EXODUS

Abiding by an archaic convention, after dinner the ladies left the gentlemen so that the men could talk business or at some tables, swap tales of their sexual conquests. Once the ladies had withdrawn from the dining room Darcy waited patiently while his guests discussed the merits of the various wines at their disposal as well as the excellent brandies and liqueurs. When they at last took their seats and settled back with contented sighs he addressed his guests, "I wish to commend you all for a most entertaining evening. We were all treated to an interesting variety of subjects which I dare say would never serve as proper dinner conversation at any home in London. But that is their loss and not mine for who would not be entertained by Bingley's snarling reference to being jilted after paying for a sumptuous feast on water buffalo?"

Bingley looked abashed, "I should never had said that. I hope Anne wasn't offended. I thought I was over being angry. I do apologize, Darcy."

"Apology accepted, Charles. Besides, your rebuke was mild considering the circumstances. Anne treated you poorly and you showed great restraint." He turned to Richard, "And you, Cousin, outdid yourself. I shall never again enter an assembly hall without the vision of Bengal tigers prowling the dance floor ogling all the young ladies and their furry chests."

"Happy to be of service," Richard quipped. "But let us not forget Miss Bennet's contribution. Her description of a mourning tigress nearly brought Anne to tears."

"Me too," chirped Bingley, "that is to say it was quite moving...very poetic...or something like that."

Darcy favored his friend with a patient smile before turning his attention to Mr. Collins. "And from the ridiculous to the sublime, I was happy to hear of the generosity of spirit shown by the people you met in that village you visited. It made me proud to be an Englishman. You found a saving grace despite what you expected. But what I found rather curious, Mr. Collins, is why, if you expected the worst, you went to meet with someone you despised? It seems out of character."

"Would you believe me if I said I was bored?"

"No."

Despite the abrupt reply, Mr. Collins didn't take offense as he smiled in acknowledgment. However, he didn't seem to feel the need to say anything else as he clipped the end of his cigar before lighting up and leaning back in his chair. He drew lightly and released the smoke with obvious pleasure.

Richard and Bingley shared an amused glance as they watched him, then turned their attention to Darcy who was suppressing a smile. "Mr. Collins," he said to them, "is a man of few words."

"You could have fooled me," Richard said lightly.

Darcy eyed Richard with a wry smile, "If you aren't plotting to invade a country or a lady's boudoir you don't pay attention, Cousin, so it's easy to be fooled."

"Looks," said Richard, "can be deceiving, Cuz. I agree Mr. Collins always struck me as a man of few words but tonight he showed a side that I didn't know he possessed." He turned to Mr. Collins, "So if it wasn't boredom, Sir, might you say it was on a whim? And before you answer, let me warn you that though I don't know you very well, you've never struck me as capricious."

"And I," Mr. Collins replied in obvious amusement, "understand that you were a shrewd interrogator during the war."

"If by shrewd you mean I never allowed myself to stray from my purpose, yes I was considered to be shrewd. So tell us why, Sir, despite your misgivings you went out of your way to meet with this Bumstead fellow whom you obviously despised?"

"I truly wasn't trying to be evasive, Richard. I'm simply weary of my own thoughts. To honestly answer your question I'd have to say it was a combination of curiosity and a sense of adventure brought on by too much brandy. I had second thoughts the morning after but there were other factors that preyed on my mind. If you will allow me to digress for a moment, I'd like to explain my mindset."

Richard smiled and nodded, "You're not my prisoner, Mr. Collins. Take all the time you need."

"Well then, this may not come to you as a surprise, but I've been angry all my life but it's only recently that I've come to accept it. At an early age I learned that showing any kind of emotion could be detrimental to my health, so I adopted a stoic facade. I became an observer as my life unfolded and never a participant. Not the war nor the pandemic could pierce my shell for I found succor in dwelling in the past and I was content, or at least I thought I was. Then one day I met Lady Catherine DeBough and saw myself reflected in her refusal to face reality."

Richard couldn't contain himself, "Good grief!"

