Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  "Yes. We used to spend a great deal of time together."

  "So, I gather you have just arrived from abroad. We regret not to have seen you at the wedding."

  "Yes. I had no idea. As a matter of fact, had I known about it I would have never gone on the journey I did. I suppose Miss Elizabeth was here."

  "She was. But now she went away with her sister Mary and her husband to Bath. Mary has settled in London but her husband has a house in Bath. They are staying there for a month and then they will be touring Ramsgate in spring."

  "I see." A moment of silence followed, both parties knowing the implications of the passing of such intelligence-

  "So, we are family now, Colonel."

  "Indeed, we are. One way or the other," he said while he rose. "I thank you for your time, Mrs Gardiner, Edward. I am afraid I must away now."

  "Not at all, Colonel."

  When he was about to leave, Madeleine Gardiner called him back. "I imagine, Colonel, you are yet to apprise my niece of your return in safety from war."

  "Indeed, madam. I am."

  "You must know she thinks you… might have not survived the war."

  "She thinks I am dead?"

  "I guess she chose to believe that better than…"

  "I understand."

  No, he did not. Madeleine knew about the relationship Elizabeth had had with Mr Darcy, and she suspected that Elizabeth no longer loved Colonel Fitzwilliam, but had been hiding herself in a self confinement for love of Mr Darcy. She wished she could relate all that to the good colonel and spare him the anguish he would have to suffer until he found out for himself. But she could not.

  "I shall not speak to her until you have seen her. You must know, Richard, you will find her rather changed."

  He nodded, grateful, although a bit puzzled at the implications of her words. Mrs Gardiner was a good person. He was glad he had come.

  In preparation for his trip to Kent, Fitzwilliam took great care to see all his relatives before leaving. He intended to stay with Darcy for a while as he could not follow Elizabeth around. Therefore, he visited Georgiana at the Darcy house.

  Georgiana clung fiercely to his neck, sobbing unrelentingly as if she had just been apprised of his demise. Colonel Fitzwilliam held her tenderly in his arms until he suspected she was overreacting a bit.

  "Georgiana. I am not dead. I am back," he teased her.

  "Oh, Richard. I have missed you so! I had given up on you. I thought you were dead."

  "Did my name come up among the casualties?"

  "No, but still I thought you were dead."

  " 'Tis a bit tragic, do you not think so?"

  "Tragic? I have spent countless nights thinking of you, praying for you. And now you tell me I was being tragic?"

  "Well, it seems all your prayers were heard. For not a bruise do I have from the battlefield."

  "Truly? No sequels?"

  "Not one. Only the bad memories."

  "I missed you at my coming out."

  "I imagined you refused to dance from heartbreak!"

  "Almost. But Miss Elizabeth persuaded me to dance, although she herself refused to dance too."

  "Miss Elizabeth? Miss Elizabeth Bennet? She was invited to your coming out?"

  "Yes, but she sympathised with my grief and did not dance a single dance. Anyway, I persuaded her to do it with a gentleman of my acquaintance. I hated to see her alone and sad." Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled inwardly. He thought he imagined the source of Elizabeth's pain, and rejoiced in it.

  "Did cousin Anne attend your ball?"

  "She did. But she did not dance, the bore! Fortunately, Brother danced with other ladies."

  "Your brother does not like to dance much."

  "Oh, but he did. He danced the first two with me, of course. Then the next two with cousin Catherine. And finally… Listen to this…" She took a seat and made him sit beside her, taking his hands in hers, her voice coming in a whisper. "Finally, he danced with Miss Elizabeth. Oh, Fitz! I was so happy to see them dancing, and waltzing of all things! You know how much he loves her, Richard. He grabbed her tightly from her waist and their faces went this close." She put herself quite close to Richard's face, her lips almost touching his. "I thought he would kiss her at any minute. Brother was very serious at first, but then again they talked a great deal while they danced. He whispered into her ear all the time. Oh, it was so romantic! They looked so well together!"

