Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  It took Elizabeth a few moments to recover, and while silently wishing for advice from Mrs. Spencer, she hurried to follow her betrothed and intervene before he instigated an unnecessary argument.

  ***

  In the back garden of Netherfield, away from curious eyes, a shocked, incredulous Darcy stared at a troubled David Fitzwilliam who had just finished an extraordinary revelation.

  When he left Cassandra’s chamber, Darcy was so full of rage that he could not think properly; all he had in mind was that his cousin—who had always found great enjoyment in female company—behaved improperly toward Cassandra, a situation that had seriously affected her and continued to trouble her even in her precarious state. He had searched for David, but he was not to be found in either his apartment or the library; not even Bingley knew his whereabouts. Finally, Darcy discovered his cousin taking a solitary stroll around the house and hurried to him, demanding explanations and reparations.

  However, the instant he saw the colonel’s grievous expression and the sorrow in his eyes, Darcy’s anger vanished.

  Still, he demanded an explanation, and he got one. It appeared that David had been waiting for his cousin to inquire so he could unleash his agonising secret.

  “Now you know everything, Darcy. Forgive me; I know you are angry with me. I know I should not tell you these things. But I cannot bear it alone any longer when she might…I desperately needed to speak to you, but I did not dare approach you. I have never felt like this before.”

  He looked devastated, and Darcy wished to comfort him, but how does one gentleman comfort another?

  “So, she refused to marry you, but she agreed to…you know…”

  “No, she did not agree. I mean, it was not I who suggested it. I never would have dared to…not with Cassandra.”

  “So, what do you plan to do now?”

  “I am at a loss as to what I ought to do. After she told me about her husband, I was half desperate, half relieved. I understood I could not possibly compete with his memory or with her desire to punish herself for something that was not even her fault. On the other hand, the situation was not completely hopeless, as I was content to know her heart is not otherwise engaged. I even told her I do not intend to abandon my hopes. I only planned to depart for a time to allow her to regain some peace and serenity.”

  “She must have a tender regard for you or else she never would have…you know. She is not that sort of woman.”

  “I know what sort of woman she is, Darcy! That is precisely why I was so angered by her rejection. I was certain she had affection for me. I felt she had loving affection for me,” he said passionately, and Darcy averted his eyes. They should not be discussing this and certainly not about a friend who was like a sister to him.

  “What do you plan to do now?”

  “What is there to do? The only thing that matters to me now is Cassandra’s health. I do not care about her marrying me or about my wishes. I pray only to see her recovered; I will ask nothing more. However, I must stay with her. I know it is highly improper, but you cannot refuse me!”

  “I have no right to refuse you anything. God knows my concept of proper behaviour and decorum has changed dramatically since last autumn. The only one who might keep you away is Mrs. Spencer. Elizabeth and Georgiana also might consider your presence in Cassandra’s chamber to be strange. You will have to inform them of some of the particulars of your recent history with Cassandra.”

  “Mrs. Spencer was wonderfully sympathetic. She allowed me to stay with Cassandra last night. But you are correct. I must tell them something…and Bingley, too, as he is the master of the house. The servants will likely gossip about my being in Cassandra’s chamber, and I will need Bingley’s support in this.”

  “I agree. So will you tell? Surely you will not lie to them—nor can you tell the entire truth.”

  “I will confess my feelings for her and that I proposed but she refused me; it should be enough.”

  “Very well; now let us return to the house; I am in great need of a brandy before breakfast.” The colonel agreed with him immediately.

  That day at a late breakfast, Elizabeth was relieved to see that, despite the fact she did not find the gentlemen in time to prevent their argument, they seemed to be on friendly terms. They had obviously talked and, during the meal, remained more silent then ever; they often exchanged glances of unknown meaning. Elizabeth was curious but content simply to wait to be informed of the details. She was certain that, if it were something to be shared, Darcy would tell her.

