Chapter Nineteen: My Truth, Your Truth, The Truth
I woke several hours later. The dark world beyond the panes of my window informing me of a slumber I hadn't realized or intended to fall into. There was a cool breath around my face from my proximity to the glass, but my layers of blankets and shawl were enough to keep the rest of my blood flowing at a comfortable pace. I moved to stretch, rolling my neck out of a kink while linking my fingers to pop my knuckles.
With hardly a preamble from a state of groggy wakefulness to high alert, I realized that Annie was missing! I sprang from the window seat, calling out the infant's name. It wasn't possible for her to get down on her own yet, she was too small. Nevertheless, I clambered down onto my hands and knees and began searching at ground level for the runaway babe.
When the floor of my room provided no hint to her whereabouts my panic heightened, and I began calling her name in earnest. Sally's devastated face pushed her way into my thoughts and I just as stubbornly pushed her back out. There was no time to contemplate what her hysteria would look like if I could not find her child.
With great adrenaline, opening my door translated to nearly ripping if off its hinges as I continued my cry for Annie. It didn't even occur to me to caution my voice so as to avoid detection from a certain gentleman's door just down the hall.
"Annie," I hissed, running out of my room, turning my head in a comparable swivel to an owl. "Annie!"
"Lizzy?" Jane emerged from her room, wide-eyed and confused at the hullabaloo. In that moment, the morning had not happened, and I turned to her as a sister does when in need.
"Please Jane, you have to help me! I cannot find Annie! She was on my lap, I was talking to her, but then I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew it was dark and she was gone! I've looked all over –"
"Calm yourself, Lizzy," Jane spoke over me, though still maintaining a soothing tone. I noticed that she did not approach me however. "Sally came to fetch her daughter a little while ago for her supper. She found the pair of you embraced in sleep and wished to leave you in peace."
I listened with growing relief. My adrenaline short-circuited, though, at this unexpected turn of events, and left me wobbly on my legs. Jane and I were staring at each other, uncertain of what to do or say next.
"Oh," was all I managed to utter before I succumbed to the emotions of the day. "Forgive me," I squeaked, choking back a sob. I hurried back to the safety of my room and threw myself on to the bed, weeping into my pillow. Thought after thought chased itself dizzy around my mind, racing millisecond races ere the next notion took its place to test its longevity. None of them had integrity and it wasn't too long before I was left with a cavernous head and streaming eyes. I couldn't even care if the others on this floor heard me; they would at least know its cause and not think me a flighty, emotional wreck.
The feel of gentle fingers stroking my disheveled hair slowly roused me to realize that someone was attempting to comfort me. My first guess was Sally, but when I turned my head (discreetly wiping my nose as I did so), I was looking up into the face of my sister. Jane watched me with concern, her eyes hooded momentarily when our gazes met.
"You don't have to do this," I said thickly, turning back to my pillow. My body wracked with suppressed emotion.
"I do not wish to see you in distress. It pains me," she said, adding the second thought after a moment's pause. We remained silent for a long time. She continuing to stroke my hair, her fingers occasionally untangling a knot, while I tried to even my breathing and avoid resting my cheek on the large wet patch I'd created on my pillow.
I couldn't place exactly what it was, but there were words to this silence. My tears had been a damn breaking the normal barriers, purifying the wound that had been festering between us throughout the day, and leaving us on uneven ground. Though, it looked like it was ground we were presently facing together.
"I have been thinking," Jane said; the sentence the first in nearly an hour. I didn't move, but we both knew I was listening. "You have told us an incredible story – fantastical – and had I not witnessed for myself the spirit overhead, I would have dismissed it as a thrilling dream of yours."
I held my breath, waiting.
"But I did witness that spirit and I remember the fear that overtook my body when it came. It is not something I could have imagined, as I have never known that fear. And even if I could argue that it had been a dream I'd conjured up, there is the matter of Mr. Darcy also bearing witness." She hesitated minutely before continuing. "I will not pretend that I fully understand what it is you claim to have happened, even with your explanation. I fear such things are beyond me. But I have not been taught to feign ignorance at my choosing.
