So Long, Sentiment

by Amber Allen-King

  "And did Miss Bingley like being reacquainted with Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy retorted. He waited for Mr. Bingley's response with a small smirk about his lips.

  "They were not reacquainted. Caroline was at her friend's house at the time. I was returning from the club and decided to cut across the park since it was such a lovely afternoon. I saw a familiar-looking woman pass me by as I was walking. It took me a minute to realize who it was. I turned back and caught up with her."

  That is a mistake, Bingley, that I would never make. "And she had not recognized you either?"

  "I say, Darcy! You are full of questions for a sick man! Are you not supposed to be taking it easy?" Mr. Bingley said with a laugh.

  "Just making conversation, Bingley," Mr. Darcy lied. He lay back on the pillows. "Do you not think it extraordinary that you should meet Miss Bennet here in London?"

  "Why not, Darcy? She managed to meet us in Hertfordshire!" Mr. Bingley was purposefully obtuse and Mr. Darcy surrendered. Mr. Bingley rose to leave.

  "Any messages for Caroline?" he asked as he opened the door. He quickly shut it behind him as the pillow came flying at his head. It closed with a resounding thud. Mr. Bingley cringed as he heard Mr. Darcy howl. As he drew on his gloves a few moments later, Mr. Bingley's smile returned. He had dealt with Mr. Darcy. Now he just had to figure out how to deal with his sister Caroline.

  Three

  —

  Mr. Harris led Elizabeth Bennet to the sunlit drawing room of the Darcy townhouse and asked her to wait while he spoke with the master. Elizabeth was impressed by the pale peach color of the walls, which stood in striking contrast to the deep tones used on the upholstery throughout the room. Mr. Darcy had ordered the room repainted in that color on his return from Hertfordshire, according to some of the household staff, to match the complexion of a certain lady. Speculation about the identity of that lady ran rampant below stairs. Of course, Elizabeth knew nothing of the rumors as she did a brief tour of the room, admiring both Mr. Darcy's taste and restraint in the décor. She settled into the window seat and laughed at the antics of a pair of squirrels in the stately tree just outside the window. Elizabeth stopped laughing, however, as she recalled the purpose of her visit. She had come out of concern for Mr. Darcy. She was not certain of the reception she would receive but she had left Olivia's house feeling responsible for his injury. She should at least pay her respects, even if Mr. Darcy would not welcome them. Elizabeth stood up, wrung her hands, and began to pace the room. She heard a commotion behind her and turned as a footman opened the wide oak doors. A second footman wheeled in Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth paled and covered her mouth with a hand to hide her gasp. She had not expected this! Mr. Darcy did not look weak or pale. Indeed, he looked far too robust and virile to be confined to a wheelchair. How could he have suffered so much in the space of twenty-four hours! Elizabeth cautiously stepped forward as Mr. Darcy was wheeled to a spot near the fire. Elizabeth's pulse quickened as he reached out to take her hand.

  "Mr. Darcy, I came as soon as I learned of your accident. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me you were not badly injured, but evidently he was only trying to spare my feelings." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Mr. Darcy this is all my fault. I never intended for such a thing to happen- -I- -I cannot explain my behavior yesterday, but I shall never forgive myself..."

  "No, no, Miss Bennet. You are in no way responsible for my accident. Whatever made you think that you were?" Mr. Darcy's gentle smile did nothing to diminish her pain. Elizabeth sat in the chair the footman had pulled up close to Mr. Darcy's own imposing mahogany chair.

  "Mr. Darcy," she began, "I must make a confession. Yesterday you assisted my friend, Olivia Crenshaw, in a search for someone in _____ Park. What you do not know is that person was me." Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to look Mr. Darcy in the eye, but had she done so, she would have seen a wry smile suffusing his features. "I was out walking with Miss Crenshaw, you see, and when she stopped to speak with a gentleman--." She paused, unsure of how much of the truth she should reveal. "Well, to make a long story short, I wandered off and got lost, which lead to Colonel Fitzwilliam and yourself becoming involved in the search for me, and that, of course, lead to your accident." Her voice lost volume as she spoke. She stared at the tartan blanket on Mr. Darcy's lap, and would not look up. Mr. Darcy studied her eyelashes as he thought through his response. A single tear ran down Elizabeth's cheek and he reached out to wipe it away with a thumb. She looked up then and his questions no longer seemed important. Elizabeth was there beside him. That was all that mattered.

