“Yes, Dad, I’ve come. I’m here. You’re going to be all right. All will be well,” he said, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat.
“No, Fitzwilliam, all will not be well. I’m dying, and I know it.” The old man paused for breath. “You and I have rarely seen eye to eye of late, but I do want you to know that I love you… I always have… you and David and Georgiana,” he said, glancing towards his younger son and daughter.
Fitzwilliam nodded, pressing his father’s hand as he looked back in time and saw the man he once was—the man who used to pick him up when he was a little boy—the man who loved him when he was a child.
“My doctor tells me that ninety-five percent of my heart has been destroyed. I don’t have long to live, but there are a few things I needed to put right. Seeing the parish vicar was the first, telling you… your brother… and sister that I love you is second, and Pemberley the third.” He paused. “I have a living will, giving you control over everything. See Metcalf tomorrow. As my solicitor, he’ll know what to do.” George paused again for breath. “I know what Dashwood is up to, and I hope to ensnare him. Metcalf and Blakely have been fully briefed about everything. They will fill you in, if I cannot.”
Mr. Darcy paused to rest. When he was able, he continued. “You… and David… must stop Dashwood. You must!” Glancing down, George stopped and slipped the Darcy ring from his finger. He took Fitzwilliam’s hand and pressed it into his palm, folding it closed. “I am handing the torch over to you. You are now keeper of the keep. You must, Fitzwilliam… become the man you were born to be.” Then George placed his hand over his son’s, sealing the transfer of power as he drew in another ragged breath.
He motioned for David to come closer. “David… I must see David.”
“I’m here, Father.” David stepped forward and took his father’s other hand.
“You too, must become the man who you were meant to be… a man of principle… a man of honor. You have the strength of character that makes you a Darcy, but you lack discipline. That’s my fault, and I’m sorry that… that I neglected you. If I could, I’d make up for it, but if I don’t live long enough to tell you everything you need to know, you’ll find the answers in my journals. Mrs. Foulkes is having them printed and bound. I’ve written about my life with your mother.” Almost physically spent, he painfully gasped. “Harvey has agreed to answer all your questions. We’ve made our peace.” George was now wheezing, but he grasped his sons’ hands as firmly as he could and made another valiant effort to speak.” Promise me, David… Promise me, Fitzwilliam,” he said, looking from one brother to the other, “Promise me that you will rise to the occasion and stop your uncle. Do whatever it takes…whatever you have to, but stop him! Promise me!”
Both nodded in affirmation as George tried once more to speak. His final words were a frail whisper. “And remember, my children, I love you…” he said, his voice trailing off.
“Dad, please don’t talk. We’ll do whatever it takes. Everything will be fine. David, Georgiana, and I are all here.” Fitzwilliam could see his father fading. “We won’t let you down. We love you, Dad... Dad. Know that.” Fitzwilliam squeezed his father’s hand as tears pooled in his eyes.
He glanced over at David and saw the tears glistening in his brother’s eyes, too, though he had the same cold, stoic expression that he had always worn when standing before their father.
David’s appearance unnerved him, but seeing Georgiana standing at the foot of the bed crying softly was more than he could take as they all watched George fade into unconsciousness.
“Dad. Dad!” Tears spilled from Fitzwilliam’s eyes as he shook his head and began to weep.
A firm, but gentle, hand fell on his shoulder. “Mr. Darcy, I’m Dr. Matthews, your father’s cardiologist. He’s slipped into unconsciousness. He does that off and on. Soon he will not be able to come out of it.”
Fitzwilliam turned to meet the doctor. “How bad is he? How long does he have to live?” Fitzwilliam choked.
“A day, maybe a few more…not much longer. His heart is tired. Your father has been under a great deal of stress for the many years I’ve known him. I am not only your father’s doctor, but I am his friend as well. He’ll need to rest for the remainder of the day. I suggest that you not press him any longer should he awaken today.”
