There is always a catch.
Lizzie found that the hard way.
When you do not want love, love follows you like a shadow.
And then when you change your mind, and realize that love is what you want, more then anything in the world, it is gone. Lost. Like ice on a hot day, evaporated into nothing.
It was a cruel irony really.
When Darcy loved Lizzie, she did not want his love.
When Lizzie rejected Darcy, what he wanted was death.
Cold.
Quick.
Silent.
Final.
When Lizzie realized that she did love Darcy, after all it was too late.
When Darcy found that Lizzie had come to love him, it was too late for him also, for now that he no longer wanted death, Death now wanted him.
It's laughable really.
At least it is to me. Or it would be, if it wasn't so pathetically tragic.
And so Darcy died. And Lizzie was blest with exceptional long life.
Again, the irony is overwhelming.
She who had always had such love for life, was now condemned to live her long life out alone and distraught, and without love.