So Long, Sentiment

by Amber Allen-King

  "Are you all right, Darcy?" The object of Colonel Fitzwilliam's query sat up slowly.

  "Where did that wall come from?" he asked, slightly dazed.

  "It was a tree limb and you walked right into it. Are you all right?" the Colonel repeated as he helped his cousin to his unsteady feet. Olivia picked up Mr. Darcy's hat as she reached the pair.

  "What happened?" cried Olivia.

  "I seem to have found an errant tree branch," Mr. Darcy said sheepishly as the Colonel led him to the bench Elizabeth had recently vacated. Olivia looked around and saw no trace of Elizabeth. She didn't know whether to rejoice or be worried. She decided to worry. She hadn't seen Elizabeth in nearly half an hour and the sun would be setting soon. Neither of the ladies had informed Mrs. Gardiner of their departure, and guilt began to weigh on Olivia's conscience heavily.

  "Darcy?" The Colonel followed his cousin's gaze, which was directed towards a fleeting glimpse of blue and white. He couldn't quite make out what his cousin was staring at, but Mr. Darcy was obviously not quite right in the head. "Are you unwell?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question. He waved a hand before Mr. Darcy's eyes. The dazed man didn't blink. Although she was sincerely concerned for Mr. Darcy, concern for Elizabeth overwhelmed Olivia and she seized the opportunity.

  "Perhaps you should take Mr. Darcy home. I will continue to search for my friend," she offered, but Colonel Fitzwilliam's sense of honor forbade such a plan.

  "That would be unwise, Miss Crenshaw. It will be dark soon and it would be unsafe for you to be alone in the park."

  "I would not be alone if I found Lizzy," she retorted a bit loudly. Mr. Darcy snapped out of his reverie.

  "Lizzy!" he cried, rising to his feet. He started to head in the direction he had seen her running, but he was stopped by the Colonel, who grabbed him by the back of the collar.

  "Whoa there, Darce. Suppose you sit here a while with Miss Crenshaw and I will look for Miss Brown," he said as if talking to a small child. He scanned the area; Miss Brown had apparently disappeared again. "Drat," he said, as he first deposited Mr. Darcy and then Miss Crenshaw on the bench.

  "Stay here, Miss Crenshaw. I will only be a minute." The Colonel walked off.

  "Lizzy."

  Olivia looked at Mr. Darcy, who had resumed staring down the path. Her curiosity got the best of her. "Mr. Darcy?" she said. After about ten seconds, he turned to look at her. "Tell me about Lizzy." Mr. Darcy looked at her for a second, then shook his head and stood up.

  "I do not know anyone named 'Lizzy', Miss Crenshaw." He looked her in the eye then, and Olivia knew that he was in full control of his faculties once more. Oh, but you do, Mr. Darcy! she said to herself, as by silent mutual agreement, they took off after Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  A quarter mile ahead of the Colonel, Elizabeth was furious with herself. "No amount of mortification is worth this! I should have stayed where I was. I would have encountered Mr. Darcy, that odious man, but so what? He need not have known my reason for being in the park. We had a perfectly innocent excuse! Stupid, stupid girl! My pride will be the death of me one day," she said as a gust of wind chilled her to the bone. "Oh, who knew a simple walk in the park could lead to such misery?" Elizabeth began to feel desperate. It suddenly occurred to her to ask for help, but when she looked around she saw no one. The sky was beginning to darken, and Elizabeth felt she was running out of time.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was relieved to see Mr. Darcy looking so well recovered, and he resumed his search for Miss Brown in earnest with a clear conscience. But Olivia's conscience continued to plague her. Mr. Darcy, walking behind Olivia, eyed the lady suspiciously, but Olivia was oblivious; she was truly worried now. The park was emptying rapidly and there was no sign of her friend. She heard the Colonel call "Miss Brown" and silently berated herself for her earlier deception. She knew that his calls would be futile. She glanced at Mr. Darcy warily, then joined the Colonel with cries of "Lizzy!" If Mr. Darcy had a reaction, he certainly didn't show it.

  Mr. Darcy wandered away from the shouting pair. The lump on his head was throbbing. He looked toward the northern end of the park. Something glinted in the distance. He walked toward it and stopped to retrieve the object from the edge of the path. He picked up a small Sterling silver vial with an ornately decorated cap. He opened it and took a tentative whiff. Instead of the expected smelling salts, he found himself transported by the heady scent of fresh lavender.

