The others watched from a distance as the two leaned down to clear away the creeping buttercup and Herb Robert that had grown up around the single stone that marked the graves of both, then the sisters reached their fingers out to trace the familiar etchings in the limestone—Frances Gardiner Bennet and Lydia Bennet. Elizabeth also ran her finger over the carved angel her father insisted be put beside his daughter’s name.
Darcy strode quickly back to the carriage, exchanging a coin with the footman who presented him with a bundle of freshly picked wild asters. Where he found them in such haste Darcy did not care. He divided the bundle in two and returned, walking past Bingley, Fitz, and Georgiana and on to the sisters. He gently placed a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, and when she looked up at him he handed her one of the bundles. He then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead before giving the other bundle to Mary and returning to wait with the others. When Mary signed ‘thank you’ to him from afar, he gave her a simple nod of understanding.
Georgiana huffed at his actions and turned away, marching to the carriage to wait.
Bingley placed a hand on Darcy’s arm to stay him. “I will wait with her. Your place is here.” Then he went to stand beside the carriage door until the errand was completed.
After a moment in silence, Elizabeth and Mary placed flowers in front of the grave and moved to the next much larger headstone. Their Uncle Edward told them of the arched design, with columns on each side, that he had chosen when he came to make arrangements for his family members to be buried. Elizabeth remembered his description perfectly and she smiled slightly to know what she thought it would look like was a true representation. It was clear no one visited this headstone, as it, too, was covered in the same creeping buttercup and Herb Robert. They lovingly cleared the invasive plants away.
The first name to appear below their fingers was that of their father—Thomas Bennet. Mary stood with her hand on the hard, cold limestone, her eyes closed to the world around them until finally Elizabeth grasped her fingers. They looked at each other and, with a nod, both placed the blue flowers in front of his name and moved on to their sisters—Jane Bennet and Catherine Bennet. Elizabeth smiled at the angels etched between the two names. She remembered well her insistence to her uncle that the headstone have these figures, and that they match the one her father had placed beside Lydia’s name.
Memories flooded their minds, quiet respect and sadness pervaded the beating hearts, and tears filled the eyes they thought could cry no more. Darcy and Fitz saw their distress and went to their sides immediately, offering a dry handkerchief and comforting each sister as they all shed tears for the lost loved ones in their lives.
Elizabeth and Mary thanked the cousins and, with a deep breath and a renewed strength, they stepped to the two nearby headstones bearing the names of their beloved uncle and aunt, Henry Philips and Martha Gardiner Philips. Once again they removed the weeds that had grown up all around, and lovingly placed some flowers there, then they turned to leave.
Mary saw, out of the corner of her eye, the name of Benjamin Lucas. She reached out to touch Elizabeth’s arm, nodding towards it. With a determined sigh, Elizabeth joined Mary and they walked over to it. There were no weeds or vines growing around this headstone, and Elizabeth suspected the fresh flowers on the ground might have been placed there by Charlotte. They each added some of the wild asters to then, then found Mr Goulding’s headstone, giving him the same respect due him for his ultimate service to their family.
With the task finally completed, Darcy and Fitz led the sisters back to the carriage where Georgiana sat with the corners of her mouth turned up at, hinting at the pleasure she took in Mary’s pain. She glared at them in silent exuberance as the others took their seats. Bingley knocked on the roof with his walking stick, and the carriage jolted into action.
Georgiana said with a smirk, “It was such a lovely service this morning, was it not?”
Fitz turned to her with fury in his eyes, “That is enough! We will not hear one disparaging word from you or I will personally turn you over my knee and give you the whipping you deserve.”
Her jaw dropped in shock and she turned to look at her brother.
“I will not stop him,” Darcy said coldly, taking his wife’s hand in his own.
She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back in the seat, refusing to look at anyone. When they arrived at Netherfield she exited the carriage and stomped up to her room, not to be seen again the rest of the day.
Mary disappeared into the garden, finding a bench at the back where she could sit alone to ponder the feelings coursing through her today. She had not been there five minutes when Fitz came upon her, sitting beside her without saying a word. Mary appreciated more than anything that he did not pressure her to talk; he just sat with her in silence.
The rest of the day passed slowly, the mood of the house being far from what any of them desired, but neither were they prepared to ignore the events of the morning’s service and the memories evoked with the two sisters paying their respects to their family. It became very clear to Elizabeth that these people she had grown up with as neighbors would never accept Mary. She thought about whether they should continue here or go back to Town, but she was not certain which was best. One thing Elizabeth did know was that she would have to talk to her sister—she would have to let Mary be the one to decide whether they stayed or left. It was not easy to let her make such a decision, but it was what was necessary.
Fitz was coming down the stairs when he saw the butler answer the door. He recognized the visitor as being the rector they met briefly yesterday at church, so he stepped up to greet him.
“Reverend Carter, I met you yesterday,” he bowed. “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Yes; yes, of course,” he handed his hat and coat to the waiting butler and bowed to the colonel. “I came to speak with Mr Darcy. Is he available?”