I have been aware, for quite some time - perhaps even the amount of time that you gave as your point of . . . arrival - that you have not been yourself. I could never name what it was, for, in essence, your behaviour was still your own. The deviations that I noticed were curious, small, and when none of the family remarked on it, I soon dismissed the notion that you had somehow altered."
Jane's hand paused on my hair. The quiet was one of consideration.
"I see now that my instinct was correct."
I clutched my pillow, not daring to believe that an answer might be found to this unprecedented situation.
"Are you saying you believe me?" I asked, my voice muffled.
"I am saying that whoever you claim to be, you are still my sister, and I will always love you."
That did it.
My sobs broke out anew, only this time, I faced Jane and wrapped my arms around her neck. She held me as I continued to release the months of pent up frustration, the unanswered questions, and the traumatic reveal. Her hand resumed its care of my head, soothing me with the assurance of her touch.
"I'm so sorry, Jane," I blubbered, quite useless to control myself. "I never meant for this to come out. I know how mad it sounds. There is no sense in it even to me, only that I know it is the truth, as I have lived it," I said, regaining some control. I pulled away, though kept my hands on her shoulders. She looked at me with a hint of openness that spoke of familiar times between the two of us. It gave me hope.
"I will not deny that I have been struggling to come to terms with our lives being chronicled at some point in the future only for a . . . different version of my Lizzy to return to it," she said, juggling with the extraordinary facts. "I am still not certain what I believe. Only, you spoke with conviction and I detected no lie in your looks. Despite my dismissal this morning, I cannot ignore the very nature of the supernatural that visited us." She took my hands in hers and clasped them. "You have borne this burden alone – I do not think I would have been capable of such a feat."
"Of course you would have," I interrupted.
"No, Lizzy, I have not your strength. That is how I know that you are still my sister," she said as if changing tracks, "you have a will not easily bent. I detest conflict, so will sway with the breeze simply to keep harmony. I think it is sometimes cowardly of me."
"Jane, no! You are one of the strongest people I know. Look at the strength you are exhibiting now in willing to reach out to me. I appreciate the awkwardness of the circumstances, and what it must be for you to attempt to unravel them, but you are here. We are talking, and that is far more promising than anything else."
I realized then that it would be over time, if at all, that Jane would fully understand who I was. With that spectre, an echo of my old face, her hand was forced, and so she was taking the leap to accept that everything was not as it had been. But with the same face of her sister that she'd seen for over twenty years, and apparently a personality not too distant from the original, the truth would likely linger in that realm betwixt acknowledgment and confirmation. I would never have the concrete proof to show her, and in a way, I didn't want to, I realized as I looked at her. We were at that point in world history where enlightenment has just teetered off the brink and discovers that wings do belong to those who aspire to greater heights. Yet, Jane is still a woman of a small world. Her horizons are narrow and experience has shown her how to care for family; not to explore the mysterious of the world and what might lay beyond it. But I did not need her to be anything other than what she had already grown into. I needed that sister that I had so recently acquired, but now could not imagine living without. If this was to be our understanding, then I was content.
It was decided at one point to remove ourselves to Jane's room as mine held the echo of last night's events, and neither of us wished for a repeat. Tucked up under her duvet, we lay touching arms as random thoughts crossed our minds and passed our lips. Some consisted of items related to our visit, but some were of a more curious kind. These questions were always preceded by my name.
"Lizzy?"
"Hmm?"
"You will tell me if I am being too inquisitive?"
"Just ask it, Jane."
"It's only that it is in regard to Mr. Darcy."
I remained quiet.
"I will not ask for the details of what you said to him. It clearly angered him, but I couldn't help wondering if it was anything to do with Mr. Wickham?"
I bit my lip as I thought how to proceed.
"Why do you ask that?" I settled on answering her question with one of my own.
"I recalled a conversation of ours. In Meryton. I could not understand the disdain you showed towards Mr. Wickham. Your answers were coyly given when I pressed. Your only definitive statement was that if you told me what you knew of him, you would then have to tell me how you knew. I, of course, had assumed that you had come by it in a dishonest way."
"Dishonest?" I laughed, unable to help myself.
