have left by now."

"How could I leave you in this state?"

"In what state?" she challenged him.

"Upset and angry."

"I am neither."

"You are lying,' he countered.

"And you are being presumptuous."

"Can you say that I am wrong?"

She frowned. "Perhaps not, but even so, how does it matter?"

"But you see, it does matter," he answered, "to me."

She closed her eyes for a second. "You must be uncomfortable in that position. Why do you not return to your chair?"

"Will you turn around and face me again?"

She smiled. "If you insist."

"I insist." She turned her head as he returned to his chair. He smiled slightly. "So are you still upset and angry?"

"No," she said.

"Will you tell me why you were?"

"Because you frustrated me."

"How?"

"By not taking my word."

"That you are well?"

She nodded her head as much as she could. "I resent that more than anything else. I dislike being dismissed like a child. If I say that I will be all right, then I mean it. My words should carry some weight, some merit. I deserve that much respect, I think."

"Indeed you do. And believe me, I meant no disrespect."

"I know. Which is why I forgave you for the offense so quickly."

"I am glad you did."

"So will you cease insisting on calling the apothecary?"

He hesitated, but only for a moment. "If you wish."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said. "Moments like these, they are precious. I do not want them spoiled or tainted in any way. I dislike blinking my eyes even for fear that you will be gone when I open my eyes again."

"I am not going anywhere."

She smiled impishly. "Only make promises that you can keep."

"I always do."

"Now who is lying?" she said.

"Not I."

"Please, Mr. Darcy, in a matter of minutes, I shall awaken from this dream and you will be gone from my side."

"Do you want me to stay?" His tone was provocative.

She frowned. "I wish I knew."

"As do I."

"Why is it so much easier to speak to you when I know it does not matter?"

"Why does it not matter?"

"Because it is not real."

He looked at her. "Are you certain?"

She touched her head and closed her eyes. The room had stopped spinning, but she was still somewhat faint. "Yes, why else would you be here?" She looked at him, an open challenge visible on her face. He began to say something, but stopped. She smiled triumphantly. She felt as though she were a little child who had won an argument; the feeling of righteous exhilaration was the same. She glanced at Darcy, who was studying her with a bemused smile. She raised her eyebrows. "If I did not know better, I would think you were laughing at me, Mr. Darcy?"

"I would not dare. I was just observing your smile - you looked like a child just then."

"I felt like one," she admitted. "It is strange. I have not felt this way in years."

"Really?"

"Yes. I feel - oh I cannot describe it. Do you remember when you were young, Mr. Darcy? The world seemed to be filled with possibilities. There were no limits to what I thought I could achieve. I remembering walking to Oakham Mount as a girl and looking at the stars, certain that I could reach out and grasp them if I so desired. I used to think that I could never be unhappy or dissatisfied with my life because I would always have a purpose, a goal, an object in my mind."

"And you feel the same way again?"

"Yes, I suppose so, in a way. It is difficult to explain, to put it into coherent words when I barely know what I am feeling myself. Sometimes there are a lot of feelings, emotions lingering in your being and you just never put it into words." She paused. "I must be boring you intolerably."

"Nonsense, I am fascinated."

"You humor me too much," she smiled. "But since this is my dream, I can choose to allow it. Well, as I was saying, my childhood sense of purpose eroded with years. Well, no, that is a lie. It never eroded, it simply became dormant. I had always believed that the most pitiable man is a man without purpose. Such men do not live, they go through the motions of living, a horrible sense of tedium enveloping them. I had vowed never to let myself become such a person."

"And did you?"

"I am afraid so." The pain was evident in her voice. "My purpose, my reason did not leave my side through all my trials. It did not leave me when I married George, it did not leave me when he left me, it did not even leave me when he reappeared in my life. Through all the feeling of despair and hopelessness, I believed that I could win somehow. Not because I deserved it, but because I willed it and because I was better than George. And then..." her voice trailed. "Victor died and everything changed." She stopped, her voice almost a soft whisper.

He reached out slowly and touched her hand.

This small gesture made a tiny smile appear on her face. "I did not even realize things had changed so much. I had never felt like a victim before, but these past few months, that is all I have felt. I had become George's victim and I had claimed Victor as my own. These past few months, I had no purpose, no direction; even survival was a punishment. It is easy to blame such things on circumstances, on other people, but I have no one to blame but myself."

"You are being too harsh on yourself. You witnessed perhaps the greatest tragedy of your life. You were entitled to feel anything and everything."

"That might be true, but still I should not have allowed myself to wallow in my misery like I did. I am stronger than that. Or I should have been. I had become exactly the sort of purposeless human being I always despised; someone who could not bring happiness to anyone's life, least of all her own." Darcy began to protest, but Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "Once again, do me the curtsey of believing my word, Mr. Darcy. I believe I know what I am talking about."

He sighed. "If you say so."

"I do. Well, at any rate, I am not quite certain how this realization came to me. I suppose it is something I have known all along, but just have not had the courage to face. And I had a conversation with Anne which made me think about some things. But that was simply a catalyst, not the sole cause of my revelations. Knowing what I had been doing was a shocking realization, but it was necessary. And that is why I was smiling. I have a purpose once again, Mr. Darcy, and it feels better than I expected."

"What is your purpose, if I may pry?"

"To conquer my demons," she said simply.

"I am happy to hear that."

"Till I become a healthy and happy woman myself, I will only poison the lives of those whom I love more dearly than my own life."

She looked at him, unable to speak any plainer to him, even if it was a dream. She wished he would understand her meaning, her veiled words, her unspoken promise. Promise of a happier time, a brighter future than she had allowed herself to hope for. But it was possible. She was a child again and anything was possible. As long as she had her strength, her purpose, her convictions. Her demons, the shadows of the past were far from gone, but now she had the determination to fight them, vanquish them. Nothing could make her feel like a victim anymore. She was just ashamed that she had allowed herself to feel like one for so long. She felt rejuvenated, she felt strong and she could only conclude that the past few months, she had been in an unspeakable trance. Her eyes sought his, slowly, shyly, coyly. His expression was undecipherable, but it was evident that her message, her silent plea had been duly heard and considered. She remembered her conversation with Anne, when she had questioned whether Darcy loved her. She remembered Anne's violent response to that statement and she knew Anne had been right, had been justified in her reaction. She noticed the fatigue on his face for the first time. He looked tired, his face drawn, slight dark circles about his eyes. The difference was slight, subtle, but it was there. She could not imagine what he must have endured and what he continued to endure still. And the trials he faced were, by no means, over. She had not given him a definitive answer yet.

She reached over and slowly touched his hand. "I am so sorry."

She saw him tremble as his fingers clutched hers. "Do not apologize to me. Ever."

"But I-"

"No," he shook his head as he let her fingers go. "Just as there are things that you feel strongly about, there are things that I feel strongly about. This is one of them. You are never ever to apologize to me. I understand, more than you think I do."

She closed her eyes, a small tear escaping her eyes. "I hurt you so much."

"I forgive you."

Her eyes opened and looked at him with wonder. "Why?"

His voice was low. "I think you know."

She did, but she wanted to hear it from him. "Why?"

He smiled. "Why not?"

His answer was not what she wished to hear, yet she could not help but smile at his playful manner. It was a refreshing change and as much as she was disappointed at not receiving a direct answer from him, she was not quite certain that she was ready to hear the words just yet, even in a dream. And perhaps he knew that. She looked at him; he was still smiling and somehow the tiredness seemed to be lifted from his face. She was looking up to him since she was still lying in her bed, so she shifted to raise herself up a little. He noticed her efforts immediately and aided her by arranging her pillows. She leaned on his arms as she sat up on the bed. She held his arms for a moment longer than necessary before coloring and releasing him. He returned to his chair in silence.

"So," he said after a brief pause, "how does your head feel?"

"Much better, thank you," she smiled. "The headache is fading. I told you I would be all right, did I not?"

"Indeed, you did."

"You should learn to trust me."

"I do."

"Mr. Darcy, you are lying once again."

He smiled. "How can you tell?"

She simply shook her head. "That is my secret." She paused. "I have to keep reminding myself that this is not real."

"Are you quite certain about that?"

"About what?"

"That this is not real?"

She said, "Yes," but the tremble in her voice spoke otherwise.

"Now it is you who is lying."

"I promised myself I would never lie," she countered.

He leaned forward slightly and when he spoke, his voice was low. "Only make promises that you can keep."

She did not have the opportunity to answer him for at that moment, the door to the chamber opened and Anne entered. She smiled radiantly. "Elizabeth, I am so glad to see you awake. You gave us all quite a scare. Why, when Darce brought you here earlier, I was beside myself with worry. But there is nothing the matter, do not be alarmed. Mr. Harris said it was nothing more than exhaustion and overexposure to the heat." She paused when she saw the startled look on Elizabeth's face. "Elizabeth, are you feeling all right?"

Elizabeth could not manage to speak. "I...think so." She did not dare to glance at Darcy.

Anne noticed the strained look on Elizabeth's face and the somewhat embarrassed one on Darcy's and assumed something had occurred that neither of them wished to share with her. "I am sorry for disturbing you both, but I came here as soon as my business with the gardener concluded. I was worried about you, Elizabeth. But since you seem all right, I will return to work." Saying thus, she would have hastily retreated had it not been for Elizabeth's sharp voice.

"No, Anne, please do not go."

Anne stopped. "If you wish." She sat down on the bed next to Elizabeth. "How long have you been awake?"

"I have no idea," Elizabeth confessed.

"Little over a half hour, I would say," Darcy offered.

"Oh, I see," said Anne, secretly pleased.

"Anne," Elizabeth still avoided Darcy's glance. "What happened?"

"You went for your morning walk. Do you remember that?" asked Anne; Elizabeth nodded. "Well, I am not certain what happened, but you must have fainted at some point. It was quite fortuitous that Darce found you when he did or else the consequences might not have been so benign. He brought you home immediately and we sent for Mr. Harris, who examined you and pronounced you in no danger. He advised us to let you rest and so we did. Darce and I stayed with you; Richard had to attend to business. But I had to speak to the gardener, so Darce offered to stay here with you while I attended to the problem with the flowers. You have been sleeping for a few hours. That, as they say, is that."

