Beginning , Previous Section , Section VI

CHAPTER 16

Posted on Saturday, 15 April 2006

Richard sighed audibly as he closed the door behind him. They had not spoken a word all the way back and Monika seemed lost in her thoughts again, paying little attention to him or to their whereabouts. His reason told him that she was tired, exhausted, and drained from the events of the last two days and that asking anything from her was too selfish at the moment. However, his heart cried that she was leaving him again, she was escaping, running away, shutting herself off; she was becoming untouchable. Last night she seemed to welcome his presence and find comfort in his company. There were instances when she seemed to forget all the barriers that had unexpectedly appeared between them. But her attitude was changing as quickly as the expression of her eyes.

They needed a new beginning, but Richard had tried that before; and it had failed. His hopes were evaporating. He felt immense fatigue. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life attempting new beginnings; he wished to find a right path and follow it, even if it was sad and lonely. He wanted answers, not questions, doubts and pleading.

Suddenly, everything seemed way too grey and ugly to him. The exertion of the previous hours and the subsequent resolution, the final act of Wickham’s drama had strangely not made him feel at peace, but rather void. Definitely not in a good mood, and even worse, not with the wish to be in a good mood; he didn’t attempt to go near Monika, or talk to her or beg her to trust him and let him prove the sincerity of his feelings, as he had intended to.

Love had come too suddenly in his life, finding him unprepared. He was not quick enough at recognizing it and later he had found trouble in dealing with it. Moreover, he had no idea what his expectations of it should be. Happy endings seemed surreal, even to his eyes. However, he had the impression that if Monika accepted to be by his side, he would wish nothing more for the rest of his life.

But how could he be sure that this was good for him, for her, for both of them? It felt right, nay heavenly to him. It was wholly unexpected but so overwhelming that originally he had no doubt that Monika would feel exactly what he did. But what if she was truthful? If that connection that he had seen had only existed in his imagination? Would it be good for him, and for her, to insist on a chimera? Wasn’t that too selfish of him? And how could he tell? Looking deeply into her eyes… No, her eyes told him nothing; or told him everything he wanted to see.

Frustrated, he rubbed his temples to prevent the headache that was coming, but to no avail. He was aware of the throbbing of his veins that spread over his head, rendering him powerless. Bordering on self-pity over his condition, he barely heard Monika speaking.

“I am off to bed.”

She was in the middle of the stairs when he called her name.

“What?”

“We have to talk.” Richard whispered.

“Do you think that now is a good moment for it?”

“It never seems to be a good moment for us, Monika.” He had not realized the various ways she could interpret his words until after he had voiced them.

“You are more correct than you can know.” She answered in a neutral tone, turning to leave.

“Please, Monika.”

She paused and stood for a moment. Richard watched her back; it was tense, stiff. She exhaled and turned to look at him. He thought that her eyes were softer than before, but he did not really trust his impressions.

“It will be worse if we do it now.”

He nodded and then said: “Promise me we’ll talk before we leave England.”

“I promise.” She answered simply. They stood still, their eyes locked; she on the top of the stairs and he at the bottom. It was not a confrontation, rather the evaluation of loss after a fight.

They had both lost.

A whole minute passed, second after second. They were acutely aware of time and place, still they could not move. Finally, she turned her back and headed for her room.

Richard leaned over the wall, as if he had received a blow. Was everything lost?

William opened his eyes to the ebbing of the sunset, at the hour that seems full of shadows and everything loses its color. It took him only a moment to realize where he was and to account for the mixture of immense relief and happiness in his heart. He woke up in Elizabeth’s house, after having fallen asleep in her wonderful, tender, warm embrace. At some point, she must have gotten up, as she had fetched pillows and coverings to make him more comfortable. Now she sat at the opposite armchair, listening to some music on her discman, her eyes closed. She looked completely relaxed, lost between consciousness and sleep. William loved the sight she presented as all the lines of her face softened, revealing a mixture of beauty, elegance and innocence that she reserved only for those who where close to her.

He wondered how he had been so lucky as to have gained permission into her world, and how he had retained his place there after stupidly doing everything in his power to jeopardize it. His heart raced at the mere thought of being parted from her forever. Taking a deep breath, he decided there and then that the sadness that had pent up in his heart during his childhood and early youth did not deserve even the tiniest corner in his memory any longer.

