I offer sincere apologies, as always, for my long delay. Real life combined with an inability to get this part just how I imagined created the long delay! I will try and do better. Thank you all for your support!
Day 375
After completing her morning routine, which lately consisted of breakfast, a walk through the gardens and then attending to household matters in her study, Elizabeth settled in to her favorite chair to read the letter from Stephen which had arrived just as she returned from the garden. It both cheered her and brought her back to her own grief.
He spoke of his sorrow as he moved through the anniversaries of Georgiana and Darcy's death, of his struggle to forgive himself for not being able to do more help them get well. He had never shared this guilt with her when they were together at Pemberley. Perhaps the distance made it easier to admit and the pen made him freer with his words. The letter also held good news. Maggie had come to stay at Maplehearst for a time with her companion and he felt she was becoming more confident in herself. She told him she intended to accept Mr. Smith if he offered for her. Elizabeth could not have been more pleased. When he told her of his plans to travel to London and asked for permission to make use to Darcy House Elizabeth felt, not for the first time, how badly she had treated him.
After penning a quick response to Stephen assuring him that he was, of course, always welcome to Darcy House Elizabeth read her other letters, two related to her shipping investments, one from her father and one from Charlotte Collins. Once she had made notes regarding how she intended to proceed regarding the news she received about her investments Elizabeth decided to seek out her aunt. She found her in the sitting room.
"Hard at work as usual." Elizabeth said taking a seat beside her.
"I would hardly call mending hard work, Lizzy." Madeline smiled. "I know you had intended to return these pieces on your visits this week, but you had several unexpected issues arise and haven't been able to apply your talents to this considerable pile with as much diligence as usual. I am happy to help."
It was quite a bundle.
"Well I appreciate it immensely." Elizabeth said and reaching for a cloak she began the familiar motions to mend the tear in the garments collar. After a few minutes of working in companionable silence Elizabeth mentioned her father's letter.
"He says Thomas is simply enchanted with his new puppy and Mama even enjoys little Henry as well. Apparently, the pup has decided that he must take all his naps by her side."
"How delightful."
"Papa thinks he may be as good for Mama as he is for Thomas –wearing out the one and giving new energy to the other." After a pause, Elizabeth summoned her courage and said, "I also received a letter from Stephen." Watching her aunt closely for a reaction, she noticed her busy hands stilled for only a moment before continuing their quick and elegant pace.
"How is Sir Stephen? Has he made his way back to London as he had planned?"
"He plans to travel imminently." Elizabeth said, then added, "I find I miss his company."
"I would imagine so. He is skilled at the art of conversation and such pleasant company. Shall we ring for tea?"
Elizabeth was not fooled, her aunt was very interested in what she might say regarding Stephen, but perhaps after so many months of silence she was hesitant to press her niece in any way. It was of little consequence. As it turned out, Elizabeth needed no encouragement.
Once they had had their tea she told her beloved aunt much what she loved and missed about her husband, who felt nothing like the title he wore in her life, but he had always been a beloved friend. She missed his help with Pemberley, with the decisions she had to make regarding her other properties, her investments and so many other things. She missed his sense of humor and his quiet companionship. She missed having someone to speak with who loved William and Georgie. She missed his easy smile and his kindness. Madeline listened as Lizzy explained all of this without saying a word. Finally, when it seemed Elizabeth had exhausted all of the ways she missed Stephen her aunt asked her a question.
"What I do not understand, Elizabeth is - why?"
"But, Aunt I have been explaining and you know Stephen yourself. Surely you can see why I would miss him." Elizabeth said, surprised her aunt would even ask such a question. Perhaps she didn't think Elizabeth should be missing someone who wasn't William.
"It is not that I question your desiring his company." Madeline explained. "What I do not understand is why you must miss him at all."
When Elizabeth continued to regard her with confusion Madeline clarified, "why is he not here or why are you not there?"
It was a question Elizabeth had only begun to answer in her own heart and mind. She was not sure how to begin to articulate it to someone else, even someone as perceptive and kind as her aunt, but she tried. Without revealing too much.