  "Elizabeth," he whispered, and suddenly she was before him again. Dancing with him. Challenging him. Enchanting him. The ivory color of her gown the perfect foil for the rose of her cheek. The mahogany ringlets he ached to reach out and caress. The flash of gold in eyes the color of rich chocolate. Her nearness in the dance. That intoxicating scent...

  "You are a fool, Darcy," he said as he stood and closed the vial. As he walked back to his companions, he chided himself for indulging in such fantasies while Miss Crenshaw's friend was lost and perhaps in some danger. He tried to shake off all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet as he joined the Colonel and Miss Crenshaw and resumed the search. But a few minutes later he paused and took another whiff from the vial, then carefully placed it in his pocket. "You are a fool, Darcy," he repeated as he tried again to erase the image of the woman of his dreams from his mind.

  Elizabeth walked back toward the pond. She was exhausted and not a little uneasy. She heard a noise behind her, but when she turned she saw nothing out of the ordinary. "And now I shall go distracted," she smirked and immediately regretted her choice of words, as the image of her mother came to her. She quickly suppressed it; she knew that if she began to think of her family she would quickly be overcome by useless emotions. She concentrated instead on devising methods of torturing Olivia. "Hare-brained, idiotic scheme! 'We will just go to the park,' Livy said. 'Well, we just have to try,' she said. 'We'll find your Mr. ...'" She was suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps behind her and froze in her tracks.

  "Miss Bennet?"

  Elizabeth caught her breath, then willed her heart to beat again. Joy at being rescued overcame her pride and she turned to face Mr. Darcy. But it was not Mr. Darcy before her.

  "Mr. Bingley!" She threw herself into his arms. Tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of exhaustion competed for the opportunity to flood Elizabeth's cheeks. Mr. Bingley was taken aback by her effusive greeting.

  "Mr. Bingley," she said, stepping back to a more respectable distance, "I am so glad to see you!" She looked as though she might attack him again, so Mr. Bingley quickly grabbed her hands to hold her at bay.

  "It is you, Miss Bennet. When you passed me on the path a moment ago, I was not sure."

  "I passed you?" Elizabeth was stunned. "Oh, my dear Mr. Bingley, I am so glad to see you. I came to the park with a friend and we got separated and now I am completely lost. And my friend..." Elizabeth spoke in an uncharacteristic rush; her words were intermingled with sobs. All Bingley could gather was that Elizabeth had somehow gotten lost. The rest of it wasn't quite clear, but he decided to bring her to safety first and deal with the rest later.

  "If you will come with me, Miss Bennet, I will take you to my townhouse. It is but a short distance from here," he said nodding in the direction from which Elizabeth had come. "I think you could do with a cup of tea and some rest. Then we will see to getting you back to your friends." Elizabeth was too tired to argue. She gratefully allowed herself to be led out of the park by Mr. Bingley. Sensing her exhaustion, he asked no questions. They walked silently, Elizabeth leaning heavily on his arm. In a surprisingly short time they were at the park entrance. Elizabeth saw Olivia's carriage, the coachman, and the footman. The men appeared to be involved in an animated discussion. She withdrew her arm from Mr. Bingley's and went to them. They had been growing concerned about the ladies and the footman was about to enter the park to look for them. Elizabeth explained the situation and was assured by the footman that Miss Crenshaw was in the company of two gentlemen. After telling him where she had seen her last, Elizabeth re
paired to the comfort of Mr. Bingley's parlor.

  As she entered the cozy room, the dread of encountering Miss Bingley returned. As if reading her mind, Mr. Bingley informed Elizabeth that his sister would not be home for some time, but that his housekeeper, a Mrs. Stewart, would join them as chaperone. Elizabeth could only smile at this nod to propriety. In truth, she was past caring; she was too tired, too cold, and too famished. Mr. Bingley poured her a glass of sherry and sent for tea. Mrs. Stewart entered the parlor discretely, and took a seat in a corner with her knitting. After tea was served and Elizabeth had consumed a sandwich to fortify herself, she looked at Mr. Bingley. Anticipation was etched on his face.

  "I must thank you again for rescuing me, Mr. Bingley." He immediately protested and Elizabeth smiled at his gallantry. She took a deep breath then and began her explanation.