He stood up, smiling; Elizabeth had not noticed that he had woken up. He leaned over her, coming closer and closer, until their faces almost touched. He nibbled her lower lip, removing the earphones and she opened her eyes immediately, looking confused. Soon however, she remembered who was in her apartment, now kneeling before her and assaulting her mouth. She relaxed, allowing herself to enjoy his tender ministrations. But at that moment, he drew back, his eyes sparkling.

“Tired?” He asked, unable to hide his amusement at her look of disappointment.

She decided to play his game. After pretending to think hard for many seconds, she spoke seriously.

“It was an exhausting day, wasn’t it?” This time, she was laughing inwardly at the sad look that suddenly spread over his face. Realizing that they had tortured each other far too long, she cupped his head with her hands and said earnestly: “I am not tired at all. I’ve been sleeping all day, like you did. I feel completely refreshed. And…” She whispered seductively, “Now, I am completely at your disposal. Do you have anything in…”

His lips crushed hers before she could finish the sentence; demanding, unrelenting. She met his invasion with an attack of her own. She could not account for this madness, this thirst that urged her to cling to him. They went on kissing on their way, lightly bumping into furniture once or twice, but never really losing balance.

Their mouths didn’t part even to breathe. They were in perfect tandem, inhaling and exhaling together; sharing the same air. Only when they both lay on her bed did his lips leave hers. He looked at her for a long moment, breathing heavily. She met his intense gaze; she had learnt to treasure it and challenge it.

“I want no more barriers,” he heard her saying; “I want all of you, Will.” She added and he was suddenly touched by the slight trembling in her voice.

“You have me.” He said softly. “You always did.”

“No, I didn’t.” She moved her head so that she could look into his eyes. “You were always stepping back. The more I gave, the less I got.” Tears were glistering in her eyes

“Baby, I am sorry… I am so sorry.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Look at me, now. I am yours. I live in you. You live in me. I am a part of you. Can you doubt this?”

“I was always terrified that I would lose you.” She had no idea how she had come to admit it.

“So was I.” He answered softly. “Tonight, we will help each other. Reassure each other. Heal our wounds.”

Her mouth found his and her lips worshipped the source of the words. Words that had touched her soul and had appeased the worries of her life. “Let me love you, Liz. Love me back,” was his simple plea.

A few minutes later, as they lay in each other’s arms, he tipped her chin up so that she could look at him and he whispered:

“How do I begin telling you what you are to me?”

She closed her eyes and nuzzled more comfortably in his embrace, smiling. But then, remembering something important, she looked at him again.

“Will?” She said biting her lip.

“Yes?”

“Don’t laugh at me…”

“What is it, baby?”

“What happened…” She stopped and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it when you call me baby.”

He kissed her brow. “Don’t change the subject, Liz.”

“Well, what happened between us seemed like…” She blushed. “I mean, I know we had done this before, but this felt like…”

“Our first time.” He completed knowingly.

“You felt it too?”

“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He kissed her mouth. “We had never done that before. I have never let anyone look into me, and I have never looked at anyone in this way. It is unique. It’s rare.”

“Special.” She smiled

“Precious.” He grinned, but then they both turned serious.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Elizabeth woke up in the wee hours of the morning. Her body was trapped in his tight embrace, melting completely against him. It was strange, she thought; she couldn’t recall ever waking up any other way. Sleeping in his arms seemed her only chance to find peaceful rest.

Closing her eyes again, she snuggled even closer to him, allowing one leg to slip between his.

“Liz, there is a limit to what a man can bear.”

Her eyes shot open to meet his; intense, passionate, betraying that he had not been asleep for some time.

“You’re awake?”

“Oh yes.” He replied immediately. “You’re too much of a distraction to let me sleep.”

“I don’t know, Will.” A mischievous smile crept on her face. “I guess it depends on one’s dreams. I cannot complain about mine. ” She added, her voice low, seductive.

“Aha.” He smiled broadly, his whole face beaming. “So we have been dreaming, have we?”

“Maybe.”

“Is there competition, Liz?”

She just shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I certainly have to do something about that…”

Some hour later, their bodies lay entwined, in sweet exhaustion. Elizabeth, lost in a private paradise, heard William whispering her name. Her eyes opened unhurriedly, but no word came out of her mouth. He moved to his back and took her in his arms. They remained silent, in awe, afraid they would break the spell if they spoke.

Minutes passed. Then he felt her lips kissing his cheeks. A light, feather-like caress which brought such happiness in him that he grinned. He heard her soft laughter, wonderful melody in his ears.

“Will?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Absolutely no comparison with my dreams.”