“What about tomorrow? Can we see him tomorrow?”
“Probably. As I said, he slips in and out. He’s very tired.”
“He wants to speak to my sister. I’m sure his brother would like to spend some time with him, too.”
“He spent the better part of yesterday with Harvey and Samantha, and he’s already had time with Georgiana. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see. He needs to rest now.”
Dr. Matthews walked the siblings to the door. As they were about to leave, he said, “Fitzwilliam, there is one other thing you may like to know. I’ve never known your father to be a religious man, but he did ask to speak with his vicar. They spent about thirty minutes together, and I saw them praying. I believe he’s has made his peace with God, and now he wants to do likewise with his family. As his friend, I can assure you that he does love you, and he’s been very concerned about your future.”
“Thank you, Dr. Matthews,” Fitzwilliam said, shaking his hand.
As Fitzwilliam stepped out of the room, all those present rose to greet him, asking questions.
Harvey came forward and put his arm around Fitzwilliam and David’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. If there’s anything we can do, please feel free to call us. Samantha and I have put aside our differences and spent time with George. We’ve made amends,” he said, looking towards his sister.
Samantha Dashwood reached out and took Fitzwilliam and David by the hand. “I want you to know that I don’t approve of my husband’s actions, but I am powerless to do anything to stop him. George knows that, and he’s forgiven me. I hope you’ll forgive me, too. Harry’s my husband. I may not approve of what he does, but I do have to stand by him, especially when everything comes crashing down on him, as I’m sure it will.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Fitzwilliam said stoically as he withdrew his hand and walked away, while David lingered on.
“Aunt Samantha, who can tell what the outcome of all of this will be, but I certainly don’t blame you.” He released her hand and joined his brother who had pulled a sobbing Georgiana into his arms. Together, the three Darcys held one another and wept.
~*~
George Darcy drifted in and out of a restless sleep, dreaming of images he could only vaguely recall. Anne was standing before him illuminated in white, wearing a gold crown encrusted with brightly colored jewels. Her golden hair brushed the floor as she glided across the room to his bed. He opened his weary eyes as she stood before him. It was not a dream.
“Anne, you are here?” he whispered.
“Yes, George, I’m here. I’ve been allowed to come for you. I’ve been with you for several months now, watching and waiting.”
“When… where…where have you been? I haven’t seen you.”
“Oh, but you have. Remember? I was there when you saw David in the executive office at Pemberley, but only now am I allowed to speak to you.”
“Yes, I remember. You were standing in the corner by the book case, but I thought it was a vision.”
“It was.” She smiled. “I was also there at Christmas, and then when Harvey came.”
“Why are you here now, speaking to me? Why speak only now and not then?”
“Your time was not yet full, so I wasn’t allowed to speak. As to why I’m here?” She laughed softly. “I was sent to guide you because we have issues that are unresolved. I forgave you long ago, and I want you to know that I love you,” she gently said, her voice like a sweet melody of classical music. “What Harvey said is true. I didn’t love you when I married you, but I did love you later, and I love you now.”
“Am I dead? Is this the last sleep?”
“Death
? The last sleep? No,” she laughed merrily, “death is the final awakening. Come, George.”
She stretched out her ivory hand. George reached to take it. When their hands touched, his body fell back against the bed while his spirit clasped the proffered hand, and he stepped out of his body. Clothed in white with a golden crown of his own, he stood in front of his wife.
“They’ll be here soon,” she said, caressing a red rose she held in her hand.
“Where did the rose come from? It looks like one you used to tend in the garden at Pemberley.”
She laughed again. “It’s from the Celestial Garden in the City on the Hill where we shall soon be going. The Master said I could bring it. It’s ‘A Rose for Fitzwilliam.’ It will give him comfort.”
“Comfort, yes, our son will need that in the days to come,” George said.
“But he will rise to the occasion, just as you’ve taught him, my love. He will overcome.”
