Posted on Monday, 31 October 2005
As was his custom on All Hallow's Eve, Darcy visited the graves of his parents. Even with the passing of the years, he missed his parents sorely and wished they were with him to counsel him and his sister Georgiana.
He lay a bouquet of auburn-hued fall chrysanthemums on his mother's headstone, which bore the simple marking "Anne Darcy, Beloved Wife and Mother, 1762 to 1796." She had died when he was but a lad of 12, soon after the birth of his sister, and both he and Georgiana had missed a mother's gentle touch. Their father loved them dearly, but so grieved for his wife, that he was but a shell of his former self until his own death 6 years ago.
Satisfied he was alone, Darcy sat on the cold ground, put his head in his hands and wept.
Whether from grief or exhaustion, he fell into a light slumber and awakened to see the shadow of a woman. In the misty night, he could not see her clearly, but he smelled the scent of lilacs, his mother's favorite perfume.
He was unable to rise, and he told himself he was dreaming.
"Fitzwilliam, the most difficult thing I ever had to do was leave you and your sister alone. And your father's grief was so great that his broken heart pulled him to me. My son, please, listen to me carefully.
"You know I love you, and I always will. You are such a kind and gentle brother to your sister, and it gladdens my heart to see it. But the way you present yourself to others grieves me."
Darcy looked up. "To others? What does it matter what others think of me?"
"My son, soon, very soon, it will matter to you, and I come here tonight to spare you the sadness and desolation I see ahead for you if you do not alter your behaviour."
"I am perfectly happy with my life as it is, Mother."
"But I want more for you, Fitzwilliam. I want you to love and be loved as you deserve, by a woman who will complete your life. You have already met that woman, Fitzwilliam, and your have alienated her with your haughty demeanour."
Darcy stared at the apparition before him. "I have met that woman, Mother? Of whom do you speak?"
Even through the fog, he could see her smile.
"A lively young woman, with fine dark eyes. Perhaps not the most beautiful woman of your acquaintance, Fitzwilliam, but believe me, soon you will see the wisdom of my words. She is your other half, my son, even if she is 'not handsome enough to tempt you!'"
Instantly, Darcy knew the woman of whom his mother spoke. Elizabeth Bennet, whom he had briefly met at a country dance, and whom he had dismissed with just the words his mother had quoted. And all too soon, he had come to regret those words.
"She overheard you, you know."
Darcy grimaced.
"I barely know her, Mother."
"But you want to know her, do you not, Fitzwilliam?" Anne Darcy asked gently. "I am trying to spare you the unhappiness you will know if you do not change your ways, my son. Soon, very soon, she will become the most important person in your life, and you will want her to be your wife. If you continue as you are now, she will refuse you, and I cannot bear to see you hurt."
"Mother, I admit I find Elizabeth Bennet intriguing. But do you not realize that she is not...well...suitable to be the wife of a man of my position in life?"
No response was forthcoming from his mother. Darcy strained to see her, and the fog lifted for a moment, long enough for him to see the tears streaming down her face. He reached out for her, but she eluded him, nothing but mist through his hands.
"Mother, please, I beg you, do not weep."
"I am weeping for you, my darling son. If you learn nothing else from me this night, hear this: Life, even for those who live to be a hundred, is painfully short. What you do with your life, the happiness you take and the happiness you give to others, is what is important. Where your father and I are now, where you and your Elizabeth will someday be, 'position in life' is meaningless. You will win your Elizabeth, that I know, but it is entirely up to you whether it will be sooner or later, after much pain. Let your happiness begin now, my son.
"There is someone who will want her to believe the worst of you, who will tell her the worst kind of lies about you if given the chance. Win her now, Fitzwilliam, before he has the opportunity to turn her against you!"
"Anne," a man's voice called impatiently "what is keeping you?"
"I am coming, my love," she replied.
She turned to Darcy one last time.
"In a few days' time, you will see her again, Fitzwilliam. You will ask her to dance, and she will refuse you. Be persistent, son! Tell her you regret the unkind words you spoke about her and beg her forgiveness! Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mother, but..."
"Your father wants me, I must go. We want grandchildren, Fitzwilliam, the sooner the better!"
Her soft laughter danced in the air, and she was gone.
Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet were married at Christmas. Her heart was won the night he asked her to dance at Lucas Lodge.
Five times, before she finally accepted!
One fine April evening at Rosings (perhaps the same evening Darcy would have proposed and been refused had his mother not intervened), Elizabeth came to him, took his hands in hers and told him he was to be a father.
She was wearing a wreath of lilacs in her hair.