Chapter 28
Balling up yet another piece of parchment, Darcy threw himself against the back of his chair. He let out a sigh of disappointment as he added the newest failed effort to the coals in the fire. Glancing over at the sideboard, he reminded himself once again that he needed to remain sober, no matter how much he wished to dull the pain of the day.
It was then that Darcy heard a knock on his bedroom door. Having dismissed his valet earlier, after seeing that his bath had been drawn and a tray of food brought up, he knew the only person who would dare disturb him now could be none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam. Shaking his head as he rose slowly from the writing desk, Darcy crossed the room and silently opened the door in an open invitation to his cousin. He had known that he would not escape interrogation this night, no matter how much he might wish to.
With a wary glance at him, Fitzwilliam quickly sidled into the room while Darcy once again closed and locked his bedroom door. Without saying a word, he walked back over to the desk, sat down, and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. Although he knew what he wanted to say, he was struggling to appear contrite without being condescending, and was yet unsure how to accomplish that. So he sat, his pen poised over the inkwell, as he felt the curious eyes of his cousin boring into the back of his head.
"William, what happened to you today?"
Darcy was nearly undone by his cousins soft tone. He had expected Fitzwilliam to show anger and frustration not compassion. Setting aside his pen once more, he sat back and looked up towards the ceiling, refusing to turn and face his cousin. Still, the words would not come and he could only shake his head in silence.
"I am not here to berate you for your strange behavior. I am simply concerned. You are not acting like yourself." Fitzwilliam stated, as he pulled over a chair from before the fire. Sitting down, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and continued his plea. "Based off of what little information I have, can I assume that all of your actions today are related to Miss Bennet?"
Darcy finally turned to look at his cousin, and Fitzwilliam recoiled at what he saw. Darcy's face was devoid of all emotion, and his eyes, always so full of life, were black with a depthless sorrow that threatened to pull him in and drown him. Nothing he had ever experienced on the battlefield could have prepared him for what he saw and felt in that moment. Sensing his discomfort, Darcy quickly looked back away.
"My apologies, Richard. It was not my intent to discompose you with my despair." Darcy's voice was barely above a whisper. "You are correct. When I heard that Miss Elizabeth was indisposed, I grew concerned. And to hear Mrs. Collins own concern, I began to fear the worst. I cannot lose her, Richard."
Fitzwilliam raised a brow in bewilderment. "Surely you exaggerated her indisposition in your mind. She had been well when I met with her in the park, and even Mrs. Collins stated it was just a headache. All ladies get them and my mother in particular is known to claim them frequently. I wonder that such a symptom should concern you so."
"There is so much more to it than that. She has never been ill before as Mrs. Collins said. For her to become ill, and so suddenly could only mean…" Darcy trailed off. He had been about to share the truth with Fitzwilliam. Several times over the course of their visit, he had felt such a yearning to unburden himself, yet was afraid of any unknown consequences of such an action. It was a risk he was unwilling to take, no matter how great the temptation.
"Could only mean what?" Fitzwilliam probed, unaware of the conflict in Darcy's mind. "William what are you not telling me?"
Darcy shook his head resolutely. "I cannot say. I am sorry Richard, but I must ask you to leave now."
Fitzwilliam huffed in disbelief. Shaking his head he stood and slammed a fist down onto the desk in front of Darcy demanding his full attention. Darcy jumped and looked up surprised to see the anger suffusing his cousins face.
"Do I matter so little to you? I have stood by you through everything you have ever been through. You are the first person I turn to in my own need, and I have tried to be there for you. Ever since we arrived here at Rosings, you have been acting strangely. And despite your attempts to hide it, it has not gone unnoticed by only myself. I understand that you have an infatuation with Miss Bennet, but I believe you have taken it too far! Why can you not tell me why it must be her when there are so many others just like her out there who would willingly welcome your attentions?"
"I believe I told you the other evening that there can never be another as there is no other like her," Darcy said as he stood and stalked to the nearest window, determined to keep his voice calm. It would not do to let his own anger rise in reply. He needed the Colonel and to anger him further would only hurt his cause. "That has not and will never change. There is nothing you nor any other person could say that would ever sway me from Miss Elizabeth."