“He and Mr Bingley were just going over some estate business, but I doubt my cousin would mind the intrusion; right this way,” he said as he turned to walk down the hall towards Bingley’s study. When they entered, he said to the two men bent over a ledger at the desk, “We have a visitor, gentlemen.”
Darcy looked up and, upon seeing the familiar face of the rector, he stood to greet him properly. Bingley stepped up beside him as well. Greetings were exchanged all around, pleasantries were expended with, and the men were soon seated and ready for the conversation they all knew was coming.
Darcy began. “I am very sorry for the disruption to your service yesterday.”
“No, no—it was not your fault. I do not hold you, or your family,” he said with great emphasis, “responsible for the neighborhood’s false ideas espoused so easily yesterday.”
“I am surprised to hear such words, considering you have not yet spoken with us about the events which led to such accusations of my sister,” Darcy replied.
“It seems the sitting rooms have been abuzz with much talk this last week and I have been none the wiser. My wife, however, has heard quite a few tales and felt it best that I speak with Mrs Collins, so together we paid a call on her before I came here.”
He nodded, “Then I am sure you have been informed quite accurately of the events which have transpired. Mrs Collins spoke with my wife just last week and has tried to do what she could to tell others of the true events of that tragic day, but I suppose she has not been very successful.”
“No, I would say not. She was quite upset over yesterday’s church service. My wife has agreed to assist in her quest to alter the general opinion of the neighborhood, so perhaps things will change soon.”
Fitz spoke up, “I am surprised you have been here, what was it? Two years?” The rector nodded his head, and Fitz continued. “Two years—it is quite a length of time for you to not have heard these rumors before now.”
“I was very lucky to have been chosen for such a position. As I am sure you are well aware, it is unusual to find such at my young
age. The last rector died suddenly though, so I did not have the occasion to speak with him before I took over the parish. As you can well imagine, this event was put behind the town of Meryton for several years, and it is only your return which has caused it to become fodder for the sitting rooms once again,” the rector answered. He then turned back to Darcy, “Truly, I apologize for how your family has been mistreated. I hope you will stay in Meryton for a while longer, but I would understand if you feel you must leave. My wife was quite taken aback with watching from afar as you visited the headstones of your family yesterday. Such a tragic tale. It has touched her so deeply she wished me to inform you of her personal vow to see to their upkeep in your absence. They will be properly cared for from now on. Any time you are passing through and wish to stop to pay your respects, please feel free to do so and to visit us for tea if you have the time.”
That was almost too much for Darcy, and he choked out, “Your wife is all that is good.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, then solemnly continued, “We appreciate all you have done. My wife has spoken with her sister, and Mary insists we stay—for now. I know she has enjoyed the country air and gardens while we are here.”
“Perhaps the situation will be resolved soon. I hope so, at least,” the rector replied, then he stood. “If we can do anything else to help, please do not hesitate in approaching me or my wife.” He then took his leave of the cousins, following Bingley out of the study and back to the front of the house.
When Bingley returned he was surprised at the tension in the room. Darcy and Fitz sat in silence, the former going over the ledger once again and the latter just staring at him with an odd look on his face. It was almost as if he was irate, but Bingley could not think of a reason Fitz should be upset with Darcy. He shrugged it off and sat back down at the desk to finish the task at hand, not even noticing when Fitz left them alone just a few minutes later.
Rain fell that night and continued for several days. After two days of being inside with limited opportunities to do more than just pace the halls of Netherfield, Bingley suggested to Darcy and Fitz that they practice the new boxing techniques Fitz had recently learned.
The furniture in a small, unused sitting room were pushed out of the way, the carpet rolled up, and soon the three men were facing off against each other as Fitz showed the new moves. Half an hour had passed with the three alternating in rounds when Bingley was called upon to settle a dispute between two servants. He excused himself, leaving the two cousins alone.
Fitz had still not talked with Darcy about what Georgiana revealed to him regarding Mary’s dowry, and the longer he let it eat at him the angrier he became. As the punches were thrown and the two cousins went round after round against each other, the tension built in the room. Darcy knew all too well the look in his cousin’s eye, but he did not know from what it stemmed. He blocked jabs and defended himself, but the seasoned soldier was no match for him and he could soon taste blood in his mouth from one powerful swing.
“What is wrong?” Darcy said with a grunt as he threw a jab that was easily blocked.
“Wrong? Now why would anything be wrong?” Fitz answered through gritted teeth.
“You have been avoiding me, except in the company of others, for days now,” Darcy continued to block the barrage coming at him. “What did I do?”
Fitz scoffed, “Oh, nothing of import, you just let your good sense fly right out of your head, and for what? So you can be seen as the savior of all once again? I can see the headline in the papers—‘Fitzwilliam Darcy Saves the Day!’”
Now Darcy was completely confused. “What are you talking about?”
Fitz continued to throw hard punches, “Why did you... do that to her. You have set her up... to be taken advantage of... and I do not understand... your logic, Darcy.”
He stepped back and threw his arms up, “WHAT exactly did I do?”
Fitz stepped forward again, each accusation he gave punctuated by another jab. “You gave her more money... than anyone of her status would have for a dowry. On top of that... you gave her Rose Bluff. WHY Darcy? Why did you do that to her? She does not deserve... to be hunted by the voracious wolves... of the Haute Ton,... like my own brother,... just because she now has the resources... they want so badly to attain... for themselves.”
