Chapter 14:
Later that afternoon, Mr. Rochester accompanied Elizabeth to her sister's house in Cheapside and thanked her for a lovely afternoon. Elizabeth mustered a smile, even though her thoughts were very far away and she was eager to be home. She had attempted to carry on with the conversation and though the subject matter of modernizing was quite fascinating, Elizabeth could not help but think of the encounter with the Colonel and worrying if it pertaining Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth took off her bonnet, left it hanging by the entrance hall and entered the drawing room, where she was relived to find Jane sitting alone, as Mr. Bailey was still out on business.
"Elizabeth" said Jane warmly, motioning for her to join her. Jane looked every bit the lady, looking as beautiful as ever, and she had a warm shawl around her, for it she felt chilly. This was her favourite spot in the house and a place where she now secluded to—when thoughts of her future and Mr. Bailey overtook her.
Elizabeth sat down next to Jane, where she accepted some warm tea and she told Jane of her date. They had walked and talked, and Mr. Rochester had even offered to stop by a tea shop where they could enjoy an afternoon tea, however, Lizzy had politely declined.
"Is something the matter, my dear?" asked Jane, her eyes peering into Lizzy's soul.
"No" said Elizabeth too quickly, "I mean yes" she added with a heavy sigh, "Oh Jane! I saw Mr. Darcy alst night, as you saw, and I cannot get him out of my head. I know Mr. Rochester is an honorable man and he has said his intentions and up until last night, I was eager to accept them. I feel we would do quite well together."
"However?" asked Jane, knowing there was more.
"I love him, Jane, I love Mr. Darcy and I feel horrible for feeling thus for a married man! Oh goodness!" said Elizabeth, her emotions in her words, "Can I truly marry another man when I love someone else?"
Jane looked at her with a knowing eye.
"Yes—well, perhaps, what you think is love is not truly love" said Jane wisely, thinking of her own experience, "It could be infatuation or perhaps imagination."
"But would it be fair to Mr. Rochester?" asked Elizabeth.
"I do not think you need to worry about him. This is about you and your future Elizabeth. I know what I would have done, for I did it. But this is about you, not me. Could you make the decision to marry Mr. Rochester and truly and fully devote yourself to him?" asked Jane.
"I do not know" said Lizzy softly, "Until I saw Mr. Darcy and danced with him, it was easy to think of him as something far away but now..."
"He is far away Lizzy, and he is married! Would you wait until and if his wife dies?" asked Jane.
"Oh Jane! How could you speak thus? I would never wish that upon anyone nor think of this that way!" exclaimed Elizabeth with feeling.
"Well perhaps you should" said Jane, "Because unless his wife dies, then he is completely unavailable and you need to think of your future and what lies ahead for you."
"I do not know" said Lizzy, letting out what felt like yet another heavy sigh, "Must love always be this complicated?" she added with a smile.
"Yes!" said Jane enthusiastically, "Otherwise, what would be the fun?"
"Thank you for lightening up the mood" said Lizzy, reaching for her tea and taking another sip, "I know what you would do Jane, but I am not sure I am as strong as you."
"We all find our strength when we need it, Elizabeth" said Jane curtly, knowing her sister had complimented, but also feeling that the usual rational Elizabeth needed to be reminded of the reality of the situation. It would not do to live in dreams, for dreams rarely became a reality.
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Fitzwilliam Darcy rode through the night, alongside his cousin and closest friend, Richard. They did not talk, not while riding and not during their short stops—there was not much to be said. Fitzwilliam did not want to think nor feel anything, all he wanted was to get there as soon as possible and tend to his dear cousin Anne. In their few years together, they had grown a sort of kinship and as they were both keen on staying at Derbyshire and avoiding London. They had actually quite a bit in common, even if their personalities and tempers were very different. Anne had flourished as his wife and had slowly come into herself—though sometimes retracted when her mother would visit. They had formed a true friendship and attachment that was not because they were cousins nor because they were married. They had come to a mutual understanding and had set out to live their lives together in happiness. Mr. Darcy did not wish for her demise and had let Elizabeth go and had not looked back since.
Fitzwilliam did not want to leave her alone in Pemberley with Aunt Catherine and three doctors, but he had to go to London for a week. He should have known something would have happened—his Aunt's hysterics would drive anyone insane and would ruin any potential for recovery, he thought wryly. But he did not blame his Aunt, they all knew that Anne's health was weak and yet she insisted that she wanted nothing more than to have a child.
They finally arrived at Pemberley at dawn, as the sun precipitated from behind the clouds, lighting up the green forest that surrounded his family estate. The sun was just beginning to shine and the scene would have been spectacular if not for the horrible feeling in his stomach. He leaped off the horse as it came to a halt by the entrance, throwing his leg over the other side, and handing the reins to a nearby servant.
"Thank you" he muttered quickly and ran up the stairs, two at a time, until he reached Anne's room. He took a deep breath before entering, remembering a similar scene when his dear mother, who once occupied this room, had too called him in to say farewell.
He barged in, finding his aunt looking downtrodden and holding on to her daughter's hand, softly stroking her cheek. He had never seen her looking so soft and yet so broken.
"Fitzwilliam" said Lady Catherine, in what sounded more like a whisper than anything else. She gave him a weak smile and gentle stroked her dear daughter's hand, "I am reluctant to leave my dear, however, she has been asking about you, perhaps you shall take my place."
Mr. Darcy had never seen Lady Catherine so soft and gentle, it seemed like she was in a different reality and perhaps had come to terms with what was to come. She patted him on the shoulder and for a quick moment wiped away a tear, as she left the room, to give him privacy with his wife. She shooed the doctors out as well and held back Richard from going in. Everyone seemed to understand the severity and gave Mr. and Mrs. Darcy they privacy they so craved.
"Anne" said Mr. Darcy, catching his breath from the ride and running up the stairs. Anne stirred on the bed, opening her eyes, which she had closed briefly and giving him a smile—a genuine smile at seeing him materialize before her.
"Fitzwilliam" she said, struggling to speak. She reached for his hand and he squeezed her gently, looking every bit the devoted husband, "I am glad you have come."
"Of course, I came as fast as I could, I would not have left if I had known..." he said, the words struggling to come out.
"I know" she said sweetly. She closed her eyes again and let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the sickness on her shoulders, as if she was finally and willing giving in.
"I am so sorry, Anne. We should have never had a child—I know how badly you wanted to live happily every after" said Fitzwilliam, still holding on to her hand. His words brought her back to reality and with tears in her eyes she smiled and shook her head.
"I did get my happily ever after, I got you and I gave you a son" said Anne, her voice soft and in a whisper, "Promise me you will get yours."
"Anne" said Mr. Darcy, holding on to her hand, as if begging her to stay.
"Promise me" she said once again, mustering all her strength to speak her final words.
"I will" he said hoarsely, feeling the tears in his eyes, ready to fall at a moment's notice.
"Please tell her thank you" said Anne in a whisper and Mr. Darcy felt her hand go limb. Anne Darcy was finally at peace.
Mr. Darcy felt as if breath had been sucked out of him and he allowed himself to cry—for Anne, for his mother, whose presence was keenly felt at this moment, and for their son. He did not have time to process Anne's last words nor what they meant, he only knew that she passed on with a smile, happy to have been given a chance at life and for that, he was grateful.
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So many thoughts...so many emotions...would love to hear yours :)
Until soon,
PP