"I am not dreaming," Elizabeth mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?" said Anne.

"Nothing."

"You seem out of sorts, perhaps I should send for Mr. Harris again?" said Anne.

"No, no, I am fine. I just need some rest, is all," said Elizabeth, finally stealing a surreptitious glance at Darcy. He was not looking in her direction, which was just as well. She did not know if she could have borne it. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What must he think of her? She could not even bear to think of all the things she had said to him. She had been so certain that it was a dream. How could she have been so stupid? It must be due to the fainting. She had hit her head and had ceased to think clearly. There was no other explanation.

"I am glad to hear that," said Anne.

"Well, Anne, now that you are here, I shall take my leave," said Darcy.

"Do not leave on my account, Darce."

"I think it would be best if I did," he said with a significant glance at Elizabeth.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth managed to say.

"My pleasure, Miss Bennet."

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth found herself saying before he reached the door.

"Yes?" He turned around to look at her.

"I am sorry..." for acting like a fool. "for imposing on you."

He looked at her for a moment. "I thought I told you not to apologize to me."

There was nowhere to hide. She had hoped, for a desperate moment, that he would forget everything that had transpired, that somehow magically, she would not have to cope with the reality of it all. But with his words, that hope was shattered. She could not hide behind pretenses, behind half truths and averted glances. She could not seek shelter in the convenient recesses of denial. She looked at him. His eyes challenged her, his smile mocked her. He knew that she had nowhere to hide and she was certain that he enjoyed watching her squirm. He would not allow her the satisfaction of pretense. And perhaps she did not deserve such mercy. Any pretense would nullify all the strides forward. She was stronger than that, she reminded herself. She would cease hiding from the past, hiding from him. He knew her better than she knew herself. There was nowhere to hide. There was nothing to hide. She met his gaze with a defiant bent of her chin. She was not afraid of the truth and more importantly, she was not about to hide anymore.

"I believe you did. I forgot."

If her answer or her composure surprised him, he did not show it. "Good day Anne, good day Miss Bennet." And with that, he took his leave.

His staid demeanor did not fool her; she knew that she had surprised him and it gave her some satisfaction. He had not expected her to react as she had and she rejoiced in that knowledge. She had the power to surprise him still, even if he knew her all too well. She had surprised herself as well. Perhaps she was still not thinking clearly. Whatever the case might be, the deed had been done. All the crutches had been tucked away. No lies, no pretenses, no words. Nothing could protect her anymore. It was just him and her. Everything was in the open. Everything was understood. It did not need to be spoken. Words were almost an afterthought. He had always known, always understood. It was she who had failed to see the truth. She could never be annoyed at the honest truth, not for long, anyway. He knew her purpose now. He had known it before she had known she lacked a purpose at all. There was too much to marvel about him. She did not have the time to do it justice. She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding.

"Elizabeth?"

"Mmm?"

"Would you care to share what happened?"

Elizabeth looked at Anne. "Nothing happened."

"Elizabeth!" Anne moaned.

"Anne, I would, I really would," said Elizabeth. "But I barely have words to describe it. I do not know what happened myself."

Anne grinned. "That sounds like a positive development."

"I suppose you could see it as such."

"I am glad to hear it." Anne said no more.

"That is all?"

"Why, yes."

"You will not ask me anything further?"

"Is that not your wish?"

"Yes, but you have known to disregard my wishes on previous occasions."

"How many times do I have to remind you that I have reformed?"

"As many times as it will take for me to believe it."

"I shall have to repeat it daily." Anne sighed.

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe so."

"Wonderful." Anne rolled her eyes.

"Anne..." said Elizabeth after a pause.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what I think is the saddest thing in the world?"

Anne shook her head in the negative.

"Regrets."

"Really?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Regrets represent wasted time, missed opportunity, unforeseen circumstances. We can do nothing about regrets, Anne, not a single thing. And they can suffocate you, constantly reminding you of what could have been and what never will be. Please humor me, Anne, and never regret anything in life. It is not worth the time or the effort."

"What do you regret, Elizabeth?" asked Anne.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Breaking a promise I once made."

"To whom?"

"Elizabeth Bennet."

"Only make promises that you can keep, Elizabeth."

"This one, I intend to keep."

"Then you will have nothing to regret."

"Almost." Elizabeth could not forget his tired, solemn face.

"He forgives you," said Anne simply.

Elizabeth looked at her sharply. "How did you know?"

Anne smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways." She stood up. "I must attend to dinner arrangements. Will you be all right?" Elizabeth nodded. "Excellent. Welcome back, Elizabeth."

"I did not know I was gone that long."

"Oh, but you were," said Anne in a tone that made it evident that she was not referring to the fainting. "I will see you at dinner. Get some rest." With that, Anne left the chamber.

Elizabeth watched her leave. "It feels good to be back, Anne."

Chapter 64

Posted on Tuesday, 3 September 2002, at 4:36 p.m.

Darcy had spent the past week with a small smile on his face. It was not an intrusive smile, in fact it was not a true smile; rather it was a hint of a smile, something that could appear at a moment's notice, but never quite did. He was not aware of that smile himself, but it was noticed by all those who came into contact with him. Some of them were baffled by the generally severe Mr. Darcy's sudden amiability, but other more perceptive persons knew the exact cause for the transformation. Darcy did not notice the quite wonder with which all his employees regarded him, blissfully unaware of all the speculation. He was aware, however, of a certain levity in his manner, even when conducting ordinary business. It puzzled him at first. He was not attempting to fight it, but he simply could not discern the cause of it. Nothing extraordinarily new had occurred. Nothing that Elizabeth had said had surprised him. Indeed, he had known it all along. But he supposed that hearing the honest words from her was different than knowing the truth in his heart. He had never doubted the future, really. There had been some times in the dark months that preceded when he knew no hope because he could see no immediate reason to hope. But even in those desolate times, his heart had known that times would change, that things would be as they should. He had never allowed himself the luxury of despair or the cruelty of hopelessness. Emotions such as those were reserved for those who lacked faith and if anything, Darcy had more faith than anyone else he knew. It was not faith in the traditional sense, it was not faith in god or destiny or divine intervention. Humans had created the tragedy he suffered and only humans could solve it. No, his faith was more pure, more tangible; it was faith in himself and his convictions, it was faith in Elizabeth, it was faith in love.

Darcy did not really know from where this strength of resolve arose. Sometimes when he looked back at the trials he had been through, he wondered at his own tenacity. Some would call it idealistic stubbornness, but he preferred to think of it as purposeful steadfastness. It seemed illogical in more than one way and indeed, if he had been a casual observer, he would have undoubtedly made a similar pronouncement. He had had no real reason to be as hopeful as he had been. Elizabeth had effectively shunned him and had shown no signs of visible improvement for several weeks. The pain he had suffered in those times seemed a distant memory to him now, but he knew he could not discount it so easily. Every moment spent near Elizabeth had been torture, not just because she seemed so unreachable, but because it was obvious how much she suffered. Perhaps the most painful thing to watch was the transformation of a vibrant, vivacious, spirited woman to someone who seemed listless, despondent, defeated. The loss was more acute because he was not the only one who had lost. In fact his loss seemed rather inconsequential in the face of the greater implications of Elizabeth's pain. He had lost his love, but Elizabeth had lost her life in every significant way but one. It was ironic that the bullets that had shot Wickham and Victor had claimed her life in such a drastic manner. She had been alive only in name and that was the greatest tragedy in Darcy's eyes. Yet in spite of the grim outlook, he had not lost purpose, he hardly knew why. Faith could not have been enough, so perhaps it had been stubbornness. He had not accepted defeat in anything in his life, so perhaps he had not been prepared to accept it in the most important challenge he would ever face. His persistence had finally been rewarded, it seemed, Darcy mused. He had not seen Elizabeth since the morning of his fainting, almost a week ago, but the memory of that encounter had remained with him and perhaps that was sufficient reason for his newfound levity.

He did have reason to celebrate, he supposed. The marked improvement he saw in Elizabeth was undeniable and certainly not a figment of his imagination. He had been concerned, at first, when he realized that she regarded it as a dream. That had explained her frankness and easy humor. It had made him somewhat uneasy, almost as though he was taking advantage of the situation. In a way, he probably had since he had retained the faculty of clear thought. But regardless of the circumstances, Elizabeth had been honest with him and in retrospect, he was rather relieved that she had thought herself to be dreaming because otherwise, she would never have allowed such brutal honesty to surface. And that would have been a shame, indeed. He still smiled at the memory of her playfulness, her ease, her smile. He could not fool himself into believing that her troubles had subsided into the recesses of the past, but her path towards recovery seemed relatively unchallenged. There had been a time a few months ago when the certainty of her recovery had not been so clear to him and that had scared him more than he had cared to admit. But now, seeing her with purpose again restored his faith in the convictions that he had held onto for so long, albeit tenuously. Her eyes were alive again, her entire perspective seemed to have changed. She had just begun to discover what he had known for a while; that she could not move forward until she removed the shackles of her troubled and troubling past. It was refreshing to see the return of the purposeful, resolved woman he loved. There was no pretense anymore. She had surprised him by not seeking the protection of any artifice. He knew her feelings and she knew his even though a single word had not been exchanged about it. Perhaps it was better that way for it precluded the feelings of anxiety or pressure. The simple fact was that words were simply not necessary. Their communication was all the more eloquent, the love between them transcending the constraint of words.

The most precious memory from that encounter, of course, was the moment when she had touched his hand and told him she was sorry for hurting him. He had refused to accept an apology from her, but that did not change the fact that she had allowed a tender moment of frankness escape from her otherwise constant vigil. It did not matter to him whether she apologized or not; he had forgiven her long ago and besides, one could argue that she never meant to hurt him, so she could not really be blamed for any of his suffering. The apology, therefore, was not the issue. What touched Darcy then and continued to touch him days after the incident, was the fact that she cared enough to apologize in the first place. He knew she loved him, he had known that in theory, but to witness an unambiguous proof of that love was a reward that he had not believed he would receive so soon. He remembered the look in her eyes when she had held his hand and apologized. The tenderness had evoked the latent passion he had not permitted himself to feel and in that moment, it had taken all of the strength of resolve and sense of propriety he possessed to prevent himself from taking her in his arms and kissing her soundly. Somehow he suspected that she would not have protested too much, but he was also relieved that he had not acted on those impulses for she would surely have blamed him for taking advantage of the situation. She had not been fully in command of all her faculties and Darcy knew that he wanted her to be completely conscious for their first kiss; a willing, consenting participant, not a semi-conscious, dreaming one. He had been patient and persistent till now, he was not prepared to destroy everything by acting on his base instincts. He owed his love that much.

