The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love

by Pat Santarsiero

  Lizzy’s adventurous nature was such that Jane knew she would never experience life as fully as would Lizzy. Her sister faced every new situation as a challenge to be met and conquered: a trait that as a child had resulted in many scrapes upon her elbows and knees.

  “Thrilling” had been the exact word Lizzy, at age eight, had used to describe the first time she had ridden atop a horse, while Jane’s reaction to that very same endeavour was to declare that riding safely inside a carriage was more to her liking.

  And “breathtaking” had been the first word Lizzy had gushed as she eagerly raced to reach the top of Oakham Mount and observed the exhilarating view, while Jane doggedly tried to catch up.

  The fact that they were so different from each other somehow had made them so very close over the years, each one’s character balanced out perfectly by that of the other.

  Considering all of this, Jane thought Lizzy’s reaction to tonight’s most impressive dance was hardly an anomaly. And now the sisters were engaged in the last set of the evening, a situation Lizzy found most disheartening for she wished the dance to go on forever. As the music ended, their partners brought them back to their chaperone, and the two sisters curtsied their farewells.

  “Well, Lizzy, how did you enjoy your first London dance?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.

  “Oh Aunt, it was wonderful! I shall never forget it, ever!”

  Mrs. Gardiner smiled broadly at her niece. “Well, you can tell me everything in the morning. You two girls go along home in our carriage. I will stay and help Mrs. Wilkins, the vicar’s wife, tidy up a bit. They will see me home in their carriage.”

  The two girls hugged their aunt and thanked her for such an enjoyable evening. Jane stifled a yawn, but Lizzy was wide awake and eager to discuss the entire night, dance by dance, with her sister on their journey home.

  ********

  Another restless night was upon him. Darcy sat at the desk in the study of the family’s London townhouse, in the chair his father had occupied for years. He stared down at the pocket watch that his father had always worn, a gift from his mother to his father on their first anniversary. The inscription on the back simply read: “To my dearest George, With all my love, Anne.” He poured himself another glass of brandy and savoured the taste as memories flooded his thoughts.

  For three days and three nights he had completely shut himself off, imprisoned by his melancholy frame of mind. It was only Georgiana that he allowed to impose upon his mourning, for he knew her grief to be equal to his own.

  But it was not just sadness that filled his heart. He worried for the future of Pemberley. George Darcy, the once industrious and meticulous Master of Pemberley, had, since the loss of his wife, allowed the fertile fields to become almost barren and the estate to fall into disrepair. Darcy had been summoned from Cambridge last month due to the decline in his father’s health, and it was only then that Mr. Owens, his father’s steward, had informed him of the extent of the neglect. Now he must try to restore the land and regain the trust of his tenants and peers. He may have inherited the title of Master of Pemberley, but Darcy knew he would have to earn the respect it commanded.

  Another cause for his apprehension was the guardianship of his sister, a responsibility that he and his cousin Richard now shared. Georgiana’s future was now dependent upon him. Her life and the lives of all his tenants now rested firmly upon his shoulders. All of it . . . all of it was now his burden to bear.

  Darcy poured out yet another measure of brandy and stared at the deep, rich amber as if it contained the wisdom he sought. Consuming the contents of the glass, this time in one long swallow, he felt the liquid burn its way down his throat. Even though he knew the confidence that the alcohol provided would be of short duration, it was still a welcome relief from the constant insecurity that now plagued him.

  As he closed his eyes, a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty young girl was suddenly before him. Her image had left an enduring impression, one that had caught him completely by surprise. Recalling the look of admiration the charming, dark-haired Miss Elizabeth Bennet had bestowed upon him, he smiled at the thought of her sweet innocence. He could not recall the last time a young lady had intrigued him so. Of course, someone as guileless as Miss Bennet would expect nothing less than love.