"Darcy, I understand you want her, but sometimes you must admit defeat. The two of you were heard arguing most vociferously this evening! She ended her evening in tears and when you finally returned, you were in such a state of dishevelment that I hardly recognized you. It sounds to me as though your pursuit of her is a lost cause."
"No. I cannot and will not give up on her."
"Why not, Darcy? Why can you not see that no good will ever come from this?"
"If I were to tell you, you would wish to have me committed and I cannot allow that to ever happen."
Fitzwilliam paused, his breathing quick as he considered his cousin. The memory of a story Georgiana had written him flitted across his mind, and as ridiculous as it had sounded at the time, he began to wonder. Unable to rein in his curiosity he found himself asking, "William, does your obsession with Miss Bennet have anything to do with the story of the Fairy Prince?"
Darcy was unable to hide his surprise, and quickly turned away from Fitzwilliam in an attempt to compose himself before replying. His action, however, only served to confirm Fitzwilliam's suspicions. He took a step back, considering his cousin with a mixture of fear and concern. "And…and do you believe in magic?"
Darcy's pulse quickened, and his breathing became erratic. His cousin was well known for his ability to tell when one was lying. It had served him well in the Regulars as he was often sought to attend interrogations of captured enemies. As such, Darcy was unsure he could lie convincingly enough, but neither could he be sure telling the truth was the proper course of action.
Suddenly a feeling of overwhelming peace encircled him as a soft voice sounded in his ear, "trust your instincts, son."
A tear escaped Darcy's closed eyes as he nodded in resignation. "Yes, Richard. I do believe in magic, as should you."
Without turning, Darcy lifted a hand and flicked his wrist. Immediately the room was bathed in light as every candle flickered to life. He heard a sharp gasp and glanced across his shoulder to witness Fitzwilliam's hand fly to his side as though in search of his sword, a look of terror upon his face. Turning slowly, so as not to further frighten him, Darcy held up both hands in surrender. "There is no need to fear me, Richard. I am still the same person you have always known. But now you know my greatest secret, the only one I have ever withheld from you; I am no ordinary man."
Fitzwilliam stuttered as he took a couple steps back, nearly tripping over his abandoned chair. "Wh, who…no…what are you?"
The corners of his mouth lifted into a sad smile. "I am a lost soul, searching for a way to break this curse I am under so that I might be forever reunited with the woman I love, never to be parted again. For centuries we have tried and failed. I cannot fail again." Seeing Fitzwilliam's eyes grow ever wider in fear and disbelief, Darcy pleaded. "Please, Richard. I need your help. I can no longer do this alone."
Still unsure if he could actually be trusted, Fitzwilliam took another step back. Wishing to ease his discomfort, Darcy followed suit to allow a greater distance between the two. "If it would be of any help, I would be willing to tie myself to that chair while you decide whether or not I am a danger to you. Or perhaps I should allow you to set the dogs loose on me while I hide up in a tree?"
Fitzwilliam recalled the summer when he had been seven and Darcy five. His uncle had just purchased several Great Danes with a plan to breed them at Pemberley. The two of them, along with Wickham, had gone down to see the big dogs. He and Wickham had both been amazed at the sheer size of the animals, and when the dogs suddenly gave chase, the two boys had found shelter in the branches of a tall tree. It had been Darcy who, although the smallest of the three boys at the time, had calmed down the towering beasts and convinced his friends that they were perfectly safe. He had never been able to determine how the vicious dogs - or so they seemed at the time - had responded to Darcy in the calm manner that they did, all while never showing an ounce of fear. Over the years, the memory had always been a source of teasing between the two cousins, and just as it had always done before, it caused him to let loose a chuckle.
Upon hearing the sound, Darcy released a sigh of relief, a true smile gracing his lips for the first time in many hours. "So cousin," he hesitantly began, "shall I pour you a drink to sip while I tell my tale, or would you prefer a pen and paper so that you may summon a doctor?"