  "You must not blame yourself for my accident. It was quite my own fault, I assure you. If I had been paying better attention to where I was walking...no matter. My doctors expect me to make a full recovery in time. You must not trouble yourself, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth looked up then and her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy's. He reached out and took her hand, but she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. Mr. Darcy looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth returned the smile and two hearts that had so long been divided were finally one.

  "Lizzy!" Jane poked her head into the room where Elizabeth sat on a small bench having her hair done. "Oh, Lizzy, you look beautiful!" That color is perfect on you!" Jane went to the dressing table and began looking for something. "Lizzy, I have run out of lavender water. May I borrow some of yours?" Once again, Jane got no response from her sister, who sat as still as a statue while the maid wove gold ribbons through her hair. "Lizzy? Are you all right?" Elizabeth continued to stare, unseeing, at her reflection. The maid completed her work and departed. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, her quest for lavender water forgotten. Elizabeth slowly turned her head and looked at her sister.

  "Yes, Jane," she said in a strained voice. Jane wasn't completely convinced, but there was no time to pursue the matter.

  "Here," she said, handing Elizabeth a black velvet cloak. "Aunt Gardiner said that since you are more endowed than me you should wear this. I am wearing her burgundy coat. It is so stylish!" she gushed. "Oh, Lizzy! Tonight is going to be wonderful!"

  "Your enthusiasm would not have anything at all to do with the strong likelihood of encountering a certain Mr. Bingley at the theatre, would it?" Elizabeth, now fully recovered, asked over an arched brow. Jane's smile was sufficient reply, but Jane had been eager for an opportunity to confide in her sister.

  "Until yesterday, I never thought I would see him again, but when I did it was as if we were never apart!"

  "Did he explain his sudden departure from Hertfordshire last year?" Elizabeth queried.

  "I would not dare ask such a thing! We barely spoke of Hertfordshire at all. Oh, Lizzy, I can hardly believe that Mr. Bingley walked through that door yesterday! It was like a dream!

  "A dream," repeated Elizabeth, her mind now torn between concern for her sister and the disturbing daydream she had just endured. "Be careful, Jane," Elizabeth cautioned. Ever since her chat with Colonel Fitzwilliam earlier she'd felt a sense of dread. It wasn't his teasing about Mr. Darcy that bothered her; rather, it was his suggestion that Mr. Darcy had seen Elizabeth in the park that haunted her. If, as she strongly suspected, he had played a role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane, her sister might be rushing toward a second heartbreak.

  "I will be fine, Lizzy." Jane paused to watch Elizabeth don the cloak over her new gown, a gift from her aunt and uncle. "You do look lovely, Lizzy. I am sure even Mr. Darcy would approve!" she cried, and whisked out of the room. Elizabeth whirled to glare at her retreating figure.

  • • •

  Colonel Fitzwilliam's heels beat out a sharp tattoo as he strode down the marble floor. He found Mr. Harris dressing down a young footman outside Mr. Darcy's study. When the butler had dismissed the unfortunate youth, he walked upstairs with the Colonel and gave him a brief report.

  "He seems somewhat improved, sir. He is eating normally, no signs of nausea or vomiting, and no signs of further damage. Mr. Bingley came by and visited with the master for a while, sir." He paused.
"Mr. Darcy is a little out of humor, but he never did take well to confinement." With thirty years of service to the Darcy estates under his belt, Mr. Harris spoke of the master with a surety that the Colonel dared not question. The veteran of several military campaigns, Colonel Fitzwilliam literally knew more about concussions than he could remember. He trod lightly, therefore, as he passed his cousin's door.

  "Miss Bennet!" The figure a few yards ahead of him turned at the sound of her name. "Mister Darcy!" Her surprise at being addressed by him was evident.

  "How do you do, Miss Bennet," he said, with a tip of his hat. Elizabeth gave a brief curtsey.

  "Mr. Darcy! You have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face. I am afraid I have gotten myself quite lost." Her words came out in a rush. The wind picked up suddenly and she unsuccessfully attempted to bat a stray curl out of her eyes. Mr. Darcy deftly caught the offending strand between his thumb and forefinger. Elizabeth took it from him and blushed becomingly as she tucked it into her bonnet.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "My pleasure, madam," he replied with a gallant bow. "You were saying, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. But her mortification at having to rely on Mr. Darcy for help was overcome by her desperation.