Darcy was shocked at his cousin’s words, but he would not let him win this battle. “Her uncle and I came to the agreement easily, so what is it to you,” he came at him with another jab.
“I do not want to see her hurt.”
“So you are now her protector?”
“I did not say that...”
“What are you to her then?” He could feel the slight shift in their positions, so he threw a few more punches that finally put Fitz completely in the defensive. “Why does it matter to you? Does Mary not deserve to one day wed?”
“Of course she deserves it, but at what cost? How many fools will she be exposed to in your quest to marry her off?”
“That was not my intention,” he grunted out. “I had to do it.”
“WHY, Darcy? WHY?”
Darcy lunged forward, his words now coming with as much force as his fists. “If you care so much... then why not admit it to someone?... Admit that you care for her.” Fitz stopped in his tracks, but Darcy’s assault did not diminish. “Admit that you would marry her if not for your... blasted pride. The very same pride... that has kept you from... accepting Rose Bluff from me... years ago... as my father intended.”
Fitz did not see the last two punches that came at his face, Darcy’s left fist connecting with his lip while his right landed squarely on the side of his eye just a second later. A sharp pain assaulted him and he heard his cousin say through the haze, “I gave it to her because you would not allow me to give it to you directly. If you are unwilling to admit your own feelings, to yourself and to her, at least I know she will be provided for her entire life.”
Darcy saw that his fists had connected, as well as his words, so he took a step back, breathing heavily from the exertion. “Fitz, you know I love you like a brother, but sometimes you can be the most impossibly stubborn person. I only hoped my gift would open your eyes to the possibilities life could hold for you.”
Fitz looked at his cousin, his left eye starting to throb and swell already. He felt a trickle of blood at the right corner of his mouth and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. He brings up a good point. Why? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I doing this to her? He stumbled backward until his sweaty back hit the wall, then he slid down to the floor. He held his head in his hands and finally allowed himself to admit his own heart’s desire. “I love her,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Darcy walked over and bent down next to him, handing him a handkerchief for his lip. “I am glad to hear it, but really, she needs to be the one you tell, not me—yet.”
Fitz could not help the dazed look on his face as he stared at his cousin.
Darcy stood and walked over to the chair that held their shirts, tugging his own over his head and hastily pulling on his coat. He then threw Fitz his shirt and smiled, “Perhaps it would be best if you were dressed though.”
Fitz could not help but laugh. “Thanks,” he said as he stood and pulled the white lawn over his head, a smear of blood from his lip now evident on the front. He reached up to wipe at his cut lip with the handkerchief once again. “I mean it Darce—thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being my brother and not giving up on me.”
Darcy walked over and patted him on the shoulder, “What are cousins for?” He reached out and embraced Fitz in a show of brotherly affection. “I guess you have someone with whom you need to speak now?”
Fitz wiped the blood now starting to dry on his lip, then hastily hung the cravat around his neck as he replied, “I am not like you. I refuse to ask for her hand in such a hasty manner. No, this will take some planning. Would you happen to know if there is a circulating library in Meryto
n?”
“Yes, Elizabeth has mentioned wanting to go, but we have not yet had the opportunity.”
“Hopefully they will have just what I need. Thanks.”
Darcy stopped with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to his cousin, “I am sorry for the bloody lip and black eye.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing, “I am certain Bingley can spare some raw meat, and I carry arnica liniment and witch hazel in my trunks for just such occasions as this.”
“So you get into fights often then when you travel?”
“Often enough; it is the life of a soldier—although usually the liniment is for my opponent.”
Darcy chuckled and left his cousin, heading upstairs to get cleaned up.
Fitz looked around the room. Somehow the rain outside no longer dimmed the views around him. The wallpaper shone a bright, sunshine yellow, whereas before he saw it more as a drab mustard color. He chuckled at himself—the room had not changed a bit, but he had.
With a lightened step, he went upstairs. He had the handkerchief pressed against his lip and was paying little attention where he was going when he rounded the corner and ran into Mary. Reaching for her elbow, he righted them both, then apologized.
She was shocked to see such a sight before her. The colonel stood there in only his stockings, breeches and shirtsleeves, his cravat hung loosely around his neck and his coat draped over his forearm. What shocked her the most was the bleeding lip and swelling eye. She reached up, her fingers barely touching his hot skin as she verbally said, “What happened? Was this because of me?” She was frightened he had been in a fight with one of the locals due to the events at church on Sunday.
“You?” He chuckled, “No... no, I can honestly say this was all on me.”
“Who would do such a thing?” she said, shocked.
“My cousin. He thought I needed some sense knocked into me, and, now that it is done with, I could not agree more.”
“Does it hurt?” she asked as she lightly caressed the swelling skin next to his eye. A movement further down the hall caught her attention and Mary realized she was touching the face of the gentleman in front of her. Her hand lowered gently to her side as her cheeks became bright pink.
Just to Hear 'I Love You': An Alternate Tale of Jane Austen's 'Pride & Prejudice' Page 20