Posted on Saturday, 15 December 2001

December, 2001

The ghost of Fitzwilliam Darcy sat on the stone bench in the family mausoleum and scowled. "Lizzy! Wake up! I need to talk to you!"

When there was no response, Darcy stood up and stretched. He wondered if he could still pass through the walls of the mausoleum. He hadn't tried in a long time. When he was first interred there, he had resented being separated from his beloved wife, and so he took to wandering around Pemberley to keep watch over her.

He had been able to go anywhere on the estate, but not beyond. He chuckled as he recalled his frustration when he discovered his limits. The first time Lizzy left Pemberley to visit Jane, he had not been able to follow her through the gates. How relieved he had been when Lizzy returned home!

Darcy hadn't been out of the mausoleum in a long time. Just how long, he could not tell. He had no sense of time any more. He just knew that he hadn't needed to leave his resting place once his Lizzy was sleeping beside him. Still, he ought to be able to summon enough energy, or plasma, or whatever it was in the moonlight to get Lizzy to sit up and talk to him.

"Lizzy!"

"I'm here."

He turned and smiled as he saw his beautiful wife. "Lizzy, my love."

"What is the matter, Fitzwilliam, that you summon me so?"

"I cannot sleep."

"Darling, I do not believe that ghosts can have insomnia."

"I didn't think we could dream, either, but I've been having all sorts of dreams, and I keep waking up, wondering if any of them can be true. And then, when I wake up, I sometimes look out through the grille over there. And I, um, well, I see strange things."

"What sort of strange things?"

He shook his head. "You will think me mad."

"Tell me, Fitzwilliam. I will not think you mad. I promise."

"For one thing, there are strange carriages on the estate. They are not drawn by horses, and they make a great deal of noise. And they go very fast."

"You've seen them, too, then? I woke one day and saw something like that. It was quite large. Bigger than your aunt's barouche box."

He nodded.

"What else?"

"Strange thunder."

"I suppose that we have had some strong thunderstorms, but nothing out of the ordinary for summer."

"No this is different. The lightning seems to be in the form of blinking lights that move steadily across the sky. And the thunder follows the lights, as if it is rolling across the sky. The whole thing generally moves in the direction of Manchester."

"I confess, I have not seen or heard that."

"Oh." He fell silent.

"What else? Fitzwilliam, I know that there is more. You mentioned dreams. Tell me."

"I have often dreamed of our life together. Have you?

"Yes, I have sought to remain true to my philosophy and dream only of events in the past that gave me pleasure."

"Always?"

She hesitated, and then admitted, "Until recently, but..."

"But then the dreams changed?" he suggested.

"Yes! But how did you know? Yours, too?"

He nodded. "These are the dreams that disturb my sleep. It's as if someone is rewriting our lives, forgetting some events, adding others. But some things remain unchanged."

"Which things?"

"Well, unfortunately, the debacle of Hunsford keeps cropping up. And my unfortunate remark the night we met. I hate it that I keep doing that. Not always in the same words or even the same setting. But I always manage to insult you. I am sorry, my love. You know that-"

"Do not trouble yourself, Darling. I forgave you for all of that a very long time ago. How sad that our unfortunate beginning has come back to haunt you."

"Haunt me? Your sense of humor still has its edge, I see, Lizzy."

"I did not mean that as a joke. I am haunted by past mistakes, too. In my dreams, I constantly misunderstand you. But in the end, it turns out well. Sometimes it turns out very well." She raised one eyebrow provocatively.

"Lizzy!"

She laughed, "Why Fitzwilliam, I never knew a ghost could blush!"

"You would blush, too if you had some of the dreams I've had. Do you remember when we first came upon one another that day at Pemberley?" She nodded. "Yes, well, that was embarrassing enough, but in some of the dreams, it's worse."

"Worse? How do you mean that?"

"I seem to be wet. I swim in the pond, walk toward the house dripping wet, and there you are. It is quite mortifying."

"I'm sure that you look wonderful."

"Lizzy!"

"Now that you mention it, the pond does figure in some of my dreams. We've had picnic lunches by the pond. You even threw me in once. And then we, uh, well, sometimes the dream at the pond ends very well, indeed!"

"Madam, do all of your dreams end very well?"

"No, not all. Some of them stop in the middle. There is one where I sing to you. I do not know the song, something about when you were a baby. And then we dance. And then you arrive unexpectedly in some sort of dressing room. And that is where it stops."

"We dance in some of my dreams, too. But not always at Netherfield. And sometimes Georgiana is at Netherfield, too. And in London."

"Do you suppose she has odd dreams?

They looked at each other in silence, then were startled by a voice behind them.

"Not you two, as well!" The ghost of Georgiana Darcy perched on the sarcophagus of her grandfather and stared wide-eyed at her brother and sister-in-law.

"This is quite extraordinary!" exclaimed Darcy. "Are your dreams strange, too, Georgiana?"

"Oh yes. And some of them contain the worst bits of my life instead of the best. I am so tired of being molested by George Wickham! But sometimes it can be amusing. In my dreams, I've had a variety of husbands and children. It seems different every time." She giggled, "One of my husbands appeared to have been a rejected suitor of yours, Lizzy. No, wait, my suitor was a friend of your rejected suitor-one of them was an earl, I believe."

"Who?" growled Darcy.

"Hush, Darling," said Lizzy. "Remember, it is only a dream, it isn't what really happened. You know that neither Georgiana's husband nor his friends were ever my suitors." She turned to her sister-in-law, "Georgiana, dear, is your husband having strange dreams, too?"

"No, not a one. His dreams are all intact."

"That is odd. I wish we could contact your cousins to see if they have disturbing dreams."

"I am certain that they do." said Darcy. "Their lives are changed in my dreams."