  Fitzwilliam remained stiff and silent. He could hardly believe this disclosure. His jealousy for his cousin's proximity to his beloved was unbearable. His mind was in all perturbation that such a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing emotions must create. He listened with much inward suffering, but with great outward patience, to Georgiana's details. Methodical, or well arranged, or very well delivered it could not be expected to be, but it contained, when separated from all the feebleness of the narration, a substance to sink his spirit, especially with the corroborating circumstances, which his own memory brought when Darcy had seen Miss Bennet at Netherfield Park, and waltzed with her on Twelfth Night. Georgiana only added to his distress when she commented:

  "I know this is a horrible thought, but I believe something happened that night. I do not know the particulars, but there was something odd in the morning. Brother was very angry with Aunt Catherine. They had a terrible argument. In the end, both Anne and Aunt Catherine left in haste for Kent. Miss Bennet had stayed to spend the night here to look after her sister who was unwell, and she too was suddenly gone in the morning. Do you think she and brother might have done something wrong?"

  "Georgiana! This is intolerable!" Fitzwilliam scolded her with a grave look.

  "Oh, I know. I know. But I am pretty sure something happened. Miss Elizabeth never wrote to me again, and brother has never asked after her ever since. And he used to name her a great deal before that. He has been very sad all these three years after he last saw her. Although he never mentions her, I know he still loves her. Many a time I have watched him lost in reverie while staring blankly into the air in the ball room. I know he is thinking of the time he spent with her there."

  "Your brother has always been of that disposition."

  "You have not seen him as I have. It is just that you cannot imagine how much brother suffers. I saw him interact with Miss Elizabeth that night, and he was lovestruck! You and I know his feelings for the lady. He was immensely happy to have her as a guest that night, although, for all I know he did little more than dance with her and make some small conversation."

  "So, you said you know nothing from Miss Bennet? Did they… did Darcy not see Miss Elizabeth much?"

  "As I said, she left in the morning after the ball. I had not seen her until Catherine's wedding. I tried to ask her about her feelings for my brother, but she refused to discuss him. Does this not tell anything about her feelings for him? Would she refuse to talk of someone she does not care for?"

  "As you said, we know not the particulars. For all I know you have a very vivid imagination. And romantic, too."

  Georgiana looked askance at her cousin. She sensed his tension and wondered at it "Is Miss Elizabeth a very good friend of yours?"

  "She is, Georgie. I would like to call on her one of these days. But why have you not tried to correspond with her before?"

  "I have, but she never answered my letters. Elizabeth told me she had been unwilling to correspond with anyone. Apparently she has been very sad of late. I can imagine why."

  Fitzwilliam shifted in his seat and raised his brow inquiringly. "Are you well acquainted with Mrs Catherine Ellison?"

  "I am. Miss Elizabeth introduced us the year you left for the peninsula, and we have been good friends ever since. I matched Edward to her, Fitz. Are you not proud of me?"

  "So, Darcy did see Elizabeth while I was away…" He said this to himself, oblivious to Georgiana's presence.

  "Indeed, Fitz. You know not how much he needed you, Fitz. Brother has been suffering the unt
hinkable. I know you are his confidante."

  "Has he…"

  "No, Not any more. He has grown out of it, thank God. But still… He has no one to stand by him. No one who understood him as well as you did. Aunt Catherine… well, she was not herself during these last years. Brother had to lock her at Rosings Park. She went rather… strange. I was never admitted into her presence ever since she left London the morning after the ball. Only Anne… she has been driving poor brother crazy. I barely see him. And when I am in their company, I try to spend most of the time with Anne, so that Wills can rest a bit, do some fencing, some sport. I do not know why he takes such care of her. He should hire a companion as he had done for me in the past when I was too young to be in society."

  "We shall see. I am for Kent tomorrow. Do you wish to come with me?"

  "Oh, I would love to go with you. But I just cannot bear to see Anne bossing Will around all the time. Will you promise to come and visit me after Kent? I have so much to tell you."

  "I promise. Now, I hope you have been practising, Sprout. For I refuse to go until you have played at least three pieces on the pianoforte."

