Posted on Sunday, 6 March 2005
Their children sat at the dinner table of their old childhood home. The silence was deadening and menacing. The two seats at both top and bottom of the table were vacant and every time the now grown up children looked at the places; they remembered the reason they were there.
Not even the sound of their own children could be heard, the usual happy, innocence of toddlers and children were absent from this house which showed none of the signs of its former happiness. The magnificent house was never short of laughs and cheerfulness. Even through the short period of sadness when their mother had miscarried her child, or when they had been ill, it had been the perfect atmosphere for the said children in which to mature and begin their lives. Now, it was a shadowed place, the gloominess protruding from one room of the house enough to fill the entire county of Derbyshire.
The clattering of cutlery on plates was the only sound audible to everyone. Even the servants, including the young chambermaids were quiet and reserved, ready for the uproar and grief of the inevitable darkness. These four children had come back to their parent's home, each with at least two children of their own in tow, after their mother had written to them, informing them of the impending event.
Doctors from all over the country had been summoned. There was nothing that the technology of the day could do that had not been tried. Their father was on his deathbed. Tears came to the eyes of Fitzwilliam, Anne, Rachel and Thomas as they each thought of their father as the young man that he was no longer. He had laughed with them, played with them, taught them to love and respect everything, and with their mother had set an example of marriage for love which all of the children had followed successfully.
Their marriage was one of love and devotion, which was so rarely seen in the society of their country. Not only that, but they had loved each other more and more everyday, unlike other couples whose respect for their spouse grew less and less everyday. Their children and grandchildren had never tired of hearing the story of how Mr Darcy's love for Miss Bennet came about, or how Miss Bennet had learned to love and admire him in a way equal to no other.
Now, forty years after that assembly in the quaint town of Meryton, the sparks in the fine eyes of the once young girl were fading out almost as quickly as the master of Pemberley was losing the fight for life. The mistress of the house was felt for by everyone. It had been a hard year for her, as not three months before her husband fell ill, her eldest sister and closest confidant other than her husband had passed away. Tears had been shed by people far and wide who had known the late Mrs Bingley and her kind and gentle ways. Elizabeth's husband had held her when her tears had fallen in abundance, but who would be there when the same fate befell her husband?
As the four children sat in silence with their Uncle Bingley and Aunties Kitty and Georgiana, the four children who were children no longer reflected on their poor mother. Their mother who had always been so strong and fearless. The woman who had taken away the Darcy pride they had been born with and made them into beautiful and perfect young people. The mother who had kissed them better when they fell over, or dried them warm when they had "fallen" into the Pemberley pond. How would she manage this loss? This would be the biggest blow to her. Since she had been one and twenty, this man had been the most important thing in her life.
Suddenly, a large and resounding thud could be heard throughout the house of Pemberley. This thud was followed by a loud sobbing and hysterical crying into the carpet of the room above them. Rachel, the youngest of Elizabeth's babies at twenty-nine burst into tears. She stood up and ran from the room. Her husband, a colonel in the army, followed her quickly as he excused himself in a gentlemanly manner. The rest of the table, in a state of confusion were either sitting with their head bowed or the women were weeping gently into their husbands shoulders.
All the table knew exactly what Doctor Lewis was going to say as he entered the room with his head bowed so low that it was almost touching the ground, and a very sombre look on the only part of his head that could been seen. Charles Bingley, the eldest there and the man who was still recovering from the loss of his dear Jane called the others to attention as he said a prayer for Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, a brilliant father, friend and husband. He added his concern for Elizabeth, the woman who would suffer the most out of all of them.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, the new head of Pemberley, the eldest of the children and of their generation, only by two months over his wife, Elizabeth Bingley, the eldest of the Bingley children stood up and said the Grace of the Lord. The children then enquired to the doctor how their mother was faring. The doctor said that he had left her as he felt as if he was intruding over her privacy. Even with all the preparation she had had, nothing had prepared her for the final beating of his heart; the heart which had loved her and cared for her like no other.
People in the room, seated at this table who had not been crying before were now crying. Georgiana Harries, nee Darcy, who had been silent throughout especially so. She rose from the table and told the others that she would go and see Elizabeth. Georgiana was second in companionship with Elizabeth only to her deceased sister, and the others felt it was right that she comfort their mother.
When Georgiana opened the door to the room, she beheld Elizabeth, now in her sixties kneeling at the side of a stone cold, white faced and grey haired Darcy in silent tears. She had exhausted all of her energy crying loudly, and now had her face into his still and lifeless chest. A puddle had started to emerge where all her tears had fallen. She didn't even look up as she said to her sister in law, "He is gone, Georgie. He has left me in this world alone, like he promised he wouldn't."
"It is the will of God, Elizabeth."
"Why?" she almost screamed, "Why him? What has he done? What have I done to deserve this?" She quieted and then said in an eerie and straight tone, "I cannot live without him."
Elizabeth Darcy lived almost silently in mourning for the rest of her life. She welcomed her grandchildren with happiness and throughout the day put on a brave face and was cheerful to everyone. But as she lay awake at night in bed, all she was really waiting for was the time when she could join him and they could dance the way they did when they were young and handsome.