"In mine, too," admitted Lizzy.

"And mine," added Georgiana. "For example, cousin Fitzwilliam. He never gets promoted beyond Colonel, and he sometimes has a funny nickname. Colonel Hot-um, something." Apparently, Georgiana's ghost could blush, too.

Lizzy took up the narrative. "And he has a different wife in nearly every dream. Let me see, there's Belle, Sabrina, Olivia..."

"Yes, I recognize that name. There was an Olivia in one or two of my dreams, as well. Oh, and once or twice I dreamed that he married your friend Charlotte."

"But, Georgiana, Charlotte was married to Lizzy's cousin Mr. Collins."

"Not in all the dreams, Brother. Once, cousin Fitzwilliam even married Li-um, Lydia." Georgiana glanced nervously at her brother, who still had a bit of a jealous streak concerning his wife.

Lizzy snorted, "Now there is an unlikely match. About as unlikely as Caroline."

Darcy laughed, "Oh, no, Lizzy, not Caroline!"

"Yes, I had a dream in which your cousin married Caroline." Lizzy paused. "Speaking of Caroline, here's a strange thing. In my dreams, Caroline almost always wears orange. I never agreed with her taste. I always thought her style too extravagant." Georgiana nodded. "But even Caroline varied the colors she wore. So why does she constantly wear orange in my dreams?"

Darcy frowned, "I had almost blotted that out. But now I do recall some vague orange presence."

"Darling, there was never anything vague about Caroline. I always knew exactly what she wanted." Lizzy stared pointedly at her husband. "And in the dreams, she follows you everywhere."

He nodded. "Yes, London, Ireland, the Continent, all over America, even Singapore."

Georgiana's eyes widened, "Singapore?"

"I do not believe you were in that dream. Lizzy, do you know that one?"

"Singapore. Hmm. Yes, I remember something about a tiger, and rubber plants? That is another of the ones that never reaches an ending."

"It sounds exciting." Georgiana hesitated, then changed the subject. "Do you do different things in your dreams? Occupations, I mean."

"Yes," Fitzwilliam nodded. "I have dreamed that I was a lawyer, doctor, sailor, even a spy. In one dream, I waited at table in a most peculiar sort of inn."

"And a college professor." added Lizzy. "Do you ever dream that, Fitzwilliam? In one of my dreams, you are a language professor and I am a student. In another one, we are both professors of Literature. I have been a governess in a few dreams. Oh, and in one dream, I am a teacher and you are a student who transfers to my school, Georgiana!"

"Really, Lizzy? Am I a good student in that dream?"

Lizzy smiled fondly at her sister-in-law, "Why, of course you are, my dear! And you help bring me together with your brother."

Darcy smiled, "I am glad to hear that. Here is another question. Do certain dreams ever go away for a time and then come back?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Lizzy. "In fact, some of the ones that don't end go a little farther each they come back."

"I have noticed that, too," agreed Georgiana. "One in particular, seemed to reach an ending, but then it started anew quite recently."

"What is that dream about?"

"It is quite strange. So many people we know are in it. You and Lizzy, Lizzy's parents and her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Aunt Catherine, Caroline, Charles and Jane, George, Lydia. And there are people I do not know in it, too."

"Yes," agreed Lizzy. "Sometimes there are people I do not recognize in my dreams."

"But that is not the strange part," continued Georgiana. "We all wear boots with metal blades and we skate upon an indoor frozen lake."

Darcy sat up straight. "I used to have that dream, too. It just recommenced recently. There is music, and we skate." He frowned, "And the two of you wear shockingly short dresses."

Lizzy and Georgiana giggled. Georgiana added, "And Caroline's dresses are orange!" At this Lizzy and Georgiana laughed uncontrollably.

Finally, Lizzy stopped laughing and sighed, "This is all very entertaining, but also strange. What do you think causes these dreams to be different from our lives?"

Darcy looked at his wife and his sister. "Do you sense a sort of presence behind the dreams? Sometimes, I think I hear a name, or initials, but I am not certain of what I hear."

"Initials?" mused Lizzy. "I have a sense of initials or a word that has no meaning I can think of." She paused. "Does 'dwig' or "dwiggie' mean anything to either of you?"

Darcy and Georgiana looked at her blankly. Then Georgiana spoke,

"I don't know. I supposed if you pronounced the initials..."

"What initials?" asked her brother.

"D W G."

"Da-wu-guh," tried Darcy. "That comes out more like 'daawg' to me."

"There is another set of initials," said Lizzy softly. "B O I."

"Boy?" asked Darcy. "Are our dreams being driven by some boy and his dog? That sounds unlikely."

"Yes, it does," agreed his wife. "But we have nothing to lose, so let us try something. We should all try to go back to sleep. But as we do, we must think very hard and try to give the dwig or the dog or the boy or whoever it is a message. We must ask for stories that reach their endings and for endings that are happy."

"Yes!" cried Georgiana. "I do so love happy endings!"

Darcy smiled fondly at the ghosts of the two women he had loved most in the world. "Yes, let us have our happy endings, by all means."

"So, we are agreed, then?" asked Lizzy.

"Yes. To sleep, perchance to dream."

"You still love to quote Shakespeare, Darling! I remember how you and Fletcher-"

"Fletcher? Who is that?"

"Why, Fitzwilliam, he was your-oh, dear, perhaps he was your valet only in one of the dreams. I think we had better get to work on our message to our dream-makers."

Georgiana began to fade. "Sleep well my dears."

"And you, Georgiana."

Darcy and Lizzy were alone. Darcy could see that they, too, were fading. He looked at Lizzy and said softly, "I love you."

She replied, "I love you."

"I love you" echoed through the mausoleum, becoming ever softer until there was only silence and the first rays of sunrise.

The End