"Stephen and I, perhaps, came together too soon and I was not ready. Then I pushed him away and I think hurt him. Though he would never tell me as much, never ask anything of me he did not think I was ready, no eager to give. However; even knowing that I do not think I am prepared to . . . I am still uncertain, Aunt of what I want, of what he wants, of what is even possible. What do I do?"
"Oh, Lizzy." Madeline said with a sigh. "I am sorry it has been so hard for you. I can understand why you feel so conflicted and although I suspect there is much you are not saying I appreciate you taking me into your confidence, you need to allow others to bear some of your burdens from time to time my dear."
"I think perhaps the best advice I could give is to talk it over with your husband. Over the course of my marriage I have often found that my worries and fears are far bigger when I keep them to myself. Once I share them with Edward they seem so much less than I had made them out to be. He often finds solutions I could not or at the very least in talking with him I find solutions I did not see when my problems only rumbled around inside my head. You are to travel with Jane and Charles to London in six weeks time?"
"Yes."
"I suggest you write your sister to see if they might be willing to go a bit sooner. You need to be with your husband, Elizabeth and if I may be so bold, he with you. He was not himself the last time we saw him. I do not want to interfere, but I will take the opening you have given me and go so far as to suggest what I have and leave it to you."
With that her aunt left to finish her packing as the Gardiners were leaving the next day. Elizabeth had much to consider. As she did that Elizabeth wrote a second letter to Stephen, she would place it in the envelope with the first. She began by telling him about her letter from William. Without telling him what William said she outlined the heart of the letter and explained how she felt after reading it and how it helped her to move forward. The rest of the letter was filled with stories of her family and Pemberley of Mr. Kingsley and her joy at being able to walk as far as the weather permitted as her strength was almost fully returned. Her signature already graced the bottom but Elizabeth hesitated before sealing it. After long moments of consideration she added a postscript. She encouraged him to read his letter from William and then with a more hesitant hand she ended with
Although I do not claim to know what it might be, I very much would like to find a way for you and I to be together once again. You remain my dearest friend.
Day 376
Elizabeth said goodbye to the Gardiners in the late afternoon.
"Our dearest girl," her uncle said before handing his wife into the carriage. "We will miss you. I hope we will see in London shortly?"
"Perhaps even sooner than previously planned?" Madeline said with a mischievous quirk of her brow.
"Perhaps." Elizabeth agreed, giving away nothing more. After embracing them both she stood on Pemberley's front steps until the carriage was out of sight.
Day 382
Between her visits with neighbors and tenants, especially little Elizabeth, her tasks as mistress and correspondence, walks and playing the pianoforte Elizabeth kept herself quite busy. When a letter from Stephen arrived she could not help the eager rush of hope she felt. Anticipating his response to the overture at the end of her last missive she hurried to her study and opened it at her desk. It contained news of his trip to London, of her beloved staff at Darcy House – she was so very glad to hear of them, but she told herself she would come back to his story of Mrs. Fitzgibbons once she had found what he had to say regarding the hopes she confided. Unfortunately, there was nothing. Nothing at all. He went on with more of his usual amusing tales. A story about an aristocrat he saw on the street and one about his final days at Maplehearst. She threw the letter on her desk. Her disappointment was palpable. Then an idea struck her.
"Perhaps he had not yet received my letter." She said this out loud as she went back to review it once more. Having rushed through the first time she now read it more carefully. His reference to her renewed health confirmed he had in fact read her letter. Reading it through again Elizabeth was struck by something else. It reminded her very much of her letters to him in the months immediately following his departure from Pemberley. Though the letter was several pages long not only did he not answer her tentative inquiry about the direction of their friendship he said nothing at all about himself, nothing at all of substance. What had she done to them? What could she do now? Elizabeth began to think back on the course of their relationship since William's death and she became uncomfortable with what she saw.