He chuckled. “A compliment?”

“Oh yes.” She kissed him again. “Oh, yes.”

“You’re doing miracles for my self-esteem, Elizabeth.”

His playful tone could not but bring forth her wish to tease him. “Really? I thought you never had problems with self-esteem, William Darcy.”

He chuckled as he tightened his grip around her waist, his whole body relishing in her closeness.

“I am not sure this is a compliment, Elizabeth.”

“This was not meant as a compliment. I only wanted to point out that you are an insufferable smug.”

“Am I intimidating you, my dear?”

“Not anymore.” Her voice seemed too earnest, not following his teasing tone.

Instantly his fingers lifted her chin so he could look directly into her eyes.

“ Anymore? Were you ever afraid of me, Elizabeth?” His tone was dead serious.

“No, no, no.” Her lips pressed tightly against his and then she continued spreading soft kisses all over his face. “Not this worried look, Will. I don’t want to see it again,” she murmured as she rested her head on his chest again.

“Then?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Elizabeth. Tell me.” His voice had a hint of pleading.

“Very well, if you want to know every piece of silliness that comes to my mind, you’ll have it. I was only thinking of our first time together, here.”

His brow furrowed. “How this…”

She interrupted him.

“I was terrified, Will. I don’t remember ever being so scared in my life before. You were so perfect, and gentle and gallant and I wanted you so hopelessly and so madly…”

A passionate kiss that lasted for some time put a halt to her confession. When their mouths drew apart, she opened her eyes to study his face. He was smiling, as if he understood her.

“And I was smug, wasn’t I Elizabeth?”

“No, this is what I meant…”

“Oh yes. I appeared confident and determined, in complete control, didn’t I?”

She eyed him curiously. “Weren’t you…?”

He laughed. “No, Liz, I wasn’t. I was panicked.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were so different... We had kissed and I had realized that I desired you so much that I had trouble concentrating at work, knowing that you were so near. But I was afraid that I would rush you or disappoint you… I couldn’t read you, I couldn’t tell if it was too soon or not. And then…”

“On a fateful Friday afternoon…” She added smiling.

“A rainy Friday afternoon. Everyone had left, but for you, my most devoted employee.”

“I had an article to write and I could not put a word to paper.”

“It was getting late and the rain was getting worse and worse…”

“I had no umbrella, I would get soaked before I got to the underground station; so you, caring man, offered to give me a ride. I was so absorbed watching you that I didn’t answer for a good thirty seconds.”

“And I thought that you considered me a cad and I was mentally slapping myself, but then you said yes. Did you hear my sigh of relief back then? I thought people in the next building would hear it as well.”

“Not really, Will. I was too busy cursing my stupid self.”

“Good to know. And afterwards, there we were, at your door and I knew I had better conceal my need for you…”

“Well, my limbs are still affected by the reminiscence of that kiss.”

“Oh, there was no way back after that. I thought I would go mad if you didn’t ask me to stay.”

“You certainly did not give that impression. It took all my courage to tell you to come if for a cup of coffee. How ridiculous coffee must have sounded!” She exclaimed in mock despair.

“I can’t remember. I was trying to calm myself.”

“Will, are you sure we’re talking about the same night? You were the epitome of calmness!”

“I repeat, Elizabeth. I was panicked. This is why I kept every appearance of self-assurance.” His voice was low and soft, matching the tender caress of his hands.

“But you had that look. I thought, I believed, it was not something important to you back then.”

“Haven’t you learnt to decipher that look now, Elizabeth? It was pure desire.”

She smiled. “We were such fools. Such utter fools.”

“But our bodies were not, Elizabeth. They knew we were perfect for each other, long before we came to admit it.” His finger moved absent-mindedly down her back, and he started at the void, as pictures of that first night flashed into their minds.

“It was beautiful, Will. Despite fears and insecurities… My, we had lots of fears and insecurities! I remember thinking at one point: ‘What does he want from me? How will I face him in the office? What will I do tomorrow? No, tomorrow is Saturday!’”

He chuckled. “And at the same time, I was wondering why the idea of leaving your side that night was so repulsive.”

“But you stayed.”

“Yeah… I was forced to. It was raining, remember?”

“You are being smug again!”

“Oh, you regret my decision to stay that night?”

“Even worse. You are smart and smug!”

“You slept in my arms, just like tonight. I had never let anyone sleep in my arms. Not even my sister when she was a child. I always told myself that I was not the cuddling type.”