  "I am in London visiting my aunt and uncle --and my sister--for a few days. On Friday, I leave for Hunsford to visit my friend, Mrs. Collins. You will remember her, Mr. Bingley: Charlotte Lucas. She married my cousin, Mr. Collins, late December last year." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up at the word "sister." He smiled at her encouragingly, but Elizabeth paused to sip her tea.

  "So you and your sister are off to Hunsford on Friday?" Mr. Bingley's attempt to appear casual was at once pathetically obvious and endearing. Elizabeth took pity on him.

  "Oh, no, Mr. Bingley. Jane will be staying on in London for another six weeks yet." Bingley's smile outshone a dozen suns.

  "Jane? Uh, Miss Bennet is in London?" Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup. Maybe Olivia was right. It was that simple! But as quickly as Mr. Bingley's smile appeared, it darkened. The sadness in his eyes moved her deeply.

  "What is it, Mr. Bingley?"

  "Nothing. Nothing at all, Miss Bennet." He stared into his cup.

  "My sister called here some weeks ago," Elizabeth said, trying to lift his mood. "Did your sisters never tell you?" She knew that they had not mentioned Jane's visits to Mr. Bingley. He looked shocked for a moment, then angry. But then he became glum once more.

  "No, they did not mention it, Miss Bennet." Maybe his sisters had wanted to spare him the discomfort of seeing her again. He rose and refilled his cup. Elizabeth refused more tea and accepted a biscuit. She was dismayed by Mr. Bingley's attitude. She had not expected this!

  • • •

  After a few minutes, Mr. Darcy led his companions back toward where he had found the vial, reasoning that it might belong to Miss Brown. He did not mention the vial to his companions, however. He fingered the object in his pocket with guilty pleasure as the trio headed toward the park exit. Miss Crenshaw looked ahead and saw her footman approaching with a lantern. She went to him and drew him aside, determined to discuss things more privately this time. The footman's news was reassuring. Olivia returned to the two gentlemen and told them that Miss Brown had been found and was safe.

  "Where is she?" asked Mr. Darcy, a bit disappointed. He had been chasing a phantom for the better part of an hour and was prepared to settle for nothing less than the sight of her as his reward. Olivia dissembled.

  "She met a friend of hers who escorted her from the park. He is seeing her home as we speak." Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed pleased by this outcome. Mr. Darcy, on the other had, was greatly disappointed. The Colonel offered to escort Miss Crenshaw to her carriage. As she took his arm and followed the footman, Mr. Darcy struggled with a tangle of conflicting emotions.

  Perhaps he had been deluding himself. What had he been chasing all afternoon: Miss Crenshaw's friend, or someone else? A real, live, flesh-and-blood woman, or a distant memory? Mr. Darcy chuckled to himself. Distant memory? Elizabeth Bennet is very much a part of my "present." And yet that cannot be. It...it must not be. He turned his mind to Miss Brown. He suddenly wanted very much to meet this lady. Why? Was it mere curiosity? Was he determined to meet this woman and find in her something to admire, something to fall in love with? Something to make him forget? He looked at his cousin and Miss Crenshaw walking leisurely ahead of him. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Was there something there before, or was this the work of an afternoon? He took off his hat momentarily and rubbed his sore temple. If they had found Miss Brown, would she now be walking on his arm? What would she be like? Beautiful, intriguing, lavender-scented? Would she have a sense of humor and a dazzling wit? Would she be dark-haired? Would she petite in comparison to his own tall frame? Would her eyes be haunting? Would she be someone similar to but decidedly not Elizabeth Bennet? Would someone "similar to" Elizabeth Bennet satisfy him?

  "You are a fool, Darcy!" He shook his head. His headache was getting worse and musings of this nature were not conducive to relieving the pain.

  "Are you coming, Darcy?" Mr. Darcy looked up again and saw that he had fallen far behind his companions. Feeling a bit foolish, he closed the distance with a short jog. The Colonel waited for him, and gave him a worried look when he had caught up. "Are you feeling all right?"

  "Yes, yes, Fitzwilliam. I am afraid my mind wandered for a moment." He looked across the street as the group came through the gate. "Look, there is Bingley's house. I think I will stop in and say hello. You will join me?"

  "Do you think it would be wise, sir?" Olivia's voice was constricted by her suppressed gasp of alarm, and she involuntarily squeezed Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm. Mistaking her meaning, the Colonel was nonetheless useful in persuading Mr. Darcy to change his mind.