Days 387-415
She continued to write letters to Stephen that allowed him to see her, fully. She told him of her moments of joy and sorrow. Her accomplishments and setbacks. She told him how she was looking forward to coming to London and even how it concerned her at times that she was able to look forward to things and wondered if that meant she was forgetting them. In each letter she asked what he wanted from her, for their future. More boldly each time. It was her attempt to give to him as he had constantly been giving to her since the day she woke from her fever. He had never asked that she share herself with him, but she believed that he would welcome it and so she offered.
Stephen's responses always addressed Elizabeth's questions – save the one – and the things she shared. It was natural she should look forward now, he told her and Darcy would be proud. He was delighted she found more and more moments of joy and thankful she shared them with him. He advised, when asked, regarding tenant concerns or investment decisions. Each and every item was attended to except for that which she most wished he would speak about. What was it that he wanted from her, for them? She wanted so much to be guided by him, but now he refused to make his wishes known.
She tried not to consider his silence as an answer in itself. Tried not to think about all the ways she had wronged him over the past year, especially the one way she could not take back, but in this she was not entirely successful.
Day 416
The Bingleys, all four of them, along with several of their staff, and an impressive amount of luggage arrived at Pemberley for a brief stay before they would sojourn, with Elizabeth, to London for the season. They were a tremendous help to Elizabeth as she closed the house for the first time in two years, took her leave of neighbors, friends and tenants and packed for the journey and her long stay in town.
Jane squeezed her sisters hand as Elizabeth gazed at Pemberley. The carriage pulled away with a smooth clip clop of well-trained horses feet and Elizabeth wondered what lay ahead. A tear slid down her cheek as she mourned all that lay behind.
Day 418
It wasn't until the second day of the journey that Elizabeth noticed. When she came down from her room for breakfast she sought her sister out in the small private dining room they had reserved for their use.
"Jane dear, I am glad you are here." Elizabeth said selecting some pastries and taking a seat.
"One of the benefits of young children," Jane said with a tired smile, "I am an even earlier riser than you some days."
"Indeed. Where are my niece and nephew?"
"Charles and Beverly have taken them to the yard to try and run them ragged before we confine them to the carriage once again."
"That sounds wise." Elizabeth said with a smile. She had spent half of yesterday's journey in the carriage with little Elizabeth, Charles and their nanny, Beverly, at her own insistence. It was one of the joys, she was discovering, in her life to spend time with her niece and nephew. Although she had also discovered that they were perhaps less delightful confined inside a carriage for several hours.
"Jane, I noticed that we are staying at different inns than we are used to on our journey to London from Pemberley. Was there some issue with the usual places?"
"Oh not at all. When Sir Stephen visited us on his way to London several weeks ago he mentioned that it might be easier for you to not have to stay at the same places you were used to with Mr. Darcy and I was only sorry I had not considered that. He gave us the names of these inns and several other places to change horses if necessary. Elizabeth, have I done wrong? He seemed certain you would prefer to . . ."
"No, he was right. As usual, he was right. Thank you, to you and Charles for taking such good care of me I appreciate it. Now if you will excuse me I must . . . I forgot something in my room." Elizabeth excused herself as quickly as she could and sought the relative quiet and privacy of her room. The evidence that Stephen was still caring for her in such familiar ways brought comfort, confusion and hope that they could be what they once were. However; that thought did not cheer Elizabeth as she thought it would.
Day 420
Her first view of her London home in nearly two years threatened to push Elizabeth toward the brink of suffocating grief very quickly. Glad she had insisted the Bingleys allow her to complete her homecoming on her own Elizabeth took one final moment in the carriage before indicated she was ready to withdraw. Taking a deep breath and making a determined effort to remain in the present she descended the steps of the carriage with the help of her footman keeping her head down. At least her physical strength was no longer a concern. Before she had time to take a breath or a moment to consider all of the times she had ascended these steps on William's arm, in Georgie's company, without the burdens she now bore the door was opening to her and she was being greeted by her staff.
"Lady Fitzwilliam," Carson, Darcy House's stately butler, greeted them as Mrs. Fitzgibbons came forward to take her outerwear.