“And to think that I fell asleep thinking of all the women who had previously slept in your arms… and how much I wanted to kill them.”

“Glad to know we were having similar thoughts. I was dreaming of throttling every man who had ever touched you.”

“Tormented sleep then, Will.”

“Not really. How could it be? That night I discovered the delights of a close embrace.”

“The delights of suffocation?”

“Let me tell you something, Elizabeth. That night, I woke up to find that you had slipped away from my arms. I tried to close my eyes, but I could not fall asleep again. Then I moved closer to you, embraced you and was asleep before I knew.”

“Those were very clear signs, William.” She said jokingly.

“And I was a very stupid and blind man.”

“I love you Will. I loved you before that night, I loved you that night and I have loved you ever since.”

“I fall in love with you every day, Elizabeth.”

When Elizabeth opened her eyes again, William had left the bed. The clock told her it was almost seven. Sunday morning, she reminded herself. She looked at the window and was met with a grey sky, but she felt that no weather could affect her mood. Quickly putting on a robe, she left the room in quest of him.

She found him talking quietly on the phone, his back turned to her, very absorbed. She moved slightly so she could study his profile. He seemed deep in thought but not overly worried, she was relieved to discover. Elizabeth made another step or two so that she could hear what he was saying, but then he turned his head and noticed her. His serious face instantly turned into a smiling one, his eyes lit up as he saw her. He hastily ended the conversation on the phone.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His voice had such earnestness and his tone was so intimate that she felt herself ready to blush.

“Good morning to you too, business-man.”

“So, you assume that I was talking about work?”

“Don’t feign the innocent Will. I know you. What happened?”

“Hey, why are you so curious about business? I had no idea you were a fortune-hunter.”

Something back in her mind whispered to her that news could not be terrible if he was in such a good mood, still it was not enough to reassure her. “Will!”

“Ok, ok. No more teasing.” He stood up and embraced her tenderly. After placing a soft kiss on her worried brow, he said:

“It is not very bad. Rosings Press buried us of course, but they were looking for an excuse to do it. Gilson’s report was not good either. He called me a ‘criminal so arrogant that he changes the meaning of words to prove himself innocent.’” William smiled to make Elizabeth understand that this was not really affecting him. She snuggled her face against his neck.

“Can we kill Gilson?” Her voice came muffled.

He chuckled. “Do you know that I love you even more when you exaggerate?”

“That’s why I am doing it.” He was glad that she seemed a bit more light-hearted.

“We can’t confront people for being stupid, Elizabeth. I am not even suing him. Let him ramble until he realizes that he is not hurting me. Then he will stop. And no real harm can be done. TV reports were pretty good on us. The chief of the police publicly thanked Pemberley for the invaluable help it offered to the investigations. Most newspapers are praising us. Happy now?”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “Truly?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

She smiled. “Never.”

“Oh, I must also mention that you are famous, Liz. Charles said that everyone is asking for an interview with you. I think TV shows have fallen in love with you. But first, Elizabeth, you must suffer the Holy Inquisition.”

She looked at him quizzically. “We have a meeting with the members of the board today at ten and they want to talk to you as well.”

“Do you think I should start looking for a new job?” She said half-jokingly.

“I don’t think they would like to displease the ‘Real Boss of Pemberley.’ ”

“Newspaper title?”

“Yes. I am always amazed at the creative minds of the people who work in the press.” She admonished him for his satisfied look. Suddenly, as if recalling something, he said.

“Will you visit your family afterwards?”

“I had not thought about it. I must see them at some point. They must have been very worried and we scarcely talked before Charles practically threw them out of the house.”

“Valuable friend, Charles. Anyway, where are they now? Has your mother returned to Hertfordshire?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to call I guess. Why are you asking?”

“My sister is leaving tomorrow. I had hoped that… That is, I wish you two would,” he swallowed, “meet before she leaves… And this afternoon could be a good chance to…”

She smiled and hugged him: “My parents and sister and friends are not going anywhere. We can go to your house right after the meeting. Just give me some time to call and talk to everyone.”

“Sure, we have plenty of time.” He paused. “So, is the meeting ok with you?”

“Will you be by my side?”

“All the time.”

“Then it is.”

CHAPTER 17 – Part a

Monika woke up feeling a chill, only to find that she had tossed away all her covers. A quick look out the window prepared her for another grey London day. Grey was her color, it seemed, and she always preferred storms to sunshine; however, on this day she felt so fed up, so tired with everything that she got up cursing London and its unvarying weather.

