A Timeless Love
Chapter 1
June 1812
Elizabeth woke slowly to an almighty pain in the head. She could tell she was lying in a bed, but her body felt heavy and lethargic. She slowly opened her eyes, but she was not in her bedroom at Longbourn. Instead, she saw that she was lying in an enormous bed, one more comfortable than she had ever slept in before. It was dark in the room, with only a few candles lighting the chamber. She could not see much of it, but it looked to be much larger than her room in Longbourn. She began to be frightened. She tried to sit up, but her head pained her too much. She let out an inarticulate sound of distress, and then there was movement to her right.
She had not noticed the young man sitting, asleep, slumped in a chair by her bedside. He was clearly too tall for the chair, but she saw him straighten and crack his neck. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was pale. He looked over at her and his eyes filled with joy at the sight of her. "Elizabeth!" he cried, coming over to take her hand in his. "You are awake! I was so worried!"
Elizabeth did not know who this man was, or where she was, but she was beginning to be truly frightened. She pulled her hand away from his. "Jane?" she called out in a wavering voice, hoping her sister would appear in the doorway and take all her worries away.
The man next to her furrowed his brows. "Jane is on her wedding tour, Elizabeth," he said.
Elizabeth did not think she could make sense of anything with the pounding in her head. "What happened?" she asked. "My head aches so."
"You slipped while you were walking and hit your head. You have been unconscious for three days. We were worried you would never awaken."
"And how did I get here?"
"I carried you myself. I have hardly left your side, except to take some rest or eat."
"But, where am I?"
His brows furrowed again. "In your chambers."
"I do not mean that, sir! I want to know where I am! And, who are you? It is not appropriate for you to be in here alone with me!"
The man's face showed confusion. "Elizabeth, do you not know who I am?"
"No. Should I?"
Something passed over the man's face that Elizabeth did not recognize. "I am your husband, Fitzwilliam Darcy. We are at my home in Pemberley."
Elizabeth finally succeeded in sitting up despite her head. "My husband! How long have we been married?"
"Six months," he said.
As Elizabeth sat, her hand brushed across her stomach, and she realized there was a mound there. She pushed back the covers to find that she was noticeably with child. The shock was such, that, combined with the pain in her head, she fainted.
"Elizabeth!" Darcy called out, reaching out for his wife as she slumped back onto the mattress. This could not be happening. His wife had forgotten him? What else had she forgotten? He ran to the bell pull and summoned a servant. When Elizabeth's maid ran in, he ordered her to have the doctor sent for immediately. "Tell him that Mrs. Darcy has awoken," he said. He did not add any other details. He would tell the doctor himself about Elizabeth's apparent memory loss.
He felt terribly guilty. It was his fault that she had been out walking. She should not have been doing so when she was six months with child, but when he had tried to restrict her, they had argued about it, and she had stomped out of the house just in her light slippers. He had decided to let her go burn off her anger, but when she had not returned after two hours, he had begun to be worried. He and some men had gone out to search, and they had found her sprawled by the path, where she had apparently tripped over a tree root. Once it was determined she was alive, Darcy was next worried for their child. He had called the physician at once, but Dr. Thomas had determined that the babe was safe, nestled in his mother's womb.
It was all his fault. He should never have let her go out when she was angry. And he was the one who had made her angry, as usual. It seemed every time he took a step forward in his marriage, he took two steps back.
It was an hour before Dr. Thomas appeared. Darcy spent that time holding Elizabeth's hand and smoothing his other hand over her hair and brow. He was relieved when the physician arrived.
"Millie tells me that Mrs. Darcy is awake?" Dr. Thomas asked when he entered the room.
"She was awake for a short time, and then fell unconscious again. Or she might have fainted. I am not sure."
"Well, that is very good news. Is it not?" asked Dr. Thomas, looking curiously at Darcy.
"Of course, it is very good news. The problem is that, she does not seem to remember me."
"She does not remember you?"
"Not me, not Pemberley, not this room. I don't think she even remembered she was with child. That was what made her faint."
"I wonder how far back her memory loss goes," Dr. Thomas said pensively.
"She called out for her older sister, apparently not remembering that she was gone on her wedding trip."
"So she does remember her family, then," he said.
Darcy wanted to reply that he was her family, but kept quiet. Elizabeth had never considered him her family, although he knew she was happy about the child. She would be a wonderful mother, he knew that.
All his efforts to make his relationship with Elizabeth work had been met with failure. She did not love him. She did not want to be his wife. The only good thing he had done for her was give her her child, although she had hated the process of getting that child.
"When will her memory return?" he asked.
"It is hard to say. Amnesia is difficult to predict. She might remember in a week, in a month, or it might be never."
Never? She might never remember? Darcy felt despair at the same time as a flicker of hope. Maybe he could make her fall in love with him. He had a second chance. Unless she recalled everything and remembered why she did not like him.
For the truth was, he was desperately in love with her, had perhaps been from his first days in Hertfordshire the previous fall. But he had fumbled up the situation terribly. And why would such a lively, lovely, witty woman love such a dull, dour fellow as he? He did not deserve her. He had ruined her life by marrying her. But he had not had any choice in that either.
"I see," he said to the doctor. "What should we do in the meantime to help her recover? She said her head was paining her terribly."