"Is it safe to join you or are you brooding, Darce?"

Darcy looked up at a grinning Richard perched on his horse. "I never brood."

"Please, I have known you all your life; we are past pretenses."

Darcy smiled. "I thought you had a wife to dote on. What are you doing here?"

"My wife is otherwise occupied at the moment."

"You mean, you managed to bore her already?"

"Hardly," Richard pretended to glare at Darcy. "She is waiting on friends with Elizabeth and Georgie."

"How did you escape. Anne is fond of dragging you everywhere."

"Apparently I was not welcome," replied Richard with genuine wonder.

"Hence you sought me. I am flattered."

Richard grinned. "Why else would I seek you?" Darcy laughed. "So where are you headed?"

"To the stables."

"Come, I shall walk with you there." Saying thus, Richard got off his horse and began walking next to Darcy.

"Richard, are you and Anne happy?"

Richard looked at him in surprise. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking."

"You mean brooding."

"Does it make a difference?"

"I suppose not," said Richard. "And to answer your question, I have never been happier."

"I suspected as much. You had doubts before, did you not?"

"Not about whether I would be happy with Anne. My doubts were because I did not think I would ever be able to win her. She is too good for me."

"Nonsense," mumbled Darcy, but his mind was obviously engaged elsewhere.

"What is on your mind. Darce?"

Darcy looked at his cousin. "Elizabeth."

"I know."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted to hear it from you."

"Do you really think this is the time for games, Richard?"

"No," answered Richard, "do you?"

"I never said it was."

"Then perhaps you should stop playing games."

"I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

"Yes, you do," said Richard. "Why have you been avoiding Hayfield recently?"

"I have been busy, is all."

"Come, Darce, please do me the honor of not treating me like a fool."

"What do you wish me to say?"

"Admit that you've been avoiding Hayfield since Elizabeth fainted."

"Perhaps I have, so what of it?"

"Is that not a dangerous game to be playing?"

"I could not face her again so soon, not before I sorted my own feelings."

"She does not know that."

"Did she say something?" Darcy looked at Richard.

"I am not at liberty to say."

"Richard!"

Richard grinned. "Sorry."

"What do you know?"

"Only what Anne will tell me, which is not much."

"I do not believe you. Anne tells you everything."

"Yes she does. But she has desisted from prying into Elizabeth's affairs, hence she does not know much. Only this - that Elizabeth was more than a little affected by your last encounter and that she is slightly confused at not seeing you again for so many days. I must admit, I began to wonder at the wisdom of your tactics."

Oh my love... "I did not really have a well-defined set of tactics."

"Perhaps you should adopt one, Darce."

"Have you come here to lecture me?"

"No, only to knock some sense into you."

"Is there a difference?"

"Who knows?"

Darcy sighed. "You may be right, though."

"Of course I am."

"I barely know why I have been avoiding seeing her again."

"You do know."

"You are adopting Anne's old belligerent tactics," Darcy accused.

"They say married couples begin to resemble each other as the years pass."

"What an alarming thought." Darcy shuddered. "And it's only been a few months."

"I know." Richard grinned. "So am I right? You do know, do you not?"

"I was afraid," Darcy said, "that if I saw her again, I would discover that the progress and development I had witnessed in her the last time would have disappeared, that I had been deluding myself, that it had all been a dream. I am so accustomed to bad news that it is difficult to accept any good news. I did not know how to react."

"How about being happy?"

"But I am." As if to prove it, Darcy grinned.

"You have an odd way of showing it."

"I am just nervous and afraid."

"I know this is hard for you, Darce, but you cannot give up now."

"I am not giving up."

"I am glad to hear that."

"Do you really think I would? After having spent so much time and energy?"

"Well, every person has their limitations."

"I love Elizabeth. There are no limitations."

"That sounds noble enough. Does she know?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

Well... "Almost."

"Is that good enough?"

"She is not ready to hear it, Richard."

"There are other ways of communication, Darce."

"There are, indeed."

"Look, all I am saying is that perhaps Elizabeth is not as secure as you might think. I do not know the particulars, so I might be wrong, but it seems to me that there can be no harm in ensuring that there are no doubts. Things are so delicate that I doubt you can afford to have anything go amiss at this point. Am I right?"

"More than you know."

"Excellent. So please do not avoid her. Like they say in the army: face your fears."

"How insightful."

Richard ignored Darcy's sarcastic tone. "I am not suggesting that you do anything contrary to your own instincts. Just know a problem can never be solved by avoiding it. And as far as I can tell, you do not even have a problem right now, not a substantiated one, at any rate."

"I have been so happy these past few days, Richard - I wanted to savor it."

"You act as though you know, for a fact, that seeing her again will make you unhappy?"

Darcy frowned. "Perhaps."

"Will it?"

"Make me unhappy?" asked Darcy. Richard nodded. "I have no idea."

"Do you not owe it to yourself to find out?"

"You do not understand what I am going through. It has been so long since I have had any real reason to hope besides my own convictions, that now I am scared that if I so much as move or breathe, I will destroy everything. It just seems to perfect to be true. I have not done enough to deserve such happiness. If I see her again, I might just destroy it all."

"I had doubts myself when I had to go away so soon after Anne and I got engaged. I was so afraid that somehow she would see that she was making a tremendous mistake and break it off. Or that Lady Catherine would find out and convince her that she did not love me. Or that she would fall in love with someone else. I was certain I would say or do something to destroy it all. It is easy to be miserable; to be happy is quite another matter. But as you can see, I did not destroy anything and I am ecstatically happy now. Have a little faith, Darce."

Darcy sighed. "Yes, I know."

"You will not destroy anything. I am certain both you and Elizabeth will make mistakes, stumble along the way, but your love is stronger than that. You have proved as much in the past few months."

"You really think so?"

Richard nodded. "I would never lie to you."

Darcy laughed. "Of course not."

"So will you come to Hayfield with me now?" They were at the stables.

Darcy looked at Richard for a moment, then nodded. "What do I have to lose?" The answer was quite simple: Everything.

Chapter 65

Posted on Wednesday, 11 September 2002, at 1:59 p.m.

"I am certain William will be very pleased," Georgie frowned.

"You think so?" Anne asked, looking out of the carriage.

"He has been wishing that I cease my friendship with John for years."

Anne exchanged bemused glances with Elizabeth. "You have not really ceased your friendship with Lord Horton, have you?"

"Did you see what he did today?" Georgie pouted.

"You mean at Lady Worthington's?"

Georgie nodded. "He ignored me completely while fawning over Miss Worthington. I must say, she is quite an ugly, sickly creature, do you not agree Elizabeth? She can barely speak for coughing. And her name - Roselyn...it's so pretentious. I am surprised at John, truly I am. It was a sickening display."

"Are you not being somewhat harsh on poor Miss Worthington, Georgie?" Elizabeth gently suggested.

Georgie sighed. "Perhaps. It is John that I am upset with, I suppose."

"I am still not quite certain I understand the reason for your displeasure," Anne said.

Georgie sighed. "It is not that simple."

"I am an intelligent woman," smiled Anne.

"He is just infuriating," Georgie declared. "He teases me mercilessly, without reason."

"That never bothered you before," Anne pointed out. "You seemed to rather enjoy it."

"Well, yes, I suppose that is true," Georgie replied. "But recently, it has been different. I am not certain I know why. But somehow or other, we always end up in an argument about the most irrelevant subjects. The other day, for instance, we were talking of marriage and he said he would probably marry someone like Miss Worthington because she is very rich and is very pliable. Those were his exact words, can you believe him? I told him that if he wants someone to follow his every command, he had better get a dog. And he had the audacity to laugh at me and tell me that I had no idea what I was talking about. The nerve of that man."

"I doubt that he meant it, Georgie." Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with amusement. Ahh, love...

"That is what I thought, as well," replied Georgie, "that is, until today. He was positively worshipping Miss Worthington, hanging on her every word. And I know, for a fact, that he despises her. Such duplicity is below him."

"Why did it bother you so much?" Anne ventured to ask.

"Because...," Georgie paused. "Well, because he is - or was, my friend and I thought I knew him. And now, I do not even know what I can or should believe about him. Maybe all the things William used to say about him were right."

"What exactly did Darce have to say about him?" Anne asked suspiciously.

"Oh, that John is just a shameless cad," Georgie said. "And I always defended him because I thought I knew him."

"It is possible that Lord Horton is just teasing you," Elizabeth said.

"I suppose," said Georgie dubiously. "But why would he do it?"

Because he loves you and love makes us do strange things. "That is a very good question," said Elizabeth, knowing fully well that Georgie was not prepared to discover that she was in love. "What do you think, Anne?"

"Men are stupid," Anne remarked simply.

"Really?" Georgie seemed interested.

Anne nodded vigorously. "Do you not agree, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smiled. "I suppose I do."

Anne grinned, "See, Georgie, the experts have spoken. The truth about men is that they need some direction. They think they are independent, rational creatures, but in fact, what they really require is a woman to tell them how to act and what to think. And when they make this alarming discover, they act in a stupid manner."

"Like John is acting now?" Georgie asked.

"Exactly," Anne said. "He has just discovered he is not in control and probably more frightening for him, that he had never been in control."

"Then who is controlling him?" asked Georgie innocently.

Anne smiled and shrugged. "I dare say he does not know himself."

"Interesting," murmured Georgie. "I shall keep this in mind. Thank you, Anne and Elizabeth. I do not know what I would do without your help." She smiled and looked out the window; they were nearing Hayfield. "Oh and will you both kindly refrain from mentioning all this to William? I do not want him to think ill of John."