"Gossip is frowned upon, is it not?" she put to me, a smile in her voice. "No, but now it is clear to me that your difficulty was far more complex than exposing any one for having a loose tongue," she continued. Then added slyly, "perhaps difficulty lay also with another man?"
I tilted my head and saw that she was already assessing me. I sighed.
"It is true. The secret is not my own to share, and it was most definitely the cause of Mr. Darcy's retreat."
Neither of us said anything for a while after that. Mr. Darcy had yet to return to Mrs. Treggels' house and along with our hostess, we were all worried over his whereabouts.
"I suppose this really confirms that there will be no news of an engagement to bring home to mama," I said, aiming for levity. My artificial smile drooped before I could even finish the sentence. "Do you think he will ever forgive me, Jane?"
"Forgive you, whatever for?"
"He thinks I've betrayed him. I will tell you honestly that I do not see much hope."
"From what I have observed of Mr. Darcy is that he is a man not easily overcome by strong emotion, but when it strikes him it is fierce. Ultimately it will cool after time has been allowed to temper his thoughts. He may be angry, Lizzy, but he does not hate you," Jane said. But I was intent on being miserable.
"How can you be sure? You did not see the look he gave me, Jane."
"Perhaps not, but I have seen all other looks directed towards you, and I have seen the love therein. He adores you, Lizzy. And it is through that admiration that Sally and Annie will have a life only dreams could have previously provided them. Do not discredit the feelings the pair of you harbour for each other so easily."
Jane's words stayed with me for the remainder of our week in London, providing me comfort whenever it looked like the opposite was true. Mr. Darcy had returned sometime in the night and with him was the seemingly impenetrable Roman sculptor, fixing his countenance into a permanent scowl. He avoided company, he avoided me especially. Even the unflappable Mrs. Treggels noticed this change in behaviour. To her at least, his censure was not extended. He would accompany us to our dinner engagements and the few nights we went to the opera or theatre, but would revert to that disposition so characteristic of his aloof introduction in the novel he now knew existed – whether he believed it or not.
It was small recompense whenever Mr. Stole dug his clutches into Mr. Darcy at dinner. It was even better comfort to have the distraction of the Arleys' conversation. It appeared that the group we'd met our first night truly was a gang of friends who ate together almost every evening. I would appreciate the humour of the two young lawyers' involvement in the group were it not for one of the pairs' growing interest in Sally. Her copper hair caught the gentle glow of candlelight in a stunning reflection of reds and golds, while her brown eyes - an unusual combination for a ginger – was flecked with jaded green on closer inspection. And it was being inspected by lawyer Longshadow day by day, in noticeable increments. Mr. Wosright on the other hand only passingly considered Jane from time to time, never taking the effort to engage her, for which I was grateful.
As I'd predicted, Jane approached me with the same sisterly candour as had existed between us, while reserving a hint of curiosity whenever I caught her staring. I made it clear to her that she may ask me anything and I would do my best to answer. I even gave her a wormhole should she like to hear about my experiences from the future. She'd refused, politely, stating that she was not ready, though appreciated my frankness. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.
Once the first obstacle of reaching an understanding had been surmounted, her main concern lay with mending the fissure separating Mr. Darcy and myself. Her attempts to reason with him proved futile. He would not listen to her any more than he would me, taking care to remove himself from any conversation should Jane or I join it. I thought it rude and unfair. Perhaps there was more to be said of his arrogant, inflexible nature after all.
I followed Jane's stricture in not discussing the future or the novel, though I couldn't help following in the footsteps of Novel Lizzy's abuse of Mr. Darcy's pride and arrogance as we made our way to visit our aunt and uncle. The visit was a short exchange of presents and news. I let Jane take the reins and was pleased when I observed her knowing look. Our aunt and uncle Gardener were well-mannered, open people, with affection in all their looks and interest in every tidbit of news, important or otherwise. And I had never met them before in my life. It was a little like déjà vu. My initial introduction to the Bennet household seemed so long ago that I feared I appeared not myself to these relations. Jane assured me that it was nothing to fret over ("after all Lizzy, no one would even know to think of the truth."), that they were only worried that I might be coming down with a cold. Not an unsurprising diagnosis as my eyes retained a reddish hue from private hours of sleep deprivation that could not be blamed entirely on Annie.