  "I was saying, sir, that I am quite lost and was hoping I might prevail upon you for assistance."

  "I thought you seemed awfully far from Meryton, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy quipped. Elizabeth's mouth fell open. Mr. Darcy grinned impishly. "How may I be of service?"

  "If you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of --." Elizabeth began, but Mr. Darcy quickly interrupted.

  "Perhaps it would be best--given the late hour, Miss Bennet--if I were to simply escort you wherever you wish to go." He offered his arm to a stunned Elizabeth, who took it, and they began to walk. Elizabeth had not given Mr. Darcy her direction. In truth, she had been so struck by the alteration in his behavior that she had forgotten about it. For his part, Mr. Darcy was content merely to be in Elizabeth's company. They strolled for some minutes in silence. Elizabeth glanced up at her companion. Mr. Darcy was smiling!

  "May I ask you something, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Yes, of course, Miss Bennet," he replied.

  "Do you have a twin brother?" The object of her joke laughed so merrily, Elizabeth was certain that this man, as well as the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, were complete strangers to her.

  The valet who had brought a carafe of fresh water to place on his master's nightstand was surprised to see a smile playing across Mr. Darcy's lips. The man took it as a sign that his master was on the mend and said a silent prayer of thanks as he left the room.

  • • •

  Down the hall, Colonel Fitzwilliam loosened his cravat and carelessly tossed it on a chair. His waistcoat quickly followed. The Colonel kicked off his boots and threw himself on the bed. His visit with Miss Crenshaw had not ended well. He wished they could take back some of the harsh words they had exchanged. He rolled over on his back and covered his eyes with a forearm.

  "That is precisely my point, Miss Crenshaw. What right have we to do anything about it?" "Do you not think that two people so well suited to each other should be encouraged?" Olivia pleaded.

  "I do not know that they are well suited. Obviously, Darcy did not think so. He left Hertfordshire without her," the Colonel reasoned.

  "Mr. Darcy left Hertfordshire because of Mr. Bingley," Olivia retorted.

  "According to your Miss Bennet," the Colonel replied. "And, according to your Miss Bennet, Darcy did not approve of Mr. Bingley's infatuation with Jane Bennet."

  "So?"

  "So, Miss Crenshaw, it stands to reason that if Darcy did not approve of one Bennet he would hardly approve of the other. Do you really think he could separate his closest friend from the woman he loved and yet have the temerity to pursue her sister?" An awkward silence ensued as Olivia digested his argument.

  "But Mr. Darcy has done Mr. Bingley a grievous wrong!" Olivia cried with passion.

  "According to Miss Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. Olivia shot him a withering glance.

  "Look Colonel, if we could bring Mr. Darcy and Lizzy together, that would clear the way for Jane and Mr. Bingley." She cut off the Colonel's response. "Do you not see? If we could only make Mr. Darcy and Lizzy realize that they are in love with one another then all four of them can find happiness." Olivia sat down with a satisfied smile, revealing a tiny dimple in each cheek.

  "'We' Miss Crenshaw? I don't want any part of manipulating two people--or four, for that matter--who may have perfectly valid reasons for remaining apart!" the Colonel declared.

  "Jane and Mr. Bingley's only reason for being apart is the cruel interference of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sisters," Olivia hissed through clenched teeth. The Colonel tried to defuse her anger.

  "We only have Miss Bennet's word on that." Olivia bristled at his repetition. "We have not heard from any of the other parties involved. Perhaps Mr. Bingley simply lost interest in the lady; maybe there is another woman! Perhaps--."

  "Perhaps you are just as arrogant and self-righteous as your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam! Perhaps," she shouted, "You also think the Bennets unworthy of your cousin or his friend!"

  "Miss Crenshaw!" the shocked Colonel declared, rising to his feet. "I think nothing of the kind!" He paused and softened his voice. "I just think you ought to be very careful. There may be things about all this that you don't know.'

  "I know that my dear friend Jane has been sitting in a house on Gracechurch Street these past two months with a broken heart. I know that Mr. Darcy played some role in that heartbreak. I know that Mr. Darcy is in love with Elizabeth Bennet. And I know," Olivia said, her voice rising in volume again, "That you are hypocritical, stubborn, and --."