Anne and Elizabeth smiled, solemnly promising to keep the entire matter a secret. As the carriage neared Hayfield, all the occupants fell silent, each contemplating something different. Georgie was musing over the words of wisdom Anne had imparted and Anne was rejoicing at the thought of having another happy couple to practice Operation Love on. No wait, thought Anne, I have reformed. I cannot interfere with Lord Horton and Georgie. They will discover the truth for themselves. But I suppose a little help cannot hurt them either. She chuckled softly to herself. There were too many people requiring her services. She glanced at Elizabeth, who seemed deep in thought, thinking about Darcy, undoubtedly. Anne shook her head. She had not thought it would last this long, this battle of wills between Darcy and Elizabeth, but she should have expected it, she supposed, given the amazing amount of obdurateness present of either side. Just as Elizabeth had begun to recover from her low spirits, Darcy had immersed himself into what could only be described as severe brooding. Anne had the complete account from Georgie herself. Dear Georgie, Anne thought with affection, what a useful and faithful source of information she was, indeed. Georgie had informed Anne of all the late nights when Darcy remained awake and walked about his room and the library. He was obviously brooding and Anne knew he needed some help. Hence, she had commissioned Richard to go speak to Darcy about his lamentable lack of persistence at a time when it was required most urgently. Elizabeth was in a delicate state and she could not be left alone, by any means. She needed Darcy's reassuring presence, quite desperately, actually. Darcy's strategy was all wrong and Anne hoped Richard had managed to bring Darcy to Hayfield as she had suggested. She smiled slightly. She had reformed, it was true, but no one had said anything about Richard. Operation Love was still alive; only it was Richard who would carry out the necessary missions.

Elizabeth's thoughts leaned towards a certain gentleman as they were prone to do these days. Georgie's dilemma had made her smile not because she dismissed the young woman's particular troubles, but because she derived a sort of vicarious joy from the trials and excitement of first love. She was convinced now, with the benefit of retrospect, that what she had felt for George had been nothing more than a frivolous infatuation, a passing fancy, one of the greatest mistakes of her life; yet she could not deny that at the time, she had felt the rush of first love and it had been exhilarating. Perhaps she had simply been in love with the idea of being in love; that idea was not so far-fetched seeing as how she had always been a romantic at heart. Had she honestly deluded herself for such a long period of time? Was it, indeed, possible to be so blind to someone's obvious faults, to ignore one's own better judgment and to follow the path towards disaster? She supposed it was; her present state was testament enough to that end. Her error had been her arrogant and blind faith in her own judgment. She had allowed her first, favorable impressions of George to blind her and prejudice her dangerously in his favor and it was a mistake from which she did not hope to completely recover anytime soon. Life could be so ironic sometimes and if it had not been her reality, she would have laughed at it. She had felt the rush of true first love, she had felt the full effects of it, but it had been in an impossible, seemingly insurmountable situation. She sighed softly. She had always complained, as a child, that her life was too ordinary, too boring, but she supposed she could never make that claim again and for good reason - she had lived through enough trauma to last her a lifetime and at this point, she would give anything for a semblance of normalcy.

That normalcy might evade her still for she feared she had driven him away permanently. She had not known how much that would scare her. It was unfathomable. She had always supposed that he would wait for her, patiently; it never occurred to her that he might withdraw his attentions or his regard. It had been an unreasonable and unrealistic demand on her part, she knew, but she had scarcely been reasonable for the better part of the past few years. Even when she had run away from him, when she had pushed him away from her, she had never truly believed that he would desert her. The belief in his constancy had instilled in her the basic sense of comfort that she had held on to desperately, unknowingly through the dark months. She had believed there was no future for them, yet she had secretly expected him to think otherwise and perhaps now, he had changed his mind. She did not know what to think anymore. Her renewed sense of purpose had forced her to reassess her outlook on the future and although she did not know what exactly the future entailed for her, she knew that the idea of a future without him was a frightening prospect. But he had every right in the world to abandon her; she had brought him nothing but misery, shame and grief. It seemed impossible that he would withdraw his regard now, but she knew it was a possibility that she could not ignore. How else could she explain his sudden disinclination to see her, for that was exactly what he was doing. It was a definite possibility, but somehow she could not convince herself of its validity. The look in his eyes when she had last seen him, his gentle touch, his comforting words all brought her to a different, more pleasant conclusion, yet the nagging doubt did not fade from her heart. The only thing that could reassure her was seeing him again, she decided, for she would know the truth one way or another; they were incapable of hiding behind pretenses anymore.

"Elizabeth?" Anne's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?" She looked at Anne, expectantly

"We are home," Anne informed her.

"Oh," Elizabeth mumbled as they alighted from the carriage, "so we are."

"I shall ring for some tea," Anne said as she led the way.

"That sounds lovely, Anne," smiled Georgie. "You are becoming a good hostess."

"I have always been an excellent hostess, thank you very much," Anne retorted.

"You never knew how to accept a simple compliment," Elizabeth observed.

Anne shrugged. "It must be the way of greatness, I suppose."

"Indeed, hence mere mortals like us dare not hope to understand it," Elizabeth laughed.

"You are beginning to perceive your true place in the world," said Anne.

"Indeed," replied Elizabeth solemnly, "and I only have you to thank for it."

"Think nothing of it, I am always happy to be of service."

"You are too kind, Anne," smiled Georgie. "Shall we go inside?"

Both Elizabeth and Anne readily assented and the ladies proceeded towards the sitting room amidst lively pleasantry. When they entered the sitting room, they were greeted with the sight of Richard and Darcy seated in the corner, laughing freely. This sight was unexpected enough to cause all the ladies to falter in their steps, some more than others. Elizabeth's eyes flew to find Darcy's as she looked at him in wonder. All coherent thought exited her mind, all she could dwell on was the light airiness of his laughter. The creases about his eyes made him look so much younger, as if the weight of the years had been lifted. The gentlemen arose as soon as they became aware of the intrusion. Richard greeted them enthusiastically, relating how he and Darcy had decided to come back to Hayfield after riding. Darcy mumbled something akin to a greeting, his eyes not leaving Elizabeth's face for a moment. Anne insisted they all be seated as she rang for tea.

"Darce, you and Georgie will stay for dinner, of course?" Anne asked.

"Yes, I suppose so," Darcy said.

Anne beamed, exchanging secret looks with Richard. "I shall go speak with cook."

As Anne excused herself, Richard suddenly arose, "I need to speak with Anne, I shall return in a moment." As he suspected, Anne was waiting for him outside the door, a grin on her face. He looked around covertly, then put his arms around her waist before planting a kiss on her lips. "My general."

"Richard!" Anne giggled. "Someone will see us."

"Yes?" Richard raised his eyebrows.

Anne wrestled herself free from his embrace. "You are incorrigible."

"I am incredible."

"That you certainly are," Anne nodded. "How did you manage to convince Darce?"

"I was merely following your orders," Richard reminded her.

"Yes, but I did not think Darce would listen to you so quickly."

"Neither did I, but I am not complaining."

"Do you suppose they are having a decent conversation?" asked Anne.

"We are not going to eavesdrop, Anne," said Richard firmly.

"I am appalled you would even suggest such a thing."

Richard smiled. "Do you actually have to speak with the cook?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, so I would appreciate it if you let me go."

"I am not holding you captive, am I?"

Anne grinned. "Yes you are - with your irresistibility."

"Oh, is that a problem?" Richard looked at her mischievously.

Anne felt her cheeks flush. "No, not really." Few minutes later, she stepped back and looked at her husband. "I must really go now, Richard and you should attend to our guests. You are not being exactly hospitable."

"I am sorry, dearest," said Richard with no remorse whatsoever.

Anne shook her head and quitted his side, a happy smile gracing her face. Richard watched her retreat and sighed. His earlier conversation with Darcy made him thankful for his happiness anew. He knew how extremely fortunate he was and how close he had come to losing everything. It never ceased to amaze him at exactly how blind he had been and had it not been for Elizabeth and Darcy, he might not have found his way to his love. And that is exactly why she wants to help them so much - they did the same for us. He sighed. Darcy and Elizabeth seemed so close to happiness, but the path ahead of them was not yet smooth. They had a long and difficult road ahead of them, but they possessed the perseverance and requisite stubbornness to traverse that road, he was certain. He smiled as he entered the sitting room. Anne had successfully converted him into a willing conspirator and operant for Operation Love.

"...and Lady Worthington kept insisting that you had, in fact, showed her daughter a lot of attention at her last ball," Georgie was saying.

"I did no such thing," her brother said.

"Darce, your superior charms are such that no woman can resist," Richard said. "You should cease tempting them."

"There are very few women I would want to tempt," replied Darcy.

"Assuming they want to be tempted by you, of course," said Richard.

Georgie giggled and Darcy glared at his cousin briefly before venturing to glance at Elizabeth. She had been quiet, but her eyes had remained on him more often than not, with a kind of honesty that he found both refreshing and disconcerting. It was almost as though she were trying to fathom something about him. Perhaps Richard had been right, perhaps she was unsure of the reason for his avoidance of Hayfield. It seemed so clear to him, but it was not so easily interpreted by others, he supposed. As he looked at her now, he found her eyes on him still and this time, he did not look away. Honesty for honesty. He was exposed in front of her, without any pretenses, without any illusions, without any walls to hide him. If she could not see his purpose now, no words would ever convince her. His eyes searched hers, his gaze piercing, relentless. The time for meek tentativeness was long gone; now it was time for the honest truth. She returned his gaze, not a glimmer of hesitation discernable in her eyes. Her eyes were not exactly bold and not quite meek; they were a mixture of sincerity and innocence. It was as if all the pain and grief could touch her no more for she was in a higher plane, inaccessible to all that was evil and undesirable. Her inner resolves radiated from her being and shone through her eyes. She was prepared to make the bold strides forward in her life and now she was looking at him as though she was wondering if he would accompany her in those strides. A more ludicrous question had never been posed to him before and he knew that his eyes could not hide the impulse he felt to simply laugh at the mere suggestion that he might not accompany her on whichever journey she might choose to undertake. He had never been prepared to give her a choice about the matter and he certainly was not about to start now. That might make him arrogant and presumptuous, but he was prepared to take that risk. It was for a good cause, the best cause.