When the day of our departure finally arrived I was caught between dueling emotions. I longed to be out of London and returned to the normal routine of Longbourn. Even more I longed to be away from the Roman sculpture. He had relented not once during the course of our stay, and I feared that Mr. Darcy would be lost to us forever.
On the other hand, I would miss Sally and Annie. Mrs. Treggels too, I felt would be a loss. I had not been able to appreciate the fullness of her hospitality with my thoughts so consumed. Sally, Annie, Jane, and I had spent the night before in Jane's room speculating over her future, while Jane probed into whether any returned interest existed for lawyer Longshadow. I believe we were given an answer when Sally blushed.
"He's quite sweet if you give him a chance," she defended him. "He only pretends to feign disinterest to conceal his interest."
Jane and I caught each other's eye, trying not to laugh.
"It's because he's shy," Sally went on. "He does not willingly open himself to the world's judgment, for he knows how hard it can be. What he likes and what is his own, he keeps to himself, protecting it you might say, so that it remains untainted from outer cynicism."
"That's beautifully put, Sally," I admitted, sobering. "And are you now among the things Mr. Longshadow wishes to protect?"
Her blush deepened.
"Oh, I cannot say, Miss. He is his own man."
"And you are your own woman with your own feelings and desires. Do you think – will you ever tell him?"
There was no need to elaborate my question; its essence lay asleep in my lap. Sally compressed her lips.
"How can I?" she said quietly.
"You do not think he would understand?" Jane questioned, reaching out a hand.
"He may, but then he may also look at Annie Grace as another man's child and I could not stand it if he hated her."
"Will you marry him, if he asks you?" I wondered.
Sally had no answer to that, so we left it.
We four parted now in the early dawn of a chilly winter morning. The carriage that had borne us from Hertfordshire waited in anticipation to deliver us back; Mr. Darcy already within. I had wondered whether he would still journey back with us, his intolerance of us had been made very clear. Then again, he was still a gentleman, and had promised our mother to see us safely throughout the trip. Mrs. Treggels was not alone in the shedding of tears on her front steps, though hers were impressive in their profusion. She hated partings, she remarked, and was sure to welcome us any time we wished.
"Only jot me a line of warning so that I may have rooms made comfortable for your use. It would be most terrible to make you wait in the parlour…" she finished on a hearty cry. I patted her back and assured her that should she ever wish to visit us at Longbourn she was more than welcome. I hadn't thought it possible to wring any more emotion from her, but my front was quite wet by the time I'd disentangled myself to bid Sally and Annie farewell.
There were silent tears in her eyes.
"You have been a friend to me when no one else would have taken the time of day to ask if I was well. I will never forget your kindness to me or my child. She is alive because of you and we are together due to the compassion in your heart."
"Oh, Sally," I said, hugging her, careful of Annie in her arms. "We will write. In fact I am depending on your correspondence. I must know every little thing that happens to Annie Grace; her first word, her first genuine laugh, when she begins walking…"
Oh, great! Now I'm getting choked up!
I pulled away from her and laughed.
"She's a special little person," I said, stroking Annie's round cheek with a finger, "and any man foolish not to recognize it is not worth your time." I gave her a meaningful look to which she nodded.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Our trunks were strapped to the roof of the carriage; a much lighter load now that our presents had been delivered. Mine, I noticed, was snug next to Mr. Darcy's. I grimaced at the irony as I stepped towards the waiting carriage door. The Roman sculpture's pointed profile gave all the indication needed to tell me that this was not going to be a cozy ride. I let Jane sit opposite him this time, then followed his example of magnetizing my gaze out the window. Without Sally and Annie, it was less likely that we would require the services of the coaching house.