  Miss Bingley was still in the house; for reasons of her own, she did not leave as she had declared a few days earlier. She granted the guests a superior coldness and completely ignored their presence. Only Georgiana was offered a few polite words; however, Miss Bingley’s admiration of Miss Darcy seemed to diminish with every day of Mr. Darcy’s engagement to Eliza Bennet.

  ***

  The next three days passed with increasing fear and turmoil for Cassandra’s friends.

  Despite the doctors’ continuous efforts and the ladies’ care, Cassandra’s state did not improve. She continued feverish, her body burning and shaken by tremors; all the medicines, though seeming to give her momentarily palliation, were not enough to cure her.

  The colonel confessed part of his story to Elizabeth, Georgiana and Mrs. Spencer; furthermore, he blamed himself for insisting too vehemently in his proposal of marriage, which had disturbed her greatly. If neither Elizabeth nor Mrs. Spencer believed her refusal to be the reason Cassandra feverishly called the colonel’s name, it was to their credit that they did not pursue the matter.

  Georgiana, however, became animated about it. She was convinced—and told David as much—that beyond any doubt Cassandra did share his affection and, when she was recovered, would declare her true feelings for him. No matter how much the colonel tried to temper her joyful prophecy, she remained steadfast in her conviction; it was obvious to everyone that the only person to whom Cassandra reacted was the colonel.

  The nights were the most difficult time, as her fever seemed to increase dangerously after midnight, and though not conscious, she became agitated, her violent movements jeopardising the healing process. In those moments, nothing helped her but the colonel’s soothing presence. He spent hours sitting near her bed, whispering to her in a gentle voice and caressing her hand until she seemed to calm and eventually sleep.

  When they needed to give her medicine, David was the one to hold her, and though nobody knew what he was whispering to her, his words allowed her to cooperate with the doctors.

  In truth, the colonel was never alone with her; there were also Elizabeth, Mrs. Spencer, and Georgiana or at least one of them; and Janey, Cassandra’s maid, never left her mistress’s side for more than a few minutes. The doctors, Mrs. Spencer, Darcy and Bingley—as master of the house—accepted the arrangement without hesitation in consideration of Cassandra’s recovery above the demands of decorum. Georgiana was simply happy to see the colonel with Cassandra and could see nothing improper in it.

  Elizabeth barely slept for the next three days and nights, and she spent little private time with Darcy. Their only moments of peace were spent in short strolls around the garden, arm in arm.

  Their wedding day was less than four weeks away, but for both of them it seemed impossibly distant. Although neither of them actually dared to speak of it, both were terrified at the idea that Cassandra might leave them forever in the coming days. Their own desire for happiness seemed frightfully selfish compared to such a dreadful possibility, and they could not think of their own felicity when shadowed by their friend’s loss.

  The doctor had confessed to them that the more time passed without any improvement, the more reason he had for concern. At Darcy’s insistence, the doctor informed them of the permanent damage of a high fever that lasted too long, and Elizabeth hardly left Cassandra’s room from that moment on. She did everything in her power to make Cassandra react: she read to her, spoke to her, a
sked Mrs. Spencer and Georgiana to speak—loudly—of Cassandra’s youth; she even asked Mr. Bingley to bring the small instrument from Cassandra’s dressing room for Georgiana to play.

  Elizabeth’s obvious exhaustion, paleness, and visible loss of weight increased Darcy’s concern. He tried to defeat Elizabeth’s stubbornness with little success. It appeared that the doctor, Mrs. Spencer, Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana supported her decision and offered their unconditional assistance.

  On the fifth day after the accident, Elizabeth was resting in an armchair after dinner a short distance from Mrs. Spencer. She felt weary and powerless and briefly considered that she had not slept an entire night since the dreadful evening of Markham’s attack. She could not believe that only a week had passed. It seemed a lifetime.

  Cassandra had just received her medicine; apparently, her fever was down as she seemed to sleep peacefully. Elizabeth allowed her eyes to close for a few minutes, but she was instantly startled by the sound of her name spoken softly.

  At first, she thought she was dreaming, but the whisper repeated, and she turned toward the bed to see Cassandra’s hand moving and her weak voice addressing her clearly.