  Disturbed by his wayward thoughts, he began to pace the room. He needed to clear his head. Undoubtedly the alcohol was affecting his emotional state. A short carriage ride in the cool night air would restore his rationality. He picked up his father’s watch and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. Not wishing to wake his staff, for the hour was late, he walked the easy distance to the livery stable. The elderly hostler greeted him as he entered. “Waitin’ on your man, guv’nor?”

  “No need to bother him,” answered Darcy as he tossed the man a coin. “I will take the rig out myself.”

  ********

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet! What is it; are we to be murdered in our beds?” cried his wife.

  Thomas Bennet reached for the candle on his nightstand and quickly lit it. He shoved his feet into the slippers on the floor at his bedside and shuffled towards the stairs.

  Mrs. Bennet peeked from the slightly opened door of her bedchamber and watched as her husband descended the stairs as he answered the late night caller’s knock.

  Mary, Kitty and Lydia, the three youngest of the Bennets’ five daughters, hovered on the top stair as their father opened the front door to reveal who had called upon them at such an ungodly hour.

  Very few words were exchanged between the two gentlemen, but when Mr. Bennet closed the door and turned, in his hand was a missive.

  He hesitated, staring down at the letter in his hand. In his two and forty years, never once had good news been gained by the deliverance of an express sent by special courier. He tore open the letter and forced his eyes to identify the sender. It was, as he feared, from his brother Gardiner.

  Mrs. Bennet and her three daughters slowly and cautiously crept down the stairs as if Mr. Bennet were a skunk ready to spray at the slightest disturbance. He looked up at them, and his eyes revealed his grief as he informed them of the news the note contained.

  “There has been a carriage accident,” he said. “Jane and Lizzy have been injured.”

  Mrs. Bennet swooned as Kitty and Lydia led her towards a parlour chair.

  “Oh, my poor Jane! Where was my brother Gardiner? How could he have let this happen?” she cried.

  Mr. Bennet did his best to ignore the fact that his wife’s lament had included only one daughter, but his irritation could not be completely disguised as he said, “I will leave for London at once to see to the well-being of both our daughters.”

  As quickly as the carriage could be summoned, Mr. Bennet was on his way to Cheapside, the length of the journey increasing his anxiety with every mile he travelled. Not knowing what to expect, he entered the townhouse with trepidation. He was partially relieved when he saw Jane seated on the couch in the parlour next to her uncle. Aside from several bruises and a cut on her forehead, her injuries appeared to be minor and she seemed to be coping well.

  “Father!”

  As soon as she looked up and saw him, she made a valiant effort to stand, but Mr. Bennet was immediately at her side before she had the chance and embraced her.

  After confirming that she suffered no permanent injury, he enquired after Elizabeth. Just at that moment a grey haired, distinguished looking man descended the stairs. “Ah, I assume you are Mr. Bennet?”

  He nodded, his voice being stuck in his throat.

  “I am Dr. Graham. Perhaps we should talk in private before you go up to see Miss Elizabeth. Her aunt is with her now, and I have given her something for the pain. She should be feeling its effects soon.”

  Mr. Bennet again nodded, assenting to the doctor’s request. “Please use my study, sir,” said Mr. Gardiner as he indicated the room down the hallway.

  After twenty minutes, the two gentlemen emerged, their faces reflecting
the seriousness of their conversation.

  Without further hesitation, Mr. Bennet ascended the stairs to where Elizabeth lay. He was mindful to school his countenance as not to betray his emotions.

  Despite her pain, her eyes lit up the moment she saw him. “Papa! I am so happy you have come.”

  “Oh, my child.” Despite the promise he had just made to himself moments before, tears welled in his eyes.

  Mrs. Gardiner slipped out of the room to allow them privacy as Mr. Bennet rushed to his daughter’s bedside. “How do you feel, Lizzy? Are you in pain?”

  “I was in much pain before, but now it seems to be less so. I think it has something to do with that abhorrent tasting stuff the doctor gave me.”

  “Can you tell me what happened? Jane said she had fallen asleep and does not remember anything.”

  “I am not sure, Papa, it all happened so fast,” she said as she earnestly looked up into his eyes.