"Indeed." Mr. Collins responded. "That formidable lady turned out to be the catalyst that altered my way of looking at the world I had been inhabiting for all my life. She was living in the past imagining herself as the great mistress of a decaying estate while I was writing speeches to deliver in the Roman senate...when I wasn't making up nonsense tales."

Darcy sighed, "Once more, the nonsense tales."

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. My life was so dull that I lived other lives vicariously, and my need for adventure grew. This last trip to Kent was close to agony for me. I don't want to be there any more. I don't want to preach doctrines written in antiquity. I want to live in the present, not the past. These thoughts were so heretical I felt I was losing control of my life. I needed time to think. I couldn't remain at Hunsford, nor could I return to Pemberley just yet. And too, I was curious about how Henry Bumstead had fared and whether he had changed from the man I had known as a young man. He served as a diversion. It never occurred to me that this diversion would lead me to fully understand how I had been wasting my life in mourning the past, dreaming of the future and ignoring the present. The people I met yesterday have no time to dwell in the past since they seem to be aware that it will serve no purpose. We can't turn back the clock no matter how much we might wish it. And so they keep going. They still fall in love and marry. They'll produce the next generation and life will go on." He looked directly at Darcy, "It's a hard lesson to learn. It's much easier to cling to the past. The danger is that you might lose your future. Anyway, it helped me make a decision I should have made years ago."

"And does," Darcy inquired, "the removal of your collar have something to do with your decision?"

Mr. Collins nodded. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I've decided to leave the church and seize the day."

"Carpe diem," Darcy repeated thoughtfully. "And what form will that take?"

"Oh my," gasped Bingley. "You're not going to marry Lady Catherine, are you?"

Six startled eyes turned to Bingley in shock. "Charles," Darcy drawled, "try to pay attention."

Bingley laughed merrily, "Just wanted to clarify."

"No you're not," growled Richard. "You're thinking of how to woo Miss Bennet with your expertise on the dance floor. Turkey trot, indeed." He turned back to Mr. Collins, "You're not," he added with a grin, "are you?"

Unable to suppress his own wide grin Mr. Collins denied any possibility that he and Lady Catherine would seek to find wedded bliss together. "I have other plans for that lady."

"In that case" Darcy said, "be sure you stop by the Caffè Greco. Any Roman can direct you to it."

"It's on my list," Mr. Collins replied. "I have a feeling that a Bohemian lifestyle would suit me. It certainly would make an interesting change for me."

"I read recently that Pablo Picasso has taken up residence in Rome. If you happen to run into him, do try to coerce him into painting a likeness of my aunt. That would make a great conversation piece."

"I'll do that. I might even make a stab at writing; perhaps a story of a king and his two court jesters." As expected, his remark drew more alcohol fueled laughter from the three men. The soon to be ex-parson was delighted to be in the company of these three men. He'd never been a part of this kind of camaraderie and he wondered not for the first time how his life might have been different if he had been capable of forging any kind of friendship during his formative years. He thought it would be some kind of wonderful to have friends to laugh with, friends he could rely on. But he refused to repine the past. It was over and now he was planning the future and he wished fervently that Darcy would do the same. He had done his best to help Darcy without being intrusive. He could do no more without revealing the truth of where he had been during those lost months. Now it was up to him and Elizabeth. He offered up a silent prayer that those two young people found the happiness they both deserve.

Elizabeth sat in the drawing room wondering what the men could be talking about in the dining room. A half hour had gone by and she was cooling her heels with a glass of brandy clutched in her hand. She had to trust that Mr. Collins would not add anything significant to his description of Meryton. She'd been terrified that he would disclose the full truth of what he had learned. She'd held her breath waiting for the moment when the Bennet name would be mentioned in conjunction with the soldier who had been brought home and had been taken in by her family. Her desire to bolt and escape had nearly overpowered her, yet she had stayed, determined to accept her fate, steeling herself if Darcy turned to her in shock and disbelief. But she had been spared. Mr. Collins had stopped short. Clever man that he was, he knew that nothing good would come of it if the truth was forced on Darcy. He had to arrive at the truth by himself. Unwittingly she sighed heavily and looked up to see Lady Catherine eying her with interest.

