Chapter LII.
The Countryside of Meryton, 24th October.
Lydia smiled as she gazed at the view before her. It was the first smile of contentment that she had had for quite some time. Why, she knew not, and at present did not possess the care to wonder about it. Instead she just allowed the beauty of the view to wash over her, like a soothing balm, wiping her troubles away.
Lawrence observed her out of the corner of his eye. He too felt some contentment. Since that almost fateful day when he had come to her with his part confession, hoping she would forgive him and ignore the fact that he still had yet to tell her what she had asked for in the first place, he had thought that they would never feel at ease with each other again. Yet here they were, eight days later. It was a remarkable achievement.
There was a part of him however, that could not help but worry about what was to come. He should have left Meryton weeks ago. His delay was costing him everything, no matter how much his mind seemed not to care. There was really now only one thing keeping him here, the one thing that, had he been able to think rationally, would not be something he should even attempt. But his feelings would not allow him to stop, to accept defeat and turn away. He would always be wondering if he did.
Lydia felt her companion's introspection and silently sighed. She respected Lawrence's apparent wish for reticence, yet she also wished he would choose to confide in her as well. It was obvious that his thoughts were troubled by some thing. She longed to ask him about it, but at the same time she knew what would be the outcome if she did. He would hide from her again. Gone would be the ease that was between them now, leaving in its place the silence that had existed between them eight days ago. And she had hated that silence.
So she kept silent, waiting for the time when it would all come out. She feared that time. She had assured him that she would never think him a monster, but later her mind had begun to wonder why he was convinced that image would be the result. What task could there be that would make him appear thus?
Lydia was almost afraid to think about it, for fear that she would break her promise to him. Yet the question would still bother her, whispering away at her mind. Like it was doing so now. Resolutely she pushed it away and turned to her companion. "I think it is time for us to go back."
Lawrence came out of his reverie. He drew out his time piece. "Yes, you are right."
Lydia took his proffered arm and together they walked back down Oakham Mount, each trying to think of something that would distract their minds the entirety of the journey back to Netherfield.
Someone however, did that for them, though to the opposite of what they were hoping. He came upon them suddenly, just as they had reached the path.
Lawrence looked up and immediately paled. What was he doing here?
"Sir, I must speak with you," the stranger began, coming to a halt in front of Lawrence.
Lydia glanced at her companion, whose pale face had begun to cause her concern. He seemed to be struggling to keep his emotions in check. Anger flickered briefly over him, then he turned to her. "Lydia, would you go on? I will join you in a few moments."
She obeyed. It was the only thing she could do.
As soon as she was out of sight, Lawrence grabbed the man by his cravat. "Never do that again, do you hear me?" He let him back down. "I thought I told you we were to never meet in day light."
The man stood, struggling to catch back his breath. From her hiding place Lydia gasped. Doubts began to form in her mind. Fearing to see anymore she slipped away.
Netherfield Grounds, 25th October.
Lydia found herself still haunted by the image the following day. She had never seen Lawrence angry before. A part of her had doubted that he was capable of it. Until last afternoon. Seeing him almost strangle a man had brought back memories, memories that she did not like. Times when Wickham had been angry. Did all men possess such an emotion? Was she to be forever haunted by it?
And they will not see my real self, all they'll see is a monster. Lawrence's words made sense now. What was even more terrifying was that until now, Lydia had never thought he would be right. If only she had not remained behind. Not seen him do what he did. I have no desire to hurt anyone, he had said, yet I know that I will. Why could he not? What task forced him to go against his nature? Could she trust him, knowing that he was capable of such an emotion?
Lydia wished she knew. She wanted to trust him, but the event that she had witnessed was hard to ignore. She could not help but think that he could become angry at her. Wickham had never been angry at her until she knew him better. Would Lawrence do the same? Was there something about her that caused men to become angry? That last thought had scared her, driving her away from the house, hoping a change of scenery would push it away from her mind.
It had yet to depart.
"Lydia," a voice suddenly called.
She looked up to find Lawrence walking towards her. She came to a halt and tried to give an appearance of content. "Lawrence," she began as soon as he had reached her. "How nice to see you again. Is there some thing you wanted of me?"