"Welcome home." Mrs. Fitzgibbons said with a warmth absent from Carson's regal welcome. "May I express in person my condolences. Mr. Darcy was the very best of men and Miss Darcy . . . she was the sweetest girl."
Elizabeth's eyes stung at the heartfelt words of the dear woman whom she had come to know and trust over the years of her marriage. The housekeeper saw her mistress was close to tears at her words.
"Oh I am sorry." She rushed to say. "I did not mean to upset you. Here I am bringing up the past when you must be wishing to move forward and. . "
"No, Mrs. Fitzgibbons." Elizabeth assured her holding out her hands. "It is good to have the opportunity to console each other in person. And although Sir Stephen and I have many reasons for joy we still do feel the sorrow of our loss and your words bring comfort to know our loved ones are missed by those whom they also loved."
At these words Mrs. Fitzgibbons eyes teared up and she took Elizabeth's outstretched hands using them to pull the young woman into her arms for a firm embrace. The two women held each other for a brief moment and then quickly resumed their roles as mistress and servant.
"Would you like water brought to you in your room so that you may bath or would you prefer refreshments first?" Mrs. Fitzgibbons asked.
Elizabeth was feeling overwhelmed by the memories assaulting her as she began a perusal of her London home for the first time without her husband. She barely heard the questions being asked. Her attention was arrested by the painting of the Darcy family which hung over the fireplace at the edge of the entryway. She remembered when she had first seen it. But she kept herself in the present and examined the memory from a distance. She wanted to ask where Stephen was, wanted to go to him, but the pull of the past was strong and Elizabeth allowed herself to be drawn further into the house, into the memories.
Every step brought new memories of William and Georgiana. She passed rooms filled with them, paintings that had witnessed countless conversations conducted passing between rooms, furniture they had bought together even the carpet in the hallway.
"What are you doing, my love?" William asked as he came up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist. "You seem to be staring rather intently at the new carpet? Have you come to regret your choice of color?"
"Of course not!" She declared indignantly attempting to wriggle out of her husband's arms. "The carpet is perfect. I am almost glad my little cousin tracked mud all over the old one."
"Then why do you stand here in the hallway staring at it as if trying to solve a riddle?"
"I am not attempting to solve a riddle." She told him. "I am wondering if it would be beneath the dignity of the Mistress of Pemberley, Darcy House, Ailech and various and sundry other properties to go around the house barefoot."
"I beg your pardon?" William laughed.
"It is simply that while I was selecting the carpet I felt it, with my hands and it is impossibly soft. It seems such a waste that it lies here in all of the upstairs hallways and no one gets to feel it between their toes."
William had released his hold on her and Elizabeth looked back to see what he was doing only to find him sitting on a nearby chair. When he began to undo the laces on his shoes she laughed.
"Why, Mr. Darcy what are you about?"
"Why, Mrs. Darcy as is your custom you have tempted me beyond my ability to bear. I simply must feel this famous carpet between my toes."
Mrs. Fitzgibbons found them an hour later barefoot walking up and down the hall exclaiming at the soft feel of the glorious new carpet.
Elizabeth smiled at the memory. It didn't choke her; it didn't panic her or overwhelm her with despair. It made her smile. Smile as she thought of how happy they had been. How happy they had made each other. The sorrow still felt fresh and sharp, but she could breathe even through the memories and that made her feel strong in a new way. Strong in her body, her heart and her mind. Not once in the past year had they all been strong at the same time.
Although she had wandered down the hall to her study Elizabeth had just determined to turn back and have some refreshments in her room before seeing Stephen, to restore her strength and equanimity, when she realized she had inadvertently found him, sitting at her desk. He didn't immediately perceive that he was not alone. Head bent in concentration, Elizabeth observed him from the open doorway without making her presence known.