“And what about his wife…what of her?”
“Their world hangs in the balance by a thread, controlled by the hands of Providence. Many trials await them.”
The couple grew silent as a nurse, followed by the doctor on call and a team of medical personnel, came rushing through the door in response to the alarm sounding at the nurses’ desk. The lifeline was flat. While the doctor and the medical assistants checked the monitors, the ward sister gazed on the inert form lying on the bed. Mr. Darcy seemed to be staring blankly with a serene smile upon his face. “Doctor, look,” she commented. “He looks so peaceful. He must have died in his sleep.”
“Umm… Yes, I suppose he did,” said the doctor as he closed George’s eyes. “You’ll have to ring the family.”
“I’ll take care of it.” She paused to glance around. “Doctor, do you think it’s unusually bright in this room?”
The doctor surveyed the room with a frown. “Nothing seems out of the ordinary to me. It’s late, and you’ve probably not had enough coffee.”
“Hmm… I just had a strange feeling we weren’t alone,” she shrugged, “but I suppose you’re right. I’ll go and make that call.”
~*~
Fitzwilliam tossed and turned in a restless sleep, dreaming of his mother and father in the rose garden at Pemberley, when he heard his mobile ring. Thinking it must be the hospital, he reached over to the night table, fumbling for his phone.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy, this is Sister Williamson at St. Thomas’. I’m sorry to inform you, but your father died peacefully in his sleep around three o’clock this morning.”
Fitzwilliam let out a hard breath, “Thank you. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Sliding his phone shut, he scrambled out of bed and dressed quickly. A few doors down, he woke David first, rapping on the door until his brother answered.
“Fitzwilliam? It’s Father, isn’t it?”
“Yes, he’s gone. Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital. I’m going to break the news to Georgiana.”
~*~
The three Darcys entered the CCU room an hour later to find their father with a look of serene peacefulness upon his face, just as the nurse had found him. Georgiana ran across the room, flinging herself at him, crying as, unbeknown to her, two beings illuminated in white watched from the corner of the room.
“Anne, I must go to her.”
“No, George, you can’t.
“Why not?”
“The time for that has passed. She cannot see or hear you. Only when a soul’s time is near can they see into our world, and hers is not for many years to come.”
“Have I really gone through life with my eyes shut so often that I never saw how much they needed me? Can grace not be imparted to an old man one last time?”
The melodious tinkle of Anne’s voice filled the air. “You’re no longer an old man, George. You’re young again and just as handsome as you ever were.”
He looked down at his hands and noticed that they were no longer wrinkled. Frowning, he asked, “Cannot I even touch them—embrace them just one last time?”
“No, only in life could you do that. You shall not see them again until it is their time. But your time has come. The tunnel has opened and we must go.” She took him by the hand as they stepped into the gateway through the bright light and into eternity. Just before the light closed behind them, Anne dropped the rose.
Fitzwilliam swallowed hard as tears stung his eyes. He gently put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Georgiana, we need to go. There are arrangements to be made. Come.” Prying her away from the body, he pulled her and David into his embrace, and wept.
As they moved in the direction of the door, Fitzwilliam noticed a solitary red rose lying on the floor. Puzzled, he reached down and picked it up. Its sweet smell reminded him of his boyhood and his mother’s rose garden. Remembering his dream, he swept the room with a furrowed brow. …Mother? He tilted his head. No, it couldn’t have been. It must be a coincidence. The nurse must have dropped it. He sighed wearily. …It evokes peace, and I need that. I’ll keep it. I must ring home and tell Elizabeth what’s happened.
He clutched the rose as he and Georgiana left the room, followed by David.
~*~
Back in his father’s study, he poured himself a whiskey, something he rarely drank, but today, it was what he needed to soothe the heavy ache in his chest. Glancing down at the ring on his finger, he shook his head and swallowed back his pain.