"So Georgie, how is dear Lady Worthington?" Richard said, smirking at the enamored couple furtively.

"I was just telling William before you came in," said Georgie, "that Lady Worthington is frantic to find a match for poor Roselyn."

"And she has chosen Darce to be the lucky fellow, has she?"

"She hopes," said Georgie, "does she not, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth tore her eyes away from Darcy. "The woman is positively determined."

Georgie nodded. "Well, she does not have to worry. Roselyn will wed soon, I am certain. There are enough questionable young men solely interested in money and dear Roselyn has plenty of money."

"You have someone in mind, Georgie?" asked Richard.

"No...," said Georgie a little too quickly.

Richard said no more, but his look of skepticism was not lost on Georgie. She chose to ignore it, however, by looking away. Her glance rested on Elizabeth, who had ceased looking at Darcy, but whose thoughtful silence was evidence enough that she had not ceased thinking of him. Georgie smiled slightly to herself. She was proud of Elizabeth, much more proud than she had been able to express. She could not completely comprehend the extent of the tragedy Elizabeth had endured, but she had a better grasp of it than anyone else, she believed. She, too, had been betrayed by the same George who had ruined Elizabeth's life, so she understood all too well the shame, the doubts, the self-loathing that followed such a momentous event. Georgie knew that a betrayal such as that made one question one's worth and judgment. She knew that it was difficult to not question anything and everything, not to feel the brunt of the guilt at having been duped, at having brought forth so much pain and anguish for the entire family. And Elizabeth's tragedy had transcended hers in many ways for Georgie's had been narrowly averted, while Elizabeth had not been so lucky. And added to all the trauma of the betrayal, from a husband no less, Elizabeth had borne the guilt of death, of murder. Georgie shuddered. She had never blamed Elizabeth for the way she had acted in the months following the tragedy - indeed, she did not believe she could have handled it half as well as Elizabeth had. And now, Georgie saw the hope, the life, the happiness return to Elizabeth in subtle ways and she felt proud of the woman she had come to think of as a dear friend, not just because she was the woman her brother adored, but because Elizabeth was one of the best people she had ever had the pleasure to meet. And more than anything else, Georgie was happy that perhaps, at long last, Elizabeth and her brother would find the happiness they had earned and deserved.

Anne entered the sitting room, beaming. "The tea and refreshments should be here momentarily."

"Thank you, dearest," Richard smiled.

"My pleasure," said Anne. "Oh Elizabeth, have you heard from Jane recently?"

"As a matter of fact," said Elizabeth, "I have and I was just waiting for the right moment to impart a very important piece of news. And this," she surveyed the room, "is as good a time as any another since we are all assembled."

"Yes, yes, what is the news?" said Anne with a touch of impatience.

Elizabeth could contain her excitement no longer. "Jane is with child!"

There was a ripple of excitement at the news. "Indeed!" Anne exclaimed. "Oh dear, dear Jane. And Charles! This is such happy news. They must be so ecstatic. I can imagine Mrs. Bennet's effusions on hearing about this development. Oh, Elizabeth, you sly thing, how long have you known?"

"I received word from Jane just yesterday," owned Elizabeth, "and she begged me to relay this information to all of you and she expressed her apologies for not writing to you, Anne, but she is just extremely busy and has not found the time."

"Just like Jane to think of my feelings at a time like this," smiled Anne.

"Is she well?" Darcy ventured to ask.

Elizabeth looked at him. "Yes, she is. Thank you for asking."

He nodded. "I am glad to hear it. I should write to Charles to offer my congratulations."

"They will make wonderful parents," observed Richard.

Everyone agreed with this statement and they continued speaking of the happy news, conjecturing whether it would be a girl or a boy, offering suggestions for names, generally wishing the happy couple all the luck and happiness in the world. Elizabeth indulged in this amicable conversation, but her mind was engaged elsewhere. She did not know how she managed to sit still, how she suppressed the impulse to run about the room with the careless joy she felt. It had been too long since the last time she had felt this buoyant; in fact, it had been so long that she hardly recognized that feeling. It was the feeling of limitless possibilities, of freedom, of deliverance from suffering, of a long journey towards healing. She could not mistake the look in his eyes. He did not need to speak. His love spoke for itself and she was a little ashamed at having doubted him for even a moment. He was the strongest, most resilient man she had ever known and she barely knew what she had done to deserve his love; indeed, it was difficult to convince him whether she deserved him at all. But as Anne had once told her, she did not have the authority to question whether she deserved the gifts she was blessed with and this love was, indeed, the best gift she could ever have asked for. She was a little surprised at herself for the bold manner in which she had openly stared at him on first entering the room. She did not know what had come over her. She supposed she just did not care how inappropriate her behavior was; she had to know what was on his mind and there was no other way to divine his feelings. She colored now as she thought of it, but at the moment, she had been transported to a different world altogether, a world in which no one and nothing else mattered. The sense of urgency that had pressed her to seek his eyes had subsided the moment she had connected eyes with him and known the truth. A wave of appreciation had swept over her, appreciation for life, for love, for constancy, for everything that was beautiful and virtuous in the world and she had known in that moment that she was happy to be alive. And that she could never feel sorry for herself again.

"Well," said Anne, a few hours later, as the ladies retired to get prepared for dinner, "it has been a pleasant afternoon, has it not?"

"Indeed," Georgie agreed, nodding. "I barely realized how quickly the hours flew by."

"Did you see Elizabeth and Darce?"

Georgie looked around the staircase; Elizabeth was in her chamber and the gentlemen were still downstairs. "How could I miss it?"

"I am so happy for them," Anne confessed.

"They certainly deserve it," nodded Georgie. "So how long before the wedding?"

Anne shrugged. "I would not venture a guess; it is all so unpredictable."

"But it must be soon. What is to stop them now?"

"Well, Elizabeth is barely recovered. She has a long journey ahead of her. I think even she does not know when she will be prepared to accept his addresses."

"At least they will not suffer any more," Georgie observed.

"Let us hope so," Anne said.

"You sound pessimistic, Anne."

"I am just not eager to declare victory just yet. It is too soon."

"I suppose you may be right, although I doubt anything can go wrong now."

Anne sighed. "I pray to god that you are right."

~~

Elizabeth reviewed her appearance one last time and wondered why she was so nervous. It was a disconcerting feeling, almost as though she were getting ready to descend to her coming out ball once again. And this is simply a dinner - very insignificant dinner. But she could not ignore that nervousness which made her spend more than her usual time in front of the looking glass. She wondered if that made her vain; perhaps it did, but she could not be concerned with that at this moment. There were more important things to worry about. No worrying...just breathe. She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her gown, then finally forced herself to leave her chamber. The hallway was quiet, so she proceeded to the stairs. She walked down slowly, her anxious steps tempered with anticipation. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she walked to the parlor to see if the others were assembled. To her distraction, she only saw Darcy, standing by the window. He turned at hearing her enter.

"Where are the others?" Elizabeth found herself saying.

"They just went to the dining room. Anne said that you would be down any moment, so they might as well proceed."

"Oh I see. You did not join them?"

He looked at her. "I was busy."

"Staring out of the window?" She raised her eyebrows.

He nodded. "A secret habit of mine."

"I am sorry to say, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with a smile, "that it is no secret."

He grinned. "I suppose not." He paused. "That is a lovely gown."

She felt her cheeks blush. "Thank you."

He walked towards her and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. So this is heaven. She took his arm and smiled the brightest smile she possibly could. "Yes."

To be continued...

Another Note: I want to take a moment to thank my faithful readers who have stuck with me and this story for more than 3 years now. Your patience and trust continue to amaze me. Thank you.

Chapter 66

Posted on Saturday, 28 December 2002, at 12:12 a.m.

Elizabeth stood motionless, her eyes fixed at a distant point. Her face was graced with a small smile, the kind of smile she had not hoped to achieve for a long time. The change had been so gradual that she had hardly been aware of it herself, but the change was unmistakable. The months after Victor's death, she had never thought she would be happy again and yet, here she was, on the brink of laughing out loud and she could not help but think of the man who had sacrificed his life so that she could be here. She remembered clearly, his last words to her, as he lay dying. "Darcy will take good care of you. I know he will. You deserve to be happy." Even then, he had only been thinking of her, of her welfare, of her happiness. She had never imagined that he loved her this much; it did not seem possible and when she thought of his smiling face and shockingly blue eyes, she could barely fathom what she had done to deserve it. She had never understood it, but she supposed it was not something for her to understand, but to simply accept as fact. Matters of the heart were rarely open to reason and logic, she had learned that much. There were so many worthier women that Victor could have loved, women who would have been less complicated, who would have loved him the way he deserved to be loved. We do not choose who we fall in love with, I suppose, she thought with a sigh. And some choices were simply more fatal than others. The nightmares had stopped some time ago, but Elizabeth could not stop herself from thinking of Victor, especially when she felt a tinge of happiness. Every moment of happiness in her own life reminded her of the years of happiness stolen from Victor's. She did not blame herself for his death anymore, not exactly, but she could not escape or ignore the image of him lying on the floor, smiling tenderly at her as his own life came to an end. And all he had wanted was for her to be happy. She had not thanked him then and she certainly had not thanked him in a meaningful manner in the months that followed. If he had died to make her happy, then she had achieved quite the opposite by being as miserable as she possibly could. Some thanks, she thought wryly.

"What should I do, Victor?" she said softly, closing her eyes.