  “Elizabeth…” Elizabeth hurried to her and took her hand, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Dearest Cassandra, I am here…Oh my dear, it is so good to hear you speaking to me—

  Her voice was interrupted by a cry of pain, as the lady attempted to move. “Oh Lord, my head hurts.”

  “Please lie still! You have been badly injured, but you will be fine! I am going to fetch the doctor.”

  Elizabeth moved toward the door, but Cassandra’s insistent call brought her back.

  “Elizabeth, how is Darcy? How did the duel end?”

  “William? He is well—very well—only quite worried about you. Of what duel are you speaking? There was no duel,” Elizabeth replied, puzzled, certain that her friend was delirious.

  “Oh, thank the Lord! So he did not fight Markham after all. I was so frightened that he would be killed. I tried to go to Town after them, but then I cannot remember what happened…Oh God, my head aches,” she said as she tried to bring her left hand to her forehead but cried again in pain.

  Elizabeth was unable to move from shock, her lips and hands trembling, struggling to understand Cassandra’s words, and praying that she was merely feverish and confused.

  “Mr. Darcy is well, and so is our colonel.” Mrs. Spencer affectionately caressed Cassandra’s hair.

  “David is here?” she asked weakly, her eyelashes closing slowly. “I knew he would come…” Her voice was barely audible as her breathing steadied, and she quickly fell asleep.

  “Elizabeth, dearest, please send for the doctor.” Mrs. Spencer repeated herself before Elizabeth, deep in thought, heard and answered the request.

  Elizabeth sent Janey to fetch the doctor as she moved to the dressing room and leaned against the wall, her knees weak. Her mind, tormented by fatigue and the distress of the last week, was loath to admit that what she had just heard was true, yet it was too obvious to be denied. Of course, there had been a duel!

  So that was the mystery behind Darcy’s sudden departure! He went to fight Markham!

  Her heart raced wildly as she struggled to breathe. But how was that possible? Cassandra said something about Town, but Markham was not in London—or was he?

  She remembered—vividly—the moment she told Cassandra about Darcy’s trip and the shock on Cassandra’s face. That, undoubtedly, was the moment Cassandra realized the truth.

  How was it possible that she, Elizabeth, had been so stupid not to guess the simple fact that Cassandra understood instantly? How could she have been so blind?

  All of Darcy’s twisted words, his refusal to confess to her the reason for his hasty decision to leave again—he deliberately put himself in danger and concealed it from her! Thank the Lord he returned safely, but what if…? And what happened to Markham? Had he been killed? If so, what would the earl do? The duel was illegal; any child knew that. How could Darcy have exposed himself so only a few weeks before their wedding?

  And, of course, the colonel was part of his plan—and her father, as well! Now everything was clear as crystal: her own father and uncle were part of the outrageous plot. They conspired together!

  She felt exhausted, disappointed, and betrayed by the men she cared for most, frightened by what could have happened, and could no longer fight the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Increasingly, however, her turmoil of emotions grew into anger.

  They had showed no consideration for her opinion, her wishes, or her worries! Of course, not—she was only a woman after all! Why should she expect the men to treat her as one of them and ask for her advice? What could a mere woman have to say about the importance of fighting for one’s honour?

  Well, this woman does have something to say, and you will hear it all, gentlemen, she whispered to herself as she wiped furiously at her tears and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  She hurried down the stairs to the library, where she knew the gentlemen were gathered after dinner, and paused to catch her breath before entering.

  “Elizabeth, what a surprise,” said Darcy warmly as she burst through the door without knocking. They were all there with the exception of Mr. Hurst who had likely retired early.

  “Miss Bennet, please come and sit down.” Bingley spoke politely but was somewhat disconcerted at her unceremonious entrance. “How is Lady Cassandra?”

  “I have wonderful news. She is awake and spoke to me clearly; I have great hopes that she will recover.” Elizabeth then took a seat, avoiding Darcy’s eyes.