  "Oh, but I cannot. No music. We must respect the dead."

  "No one will know. I promise I will not tell. Come. I have seen too much death recently and do not deserve to be denied some music from my favourite interpreter. After all, I am a hero."

  She giggled excitedly while allowing her cousin to direct her to the music room. She was too happy to see him and could not help obliging him.

  That night, Fitzwilliam could not rest. He was most sorrowfully indignant, ashamed of every implication Georgiana had given to the relation between Elizabeth and Darcy. Every other part of his mind was disgusting. With insufferable pain he spent the whole of the night wondering at the meaning of such a revelation. He was proved to have been universally mistaken in expecting Elizabeth to be still in love with him. Why, he had scarcely set foot on the continent when she had already been in Darcy's arms!

  Darcy and Elizabeth! Such a debasement to her! It was horrible to Richard to think how it must have sunk Elizabeth in the general opinion, to imagine the smiles, the sneers, the merriment such a relation would have been prompted at her expense; the mortification and disdain of her family, the thousand inconveniences to herself. Could it be? No, it was impossible. But then again, was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate abilities to be captivated by lust and end up having a mistress?

  Oh! That he should have married her! That he should have never gone on this stupid quest for himself! Had he married her when he ought, none of this would have happened. Had he not, with a folly which no tongue could express, believed she would wait for his return, all would have been safe, none of this dreadful sequel would have been.

  How Darcy could ever have had the courage to lower his thoughts to take Elizabeth as his mistress! How could he dare to fancy himself attached in such an unequal, inconsistent, incongruous bond to such a maiden? Alas. Was not that his own doing too? Had he not been always aware of his cousin's unrelenting love for his fiancée? Who but himself could have put a stop to Darcy's claims? If Darcy, from being in love, were grown immoral, it was his own doing, too.

  On arriving to Rosings Park, Fitzwilliam was received by a very abashed Darcy. On seeing him in such sad state, Fitzwilliam put aside all his jealous ruminations and set himself to see to his cousin's problem. After all, he knew Darcy was clueless of his own relationship with Elizabeth. Immediately after Fitzwilliam talked to him, he surmised something was amiss.

  "Gracious Lord, Fitzwilliam! Back from the war…" They hugged each other in their first manly embrace.

  "Hell, Darcy. I am back from hell."

  "At least you are already back, my friend. I am still in the bottom of it."

  "So bad?"

  "You can scarcely imagine, my friend! I do not wish what I have endured these days to Napoleon himself!"

  "Is it Anne?"

  Darcy nodded. "I am afraid her life is pending on a string, Fitzwilliam. She has refused nourishment and medicines, and her health deteriorated at lightning speed. 'Tis a most severe cold, added to her accustomed illnesses and the pain of Lady Catherine's loss." Darcy shook his head. "I fear I have failed her."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She was very sad and she… sought refuge in me and I… I did my best Fitzwilliam, but still, it was not enough."

  "Have you been living here with her?"

  "Ever since Lady Catherine's health deteriorated I took Anne with me to Pemberley or London and would only come over to Kent to visit her mother. When she died, Anne wished to stay here, so I stayed with her."

  "May I see her?"

  "You may. But I must warn you. She has not opened her eyes or talked to me for more than a week. The Doctor's opinion is not very promising, either."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded and went up the long staircases to see his cousin. He found Lady Anne lying in her bed, her body in foetal position, her eyes closed as Darcy had warned him.

  "Anne," he called out in a whisper, but she would not answer him.

  Fitzwilliam sat on the bed beside her and observed her countenance. She looked deathly pale and there were horrible marks of pain around her eyes. Her breathing was ragged and difficult and when he touched her hand, he barely felt her pulse. Fitzwilliam surmised it was a matter of days.

  Unfortunately, days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and Anne survived the whole winter, both her husband and cousin giving every attention to her, making desperate attempts to nourish her whenever she was conscious or release her pain at least a little; even many a time they had spent sleepless nights in her bedchamber until the nurse had sent them to bed.