He looked much as she remembered him and yet she felt he had changed. His sandy blond hair was longer than he used to keep it but no longer than it had been during those dark months of illness and recovery. She wondered what news the letter he held contained as he was running his free hand through his hair. He wore a dark expression which matched the dark blue jacket that stretched across his shoulders. Elizabeth was not able to observe any further as he looked up abruptly when the clock struck the hour. He looked first at the offending instrument and then presumably would have gone back to his letter but his eyes took a different route and this time passed her on their journey. They swept by her at first and then careened back quickly pinning her in place.
The look of wary uncertainty that crossed his features directly after the moment of recognition broke her heart. It also decided her.
"Stephen." She said standing still, not certain of her welcome.
He stood slowly and came out from behind the desk never taking his eyes from hers. Settling against it he watched her where she remained in the doorway and Elizabeth supposed he was, as always, waiting for a signal from her.
"I am sorry for how I have treated you." She said simply and was surprised at the tears she heard in her own voice.
"I do not require an apology, Elizabeth." His voice was even, almost cold.
If he wasn't waiting for an apology Elizabeth was even less certain about how to proceed than when this stilted conversation began.
"What do you require?" She asked, taking a step into the room.
"Honesty." His crystal blue gaze was unwavering.
"We have always been honest with one another." She said plaintively, believing this to be true.
"Have we?" Standing, he simply placed his hands in his pockets and dipped his chin, but she understood the invitation. He was asking her to examine her behavior and find this instance of dishonesty to which he referred. Elizabeth knew from his posture and his tone he was sure she would find it, but she could not. Though they had, of late, traversed through many troubled waters they had never lied to one another, of this she was certain.
"Yes we have." She answered without looking away.
"Am I to understand I was banished from Pemberley not because you felt guilty for the kiss we shared but because it was truly essential I rush to London to transfer stock shares and sign a deed which could have been mailed to you?"
She looked away, had not been expecting him to be so bold, so direct. There was honesty and then there was this.
"Elizabeth?"
He was right in front of her. She had not heard him move. As they stood less than two feet apart Elizabeth took a moment to drink in his presence after so long being separated. His hair, she had already noted, was askew. Dark blond pieces heading in several directions. A telltale sign he had been running his hands through it, a habit when he was worried or frustrated. His jacket was rumpled and he was in need of a shave. None of this spoiled the effect of his overall appearance. Quite the opposite. Stephen's looks had never been traditionally handsome. That is to say he did not look like everyone else who was considered handsome. He was unique and it took a second or third look to understand how attractive he was and if you did not understand it then it might perhaps have been because his looks had a sort of wildness to them that, Elizabeth believed, were enhanced when he looked less polished as he did now.
"I missed you." She said after the long moment of her perusal was over. It did not answer his question nor did it reflect accurately her thoughts of the last few moments but it was honest. Stephen's eyes softened and a smile tugged at his lips.
"And I you, but Elizabeth . . ."
He waited for a moment. She knew he wanted her to address what he had said. Answer his question, but she was not certain she was brave enough to address all of the reasons she had run from that moment. At least not yet.
"Perhaps it is best we leave it be." He paused, sighed quietly and then asked, "how was your journey?"
He was letting her avoid the question. He needed to know, but she needed to stay silent and so they moved on. Always, still, putting her needs above everything. That decided her. She must be strong in this as well.
"No, Stephen, can we sit?" Elizabeth said, taking a seat on the sofa and indicating the space next to her. He sat down and looked at her curiously. She took one of his hands into both of hers. It was a gesture that not so long ago would have been comforting and familiar. But now with the months of separation she had enforced on them it felt strange and unsure. Still, she held fast because whatever else lay between them she did always feel more herself, stronger when she was connected to him. He did not press her but simply looked at their joined hands with a furrowed brow and waited patiently for her to begin, his blue eyes bright with expectation and, she noted sadly, a certain amount of wariness.
"I was thinking just now of how handsome you are." She said.
"What?"
"Honesty, you wanted honesty. That is what I was thinking. I am not certain I ever told you that I find you quite handsome so I thought I should tell you."
He looked at her like she had lost her senses.
"However; that is not what you asked."
"No, it is not." He agreed, "but I thank you for the compliment." This sounded more like a question than a statement.