Let yourself be happy, Elizabeth, the rustling leaves seemed to whisper around her. She opened her eyes, almost hoping to see Victor standing in front of her, his mischievous eyes laughing at her. She could imagine exactly what he would say to her. You are being exceedingly stupid, Elizabeth, what is all this guilt nonsense? I thought you had more sense than that. Do not let Wickham win. No one can make you a victim without your consent. She knew his words were entirely true and now, she saw how much sense they made. But as she stood at the brink of pure bliss, she could not help but feel as though she needed Victor's sanction to proceed. He wanted you to be happy - what more do you want from him? She did not know the answer. She was just scared, she supposed, scared of letting herself be happy, scared of having too many expectations, scared of getting hurt, scared of hurting those she loved all over again. This last fear was probably her greatest. Her family and friends had endured a great deal because of her. They would never reproach her, of course, but she knew that her father and her sister Jane had suffered tremendously. She had brought them shame with her marriage and pain with her depression. As for her friends, she could only guess how Anne had felt through the months of abuse she had put forth. And Darcy...well, she did not even wish to imagine his anguish. And now, as she stood at a crossroads in her life, she was terrified of making a false moving, any move, really, that would hurt any of them. She had trusted her judgment, she had been proud of her discernment. Needless to say, all such pride and confidence had long dissipated and even as she prepared to conquer her past, she could help being a little timid. She was prepared to risk her own happiness and future, but not that of her loved ones. She would not hurt them. Never again. And that was a promise she intended to keep. The only question that remained was how she proposed to do that. She would make mistakes, she knew, she was not infallible after all. But she hoped never to make the sort of mistakes she had in the past. No, hope was the wrong word, she was determined to never let it happen again.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up to see a smiling Georgie on her horse. "Good morning."

"I was just riding to Hayfield," Georgie said.

"Anne is expecting you."

"Were you walking towards Pemberley?"

Was I? Elizabeth shrugged. "Not really."

"May I join you for a few minutes?" asked the younger woman.

"Why, of course," said Elizabeth.

Georgie smiled gratefully as she got off the horse. "You look well."

"I do?"

"Yes," nodded Georgie. "Happier. I first noticed it last week, when we had dinner at Hayfield after that horrid afternoon at Lady Worthington's."

"I feel happier," Elizabeth admitted.

"You do not realize how glad I am to hear it," Georgie positively beamed. She glanced at Elizabeth. "I noticed it in William too. This happiness I mean."

Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Oh yes," said Georgie. "He would never admit he was unhappy. He is far too strong for that, but the truth is that he was and now he is not anymore and I only have you to thank for it."

"Georgie, there is no reason to thank me..."

"No, there is," insisted Georgie. "You are a brave woman, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled as she squeezed Georgie's hands. "Thank you."

They walked in silence for a few moments before Georgie said, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You promise not to be offended by my question?"

"I promise, Georgie, now what is it?"

"Do you...," Georgie paused, "do you love William?" Elizabeth said nothing. "I have offended you, have I not?"

"No, no," said Elizabeth. "I did not respond immediately because I could not find the words to express just how much I love your brother."

"Oh." Was all that Georgie could say.

"Georgie, I know you are worried about him. I am certain you have seen him suffer more than you possibly cared to. And I am sorry for that. I am sorry that I was the cause of all that suffering and pain. I cannot undo the past. Believe me, I would if I could. All I can do, at this point, is assure you, with all my heart, that I will do everything in my power to prevent him from suffering ever again. On my account, at any rate."

"I am so happy to hear you say that," said Georgie. "I mean, I do not blame you - you have nothing to apologize for..."

"Oh but I do. I have so many people to apologize to that I scarcely have enough hours in the day to do so."

"I would never blame you, Elizabeth. I know how much you suffered as well."

"I deserved it, Georgie."

"No one deserves to suffer that much."

"We must all face the consequences of the choices we make. I faced mine."

"You are right, I suppose."

Elizabeth nodded. "It's justice. I discovered that while I could not run away from my mistakes, I could not let them dictate my life either. I believe I had the forgiveness of everyone else in the world before I had my own."

"How did you manage to forgive yourself?"

"I cannot honestly say that I have forgiven myself completely just yet. It is an ongoing process, I suppose."

Georgie nodded in understanding. "I know exactly what you mean."

Elizabeth held Georgie's hand. "George was a master at deception. You just had a momentary lapse of judgment."

"So did you."

"My situation was different."

"Because you were older?" asked Georgie.

Elizabeth shrugged. "In part. I should have known better."

"We all make mistakes."

"Yes we do. I am still paying for mine."

"I can only imagine how you feel, Elizabeth."

"My saving grace is that it gets better."

"Yes," said Georgie, with feeling, "yes it does."

"He was a monster," said Elizabeth, "and he was very good at deception. You must forgive yourself for being deceived, Georgie. You were too good and too young to even conceive of such evil being possible in the world. It was not your fault and besides, you showed a lot of courage by confiding in your brother when you did and averting possible disaster. He is very proud of you, you know. All of us are."

Georgie smiled. "Thank you. That means so much to me. You have no idea how much."

"You love him," said Elizabeth simply.

"As a brother, as a father, as a friend," said Georgie. "The mere thought that he might be disappointed in me is frightening."

"That would never happen, you know that."

Georgie smiled, reassured. "I know."

Elizabeth smiled. "Good. You just feel sometimes that you do not deserve his love."

Georgie nodded. "He is too good, too patient, too understanding."

"Exactly. That is a rather daunting, is it not? But if you trust him utterly and completely, then you must trust that he loves you for a reason and that nothing in this world can change that. Ever. You do not question him about anything else, so you cannot and should not question him about something as important as this. And before you tell that he has to love you because you are his sister, let me say that I have four sisters myself and while I love all of them, the devotion Mr. Darcy shows for you transcends any sort of obligatory affection I will ever feel for my sister Lydia, for instance. So yes, you deserve his love; he thinks so and as we know, your brother is never wrong."

Georgie positively beamed as she embraced Elizabeth. "You are so generous, trying to uplift my mood when you have so many problems of your own. No wonder he loves you like he does."

Elizabeth colored. "I certainly do not deserve any of it."

"Elizabeth," said Georgie with sparkling eyes. "William cannot hide from me because we are chained together by blood - but you, he loves by choice. Remember all the things you said about trusting his judgment; well you cannot apply that logic selectively, can you?"

Elizabeth laughed. "You have grown up so much."

"I suppose I have," Georgie grinned. "I probably would not have been able to say this to you a year ago. It must be your influence and Anne's too. You both have given me something I never had before - a woman to admire and respect. I never had a mother, you know, and although William tried very hard to be everything he possibly could for me, he could never be a woman."

"Thank god for small mercies," Elizabeth teased.

Georgie laughed. "Lucky for you, is it not? But seriously, I cannot thank you and Anne enough for what you have done for me. I love William, of course, but not having a woman's influence was somewhat disheartening. The only sort of women in my life resembled Caroline Bingley."

Elizabeth shuddered. "That is a fate I would not wish on my enemies, but I have to ask...why is it that you were not close to Anne before?"

"I am not quite certain," replied Georgie. "I suppose distance had something to do with it, but that could not have been the entire story. Things were just different before. I was younger and Anne was always with Lady Catherine when we met. And she never seemed like herself when she was with her mother. Anne always wanted to play with William and Richard - I was too much of a baby for her."

Elizabeth smiled. "I can imagine. The age difference must have been quite daunting."

"I suppose so," Georgie replied with a shrug. "I cannot pinpoint the exact reasons, but at any rate, I am happy that Anne and I are as close as we are now."

"As am I, although you make a formidable pair sometimes."

Georgie giggled. "Anne really had to try hard to convince me to intervene at first. I had my reservations, but she appealed to me in such a manner that I couldn't refuse her. Anne has a way of knowing exactly the right thing to say to make you change your mind, you know."

"Oh I know," smiled Elizabeth. "I know all too well."

"I hope you do not mind. None of it was supposed to hurt you or William."

"I know. There is no need to apologize. I understand."

Georgie smiled. "Well, I fear I have kept Anne waiting. I should get to Hayfield now."

"I will follow you in a moment."

Elizabeth watched Georgie mount her horse and ride away. She could not help but feel a wave of pride wash over her. No wonder he is so proud of her. He has every right to be. She is such a lovely young woman. Elizabeth found herself wondering how Georgie's relationship with Lord John Horton was going to progress; she felt a vested interest in the younger woman's future. The truth was that Elizabeth had come to consider Georgie to be as much of a sister as Jane or Lydia, but the more shocking revelation was that this thought did not scare or surprise her in the least.

~~

Elizabeth inhaled the crisp night air. Anne definitely has something planned. She was too eager for me to take a turn about the garden. She could not bring herself to be too concerned about the matter, however. It's too pretty a night to worry about Anne. It's not as though I shall ever be able to predict what she is planning anyway. And so Elizabeth proceeded to the Hayfield gardens, her mind wandering in several directions simultaneously. She felt giddy, almost as though she were a little girl on an adventure that only she was privy too. It was an oddly exhilarating feeling and she felt like laughing. She wished she could see her father at this moment. She wished he could see her smile, her excitement, her spirit. She knew how much her father had suffered, and not just in the past few months. Although he had not completely approved of her marriage, he had not spoken of it since the actual event had transpired; however, his concern for her had been palpable in every communication between them. She knew he missed the old Lizzy, especially in the past year or so when she had been but a ghost of her formal self. If only you could see me now, papa. He cannot hurt me anymore. I will not let him. Hey voyage was, by no means over, but she wanted her father to see the change in her. Here she was, standing in the garden, a wide smile on her face, prepared for whatever the future might hold for her. Did she believe in destiny? She was not quite certain of that. The idea that she did not control her own life was unsettling to her. And yet, she remembered her words to Darcy a long time ago. All will be as it should. Was there any truth in that? She knew he believed that fervently, but she was less convinced. But perhaps that would not matter ultimately. If the end result was the same, then the rest was just a matter of semantics. The end result. It sounded so cold, so impersonal. It was a matter of her life, not some business transaction. It's his life too, you know, a voice in her head reminded her.

"Good evening," a familiar voice greeted her from the shadows.

Elizabeth took in a sharp breath. "Mr. Darcy. I should have expected this. Anne was acting much too suspiciously."

Darcy emerged, a small smile on his face. "It was not all Anne's fault this time."

"No?" said Elizabeth. "That is quite a surprise."

"Well, this was her idea, I suppose, but I did not have to be convinced too much."

"Well, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth, "now that you have me here, whatever shall you do with me?"

A thousand wicked thoughts crossed through Darcy's mind like a whirlwind, but he managed to maintain a certain level of staidness as he replied, "There is something I wish to show you, if you would be so kind as to accompany me there...?"