…How am I going to cope without him? Pemberley…I can’t go on alone. It’s too difficult for me. How am I going to manage this? I know I’ve got David and Georgiana, but this is a heavy burden to bear. Elizabeth! I need Elizabeth. He picked up the phone and keyed her number.
“Fitzwilliam?”
“Elizabeth, it’s good to hear your voice,” he said, repressing a sob.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes… I didn’t have a chance to say my final goodbyes. He died during the night in his sleep, but at least I got to see him beforehand. Oh God, Elizabeth, it’s so hard. He’s left me with a gargantuan task, and he’s not here to help me. How am I going to cope without him?”
“It’s hard. I know. I’ve been there, remember? Fitzwilliam, there is a time and a season for everything. A time to live and a time to die.” She paused. “Go ahead and cry. It’s okay for a man to cry.”
He broke down, sobbing into the phone. “Elizabeth, he had the most tranquil look on his face that I’ve ever seen. He made his peace with everyone before he died. For that, I’m thankful.” Fitzwilliam drew in a sharp breath, steadying himself. “We’ve made arrangements for him to be taken to Pemberley Estate and to be buried in the family cemetery in three days. I meant to talk to him about us, but I didn’t get the opportunity. I so regret that.”
He hesitated, knowing it was not in her best interests, but unable to resist, he asked anyway. “Elizabeth, I need you. I wish you’d come. Elizabeth, do you think you could? Maybe for a few days?”
He could hear the remorse in her voice. “No, Fitzwilliam, I can’t. It’s two weeks before finals, and there’s no one to sub for me. Both my grad assistants are sick. It seems everyone is sick, and I’ve been under the weather, too. There never is a good time for a funeral, is there, and this is certainly not.”
“No, there never is,” he whispered. “But I do understand. After all, I’m a lecturer, too.”
“Fitzwilliam, I hate to cut you off, especially now, but my morning class is about to begin. I’m standing in the doorway now. Call me tonight.”
“Yes, I will. I love you,” he sighed. …I wish she could have been late for class… just this one time.
“I love you, too.”
After hanging up the phone, he sank back into the oversized chair and downed the contents of his glass. The task that lay before him was overwhelming, but hearing Elizabeth’s voice had comforted him and had also spurred him on to finish the job he was certain had taken his father’s life. He didn’t know h
ow he was going to do it, but he would not only finish the job, he would also get even. He fixed his gaze upon the ring and made a solemn vow. He would get them all—every last one of them—uncle, cousin, it made no difference. They would pay!
~*~
Later that night, numbed by the events of the last few days, David sat alone in his room, nursing a glass of brandy. His father’s last words reverberated in his mind. …What’s in those journals, and what does Harvey have to do with it? Do I want to know? Yes, I have to know. I’ll get hold of them as soon as I can and read them in the privacy of my flat. That way I’ll be alone.
As he sat brooding, his mind drifted to Cecilia. …I wonder what she’s doing and who she’s with. I need her, but will she even think about me? I know she’s heard the news. It’s been all over the international media. His reverie was broken by the ringtone of his mobile. Reaching over to retrieve it, his mouth curved into a smile.
“Cecilia!”
“Yes, it’s me. David, I was in South America when I got the news. I’m so sorry. I know as well as anyone what it is like to lose a parent—especially when it’s your remaining parent,” she breathed softly. “Fortunately, you have family to comfort you. How are you, darling?”
His smile broadened. It must have taken a great deal of effort for her to call him ‘darling.’ Perhaps she did feel something after all. “I’m fine, love. It’s been awful, but I’m getting my feelings under control. Although right now, I’m numb. I don’t think I’ve completely accepted the fact that he’s no longer here. I still expect to be called into his office or study at any moment. I’m sure my feelings will settle down soon.”
“Yes, they will. I felt the same way when my father died. David, if there is anything I can do, let me know.”
He paused. Yes, there was something she could do. “Could you come to London? I…I could do with your company.”
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