"What is it, Miss Bennet? she asked with a sly smile. "Sighing over past sins?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and sighed once more before taking a large sip of brandy letting it slide down her throat for a moment of heated ecstasy. "That's singular, Lady Catherine. Only one sin."

"Was his name Smythe?"

Elizabeth wasn't surprised at the question. She'd been expecting something of the sort from Lady Catherine. "Not even close," she replied. "As a matter of fact, I never knew his name. He was a Gypsy dancer from one of the Balkans. His name contained most of the alphabet so I compromised and called him "You"."

Lady Catherine smirked, "And do I dare ask what he called you?"

"Miri Mulla. Or at least that's what it sounded like. I later found out that miri mulla means my corpse in Romani. There was a problem with translation, I'm sure."

Lady Catherine threw her head back laughing so hard Elizabeth feared she was in danger of suffering a fit of apoplexy. "I've never heard such utter nonsense," she sputtered after several convulsive moments. "And what," she finally managed, "happened to your Gypsy dancer?"

"He danced his way out of town one morning."

"Poor lamb," she responded with mock sympathy. "You haven't even begun to live."

"Perhaps, Lady Catherine, you've lived enough for both of us."

"I survived, Miss Bennet. I stopped living forty years ago."

"And would your Bobby appreciate all those years of mourning? Would he have mourned you for forty years if it had been you who died?"

"I shouldn't think so. There are many flowers in the garden. Where he can pluck one flower, he can find another. It is, after all, a man's world."

Elizabeth regarded Lady Catherine with something akin to fear. Was she staring at herself forty years hence, drinking herself into oblivion every night?It wasn't quite the future she had planned for herself. Exactly when does one's life derail? Had it happened at the clearing when she had taken pity on a young soldier, or was it one night in a cottage. If she had not accepted Richard's invitation to dinner, would that have made a difference in the course of her life? Or had her rash decision to come to Pemberley been the final nail in her coffin? Somehow she had to get her life back on track. This misery couldn't go on forever. She couldn't end up like Lady Catherine, bitter and forlorn.

The drawing room door swung open and Darcy and Mr. Collins entered the room. Mr. Collins approached Lady Catherine with a subdued smile. That lady regarded him with suspicion, "You know how much I dislike a man who smiles too much. What on earth has come over you?" He had no response but took his seat next to her and continued to smile.

Darcy joined Elizabeth in an adjoining chair. "Where's Anne?" he asked.

"She made her excuses and retired for the night, Mr. Darcy. She's heading for London in the morning. And may I ask where the other gentlemen are?"

"For some strange reason, they insisted on walking the dogs this evening. I'm afraid I'll have to suffice as your entertainment until they return."

"I'm perfectly satisfied. I find your company very agreeable, Mr. Darcy."

"Must you continue to address me as Mr. Darcy? As I said this morning," he added with a smile that showed his dimples, "we don't stand on formality here. My friends call me Will."

She returned his smile, "My curtsy was a mistake and you well know it."

"I do, but it was charming nevertheless. Especially since it was performed beneath the portrait of my ancestors. For a moment I thought I'd slipped back in time."

She couldn't resist. "And would you be happy to slip back in time?"

"You say the oddest things at times, Miss Bennet. As a matter of fact, the thought intrigues me. However, going back a century might be carrying curiosity too far."

"If possible, would you revisit your life ten years ago, a year, or yesterday?"

"Yesterday? Nothing remarkable happened yesterday and ten years ago I would have had nothing more ahead of me than the death of my parents and the world going up in smoke."

"And a year ago?"

There was a slight hesitation, "I have no idea what I was doing a year ago. Do you?"

She stared at him in shock. "Do I what?"

"I mean, do you know what you were doing a year ago? "I suppose you were missing Sussex. It had to be hard to give up nursing."