It pained me to think of that time, only a week ago, when Mr. Darcy had looked at me with a secret smile; our wager and that wonderfully embarrassing encounter in the dark outside his bedroom door. I slid my eye to the corner to take a peep at him, wondering if this road was reminding him of all that as well. Was he remembering how he had held my hand, dropping the penny into it, while trapping my gaze with his? I was - and the memory of it made me want to shake him out of whatever protective exteriour he'd surrounded himself with. I flicked my eyes back towards the window and did not waver in my observance of passing streets that eventually mellowed into country lanes and open fields.
We had traveled a little less than an hour when we were jostled unexpectedly and thrown from our seats. Mr. Darcy automatically threw his arms out to prevent Jane from falling, while I had to throw my own out to break my descent into the bench opposite me. Even once the rattling had ceased, the carriage was listing dangerously to the left.
"Ho! Steady lads!" a shout came from outside. It was followed by a thumping knock from the direction of where the driver rode.
"We've hit a ditch," he announced. We heard him land on the ground, then he was opening the door and helping us out. We had indeed fallen into a ditch - that is, the left back wheel had. Not only that, but it appeared that the wheel in question suffered from breakage. Two or three spokes looked to be sticking out in an unfortunate way.
"We're still close enough to the City, sir," I heard the driver telling Mr. Darcy. "The coaching house we passed will be able to mend this."
Further discussion ensued of the price; the wait; deliberation on whether Mr. Darcy would go himself, to which the driver respectfully countered, arguing for our sake that we should not be left alone; a counter argue from Mr. Darcy stating that we would not be alone, to which the driver (again respectfully, though clearly short on patience) pointed out that business would move along speedier if he were allowed to go. When I saw that Mr. Darcy was going to enter his counter-counter argument, I stepped in.
"Why don't you let me go before the day is worn away by deliberation?"
Both men looked at me; one with a scowl, the other in confusion. The latter recovered quicker and made explicitly clear, in his hasty removal of himself down the road, that he would be the one to run this errand. Two of the four footmen, who had been disassembling the wheel during this time, trailed after the driver, hoisting the offending instrument between them.
I brought my eyes back to Mr. Darcy and saw that he had been staring at me. He turned away at once, walking to the other side of the carriage.
"I'm sorry, Lizzy," Jane whispered. "But it is a lot to take in; perhaps with more time."
My eyes narrowed at the spot he'd disappeared. "He's had time enough."
I broke away from my sister and followed Mr. Darcy's route around the carriage to find that he hadn't stopped there, but had brought himself to a random point in one of the flat fields. He was pacing, and did not notice my approach as I was sure to be quiet as I considered my opening. When it came down to it, though, I knew precisely how to start.
"How have I betrayed you?" I demanded, unable to contain any longer his week-old barb. Mr. Darcy abruptly stopped his pacing to whip his head around, seeing me standing with my fists clenched beside me. He scoffed and resumed his agitated walk, only to immediately abort that course and face me a second time.
"How have you not?" he accused.
"If you intend to remain on this carousel of miscommunication that is a failing too great to mend in a single morning; I only ask you to extend the same courtesy to me in explaining yourself."
"Courtesy!" he bit out, stepping towards me. "What courtesy did you show me in upending my entire belief system? Tell me, Miss Devon, do I now unlearn everything I have come to rely on?" His questions were rhetorical, but I meant to answer him, only he hadn't finished ranting. "Am I meant to unlearn your very nature? Your connections to Wickham were well concealed, oh yes, but I saw through them. Of course only after the entire puzzle was put before me! Tell me, do you take enjoyment from reminding me of how I failed my sister? I daresay you were rather eager to unburden that token of information!" His breath burst from him as a bull preparing to do battle with a matador.
For myself, I stood as one slapped. The seconds passed, stretching our mutual glare into a challenge of who would emerge the victor in this impromptu arena of clashing words. When I was able to find my voice, it shook with barely contained anger.
"Even if you cannot bring yourself to believe in what I have told you of my origins, I would hope you knew me better than to cavort with a man your inferiour in every possible way."
"Well, how can I?" he interrupted, undaunted. "Your word can have no value when you have lived a façade for nearly a quarter of the year. I can claim no insight into your nature as we are essentially strangers now."