  "How do you know?" the Colonel asked suddenly. Olivia's eyes flashed dangerously. "...About Darcy being in love, I mean," he added with a sweet smile. Disarmed by the question, and undoubtedly distracted by his smile, Olivia had to pause and think a second.

  "You did not see his eyes yesterday," she said finally.

  "I saw his eyes, Miss Crenshaw. They were dilated, unfocused, and occasionally crossed. Those are indicators of concussion, Miss Crenshaw, not love," the Colonel sneered.

  "You did not see him when he was looking for Lizzy. You had gone off, then," she said with conviction.

  "He had been knocked in the head! Perhaps he was delirious!"

  "What difference does it make? Even in his delirium he only thought of her!" If the Colonel was impressed by this revelation he didn't show it. He thought again of his cousin's cryptic statement.

  "Miss Crenshaw," he said evenly. "I do not think this is something you should meddle with. Worry about reuniting Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet if you must, or worry about your own love life, but do not go getting--."

  "Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do not seem to have a love life at the present time! Good day, sir." Olivia turned and stalked out of the room.

  The Colonel stretched and turned on his side. He replayed the scene in his head again and again. He was still stung by the bitterness of Miss Crenshaw's tone. He was sorry he had provoked her--he hadn't intended for her to take his words that way. In truth, he couldn't say exactly what he meant by his ill-conceived statement. Miss Crenshaw always seemed to have a disturbing effect on his composure and the Colonel always found himself saying, thinking, or doing things he hadn't planned on when he was in her company. Maybe Darcy is right--she is the one. Olivia Crenshaw is destined to either be the love of my life or the bane of my existence. He definitely preferred the former, although he wasn't quite ready to tell her that just yet . He closed his eyes and soon dozed off.

  A carillon of bells drowned out the cheers and well wishes of the assembled party that had just witnessed the marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. As the happy couple made its way up the aisle, Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself arm in arm with Jane Bennet, who was as radiant as the bride herse
lf. The best man and maid of honor followed the happy couple out of the church, where the Colonel safely delivered Jane into the hands of her beloved. Mr. Bingley had deferred the honor of being Mr. Darcy's best man to the Colonel. His reply to Mr. Darcy when he had made the offer to Mr. Bingley was "When I stand up at the altar, Darcy, I intend to be the groom!" Mr. Bingley was to have that opportunity two months hence, when he and Jane would marry. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood alone as he watched Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy ride off. He felt a gentle jab in his back and spun around.

  "I believe you owe me an apology, sir," Olivia Crenshaw declared triumphantly. The Colonel couldn't help staring. It had been months since they had spoken and Olivia had pointedly refused to make eye contact with him in the church just minutes earlier. Nonetheless, he bestowed upon her his most charming smile.

  "I would happily apply myself to the task, madam, if you would be so kind as to remind me of my transgression."

  "You, Colonel, told me not to meddle in the affairs of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet--that is, Mrs. Darcy," she replied, emphasizing the last two words.

  "You do not mean to suggest, Miss Crenshaw that all this is your doing?" the Colonel asked with a gesture towards the church.

  "Indeed I do, sir." The Colonel was in the mood for Miss Crenshaw's game and played along. He offered his arm and led her toward the waiting carriages.

  "You can, of course, offer proof of your claim."

  "Of course, Colonel. They all but declared themselves right before my eyes."

  "Witnessing and facilitating are worlds apart, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel remarked airily.

  "Do you doubt me, Colonel?" Olivia asked coquettishly.

  "I am merely awaiting your proof, Miss Crenshaw."

  "Ride with me in my carriage, and I will tell you the tale." The Colonel handed Olivia into her carriage, where Mr. Crenshaw and the young Lieutenant Crenshaw were awaiting her. Thus is came to pass that Olivia and the Colonel had to postpone their talk until after the wedding breakfast at the Bennet estate. They took a walk in the well-manicured garden behind the manse. The Colonel wasn't really interested in Miss Crenshaw's story. After all, he already knew the truth. The Colonel himself was responsible for the Darcys' current happiness. That fleeting glimpse of Elizabeth in _____ Park convinced Mr. Darcy that he'd made a terrible mistake in letting her go earlier. He had made a complete confession to Mr. Bingley and the two had returned to Netherfield to court their respective ladies.