  Finally, on the night of March the 5th 1816, after several months of agonising torture both for herself and for her nearest relations, Lady Anne De Bourgh Darcy released her last breath. She did not know it had been her last.

  Fitzwilliam patted Darcy's shoulder. "I am sorry, old man."

  "Don't be. I must confess I am relieved this is over."

  "You are?"

  "I will not play the grieved widower with you, Fitzwilliam. Anne had done nothing but pester me all her life. I am relieved to be free again, and at the same time sad. I did not love her, but neither did I hate her."

  "I certainly know you did not love her. Yet you have performed your duty admiringly."

  An awkward pause followed. "Do you really not feel at all grieved?" asked Fitzwilliam, although he knew the answer too well.

  Darcy coloured. He could not lie to Fitzwilliam. "Of course. I never meant I wished her to… Only she was suffering so much. She had made some progress while in Pemberley last year. Obviously the air of the north became her. She should have stayed in London and not followed me around… But you know my feelings, Richard. I confess that the only thing I can think of is Miss Bennet."

  Richard had suspected that, ever since he had learnt of Lady Anne's illness. But he had made up his mind not to think of it until the right time. Now, Darcy was free again, and he had poured his heart out to him.

  Darcy went on. "I believe she might still be single, living in Longbourn. Do you think, if she is not married, I still stand a chance with her?"

  Fitzwilliam looked puzzled. What to say to this? He had abandoned the idea of pursuing his right to call Elizabeth his betrothed ever since he had had that conversation with Georgiana in London. He reckoned he and Darcy were pretty much in a similar situation they had been there at Rosings five years ago, when much in the manner of two besotted lads, they had competed for a minute in Elizabeth's enticing company, Fitzwilliam having successfully forestalled Darcy's attempts to win beautiful Elizabeth's hand. Only now, he knew Darcy was at an advantage. "Why not?" he finally said.

  "I don't know. My wife is not buried yet. I really do not know what to do."

  A long silence followed in which both men were pondering what to say or do. Richard's heart was terribly torn. Surely he could not make the same mist
ake twice. Yet, deep inside he felt he still had a chance with Elizabeth, a right the extent of his intimacy with her had bestowed upon him. He reflected that he should fight for her, but now, he would not interfere, should he discover Elizabeth's affections were otherwise engaged. If that were the case, all his plans would be once again falling to pieces.

  "What would you wish I do now?" Fitzwilliam asked Darcy with a heavy sigh.

  "You are as exhausted as I am, Fitzwilliam. We have barely slept these days. I wish I could go home now."

  "I am not at all tired, Darcy. What is it that you wish I do?"

  "Well, since you are not tired, will you help me with the rest of the preparations for the funeral? I expect there will be a good number of cards to answer. In case anyone should wish to visit, I…"

  "I perfectly comprehend your feelings, Darcy. You must not worry. When is the funeral taking place?"

  "On Monday. I have already sent to London for her coffin and shroud. It will be an intimate burial, though. Only your parents and our cousins, except Edward of course."

  "Yes, Edward." Fitzwilliam nodded.

  There was yet another awkward silence, in which both gentlemen were having the same thought:

  Elizabeth Bennet.

  She was residing at her sister Jane's town house after touring Ramsgate with her sister Mary and her husband, when she received a note from Georgiana Darcy. Miss Darcy briefly told her of Mrs Darcy's demise, with the obvious purpose of alerting her of her brother's availability. Georgiana was well aware of Darcy's undying love for Elizabeth, and she knew Elizabeth had once reciprocated it. She wished she could reunite them, the sooner the better. Thus, she made it very clear, as she suggested that perchance Mrs Bingley's as well as her help would be very much appreciated in the preparation of Anne's shroud, since the deceased did not count many female friends of her age, save the parson's wife, whom she knew was very much acquainted with Miss Bennet. As the custom of burial dictated, the shroud should be prepared by the young woman's closest friends.

  Elizabeth's heart almost burst inside her.

  She is dead. Oh, my God. She is dead!

  Friends indeed.