It was eleven o’clock. She had overslept! She couldn’t remember this ever happening to her before in her life, and she cursed her body and mind for letting her down on this particular day. Richard would get the impression that she was avoiding him; that she didn’t care to honor her promise to him that they would talk. In a corner of her mind she wondered if this was exactly what she was doing, but she didn’t try to elaborate on it further.

Talking… It was her duty, she thought. It should be done and would be done. After making that deplorable mistake on that horrid night, she knew there was only one way of putting an end to all the embarrassment and awkwardness. The solution was simple and the sooner she listened to reason, the sooner the torment would stop. It was as simple as that.

Simple? She chuckled. Nothing, nothing had ever been simple in her life. Richard had told her once: “You have the talent of finding the shadows in a room full of light.” Even now, she was amazed with his insight. But why, since he accepted her, could he not see that the idea of their ever being a couple was nothing more than a hallucination?

It would be a disaster, she could see that. Richard was the smiling guy, the man who always made light of the situation. She knew him well enough to understand that there was something under the surface. Sometimes, his ability to explore new roles, to understand so many agonies and to identify with the most lonely and lost characters stunned her; then they seemed almost alike, questioning the limits of the human soul and mind. But then, there he was, dancing and drinking at parties until morning, running after every beautiful woman he would meet, and then running away from them.

Couldn’t he understand that she didn’t want this euphoria, this continuous quest of pleasure? She didn’t want salvation from her shades; she didn’t wish to be content. She had deep feeling and amazing understanding. However, the cost was melancholy and loneliness, her constant companions all these years. If asked, she wouldn’t change the way she chose to see the world in order to experience gaiety. And what about love? The tiny voice whispered again but it was too weak for her to pay attention to it.

With these thoughts accompanying her, her morning routine took her much more time than ever before, and it was only a few minutes before noon when she appeared downstairs. Anna and Alex were nowhere to be seen, she was pleased to find. Richard sat on the couch with a newspaper on his lap, but he didn’t seem to be reading. He presented a lovely picture; next to the fire, with that look on his face, something between thoughtful and absent-minded. He didn’t notice her before she had reached the bottom of the staircase. Then, with a start, he got up, dropping the newspaper. She wanted to say something, but a good morning seemed too unfit for them. Luckily, he spoke first.

“Emmm…Would you like some coffee? Anna has made some.” Then, clenching his fists, he added. “Of course not. You don’t drink coffee. Tea? There is herbal tea as well.”

She desperately needed a cup of tea.

“No, thank you, I am alright. Is Anna around?”

“No. Yes. I mean, she and Alex are in the library.” His mouth remained half open, as if he wanted to say something more, but nothing came from his lips.

“I see. Richard, about this talk…”

“Yes?”

“I think that now is a good time.” He nodded, and she added quickly. “But not here.” She could not do it there. That house was full of him, of them, of that night. It was his territory. It was too difficult to do it there.

“Where then?” He seemed almost unsurprised by her request.

“Outside perhaps? The garden… the park around?”

Monika felt the absurdity of her request. It was freezing cold and no rational human would venture outside if there was not an important reason. To propose they talk outside instead of staying indoors, which was warm and cozy and pleasant seemed, however vital to her, completely illogical.

But Richard had already put on his jacket and headed towards the door.

Elizabeth passed the “Spanish Inquisition” with great success, leaving everyone impressed and more than satisfied with the new editor of “Meryton.” William’s heart swelled with pride for her. Apart from being a wonderful partner, she was also very talented, really good at her job. A bright career was opening before her and she deserved the future that awaited. The meeting ended soon afterwards, but his uncle wanted to talk privately. So, he left Elizabeth talking with some members of the board who wanted to know more of her and led his uncle to his office.

“Rosings continues the crusade against us.” Michael Fitzwilliam said as soon as they were alone.

“I know.”

“It’s pretty bad. Much damage can be done.”

“It will stop very soon.” William seemed certain but Michael still harbored many doubts.

“You don’t know – you can’t trust your instinct.”

William smiled. “Uncle, I would never leave anything so important to instinct. I have talked to them. Warned them about how this attack can backfire on them. Trust me, if they go on like this, I will make them look like mumbling babies with no credit whatsoever.”

“So you think they will stop?”

“I know they will be obliged to print entire pages of apologies – and no pressure from our lawyers will be necessary.”