"It was the former."
"Excuse me?'
"The reason I . . the reason I strongly suggested you leave Pemberley was because I felt guilty, but it was not only that." This came out more breathlessly.
"Elizabeth, we do not need to . . "
"Yes we do." Knowing her distress was something that called up every protective instinct Stephen possessed Elizabeth pressed forward. She could not hide the fact that this conversation was distressing to her, but she could insist they have it regardless.
"You are the reason I am alive, Stephen." When he tried to interrupt she held up a hand to stop him. "But after you saved my life you also gave it back to me. It is because of you I have been able to grieve how I needed to - because you have been the strong one. You have done whatever it is I needed. You have not even made me ask for it at times. No, do not deny it." She insisted when Stephen made to interrupt again. "You supported me, pushed me when I resisted but required it, gave me everything and I . . . I did not consider you as you did me. Please, please accept my humblest apologies for how I treated you. Not just after . . . we kissed, but throughout. I acted so often as if I was the only one who had lost them. I leaned on you, relied on you and I so rarely allowed you to do the same. I banished you from your home, but what is I worse took advantage of you to alleviate my own predicament. Can you ever forgive me?"
The tears had begun halfway through Elizabeth's speech but as she finished they were flowing in earnest. She bowed her head and swiped at her cheeks.
"Of course I forgive you.' He said, his voice strained. A handkerchief was pressed into her hands. She looked up, embarrassed at her inability to stop crying. His eyes were soft and understanding. This only made her cry harder. She did not deserve his understanding. Her crimes against him were not only numerous there was one she could not take back even if she wanted to.
"Elizabeth, please you know I cannot abide your tears." He said with his most charming smile. "Have mercy on me, I beg you. I did not intend to upset you so . . ."
"Of course you did not." She replied, rousing herself. "You never would, even if I deserved it. Which I did. I certainly did, I do and so much more. Stephen, how could I have done such a thing?"
"It was not so very bad. I could have stopped you, but I felt it was for the best to give you time."
"Stephen, I am not referring only to my sending you from Pemberley."
"What do you mean?"
"I should not have forced you to marry me."
He laughed. A deep hearty belly laugh. One she had not heard in what felt like years. Although she was confused as to what caused it Elizabeth could not help but laugh in response to the joyful sound.
"Stephen, please be serious." She said once she composed herself, but he continued to chuckle quietly.
"I cannot." He insisted, but he reigned in his laughter and only continued to regard her with a broad smile.
"I do not know why you find my statement so very humorous."
'It simply conjured an image of you holding a dagger to my throat while Mr. Alden pronounced the rites." Here he did laugh again. "I would be quite at your mercy."
She could not quite share in his merriment even if the picture was comical.
"It may as well have been a dagger." She said.
He sobered instantly, hearing the regret in her voice.
"Elizabeth, we have canvassed this topic quite thoroughly. We did what we had to do, for you, for Pemberley, for Maggie.
"Precisely, to save me, to save Pemberley, to save your sister you sacrificed the one chance you had to marry for love. I took from you this from you and then I treated you miserably on top of that. I am not a worthy friend. I know this, but I would like to try and be one from now on."
"You did not take any thing . . . a friend?" He asked. "This is what you desire?" His voice was soft and earnest.
"Yes of course. I want to be a better friend to you than I have been. The kind of friend you have been to me."
"Elizabeth, you have always been good to me. You were simply acting out of grief and I would never hold that against you, but from your letters I had thought . . ."
He did not finish his sentence though she did not interrupt. They looked at one another and Elizabeth longed for him to tell her what he had thought of her letters. Why he had not answered her questions. Was he going to tell her now what he desired for them? She had been as plain as she dared, but the look of uncertainty in his eyes and his inability to finish his thought perhaps indicated her inexplicit overtures about their future had been insufficient and in truth she had not, still did not, know exactly what it was she wanted only that she longed for his company and no longer wanted to run from him.
"I had hoped we could . . ." he began again.
Mrs. Fitzgibbons chose that moment to arrive with refreshments.