  The gentlemen became excited and asked countless questions, but she tempered them, saying the doctor had just started his examination and would certainly come with fresh news shortly. Her tone was cold and impersonal, and the gentlemen could not fail to notice it.

  “Elizabeth, you seem unwell. May I offer you something?” asked Darcy.

  “No, thank you,” she replied, still avoiding his eyes. “My only plea is that, while we are waiting for the doctor, I be allowed to join your little club.”

  “I do not understand your meaning. Of what club are you speaking?”

  “Really? Then allow me to enlighten you, sir. I refer to the exclusive club of honourable gentlemen, whose primary objectives are the arrangement of duels and the derision of naïve ladies like me!”

  This time her eyes did meet his, and Darcy frowned as he tried in vain to formulate an answer. Silence fell upon the library.

  “Elizabeth, let us discuss this calmly. It is a private matter, and we should not speak of it publicly.”

  “A private matter, Mr. Darcy? How is it, then, that the colonel, my father and my own uncle—perhaps even Mr. Bingley—were aware of this private matter while I alone was kept in ignorance?”

  “Elizabeth, you do not understand. Your father and uncle are blameless, and Bingley knew nothing until our return. I alone am at fault. I simply had no other choice than to conceal it from you. You have already suffered so dreadfully that I could not torment you further by revealing my intentions.”

  “Of course you are at fault, sir! You did not want to torment me? And may I ask, should something have happened to you, how your secrecy would have spared my suffering? And what occurred with Markham? Has he been…Is he still alive?”

  “He is alive,” the colonel interceded. “He only got what he deserved, and hopefully, he will be more attentive to proper behaviour in the future.”

  Smiling charmingly at Elizabeth, he continued, “Miss Bennet, I am more than willing to share the blame with Darcy as I knew of his intentions from the beginning and understood them.”

  “Oh, really, sir? Why does that not surprise me? Am I wrong to presume that you not only understood but supported him as well?” Elizabeth’s voice was sharp and as cold as ice.

  “I confess I did! I even offered to fight Markham on his behalf, but he, of course, refused, and I
accepted his decision. It was his duty and his wish to fight for your honour.”

  Elizabeth rose from her seat and stepped closer to him, her eyes crackling with unleashed fury.

  “Dear colonel, my honour is here with me—safe and sound—and was never affected by a drunken rake who barely knew what he was about. My only riposte to Lord Markham’s action would have been to ignore him utterly for the rest of his sorry life. But of course, what do I know? I am only a nonsensical woman and cannot possibly understand the rules of honour among gentlemen!”

  “Elizabeth, my child, I understand your anger, but you must control your words; you should not address your betrothed and the colonel in this impertinent manner.” Mr. Bennet’s tone was as severe as a father scolding a disobedient daughter, but the effect was not the one he anticipated.

  Elizabeth turned to her father, and for the first time in his life, he failed to see the usually affectionate countenance that was meant only for him.

  “Oh, I do apologise, Father! I shall certainly tell Mama of your displeasure. She will surely understand why you purposely agreed to put Mr. Darcy in danger of losing his life.”

  Mr. Bennet’s mouth gaped open as he stared at his furious daughter.

  “I will spare you the displeasure of seeing or hearing me any longer, gentlemen. If you would excuse me.” Suddenly her strength evaded her, and she desperately fought back tears, which again were imminent. She had to leave immediately; she had to be alone with her pain and her anger.

  Gently but firmly, Darcy grasped her arm. “Elizabeth, please…” he whispered.

  “Mr. Darcy, please have the wisdom to distance yourself from me at the moment. I would not trust myself to behave like a lady.”

  Their eyes met in silent confrontation, ignoring the others in the room.

  “Elizabeth, we must talk.” His voice was more a plea than a request.

  “Talk, Mr. Darcy? But we did talk, sir! Even more, you held me in your arms, kissed me, and lied to me! What could we possibly have to talk about?”

  Elizabeth’s reply exploded as thunder in the room. The other gentlemen desperately examined their empty glasses with unusual interest.