"It was easier than you might suppose" she replied, "I spent a year learning how to nurse and another two years taking temperatures and emptying chamber pots. I was useless and it cost me three years out of my life. I came to see them as wasted years when life passed me by. Most of my friends had moved on leaving me behind. This last year of my life has been an aimless exercise in futility." She could hear the bitterness in her voice but seemed incapable of stilling her tongue. "I used to think I had all the answers but I don't know myself anymore. Men on the battlefield are not the only ones who lose their identity. The ones left behind can also fall victim to memories of a happier time. I suppose that I eventually will find myself but I'll never be the same." She managed a crooked smile as she stared at him, "You must forgive me Mr. Darcy. I don't usually air my morbid thoughts. As for what you were doing a year ago, I imagine you were feeling happy to be home, alive and safe."

"That would seem to be a reasonable assumption. Unfortunately, the opposite is true. You just used an interesting turn of phrase that sometimes you can lose your identity. Let's just say that I was in a state of confusion. I'm aware that you know that Bingley came upon me in Cambridge. You must have wondered why Richard told you that he had found me in a French hospital."

Elizabeth decided to lighten the conversation. He had imparted enough of the truth that she could feel confident to bring up the subject later in a more private setting. "I have no idea how Richard's mind works. I thought perhaps he thought that languishing in a French hospital seemed more dignified than walking into the path of a cab."

"That won't do, Miss Bennet. You're much too astute to believe that."

"You might be surprised at how dense I can be, Mr. Darcy...William."

"Nothing about you would surprise me Miss Bennet."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Of course. But that you would ascribe dignity to my cousin is quite remarkable."

"You believe Richard to be without dignity?"

"I've never seen a trace of it."

"And yet you tolerate him."

"Of course. He is a dear friend and I am indebted to him for finding you."

"Another compliment? How am I to bear such happiness?"

Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine who demanded to share the joke. "You two are grinning like Cheshire cats. I demand to know what's so funny."

"We were," said Darcy, "discussing Richard's dignity."

"Richard and dignity? There is no such thing."

The subject and Bingley entered the room, "I heard that," cried Richard.

Elizabeth sighed. Her tete-a -tete with Darcy was over and Lady Catherine's interruption had forestalled further discussion of why Richard had lied about where he had been found. Her relief was palpable. If and when he learned she'd had a part in his missing year, she didn't want it acknowledged in a drawing room full of people. As for the short time she was able to capture his attention, she didn't know what to make of it. The moment Richard and Bingley entered the room he had left her side to station himself at the window. Exasperating man! If it had been any other man under different circumstances, she would have seen the last few minutes as light flirtation, no different than the bandying she and Smithy had indulged in while in Hertfordshire. It seemed impossible but the mother of all irony if Darcy had personal feelings for her. And what on earth would she do if he found her attractive enough to attempt seduction? Her nerves were obviously disintegrating. The mere thought of such a scene threatened to send her into hysteria. Instead, she settled for a quick gulp of brandy before dissolving into a fit of giggles. After a moment she realized that the room had gone silent.

Lady Catherine was the first to speak. "I must say," she declared, "that you are in a most peculiar mood this evening, Miss Bennet. Perhaps it was just this kind of mood that made your gypsy dance out of town leaving you so bereft."

"Gypsy?" cried Bingley, "Gypsy? Whirlwind spins? Tambourines? I wonder if I can learn to spin before the next assembly. Allow me to top your drink, Miss Bennet."

"Never mind," snapped Richard. I'll do the honors." He grabbed the brandy decanter and approached Elizabeth with a broad grin.

"Get away from me, Richard, or I'll scream." Elizabeth emitted another giggle and glanced at Darcy who was eying his friends in disbelief. She continued to stare at him until he focused his dark eyes on her and rewarded her with the sweetest smile. She couldn't be sure, but at that moment she would have sworn that he was sharing a private joke with her. With difficulty, she tore her eyes from him and set her glass on the table before standing and excusing herself.

"Must you leave us so soon?" Darcy asked softly.

She turned back to him. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I want to call my sister and remind her of her dinner engagement with Anne tomorrow evening."

"Ah yes, of course. I too have several appointments in London tomorrow. I fear I'll be gone for several days. You'll be on your own here, Miss Bennet. If Richard or Charles become too obnoxious you have my number in town. Don't hesitate to call me if you need rescue."