Unable to keep a small smile from his own face at the jest, Fitzwilliam indicated that a strong drink would be greatly appreciated. While Darcy poured a generous portion of his finest brandy, Fitzwilliam moved his chair back to it's original position and waited for Darcy to join him in front of the fire. After receiving his drink, he was pleased to see Darcy return to the sidebar to grab the bottle of brandy, as well as some whiskey, to place on table in between their two chairs. Noticing his cousin had no glass of his own, he lifted his eyebrows in question.
"As tempting as it is, I find I must refrain" Darcy supplied in answer. "I still have much to accomplish tonight and desire a mind free from any influence. But I insist you help yourself to all that you desire. I am certain you will require the fortification if you are to believe all that I will share." He leaned back in his seat ignoring Fitzwilliam's suspicious gaze. Pulling one leg up to cross the other, he grasped his ankle in both hands and lifted his head up towards the ceiling. After several moments of tense silence, he looked down again into the coals of the fire where his many attempts at a letter sat among the ashes and began his tale.
Over the course of the next hour, Fitzwilliam listened in ever increasing wonder. His glass remained untouched as he heard the story Georgiana had shared with him told in much greater detail. Had it not been for the changing color of Darcy's eyes throughout, he would have been willing to believe the entire tale was just the crazed imagination of a man jilted in love. When Darcy finally finished speaking, having also shared all the events of the evening, Fitzwilliam fell back in his chair and drained his glass of brandy in three large swallows. Immediately he reached for the whiskey and gloried in the burn he felt as it traveled down his throat. It was a stark reminder that this was not just a dream.
After several more minutes of quiet contemplation, Fitzwilliam finally glanced at his cousin to see him once more gazing at the fireplace. Sensing his gaze, Darcy merely nodded but did not turn. Allowing his own eyes to peruse the many half burned balls of parchment in the grate, he decided that there was no need for his cousin to share such a fanciful tale if it was not true. The more he contemplated it, the more many of his unexplained memories finally made sense. He had grown up with magic in his life, even if his cousin had not been aware he was using it all that time. It had also explained the phenomenon of Darcy's ever changing eyes. Shaking his head, unable to comprehend why, he decided that Darcy must be telling the truth. There simply could be no other explanation for it.
When he cleared his throat, Fitzwilliam watched Darcy flinch, eyes closed as if waiting for the guillotine to fall. "I believe I owe you an apology, William…or am I still allowed to call you that?"
Instantly Darcy's face lit up in relief and he let out a nervous laugh. "While I have lived many lives and have been known by many names, I would be honored to still be known as William to you. After all, that is my current name, and I am grateful to have caring and trustworthy relatives such as yourself." For the first time since beginning his tale, Darcy turned to look at him, his eyes a rich dark blue indicating peace and security. "I can assure you that I have not always been so blessed."
Smiling for the first time himself, Fitzwilliam nodded his head. "Very good. I am glad I shall not have to remind myself to address you differently than I have previously done. I fear I would cause others to doubt my own sanity in such a case!"
This time Darcy could not hold back his laughter and soon both men were relieving the stress of the evening through a shared release of emotions. When they finally calmed down, Fitzwilliam took a deep breath and again iterated his need to apology.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Richard. If anyone needs forgiveness, it is I for having withheld such information from you for all these years."
"You had very good reasons to keep your peace. But I am grateful you feel you can trust me now. Nevertheless, I must be allowed to apologize." Seeing Darcy's bemused face, Fitzwilliam took a deep breath and let it out before speaking quickly. "I fear I played a part in Miss Bennet's rejection of your proposal."
"No Richard, you are in no way at fault."
"But I am!" Wringing his hands in nervousness, Fitzwilliam continued on. "This afternoon when I came across Miss Bennet in the park, the topic of Bingley was brought up. I fear I had greatly misunderstood you when you had told me that 'she did not deserve him.' I had taken you to mean that the woman he was infatuated with was not good enough for him, but in reality, you meant that she deserved someone better. I had not known that the lady he had left behind was Miss Bennet's older sister. Thinking back on it, I believe this misinformed knowledge I had passed on to her was the cause of her headache as she had grown cold and distant soon afterwards."