  "Perhaps she is right, Darcy. It might be best for you to go straight home and rest after your injury. You do not look at all yourself, old man." Olivia hoped that Elizabeth would not emerge from Mr. Bingley's house while they stood there on the street and hastily offered to convey the gentlemen to Mr. Darcy's abode some six streets away. Noting the Colonel's apparent eagerness to accept the proffered ride, Mr. Darcy capitulated. He entered the carriage after the Colonel and it took off. All three occupants immediately realized how tired they were as soon as they sat down and they rode in silence. Olivia prayed that Elizabeth would forgive her. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who had his eyes tightly shut. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been staring at Olivia, followed her gaze to his cousin.

  "Are you all right, Darcy?" he said. There was no response, but Mr. Darcy's eyes seemed to relax. A moment later, his entire body followed suit, and Mr. Darcy passed out.

  • • •

  Elizabeth heard the clock on Mr. Bingley's mantel chime six times and suddenly became aware of how late it had become. She thought of her aunt and uncle. Neither she nor Olivia had told anyone where they were going. They would be worried by now. Mr. Bingley, noting her distress, immediately offered to order his carriage for her ride home. Elizabeth found herself torn between wanting to return to Gracechurch Street and wanting to stay and chat with Mr. Bingley. Something was clearly troubling him, for all that he attempted to deny it, and she wanted to help him if she could. While they waited for the carriage to be brought around, the two chatted for some minutes about meaningless things while Elizabeth tried to think. Finally, an idea came to her.

  "Mr. Bingley, would you do me the honor of escorting me to my uncle's house? I am sure that my sister, Jane, as well as my aunt and uncle would be happy to see you. Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria would also be happy to meet you again." Elizabeth tried to be impossible to refuse, as she had often seen Lydia behave at assemblies. Mr. Bingley hesitated for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt at manipulating him. But it is for his own good, she reasoned. He allowed himself to be manipulated out of his happiness. Now he can let me manipulate his way back to it. A short while later Mr. Bingley escorted Elizabeth to his waiting carriage. Elizabeth noted that Olivia's carriage had left. She hoped that Olivia hadn't found some reason to take Mr. Darcy to Gracechurch Street.

  • • •

  If she had not been watching him, Olivia might have assumed that Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep, if such a thing were likely in so short a trip. But from her seat in the carriage opposite him, she had seen
Mr. Darcy shudder and then slump awkwardly, as his beaver pitched forward and landed neatly in her outstretched hands. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who first saw Olivia's reaction and heard her cry of "Mr. Darcy!" immediately turned to his cousin and felt for a pulse.

  "Darcy?" the Colonel cried, as Olivia grabbed one of Mr. Darcy's hands and rubbed it in a vain attempt to revive him. Before she or the Colonel was even aware of it, the carriage came to a halt outside Mr. Darcy's townhouse. Olivia leapt from the carriage and called for assistance. The footman and the Colonel carried the unconscious form of Mr. Darcy into the townhouse, where his own servants relieved them of their precious burden and carried their master to his chambers.

  The butler, one Mr. Harris, escorted the distraught lady to a small parlor and sent her servants to the kitchen for some refreshment. The Colonel went in search of a doctor. Sitting alone in the parlor, Olivia had ample time to recall the events of the day and to regret her part in them. Oh, how foolish she had been! To cavalierly suggest to Elizabeth that they go out and search for Mr. Bingley! How arrogant had been her notion that restoring Jane's happiness was as simple as finding a man who had probably resolved to never speak to her again! For all Olivia knew, Jane might have made a similar resolution and might not appreciate her and Lizzy's efforts at all!

  Olivia saw a small desk in the corner of the parlor. She went to it and drew out pen, ink and paper. She sat down and wrote two notes. One was addressed to her father. The other was addressed to Elizabeth. She rang for a servant to give the notes to her footman, then sank into an armchair near the fireplace. As Olivia stared into the flames, the full impact of her culpability began to weigh on her conscience. Mr. Darcy's condition was purely accidental, but he would not have been out searching for Elizabeth if--. Olivia squirmed in the chair, sinking deeper into the cushions, as she wondered at Elizabeth's flight from Mr. Darcy. Clearly, Elizabeth didn't like the man. She had made that much clear in their discussion earlier that day. But she had run at the sight of Mr. Darcy-Elizabeth, who was never intimidated by anyone! And Mr. Darcy just as clearly seemed to like Elizabeth, if her suspicions were correct...