Elizabeth glanced at Richard and Bingley who were grinning idiotically, "You have my assurances, Mr. Darcy. You will be the first person I call."

As it turned out, Elizabeth had no need for a rescue though she thought she might be in need of company. Both Darcy and Anne had left for London at first light and in just a few hours four more guests would be leaving.

The first to leave was Charles Bingley whom she found alone in the breakfast room. He was enjoying a hardy meal and was in excellent spirits. The thought had occurred to him that he hadn't seen the Postlewaite twins for several months. This was an oversight that he planned to correct that very evening. To his gratification his early morning call was greeted with enthusiasm by Jane who assured him that she and Charlotte would be delighted to dine with him.

Elizabeth hid a smile at the young man's new-born enthusiasm though she wondered why he would choose to dine with both Jane and Charlotte. "Do you plan to court both young ladies, Charles?"

"Oh no, just Charlotte."

Elizabeth managed to put her cup back on the saucer without spilling a drop. "Charlotte?" Elizabeth had a vision of Charlotte with smoke whirling about her shingled marcel waves as if she were about to blow her stack. She feared Charlotte would be picking Charles Bingley out of her teeth by the end of the first course. "Well, of course, I'm just a woman, but I'd have guessed you and Jane would make a better match. I know how much you like to dance and I've heard Charlotte say that she hates the amusement going so far as to state that even savages can dance."

Bingley was shocked. "She said that?"

"Well, unless I once read that in a book, I think she did. Now, on the other hand, I'm sure I heard Jane say that of all the characteristics of a man, she most admired his ability to dance."

Bingley's countenance brightened, "She said that?"

"A man who possesses prowess on the dance floor is always a desirable commodity. But I'm sure you're already aware of that."

"Er...well..."

"And I'm sure Jane would be absolutely enthralled when you display your skill as a whirling dervish."

Bingley laughed hardily, "Now I know you're teasing me."

Elizabeth laughed with him, "Turnabout is fair play, I think. But I'm serious when I say that Jane admires you. You must know that."

"What did she really say about me?"

"She said that you were everything a young man ought to be. Sensible, good humored and lively."

Her words brought a faint flush to the young man's face and Elizabeth was pleased with her attempt at matchmaking. For her part, she hadn't exactly lied to him. A woman in love surely had such thoughts about her beloved.

Richard found her an hour later in the library. It seemed that he was also heading out for a long overdue visit to Matlock Manor at the northern tip of Derbyshire. He picked up on her mood immediately. "Why so glum, Nurse Lizzie?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, "Richard," she said, "in what condition did you find your cousin after he was knocked down by a cab at Cambridge?"

To her relief he didn't try to dissemble. With only a moment of hesitation, he said, "I suppose it's time to come clean. The truth is that he had lost his memory of the past two years. According to what he could remember, he was in Arras, France when all hell broke loose. He distinctly remembered two of his friends were lying next to him, both dead, and then the scene turned blood red. After that it was all a blank until he awoke in the apothecary shop."

"And what did he do to seek out the past?"

"He didn't do anything. He was quite sure that being home surrounded by friends and family would be his best chance of remembering how he had come to be at Cambridge."

"And you went along with this reasoning?"

"Not exactly, but we really had no choice." Richard had become visibly uncomfortable. "Elizabeth, he kept talking about what he had lost. The key he had on him seemed to have more meaning than the knowledge that he could now go on with his life. I couldn't imagine what could have such an impact on him other than the possibility that a woman was involved and that would have been unacceptable."

"Would it have been so bad if he had found happiness?" she asked quietly.

"A reasonable question and for any other man in England it makes sense. Unfortunately at a very early age certain rules were instilled in him. These rules were sacrosanct. Under no circumstances was he ever to bring scandal to the family and hiring detectives would have been a mistake. There was too much danger that the truth of his condition would leak to the press. Too many people equate amnesia with insanity. Just the faintest scent of insanity would have been a monumental scandal. Darcy's face would have been plastered on every rag in the country. And what if a woman turned up? What if a dozen women turned up declaring that he had sired their babies? What if he had married some woman? It was bad enough that there would have been speculation about his sanity but if he had married some unknown woman while insane, the tongues would never stop wagging. He would have found it intolerable. The life he knew would have been destroyed forever. And suppose he hated this new-found wife? There is no divorce in this country unless insanity or adultery could be proved. Can you imagine the pandemonium that would ensue if he commanded the court for a bill of divorcement? Can you understand, Elizabeth?"