He watched as Darcy shook his head. "I knew both you and Georgiana had misunderstood me, but I saw no need to correct you. I suppose after I learned of Miss Elizabeth's being here I should have mentioned it, but I had not thought it of any import. So while I thank you for your apology, I must again tell you that I do not hold you at fault. You had done nothing wrong, and thought only to support my suit. I thank you for that."
"But William, had I not said anything, she would have had nothing to fault you for!"
"While I appreciate your attempts to ease my guilt, I must say you are wrong. I said many things to her that were unforgivable, all of which were completely unrelated to the matter of her sister and Bingley. I am most heartedly ashamed to admit that she was quite right to berate me so. I am no gentleman."
"Indeed not, for you are a Prince!" Darcy shot him a look of exasperation. "Seriously, William, while I do agree that you should not have spoken to her so, I believe you are being harsher on yourself than you deserve."
"No, I do deserve it. I have been an arrogant being all my lives. And while she has attempted to humble me before, never have I felt her lashing out to be as justified as it is now." Lifting a hand to halt Fitzwilliam's retort, Darcy continued on. "The more I think on it, the more I believe my father to be correct in that this failed attempt to win her hand is the key to breaking the curse. I know not how, for I do not remember the origin of the curse, but I am determined to figure it out. If my father believes this low point in my life to be of great import, then I must listen. I must put aside all of my pride and allow myself to truly be humbled so that I will not fail again."
Fitzwilliam marveled at what he heard. Never before had Darcy been so open about his flaws. Sitting before him was a completely different man than he had ever known before. It was at this moment that Fitzwilliam realized that there was no other he could ever respect more.
"Very well, I will say no more. Instead, I will bid you a good night. You do still have a letter to write." Standing, he reached out a hand to his cousin. Darcy peered at it curiously, before standing and taking it in one of his own. Grasping firmly, he pumped Darcy's arm twice before letting go. "Pray let Miss Bennet know that I would be more than willing to vouch for your character, and that of Wickham's if you feel it would be of any help."
Smiling Darcy replied, "Thank you, cousin! I shall."
Nodding, Fitzwilliam walked away towards the door. After unlocking it, he paused a moment before turning the handle. "Thank you again for trusting me, William. I swear none shall ever know of your secret from me. Not even Georgiana."
After hearing Darcy's appreciation, he left the room and quietly made his way to his own chambers. It was more than an hour, however, before Fitzwilliam was able to quiet his mind enough to let sleep envelop him.
.
.
.
The sun's rays were just beginning to peek over the horizon when Darcy let out an exhausted sigh and threw his pen down. It had taken several hours but he had finally finished his letter to Miss Elizabeth. He knew it was not his finest work, the beginning was not as contrite as he had wished it to be. He worried that he had let too much of his residual anger, most of it aimed at himself, show throughout. Sighing, he wished he had been more careful, but decided that it would just have to do.
Glancing regretfully over at his bed, he realized that sleep would have to wait until the carriage ride to London later that day. Instead, he turned once more to his letter and read through it, trying to commit his words to memory.
"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter by the apprehension of its containing any of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you by dwelling on wishes; and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your immediate feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.
"Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honor and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. - Willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favorite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. - But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read. - If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry.
"I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country. - But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any notion of his feeling a serious attachment. - I had often seen him in love before. - At that ball, while I had the honor of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behavior attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. - Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, and was full of symptoms of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she shyly received his attentions with pleasure, she did no more than she was comfortable with in inviting them by participation of sentiment. - If I have not been mistaken here, you must excuse me of error. Your superior knowledge of your sister confirms my suppositions. - To those who have been misled by her calm demeanor, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. - That there were others desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, - but I will venture to say that their investigations and decisions are usually influenced by their hopes and fears. - They believed her to be indifferent because they wished it. Their objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. - But there were other causes of repugnance; - These causes must be stated, though briefly. - The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your two youngest sisters, and occasionally even by your sister Mary and your father. - Pardon me. - It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honorable to the sense and disposition of both. - I will only say farther that, from what passed that evening, the opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led those closest to him to preserve my friend from what they esteemed a most unequal connection. - He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning, for which I had heartedly given my support.