"Strangers?" My nose flared as emotion threatened to choke me. "Yes, perhaps we are. I have known you Mr. Darcy as a hard man of black and white, but your cruelty is far beyond anything I could imagine. If you can believe it of me that I relished the prospect of including you in my own torment of ignorance, that I found joy in casting aspersions against you and your family, then you truly do not know me."
His step was agitated as he closed the distance between us and I was forced to crane my neck.
"What else would you call flaunting the integrity of my sister's reputation?"
In a fit of pique, I shoved him.
"Those were for your ears alone! I even suggested it would be best for Jane, my own sister whom I trust more than anyone, to not be privy to something so private. How dare you, Mr. Darcy."
"How dare I?" he returned, recovered from his push. "How dare you to play with a man's emotions and lead him to a state of utter confusion."
"Oh, quit your self-pity! You are not alone in the feeling of having everything once familiar now wear the guise of a question mark."
Out in the crisp morning, with the heightened colours of a receding dawn, I saw a blink of uncertainty enter Mr. Darcy's eye. I suddenly felt exhausted.
"I have not lied to you, Mr. Darcy. You have known Elizabeth Bennet and Sophie Devon, for I am both, and neither has the temperament for manipulation. I have kept secrets, yes, but I have never lied to you – and I never will."
His eyes were hooded as he looked down at me, though I was certain I saw his hesitancy mature into reluctant consideration. A stray breeze played between us, teasing a tousled piece of hair that fell across his forehead, and which urged something within me. As natural as taking the next step down a path, I rose to meet him to finish telling him my whole truth.
"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, but you are being extremely unfair," I whispered in the space between are parted lips. The brief taste of him goaded me to sample another, but I refrained.
I had gambled on another decision, one that somehow bore more weight than the previous. I had only to look up to read the consequences of my boldness. Alas, that took more courage than I possessed.
A/N: Though this is a shorter chapter I feel that a lot of important conversations took place; and some only introductions to further conversations to be had in upcoming chapters. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Jane's acceptance of Lizzy/Sophie had to hit that right tone of belief in the person she loves while not totally on board with the idea itself. As she says, 'she's not sure what to believe', but she knows that it is not the same. I hope I conveyed that accurately and would appreciate any feedback in that regard.
As for Mr. Darcy - oh boy... I won't say much here since his thoughts will be delved into more thoroughly at a near point in the future. But let us say that his 'Roman sculpture' - Lizzy's nickname for his scowling and stern face as it chisels his jaw nicely ;) - is very good at hiding his many thoughts, moods, and temperaments from prying eyes.
Thank you for your thoughts and comments, and thank you again, for alerting me to my lapse of editing. I went through this chapter with a fine-toothed comb and was amazed to see that the same thing had happened - twice! Yikes. Well, I won't be copying and pasting between word and fanfiction anymore. Too many chances of the page showing double.
To Colleen S: Short and sweet! It means so much to me that you think so. Thank you.
To all the reviews left by Pp: Thank you for taking the time to read this, and allow me to answer some of your questions. As to why Mr. Darcy asked Lizzy to dance at the Meryton assembly I was setting up that this world, while seemingly identical to the novel, has it's own quirks, allowing it to colour outside the lines, and hopefully show that perhaps the novel is not the bible for how things will turn out.
The POV for chap 14 was (I think - it's been two-ish years since I wrote it) third person omnipresent. I admit the deviation taken from my usual style of Lizzy's first person, to occasionally give us a glimpse of Darcy's third person limited POV, might have been a curve ball, and I apologize. Hopefully the meat of the chapter was taken in.
And now for my favorite review of yours - the reincarnation theory. Yes, I happen to believe in reincarnation myself which is what prompted me to write this spark of an idea I had. I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and I love hearing your thoughts concerning the future of this tale. I will neither dash your hopes nor buoy them as that would be telling! But your fear does seem to be one shared with some of my other readers.
Thank you to all who followed and favorited, and to all who simply read it. It still amazes me that something I type out from my head can reach across the world within minutes of my posting it. Talk about self-publishing!
The next chapter is in the works and I'm aiming to have it posted probably in two weeks time.
Again, stay safe and healthy - share the toilet paper.
'Till next time.