Elizabeth hesitated, but only for a moment. "I suppose there is no harm in that."

"You sound positively thrilled by the idea," Darcy said wryly.

Elizabeth smiled. "I just do not know what to expect. This surprise has its origins in Anne's devious mind and I have come to understand that there is no predicting what mischief can be spawned from that particular place."

"You might be right."

"Is that all you have to say? I thought you would make some promises in order to placate me."

Darcy grinned. "I thought about that option, but then I remembered that you once told me only to make promises that I could keep."

"So you were listening," Elizabeth laughed.

"I always listen." His eyes were intense.

Elizabeth cleared her throat as she tore her eyes away from his. "I do not suppose this is terribly proper."

"Has that ever bothered you before?" His tone was challenging.

"No," she was forced to admit, "but I thought it might bother you."

"On the contrary," he shook his head, "it does not."

"Be careful. I might be corrupting you, Mr. Darcy."

"Trust me, it is actually welcome, Miss Bennet."

"Your family might think otherwise."

"Actually, those of my family whose opinion I have any respect for would be delighted."

"Is that true?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"If it served your purpose, yes."

"You wound me, Miss Bennet."

"Oh come," Elizabeth smirked. "You have been around Anne long enough to learn a trick or two."

"Maybe so," said Darcy. "But this time, I speak the truth. My family thinks I am too serious and proper for my own good."

Elizabeth giggled. "They might be right."

Darcy smiled. "Shall we go?" He offered her his arm.

She looked at him for a moment. "Yes, indeed." She took his arm.

Elizabeth's heart was beating so furiously that she wondered if he heard her. It was quite possible for she found it difficult to hear her own thoughts. But perhaps that was due to the fact that the power of coherent thought had been deeply impacted by her proximity to him. It was maddening that he had this effect on her. She could claim to be self-contained and stoic and strong in theory, but when he entered the pictures, all such claims were proved wrong, time after time. It was a disease, really. One for which there seemed to be no cure. But perhaps the problem was that deep in her heart, she did not wish to be cured. So much for the twisted desires of my heart. She glanced at him. He seemed at ease; calm, composed, very much in control. She supposed that he was, indeed, in control for god knew she was not. She was glad that he was. For quite a while now, he had treated her like a fragile child, someone that could be hurt and upset easily by careless words and innocent gestures. She had not noticed it at first, probably because she had been too absorbed in her own troubles to notice much about the external world and its inhabitants. But after that initial period, she had noticed how he carefully weighed his every word, how afraid he was of wounding her. She needed it at the time and she appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was pleased that he was perceptive enough to know that she was not fragile anymore, that he could treat her as an equal, that he could stop being afraid of losing her. That last thought made her stop in her tracks. Was he ever going to lose her?

"What is the matter?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth realized she had stopped moving. "I...ah..." Tell him you love him, Elizabeth. "I was just wondering where it is that we are going."

"Have a little patience." He said with a calm smile.

How can he be so insufferably unruffled? "Patience has never been a virtue of mine."

"So I understand. Shall we continue?"

"By all means," said Elizabeth with a sigh. I hate not being in control.

Never before in his life had Darcy been more thankful of his ability to conceal his emotions. His heart beat furiously and he could barely contain a thought in his head; yet he knew he appeared calm as though he were quietly sipping tea in his parlor. He knew he appeared calm and in control, but the truth was that he was uncertain of every move he made, every step he took, every word he spoke. When Anne had first suggested this little diversion, he had been dubious, but things had been going well recently. In her eyes, he had seen the return of the sparkle that he had admired since the first moment he had seen her. She was no longer the scared, fragile, weak woman he had been trying to protect for so many months. He could sense the change instinctively. It was subtle in many ways, but he knew her well enough to discern it. He could see it in her eyes, in her walk, in her words, in her entire manner. My love has been returned to me. She was not his yet, he was well aware of that fact, but he was happy simply in the knowledge that despite the tragedies in her life, her spirit had remained intact. He was satisfied in living his life without being granted his love as long as he knew she was not tortured anymore. At least then he could sleep, knowing that somewhere in the world, she was sleeping peacefully too. But of course, he was not generous enough to believe that that was all he wanted. It would be nice to have her in his life. Very nice, indeed. And now perhaps that dream was closer to being a possibility than it ever was. Get a hold of yourself, man. One false move and you will lose her again. He still had to tread carefully, he knew. She might not be fragile anymore, but she certainly was stubborn as ever. And that was exactly why he loved her.

"Are we there yet?" Elizabeth whined.

"Almost," he told her as they emerged to a clearing.

"I am glad to hear it. I --- " She was prevented from finishing her sentence as he placed a finger on her lips.

"Look."

She crushed the urge to kiss his fingers as turned her head and gasped.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Darcy murmured.

All Elizabeth could do was nod in response. Her eyes were fixed on the sky. They were standing at the edge of a small cliff, a particularly good spot to observe the sky. The dark, velvety sky punctuated by diamond-like stars was filled with streaks of light, otherwise known as falling stars. It was a grand sight, one that Elizabeth had never witnessed before. She was afraid of blinking, lest it all disappear. It was too good to be true. She glanced at Darcy. All of it.

"Make a wish, Miss Bennet," Darcy whispered.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I have everything I want."

"Do you like your surprise?"

"Very much," she nodded.

"I thought you might. I have always been fascinated by this phenomenon."

"How did you know about it?"

"I am somewhat of an amateur astronomer."

She smiled, returning her gaze to the sky. "It is so majestic." She sighed, "Oh I love you." Her voice was no more than a whisper.

He looked at her. Am I dreaming? He did not know if he was. Say something, man. "I beg your pardon?"

Chapter 67

Posted on Wednesday, 1 January 2003, at 10:44 p.m.

Darcy could not believe that of all the possible things he could have said, he chose to say that. He had been so stunned, so thoroughly taken aback by her words that he had temporarily taken leave of his senses, he decided. As he looked at her now, he could not discern her feelings, so well guarded were her emotions. Her face was turned slightly towards the sky, but her eyes were still on him. And yet he had no conception of what thoughts were crossing her mind that moment. Did she regret what she had said? Had she said it at all? Darcy was still not entirely convinced that he was awake. He was scared that if he moved or breathed too loudly, he would wake up in his bed and realize that it had been but a dream, a wonderful, improbable dream. He had waited so long to hear her utter those words that now that it seemed as though his prayers had been answered, he did not know if he was brave enough to ask her the question that was foremost in his mind. Do you love me, Elizabeth? It could not be so easy as this. She could not just have told him of her love. He knew she loved him. He had known it before she had been able to formulate the words herself. But knowing the truth and hearing the words were two quite different things. The reality of her love had never been concrete before. Till now. He looked at her keenly, waiting for her to say something, anything. It was up to her now. He wished he could read her eyes as he had always been able to, but the emotions flickered across her face too quickly for him to be able to make any accurate diagnosis of the situation. So he did the only sane thing he could at the moment. He stood calmly, with bated breath, not uttering a word, not even daring to move. His heart was in her hands. If she turned him down now....Have a little faith, Darce. He attempted a small smile, but somehow it did not seem right. The matter was all too serious.

"I beg your pardon?"

The question was hanging in the air. The air was heavy with expectation, the silence both unnerving and uncomfortable. Elizabeth knew she had to speak, but what would she say? I love you. As simple as that. But she found that she could not bring the words to her mouth. It was more difficult than she had thought it would be. She had known it would come to this one day, but she had not foreseen that tonight would be the night. She sighed, not quite certain why admitting her feelings was so difficult. Perhaps she was just so accustomed to hiding from her own heart that it was near impossible to speak of her feelings in a plain, straightforward manner. But what other choice do I have? She could not lie to him now, not like this, not here, not in this moment. It was too perfect a moment, too perfect a place. He was standing with his expectant, questioning eyes fixed on her. His face was not demanding; he seemed prepared for whatever she had to say. She could not be cruel to him any longer. He had been patient for far too long. And this admittance of her feelings did not imply anything further, she knew, for he would not press her to commit to something she was not entirely comfortable with. He would patiently wait for her for all eternity if need be. She was really testing the limits of his patience and commitment, she was well aware, but she did not want to make the same mistakes twice. She had already been married unwisely once; this time she wanted to ensure that absolutely nothing went awry. And she knew that she still had a long journey ahead of her, a journey that hopefully would end with her being at peace with herself. He is waiting, Elizabeth. Speak now or forever hold your peace... She cleared her throat distractedly. It was time to speak.

"I love you." She spoke clearly, distinctly. There could be no mistaking her words now.

Are you daft, man? Say something, anything. "You do?" He sounded like a little child filled with wonder.

Elizabeth could not help but smile. "Shall I have to repeat myself again?"

Darcy nodded slowly. "Please?" I want to hear it again, Elizabeth.

She heard the quite desperation in his voice and felt her heart cry. She had done this to him. She had brought him, dragged him to this point, painfully, slowly, month after month and now he could not believe it possible that any happiness be granted to him. He had been the strong one these past months, the one who knew their destiny, who believed in their destiny, the one who would not accept that this destiny was forbidden. Now it was her opportunity to return the favor. She had to be strong, for him, for them. You cannot back out of it now. Be strong.

"I love you." She said softly, as she came closer to him.

For a moment, she thought he was going to ask her to repeat herself again; instead, his face broke into a huge grin and he said, "I know."

"Is that all you have to say, Mr. Darcy?" She asked, raising her eyebrows as she came still closer to him.

"I have dreamt about this moment for so long," he said, seeming more and more distracted by her closeness. "And I always had so many things I wanted to say to you. But somehow now, now that you are here, that we are here," he paused, looking into her eyes, "I cannot seem to find the right words.

She smiled, reaching out slowly and taking his hands in hers. "How about 'I love you?' That is a universal favorite, you know."

He gently squeezed her hands. "I love you, Elizabeth."

Her heart skipped a beat. Steady. "That was a marked improvement, Mr. Darcy."

"William," he whispered, bringing her hands to his lips.

His breath was warm on her hands. "I love you, William." She looked at him as he raised his eyes to hers and smiled. "I love you so much."