"His sisters' uneasiness contradicted my own happiness for him, and deciding that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, they shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. - I had been in ignorance of their plans for departure when I left to attend my sister. While I wintered in Derbyshire, I sent multiple letters to my friend, eager to hear word of his happiness, only to receive no answer. As travel from my home in the country to London was not possible due to the lingering season, I had not known of Bingley's neglect of Hertfordshire until my own return these few weeks past. When I returned I discovered that his sisters had left for London the day after I, and there readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend, the certain evils of such a choice. - They described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which they hesitated not in giving, of your sister's supposed indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on others' judgements than on his own. - To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. The manufactured lies they told him would only further convince him your sister did not desire to marry for love, but instead for monetary gain. To persuade him against returning to Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment.
"The part which I acted is now to be explained. Upon my arrival in London, Miss Bingley called upon my sister and was accompanied by her own brother. When I had discovered his reasoning for not returning to Hertfordshire as planned, I was unable to contain my frustrations at his insecurity. That he could so carelessly ignore the expectations he had raised simply because his sisters did not desire the match was incomprehensible to me. I tried to point out the many reasons he should disregard the opinions his sisters had shared with him, all of which were grossly exaggerated and false, and persuade him to return before it grew too late. The claim Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst shared of her relief at his absence and expressed plans for renovating Netherfield I could recognize immediately as false while Bingley believed them wholeheartedly. The insults he then threw my way and to which I responded in kind can only be shadowed by the insults I laid at your feet last evening. - Yet I cannot regret the words I spoke to my friend as I have come to regret mine to you. - As our argument grew, I stated with all firmness that he was undeserving of a woman such as your sister. He left with his own sister shortly after that and we have not spoken since. - I cannot blame myself for having done this much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to to conceal from him your sister's being in town after meeting her in the park. I knew it then myself that her presence was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. Perhaps such knowledge of Miss Bingley's deception would have induced him into action. - That they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; - but her regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for her to see him without some degree of danger. I therefore decided I could not humble myself to enlighten him as I felt she was worthy of someone who would stand up for her regardless of her own feelings. - Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. - It is done, however, and it was done for the best. - On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have further wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them.
"With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity. I can also hope you will appeal to the testimony of Colonel Forster and your father as I shared much of this account with them before my departure from Meryton."
Not wishing to focus yet again on Wickham's many flaws, Darcy then skipped to the part where he began Georgiana's tale.
"I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy as well as your understanding if this is the only part of my account I did not share with Colonel Forster nor Mr. Bennet. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself…"
Before he could finish rereading what he had written about his past with Wickham, Darcy heard a knock from his dressing room. Although he trusted Anderson, he did not wish for his valet to catch a glimpse of the letter's contents while he changed, so he called for him to enter as he quickly folded and sealed the letter. He did not miss Anderson's sharp intake of breath at the state of his person. Long gone was his coat, waistcoat and cravat as they laid with his stockings haphazardly on the untouched bed. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and the front showed signs of splattered ink from the many times he had crossed out lines in frustration. Without looking in a mirror, he knew that besides the shadow of stubble across his face, his eyes would be ringed with the ultimate sign of his lack of sleep. Despite all this, he made the effort to greet his valet with pleasure.
After he had bathed, shaved and dressed, Darcy instructed his valet to finish packing as they were to depart as soon as he had completed some business. He hoped to leave Rosings before luncheon and determined they would partake of that meal on the road. Upon hearing that Fitzwilliam had already directed his own man to pack, he nodded and made his way to the breakfast room in the hopes that he would find his cousin alone.