  “We had not long left the dance. Oh, Papa, it was a wonderful dance!”

  “Try to contain your enthusiasm for the dance just for now Lizzy, and tell me about the accident.”

  It was hardly a moment for amusement, but Thomas Bennet could not help the smile that threatened. Even in such a situation his daughter was not thinking of her injuries, but of the lovely dance she had just attended. He thought her the most special child in the world.

  “Yes, go on, you were just leaving the dance, and then what happened?”

  “We had not gone very far and had just turned a corner when another carriage came around the bend. It was travelling fast, much too fast, and it came upon us so quickly that it could not stop in time. It collided with our carriage and spooked the horses, causing them to rear up, and our carriage overturned.”

  “Did you see who was driving the other carriage, Lizzy?” asked her father.

  “As our carriage came to rest on its side, he looked down at me, but quickly turned his head away. It all happened in an instant as he took a whip to the horse, and then shouting a curse, he sped away.”

  “Do you think you would recognize him, if you saw him again?”

  “I do not know. Aside from the fact that his hair was dark in color, I cannot honestly say what he looked like. But for a moment, I thought I saw . . . I thought I saw the devil!”

  Mr. Bennet eyed his daughter for a long moment. He knew she must be overwrought and that the doctor had given her some laudanum for the pain, but she was also the least likely of all his daughters to partake in hyperbole.

  If not the devil, at least a monster, for only a monster would leave two young girls injured on the road without even offering some assistance.

  “Try not to think upon it now, Lizzy. You must get some rest.”

  “Is the injury to my leg so very bad, Papa?”

  He did not wish to lie to her, but he did not think it best to disclose the extent of her injury just now. Mr. Reeves, the Gardiners’ long-time driver had sustained a concussion after being thrown from the carriage and rendered unconscious, and Jane’s injuries seemed to be only minor. No, it was Elizabeth who was fated to suffer the most serious of injuries.

  Though he had pressed the doctor for an answer to Lizzy’s very same question, the doctor had refused to speculate. He said there was a chance she could recover the ability to walk—if the operation went well, if she obeyed all his instructions, if she was very diligent and persistent with her exercises, and above all, if she was very lucky.

  That was a lot of ifs to overcome. They would deal with them one day at a time.

  “The doctor has given me every hope to believe that you shall make a full recovery. He has set your leg as best as he can for now, but you will have to undergo an operation, Lizzy, and some treatments, but I am confident you shall be as good as new. It may take a good deal of time, but you are young and otherwise healthy, my child. I am certain you shall prevail.”

  Elizabeth seemed to relax at this declaration. For if there was anyone who was up to a challenge it was Lizzy. And besides, in her mind there was no question that she would make a full recovery, for how else would her dream of one day dancing so elegantly with the handsome Mr. Darcy ever come true?

  She gave a stifled yawn, as the laudanum was now taking its full affect upon her. “Did I mention that we met Mr. Darcy, Papa? He was most . . . (yawn) . . . congenial and quite handsome.”

  “Yes, I believe you dedicated an entire lengthy letter to describing every gesture and word the man produced,” said Mr. Bennet, slightly shaking his head at the priorities of her thoughts.

  Moments later he looked down upon her as she slept soundly, a smile on her face as she most likely dreamed of her Mr. Darcy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hertfordshire 1811

  “Shall we visit Charlotte this afternoon?” Jane asked of her sister.

  “You go if you wish. I would rather stay here and read,” said Elizabeth.

  “We could pick some flowers. They are at the perfect stage for drying.”

  “I would really prefer to finish my book.”

  “There is an Assembly on Saturday. Will you come, Lizzy?”

  “You know I do not dance, Jane. I will stay home and keep Papa company.”

  Even though Jane always asked the same questions and Lizzy’s answers never varied, the two sisters seemed determined to play out this identical scene at regular intervals.

  “Oh Lizzy, are you ever going to leave this house? You used to love dancing and riding and visiting Charlotte, and taking long rambles through the . . .”