Now that she had said it, she could not stop herself from saying it. It was such a wonderful release of months of restrained passion and hurt and anger and love. She felt tears stinging in her eyes and before she could stop them, they started flowing down her cheeks with violent ferocity. A dam had been broken; the barrier of restraint had been collapsed and now there was nothing to prevent her from crying. There was nothing to prevent her from fully feeling everything she had wanted to feel, but had been too afraid to let herself feel. She felt the rush of love, the pain of loss, the shame of tragedy. She felt it all too acutely in that moment. "I love you," she managed to mumble through her tears. She was now in his embrace; at what point in time she had come to this position she did not know or care to find. All she knew was that it was the most safe and comfortable spot in the world and she could not think of a better haven, a more wonderful refuge. Her sobs were muffled, her eyes closed, her arms on his chest. He held her close to him, his strong arms tight around her waist. He said nothing, allowing her to cry in peace. At length, she raised her face from its resting place and looked into his eyes.

"Never let go," she whispered.

"I promise I won't."

Her voice shook as she struggled to speak. "Only make promises you can keep."

"You are trembling."

"I know."

He held her closer. "I am here. Everything will be fine."

"Is that another one of your promises?"

He smiled. "I suppose you could say that."

"You make too many promises. It must be difficult to remember them all."

"I have an excellent memory."

"Good," she said. She felt the blood rushing to her face. Words were coming out of her mouth, but she had no idea what she was saying. "Then you will remember this night years from now, when you are sitting in the sitting room at Pemberley with your beautiful wife and 10 children." What are you saying?

He released her from his embrace.

"So much for never letting go." Her heart was beating wildly.

"What is it that you are endeavoring to accomplish here, Elizabeth?"

She took a few steps backwards. "I don't know." Her mind was racing. It's not too late. It was a moment of weakness. You can still save him.

"Elizabeth...?" He should have known that the battle was not yet over.

"It's not too late. You can still leave." Her voice was soft, like a whisper.

"Elizabeth..."

"What happened tonight --- no one has to know. It shall be our secret. Your secret will be safe with me."

"Elizabeth, for heavens' sake - " He was not allowed to complete his sentence.

"Leave, Mr. Darcy. Leave before you do something stupid," she paused, "like making a promise to stay."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with indignation. "That is enough."

"Just leave." There was a certain finality in her voice.

He should have felt anger. He should have felt frustration. But all he felt was a wave of love wash over him. This was not the time to abandon her. This was not the time to obey her wishes. He recognized in her a desperate cry for help and he was not prepared to turn away from her just yet. She was an exceedingly difficult woman to cope with; perhaps that was one of the reasons he loved her so. He had always loved a challenge. He should have known it would not be so easy. She was frightened, he could see that. She had made so much progress. She had seemed more than eager to embrace the future. But at this moment, she was afraid and he was not in any humor to leave her in such a state.

"No."

"No?" She repeated.

"No."

"You cannot refuse."

"I believe I just did."

She sank to the ground. "I am tired. I cannot fight you."

He approached her. "Then stop fighting me."

She felt the tears flow down her cheeks again. She looked up at him. "I am sorry."

"How many times must I tell you to stop apologizing to me?" He sat down on the ground next to her.

She managed a small smile. "You are very tenacious, Mr. Darcy ."

"So I have been told."

As she looked at him, she saw perfection. "I do not deserve you."

"I refuse to listen to that."

"Why do you not just leave?" She pressed. "This is torture."

"Being here with me is torture?" He raised his eyebrows.

She nodded her head vehemently. "Of the worst kind."

"How so?"

"Because I see something I want and know I should never have," she replied simply.

He shook his head. "I thought we were making some progress."

So did I. "You should leave."

"You really wish me to leave?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I shall respect your wishes."

She could not believe her ears. "Oh...thank you."

He stood up and looked down at her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I suppose so," she said hesitantly.

"Do you love me, Elizabeth?"

There was a long silence. "I love you, William."

He smiled. "I know."

"That is an infuriating response to such a declaration," she said wryly.

"I suppose it is."

"Are you not leaving?"

"No."

"But you just said --- "

"Yes I know. I changed my mind."

"But why?" She was very confused.

"Because I love you, Elizabeth."

"I do not understand."

He sat down once again. "I will never let go. I promised."

"Only make promises you can keep."

"You are very fond of saying that," he said. "So I ask you this: do you promise to never let go?"

She felt the panic envelop her, almost as though she were drowning. It was near impossible for her to isolate the exact cause for this insufferable, ominous sense of dread that engulfed her. She did not feel in control of her own person anymore. It was almost as though another persona had inhabited her body; she had very little control over her thoughts or words. She had been so calm, so clear, so decided at the beginning after she had unwittingly confessed her love. She had been determined to be strong, calm, honest. She had no idea what happened afterwards, but all of a sudden, sitting here on the cliff, she had felt afraid, lost, confused. All the shadows from her past had come rushing back in front of her eyes and there remained no alternative but to attempt to drive him away. Yet he had refused to leave. For what reason, only god knew, but he was still in front of her, still standing, still waiting for an answer. Dare she make a promise to him now, a promise that she could keep?

"Yes," she said with hesitation.

"Yes?" He pressed.

"Yes," she said with more conviction. "I promise." There, it was done.

"Oh Elizabeth," he sighed as he put his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulders and they sat there on the cliff, looking at the sky, silent for a few minutes. Then, he said, "Why are you trying to drive me away?"

"I am scared," she replied, not removing her head from its resting place.

"I know you are."

"You want nothing to do with someone like me."

"Will you please stop saying that?"

"Well, I am just attempting to stop you from making a mistake."

"What mistake?" He let his arm drop from around her and looked at her. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I..." She could not meet his gaze. "I do not want you to realize, many years from now, that you have made a terrible, terrible mistake." Her voice started shaking again. "It seems so simple to you now...but maybe in a few years, I will be to you what --- what George was to me. A mistake."

"Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth," he said, tilting her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. "How could you ever think that possible? You could never be a mistake to me? My god, how could you even think that?"

"You do not understand. I--"

"I do," he interrupted her, "all too well. But you see, you do not understand. I am not being forced or tricked or cajoled into anything against my will. I am fully aware of what I am doing. You are perhaps the most difficult woman I have had the good fortune of being acquainted with." This declaration won him a smile from her. "I know that, but I am still here, still willing to be here. So you see, you cannot escape from me that easily. You cannot drive me away, no matter how hard you try."

Is that a promise? "I...do not know what to say."

"Tell me you trust me."

"I trust you."

"Then believe me when I say that all will be as it should."

"You really believe that...?"

"I do," he paused, "and so should you."

She took in a sharp breath. "This is what scares me."

"What? Tell me."

"This moment. You. This beautiful sky. It all seems so frighteningly perfect. Too perfect. And I have too much prior experience to the contrary. Life is never so perfect. Something always goes wrong. It happened to my parents. It happened to me. Who is to say it will not happen again?"

He found a desperate plea in her eyes. "I cannot tell you that everything will be perfect, Elizabeth, because you are right. Life is not perfect. You will make mistakes. I will make mistakes. But we will never let those mistakes affect us. Life is not a perfect science. We will make mistakes and it will be alright."

"You really think so?" She seemed like a child asking to be comforted.

"I do." He nodded. "I honestly do."

She looked at him for a moment, then turned her attention to the sky. "Do you know I was nine when my grandpapa died? I was distraught. I loved him very dearly. I refused to eat. I spoke to no one. I would just sit by myself in my chamber and cry. Papa was worried about me, of course. So one night, he took me to Oakham Mount. It was a night, not unlike this one. I could see hundreds of bright stars. And he told me that grandpapa had not abandoned me. He told me that grandpapa had gone to heaven and that he would always look down at me as the brightest star in the sky." She smiled, her eyes a million miles and a lifetime away. "That was when I started frequenting Oakham Mount. I went there whenever I felt alone or sad or happy. I always felt close to him when I was there." She paused and glanced at him. "Do you think Victor is out there somewhere, looking down at us?"

It took him a moment to respond. "I am certain he is."

She smiled. "You think this is all very ridiculous, do you not?"

"No, not at all."

"Yes you do." She looked at the sky again. "But no matter, I do not expect you to understand it." She raised one arm and pointed at the sky. "Do you see that star there, the bright one, just north of Orion? That is my grandpapa's star. Make a wish, William. He will not disappoint you."

He obediently closed his eyes.

When he opened them, she asked, "What did you wish for?"

"You know better than to ask," he said slyly.

She laughed. "It was worth a try."

"Now it is your turn."

"No," she shook her head. "I am saving mine for later."

"Why is that?"

"I already told you. This, right there, right now. This is perfection." She looked away. "What more can I wish for?"

"Thank you for agreeing to come here."

"I am glad I did."

"You really mean that?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Things are a little more unsettled, a little more frightening, but I think I like it much better." She looked into his eyes. "I love you, William."

"I love you, Elizabeth." He knew she was alarmingly close to him. "You will not try to make me leave again, will you?"

She shook her head. "I promised, did I not?"

"Yes, you did, indeed. But sometimes it is difficult to predict your behavior."

She blushed a deep red. "I suppose I was somewhat unpredictable."

"I was taken aback, yes," he smiled.

"I barely know what came over me. I was perfectly fine, then all of a sudden, I was filled with this incredibly insufferable sense of impending doom."

"I shall not take that as an affront."

She smiled. "I am glad you can make jokes when I am speaking of something so serious. Really, I have a lot of grotesque problems, Mr. Darcy. I dare say you are taking it much too lightly. It is quite unsettling."

"Dearest, I am not taking it lightly. Truly, I am not. I know the past. I know how it can haunt you even when you think you are unmoved by it. I understand what it is like to live in fear of the shadows. But I can also see the future, our future and I know that we can vanquish the shadows together. There is no hurry, you have all the time in the world. I am going nowhere. I am here, by your side, and this is where I shall remain."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Thank you."

He wiped the tear away. "I cannot bear to see you cry."

She managed a small smile, her face inches away from his. "Better?"

"Much," he said. And then he kissed her.

Continue on to Next Section