He was in luck as he entered and was informed that Anne was too ill to rise yet and Lady Catherine remained upstairs as she was still distraught over the destruction of her favorite piece of furniture. Fitzwilliam snorted as he described her diatribe over the lack of quality offered to one of her station. "At least you shall not be implicated, William!" He quipped to which Darcy was able to offer a slight smile in reply.
"Tell me you finished and were able to get at least some rest last night," Fitzwilliam pleaded as Darcy grabbed a piece of toast and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"I was indeed successful in one of those two endeavors."
"Well I must admit, your man did wonders as I can barely tell you suffer from a lack of sleep."
"Thank you, Richard."
The two men ate silently for some time, although Darcy noticed Fitzwilliam was watching him quite closely. When he looked up to catch his eyes, Fitzwilliam quickly looked away, the slight reddening of his cheeks the only indication he had been caught staring.
"If there is anything you wish to ask me, I promise I will be most happy to provide an answer."
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I am only trying to determine how to reconcile the man in front of me with the one you claim to be. I fear that I am struggling to see your strength and power amidst the broken man in front of me. Are you so certain that leaving is the correct course of action? I am willing to delay my return to the regiment if you feel that there is anything I could do to help you achieve overcoming this obstacle."
"No, I must leave. As I stated last night, to be parted is the hardest thing I have ever endured, however, I cannot focus on improving myself and remembering what happened if I am close enough to see her often. Besides, she needs time away from my confusing presence. I learned a very long time ago that when I have failed her and she is hurt, my presence only serves to anger her further. With time and distance she will learn to forgive me and then, and only then, can we begin again."
"I understand your reasoning, William, but she will only remain with her friend in Kent for another two weeks, and without convincing Bingley to return, how are you to gain admittance in Hertfordshire without singling her out? She would not quickly forgive you that without her own memories. So I ask, if you leave now, how are you to find yourself in company with her again?"
His hands trembling, Darcy placed his cup down upon the saucer, unable to look at his cousin. "I do not know," he finally answered, his voice breaking. "I just have to trust that it will happen when the time is right. I can only hope that it will not be a long wait."
Fitzwilliam nodded, and decided to ask another question, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned forward. "Can I be of assistance in delivering your missive? I do not doubt that she will do whatever she can to avoid you this day."
"I thank you, no." Darcy said as he picked up his cup once more and swallowed the remainder quickly. "I must be the one to deliver it. As for her avoidance, she will be drawn to the grove where I mourned last night."
"How can you be so sure?"
"The total lack of life and magic will draw her in. She will not be able to avoid it. The surrounding trees will call out to her for assistance in reviving their brethren. I am ashamed to admit that I was quite thorough in my destruction, and it will be some time before life will be found there again as her magic has not yet awakened."
"I do not understand. I thought you had told me that it was the…your people…who provided life to the earth."
Smiling slightly, Darcy nodded. "That is true. However, I have little power over the trees, especially in my current mortal state, and in my despair I damaged them quite extensively. The grove relies on the life of those trees, so without them, there is little I can do to revive it. No life I create will long survive."
Fitzwilliam marveled at how calmly Darcy could discuss magic and past lives. He was still reeling from the discovery, and a part of him searched for any reason to deny Darcy's claims. Yet to see his normally staid cousin talk about the subject so nonchalantly only served to further prove the veracity of his tale. Perhaps it would take time to understand, but he was determined to not cause Darcy any regret in sharing his tale with him. To know that he was the first person to be told the story was an honor he was determined to keep. He would do nothing to jeopardize his cousins faith in him.
As Fitzwilliam was contemplating, Darcy quickly finished his breakfast and stood to leave. "I hope Miss Elizabeth will keep to her daily routine and begin her daily ramble soon. I will, however, wait for her as long as need be. Afterwards, I believe it will be beneficial for us to pay our respects to Mrs. Collins and her sister before we take our leave of Lady Catherine."
"Do not forget her husband."
"I wish I could," Darcy answered with a grimace. "Does this plan meet with your approval, or is there anything else you feel we need to accomplish before we depart?"