  She quickly looked down as the words died upon her lips.

  Then she raised her head and met Elizabeth’s eyes, “You can still do all those things, Lizzy. Maybe you cannot do some of them as well as you used to, but the doctor said walking would be good exercise.”

  “Really, Jane, I don’t understand why you won’t just let me be. I am perfectly content as I am.”

  “But Lizzy, you are the only one who sees your limp as an impediment. Even Father says you are too self-conscious about it.”

  Elizabeth almost startled at the word limp. For even though she most definitely had one, it was not something that anyone had ever actually voiced before; a more tactful turn of phrase had always been used in its place, at least, when in her company.

  The room was suddenly silent as Elizabeth chose not to respond to her sister and instead returned her attention to her book. When she next looked up, she saw her sister hurry from the room. Yes, leave me, thought Elizabeth. You can never understand.

  It was not Elizabeth’s intention to be contrary, but as many times as she had tried to convince her sister of her aversion to social events, she knew Jane would never be able to relate to her circumstances.

  All she had wanted was to be as she was before. How could Jane and Papa not understand? When people looked upon her, they no longer saw Elizabeth the young girl they had once smiled upon and admired, they now saw poor Elizabeth the young woman on whom they now took pity.

  She would rather spend her days in solitude than be the object of such pity.

  Jane had quickly left the parlour, no longer capable of hiding the tears that had been threatening. As she passed her father’s library, he called to her. Composing herself, she peered inside the library door.

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Come in, Jane. I wish to speak to you.”

  She entered the sanctuary of her father’s domain and sat down in the chair across the desk from him.

  “What has upset you so, Jane?”

  Her gaze was focused on the hands in her lap. “Oh Father, I just wish that Lizzy would not be so . . . so stubborn. I cannot help but feel . . .”

  “What, Jane? What is it you feel?”

  She took a deep breath and looked up into his soft eyes. “I cannot help but feel guilty that it was Lizzy who suffered the greater injury. I would give anything had it been me instead. Lizzy was always so full of energy—so full of life. It is I who could have fared better
under such circumstances.”

  Mr. Bennet looked at the anguish in his daughter’s eyes. He did not doubt for a moment that she would have gladly reversed the situation had she the ability to do so.

  “Jane, you must not feel guilty. You had no more to do with Elizabeth’s injuries than I. It was a twist of fate, and who are we to argue with such things as fate? Elizabeth will come around. She has always been a sensible girl, and I am confident she will regain her enthusiasm in good time.”

  He did his best to convince his daughter that he spoke the truth, and she made believe, just as he did, that the situation would eventually improve with time. Jane gave him a guarded smile as she left his company.

  But in truth, Mr. Bennet silently grieved. He and Jane had tried everything they could think of to encourage Lizzy to take an interest in life again. They had pleaded, bribed, and cajoled, all to no avail. If something did not change soon, Elizabeth would be beyond amendment, her spirit damaged forever by the events that had occurred that fateful night.

  He sighed. He hardly recognized his own daughter anymore. The young girl who had once waxed profusely on all she experienced, no longer seemed interested in experiencing anything. What must he do to bring her back from the precipice on which she precariously teetered? Was it already too late?

  ********

  “Your mind seems to be on other things today, Mr. Darcy,” said the young woman as her hand lightly tugged his upper arm bringing his attention back to her. Miss Alyssa Marston looked the picture of elegant London society. Her beautiful, auburn hair was intricately braided, covered by the most exclusive bonnet that Estelle’s Boutique & Millinery had to offer. She reached up and brushed a curl from her forehead, displaying the beige kid glove that fit smoothly over her delicate slim hand. It was a glorious Sunday afternoon, and the handsome couple were strolling the fashionable Hyde Park.

  Yes, his mind had been on other things, and for the life of him, he could not recall what their topic of conversation had been before his thoughts had begun to wander. Knowing Miss Marston, it undoubtedly had to do with some party or ball she had attended, for the young lady had only recently arrived in London and was enamoured of the social scene, a situation she relished.