"I imagine it would. I will stay here and wait until she wakes again. I do not think it wise to give her laudanum with a possible brain injury, but perhaps some willow bark tea will help ease the pain."
"I will order that made at once, so it will be ready when she wakes," said Darcy, getting up to summon a servant again.
Once he had given his orders, he came to sit down again next to his wife. He and Dr. Thomas talked about the methods of helping Elizabeth improve her health once she was conscious again, until Elizabeth awoke.
She looked about her again, as if she was in a bad dream, avoiding Darcy's eyes.
"Are you feeling any better, Mrs. Darcy?" asked Dr. Thomas.
She looked at him. "Who are you?" she asked in a small voice.
"I am Dr. Thomas. I have been looking after you. Now, your husband tells me that you have some memories missing."
"I – I do not know. It seems to me that I do not, but Mr. – Mr. Darcy told me that we are married, and I see that I am with child. I do not remember him."
"What is the last thing you remember?" the doctor asked.
Elizabeth's eyes became pensive as she turned her mind back. "I remember getting ready for the Meryton Assembly. Mother was excited because there were new tenants at Netherfield, and they were going to be at the assembly. She wanted all of us girls to come."
"That was the night we met," said Darcy, feeling a pang in his heart, remembering that night.
"You were one of Mr. Bingley's party?" Elizabeth asked, finally meeting his eyes. "But that was in October. You told me we have been married six months. What is the date?"
"It is the 12th of June, 1812," said the doctor.
"Then that means we must have been married in early December. I do not understand. How did we come to love each other so quickly?"
The pang in Darcy's chest redoubled. He did not know what to say to her. Once she found out the truth, she was sure to return to her dislike of him.
"Let us not worry about that for now," said Dr. Thomas soothingly. "The only important thing is that you have a loving husband here, wanting to help you get well again. All the rest can wait. Now, Mr. Darcy tells me your head has been paining you."
Darcy could tell Elizabeth wanted to pursue the subject, but she answered Dr. Thomas's question. "Yes, it is very painful."
"In the front or in the back? Can you show me where?"
"It is all over," she said.
"I do not think it wise to give you laudanum at this time," said Dr. Thomas, "but we have some willow bark tea here that might give you some relief."
"Yes. Thank you."
She tried to sit up, but struggled. Darcy put his hands on her waist to help her sit, but she shrank away from his touch. He felt the familiar sting of rejection as he released her.
Finally, once she was sitting, Darcy handed her the teacup. "Can you hold it yourself?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," she said, taking the cup in her hand. She grimaced at the first sip.
"I know the taste is not the best, but hopefully it will help you," said Mr. Thomas.
"But, sir, what am I to do about my memories?" she asked. "Will I never remember?"
"It is possible you will, although I cannot say when. It is equally probable you will not. The brain is a tricky organ. The important thing is not to try to force the memories back. That will make your headaches worse and perhaps injure your brain. Your family can slowly tell you things about your past, but not too much at once," he warned, looking at Darcy. "We do not want a relapse of brain injury."
"Yes, sir," he said, hoping privately that he would never have to reveal to Elizabeth the truth of their past. He had to earn her love first, before he could tell her.
"I suppose you are feeling quite tired," said Dr. Thomas as Elizabeth finished her cup of willow bark tea. "The tea will soon help your headache and you can get some rest. I will return in the morning."
"Thank you, sir," said Darcy.
"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth echoed. She struggled to lie back down under the covers. Not wishing to be rejected again, Darcy did not help her this time. He walked Dr. Thomas to the door.
"Be patient with her," he said once they were out of hearing distance. "Your wife may well be irritable or emotional because of her injuries. You may reveal parts of the past that she does not remember, but do it slowly and a little at a time. I will be back in the morning to see if she has woken again."
"Thank you again," Darcy said, before letting the doctor out.
He returned to Elizabeth's bedside to find her asleep already. He sat back in the chair, taking her hand in his once more. He did not think he would sleep again this night.
October 1811
Elizabeth's first sight of Darcy had been a revelation. She had never seen a man so handsome before, and she instantly felt warm inside. When they had entered the Meryton Assembly Rooms, Charlotte had pointed out the different members of Mr. Bingley's party. Mr. Darcy was a very tall man, lithe but muscular, with curly black hair and what appeared at this distance to be dark eyes. She was not one to faint over a man, but she felt it would be a wonderful thing indeed to dance with such a specimen of the male sex. She hoped his personality lived up to his appearance.
However, when Mr. Bingley had asked to be introduced to the Bennet ladies, Darcy had rudely walked away, ignoring them. Elizabeth had been a bit put out, but had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was shy or having a bad night.
That was, until she heard him insult her when she was in hearing distance. There were not enough gentlemen that evening, so each lady had had to sit out a dance. When Mr. Bingley had urged Mr. Darcy to dance with her, the latter had replied, loud enough for many to hear, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men."
He had looked her right in the eye as he said it, so she was sure he had meant for her to hear it. She could not imagine any gentleman being so cruel. She had left her seat to make a joke about it with Charlotte, but her heart was deeply wounded. Her mother had always criticized her looks, and she knew she was not as beautiful as Jane. To have such a handsome man, whom she had admired, confirm her mother's words, had hurt more than she wished to admit. From now on, she would avoid Mr. Darcy. He was clearly not a gentleman.