Lots of things, Lawrence's mind silently replied, before he roused himself to notice her manner. Something was wrong. "Just your company. Is there anything the matter?"
"Am I allowed to ask who that gentleman was that came across us yesterday?"
"Of course you're allowed," he began jovially, trying to give the appearance that there was nothing to be concerned over. "He thought he had seen me before. I set him straight then came to find you. Where did you go?"
"Oh, I had begun my walk when Henry came up to me," Lydia replied, hoping her son would forgive her lying about his whereabouts. "Beth had fallen over and was calling for me. I spent the rest of the day with them, cheering them up."
Lawrence accepted her excuse. "Give her my best hopes for a speedy recovery. I also wanted to ask you something. I know we are brother and sister, but I was wondering if you would be willing to overlook that and agree to dance the first set with me at the ball?"
"I would love to," Lydia replied, forgetting her worries for a moment. It had been a long time since someone had asked her to dance with them. She smiled happily at him.
Lawrence rejoiced to see it. He wished he deserved it.
26th October.
Good news travels fast, as the saying goes, and the Blakeneys were happy for it to do so, at least as far as their immediate family. This in mind they went to seek them out.
The Darcys were in the library, a room that had been much improved since its last tenant gave up the place six years ago. Ensconced together upon a sofa, Darcy was quietly reading aloud to his wife and youngest child, taking every turn of a page as an excuse to kiss the former's hair.
Upon finding this scene the Blakeney's had little desire to disturb it. However the interruption was now out of their control. The door behind them closed loudly, and Fitzwilliam looked up to find his sister before them.
"Georgie," he began in surprise. "Is something the matter?"
"Oh no," Georgiana assured them quickly. "We just have some news, but it can wait. We'll leave you in peace."
"There's no need," Elizabeth remarked. "What is it?"
The Blakeneys sat down, Michael taking his wife's hand in his. "In the spring of next year, Imogen will have another cousin to play with," he uttered simply.
The Darcys looked at each other and smiled. "Congratulations," Fitzwilliam said to his sister, who smiled happily in reply.
"We wanted you two to be the first to know," Georgiana began. "And to tell everyone else when I start to show. Would you mind keeping this to yourselves for now?"
"Not at all," Elizabeth replied.
Georgiana thanked them and then departed the room with her husband. Her brother turned to his wife when the door had close. He saw her troubled face instantly. "What's wrong, Elizabeth?"
"It nothing," she replied, gazing down at Imogen thoughtfully.
Darcy persisted. "Yes it is. Tell me."
Elizabeth turned to face her husband, still hesitating. Darcy's face betrayed concern however, making her decision, knowing that if she did not, he would jump to the worse possible conclusion. "I want Imogen to be my last child."
"Why?" Darcy began gently, puzzled.
"I see the worry upon your face every time I tell you I am with child. I worry myself that there will come a time when I won't be able to survive. I love them dearly, but I fear the day that I will loose them." She paused to gaze him mutely. "Are you angry?"
Darcy put an arm around her, carrying her into an embrace. "Elizabeth, my darling, I could never be angry with you. I love it when you tell me I am to be a father again, but I also worry about it. I never told you this, but my mother became very ill after I was born. Before Georgiana, there were at least two times that I am aware of where she miscarried.
"She died giving birth to another sister two years later. The babe was stillborn. That's what I fear. Seeing that happen to you. I could not bear to loose you like that. I made a vow that I would not the day Imogen was born." He leant forward and kissed her tenderly. "Now, my love, is that all, that is troubling you?"
"You know me too well," Elizabeth mused, leaning back into his arms. "I do not want this to mean that we sleep in separate rooms or that we no longer..." she trailed off, blushing.
"I did not think I could make you blush any more," Darcy commented. "And with regards to that, let assure you that there are ways and means." He dealt another kiss to hair. "And I will happily show them you later. For now I think Imogen wants us to continue with this," he finished, picking up the book he had lain aside, glancing at their very much awake young daughter. "I love you, Elizabeth," he uttered reverently.
Mrs Darcy happily replied the same, leaning back into his loving embrace.