Sadly, Elizabeth had to admit that she could. "And this possible woman? Has he given her up?"

Richard smiled, "To tell the truth, I don't think she ever existed. I think what he missed was his freedom."

"I swear, Richard, you're giving me a headache. I can't imagine a man who has more freedom than a very wealthy man."

"A very wealthy man whose heritage dictated that he become a gentleman farmer whether he wanted to or not, is not free. Farming today is not what it was a century ago. Most everything is automated. You hire the best stewards to oversee the work, give orders over the phone, and if something serious occurs it will take two hours to drive back from Town. My uncle...Darcy's father...was old school. He refused to even consider allowing Darcy to pursue another career. His son's place was here at Pemberley and he refused any further discussion. When his parents died, Darcy began to buy up derelict estates out of simple boredom. The idea of building schools for underprivileged children was an afterthought; something to ease his restlessness. He once said that if he didn't use his brain occasionally it would wither away. When I heard that he had joined the army I was shocked but not surprised. I thought he must have been desperate to choose possible death to life at Pemberley."

"Yet," Elizabeth argued, "when he returned to Pemberley he continued where he left off. He's still planning to build schools. He must have found satisfaction in that pursuit."

"It's true he picked up where he had left off but I can only describe his efforts as listless at best. Now, it's with indifference which he can't hide. It holds no challenge for him. But all is not lost. In the past few weeks his spirits have lifted considerably. Something has altered him. He's beginning to smile and laugh more. In this past week he's been on the phone every night and now he's gone to Town and says he may have some interesting news for us when he returns."

Elizabeth's heart sank. "Perhaps it's a woman who has raised his spirits. An old flame, perhaps."

He glanced at his watch and stood, "Perhaps," he replied absently. "But I doubt it. If there's a woman, I'd look closer to home. And now I must be off. I've got a hot date with my own old flame tonight."

That was not exactly the reply that she had hoped to hear but dared not pursue the discussion. She walked him to his car and bid him a safe journey before returning to the house. There she learned that Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins were also setting out for a journey; he to speak with his bishop, and she to make arrangements to rent her home once Mr. Collins had separated himself from the church. They were planning to tour Europe.

The next two hours passed with a dream-like quality. Bitterness had been exchanged for a glowing happiness that made Lady Catherine seem almost beautiful. Mr. Collins didn't exactly glow but carried an aura of excitement which he was hard pressed to contain. Elizabeth watched them both through lunch with a sense of unreality. Locked in unhappiness for so many years, these two people had made a decision that would alter their lives forever. Bingley had picked up the pieces and had gone a courting and Richard...well, he had a hot date which might last til breakfast if he was lucky. It appeared to Elizabeth that this mass exodus of everyone might be an omen. Had fate determined that she should pack up her bags and leave Pemberley also? She had to consider the possibility. Maybe it was time to put the past behind her and look to her own future.

All too soon she accompanied them to their separate cars biding them both a fond farewell with a promise to keep in touch. Long after their departure Elizabeth continued to stand in the driveway. She had a decision to make. She was sorely tempted to go home to Longbourn and talk to her parents but dismissed the thought before it was fully formed. What was really forming in her mind was the resolve that if she did decide to leave the past behind she would not go without disclosing the truth to Darcy. Not to do so would be unfair to both of them. She owed him the truth and then he would be free to do whatever he wished with the information. At least with the knowledge of how they had met on armistice day and of the months following, he too could put the past behind him. Now that she was on her own, she would have plenty of time to marshal her thoughts and pen the letter which would reveal it all. But first she headed up to her room and crawled under the covers. The letter would have to wait. What she needed now was sleep.