Surprised that Darcy would seek his opinion regarding the matter when in the past he had always been expected to follow along blindly, Fitzwilliam could only mutter no. As Darcy nodded and turned to leave the room, he wondered if this slight change of character was a result of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's refusal, what else did the Fairy King foresee from this experience for his cousin.
.
.
.
Elizabeth walked quickly past the path where she had frequently run into Mr. Darcy. Upon leaving the parsonage, she found her steps wandering towards her favorite path. But the now painful reminder of the pleasant encounters she had had with him there soured her desire for familiarity. Rather she turned down the lane that bordered the fence of Rosings for some time until she came upon a gate. Not desiring to enter the park where he still resided, she began to head further down the lane when she was stopped by a feeling of hopelessness. Slowly she surveyed the line of trees in the park, and felt a sharp pain in her heart. There was an emptiness that seemed to beckon her and she soon found her feet carrying her past the gate towards the forest.
As she entered the forest, she felt the world around her grow dim and dark. The emptiness she sensed earlier was almost palpable in the air around her. It caused her heart to ache in a way she had never felt before. The further in she walked, the more silent the woods seemed to become, yet the pain she felt grew louder.
Suddenly she stopped, her hands flying to her mouth, and tears streaming down her face. Just in front of her the trees were grey, devoid of their leaves, the grass and other foliage on the ground was brown and lifeless, and not a single creature could be seen. Few of the suns rays managed to find a way into the grove, yet their light was empty of any warmth. Although there was no sign of life anywhere to be found, she could hear a plaintive cry, reaching out to her, begging her to restore the beauty that had once resided there. Never before had she felt so helpless.
It was then that she saw him standing on the far side of the grove. Although his face was shadowed, she knew that he watched her warily. Elizabeth wanted to run, hoping he would not pursue her, but found herself rooted in place. After a moment of hesitation, he took off his hat and stepped gingerly towards her. She had wished to remain dispassionate during this encounter, but could not help the gasp that escaped when she caught a glimpse of his solemn face.
Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, and the slight hunch to his shoulders, she knew that despite his otherwise impeccable appearance, he had slept no better than she had herself. Without knowing why, she found herself wishing she could run into his arms and soothe all his worries away. He seemed to sense her concern and his brows drew together sympathetically. It was then that he stopped and seemed to take in her own drawn appearance.
"I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you," he spoke softly. When she offered up no retort, he recommenced his slow journey towards her. When at last he stood directly in front of her, he reached into his great coat and pulled out a letter. Holding it out to her, she found herself taking it instinctively. "Will you do me the honor of reading that letter?"
Without another word, he bowed and turned away. She could not tear her eyes away from his retreating form, and knew at that moment the despair she felt from the grove belonged to him. Part of her wished he would look back, but he did not and was soon out of sight. It was only then that she glanced down at the missive in her hands. It felt heavy, and she knew must have been the work of several hours. A brief thought that it was best to resign it to the fire unread was quickly brushed away as she tore it open to begin reading. As she read, the sorrow and pain she felt quickly grew to match that of the dead forest.
AN: I had to delay the posting of this chapter a couple days from when I originally planned as I needed assistance in making sure the changes I made to the letter made sense for my storyline without taking too much away from Austen's original. So thank you to my Mom for being willing to proof-read this chapter (as if it was really a hardship for her to get to read it before anyone else ;D haha) as she also caught a few other typos and inconsistencies. Now that I'm back and fully invested into finishing this story as soon as possible, I will admit that I'm letting a bit of my excitement get away from me too much to the point that my editing skills are a little lacking! And no, Mom, this isn't a guarantee that you'll always get to read ahead of time! :)
To everyone else, thank you as well! We have had so many new readers join this journey over the past couple weeks, and I'm still seeing new reviews from the very first readers this story ever had. So to you all, I thank you all for being a part of this because Spoiler Alert: The next chapter is all for you! Several comments, requests and questions from over the years will be addressed. With Darcy having shared with Fitzwilliam his background, we finally have a means for delving deeper into his past. I look forward to sharing that with you all soon!
Until then, Happy Reading!
Love, Allahteeah