“Good. Very good, son. This is a dirty game, and I am glad that Miss Bennet has not completely distracted you.” Michael said in a casual tone, but William’s expression changed immediately.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, come on, Will. People are whispering. You openly praised her yesterday…”

“She deserved it!”

“…you came to the meeting today together and you haven’t left her side for a moment…”

“She’s been through a lot!”

“…and right now, you are defending her in an admirable, gallant way. I’ve been in love too, you know.” He winked at him. William wore his best stubborn look to protest, but after a moment’s reflection he smiled slightly and said in a completely calm tone.

“I am not repeating the same mistakes. I won’t deny that I love Elizabeth Bennet. ”

His uncle smiled as well. “That’s not bad, as long as Pemberley is your first priority and…”

William interrupted him. “It isn’t, Uncle. I care for Pemberley, and I will fight as hard as it takes to restore its creditability. It is one of the most important things in my life, and one of my top priorities. I will spend much time and much energy on this, but it can’t come first in my life anymore. You said you have been in love. Then you must know as well.”

Michael moved to the window and stood in quiet reflection for a while. When he spoke, he didn’t turn to look at William.

“Son and nephew are determined to give me a good lesson this weekend.”

William felt too awkward. Although they had worked for years together, they had never been really close, and in one other’s confidence. He realized he knew practically nothing about his uncle, his life, his feelings, his habits. At that moment, he couldn’t tell if he was speaking sincerely or being ironic. He certainly never expected to give him a lesson about anything, much less about feelings. But then, Michael turned to him with a conspiratory look.

“She’s a good woman. Don’t let her slip from your hands.”

They stood for a while looking at each other; William still in disbelief that his uncle had suddenly become a humble man, accepting critique, and even advising him about not losing a woman. William had always thought that his uncle was a man of deep thinking and shallow feeling. But after all, his uncle was his mother’s brother. They had to have some things in common. He looked at him better and noticed his eyes; green and open. Another person whom I have misjudged or another one who has changed? William wondered, although he knew that the answer was somewhere in the middle. He smiled at his uncle, thinking that it was never too late to get to know someone – and perhaps through his uncle, his mother.

“I am not letting Elizabeth go anywhere.”

A smile played at the corner of Michael’s lips, as understanding came to each man’s face.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lovely wife to return to.”

Monika thought that Darcy’s garden would remain in her memory as one of the most hated places she had ever been at. This walk with Richard was so tormenting, the silence so unbearable, each moment that passed such a burden on her shoulders that she wanted to scream, to act, to do something and escape from this nightmare where nothing happened. Only gazes and silence.

“We must talk.” She said at last.

“I am listening. To you,” Richard answered quietly.

“I am sorry? You are listening to me?” She hadn’t meant to lose her temper, she really hadn’t; but here she was, shouting at him again. This was leading nowhere. She regretted her outburst. Strong reactions indicated feelings and passion and this was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment. They had to make decisions, and respect each other’s wishes as civilized, indifferent people.

“Yes, Monika. I am listening to you!” He answered, a little less composed than before. “Because, whenever I speak or do something, I seem to only provoke your wrath.”

“Oh, so this is all my fault, eh?” She said bitterly, but then removed every trace of feeling in her voice, as she continued. “Very well, Richard. In that case, I must inform you that I quit. I will not be returning with you to the US tomorrow. It has been a pleasure to work you.” She turned to leave.

‘So that was the bomb exploding. Number of victims, only one. A fool’, he managed to think, half numb. Struggling to regain control over his actions, he experienced a moment when he envisioned his fate marked by her decision. A single, terrible moment, thinking of a life destroyed by his inability on one single occasion to act, to talk, to make her understand. A life he would spend regretting a moment of indecision. Regretting her. He could foresee minutes, hours, days, shadowed by the torment, the question; What if I had dared? How would my life have been? What would she have said? What would she have done? A life of what ifs, a life thinking more of the past than of the present. He saw the prospect of a wasted life, and the fear that crept, slowly and sneakily into his heart, paralyzing his whole body.

A thin line between reality and dream, an even thinner line between dream and nightmare, heaven and hell. Richard Fitzwilliam crossed all the lines at that single moment. A drowning man, a man screaming for rescue. No one could help him, no one but his own self. His life was slipping out of his hands, out of his control and it was leading only to sadness and loneliness. He had to grasp it back. Now.

She had already made several steps towards the house. “Stop it!” He cried at the top of his voice, surprising even himself. She froze. With a few paces, he reached her.

“Stop it,” he repeated, lower this time, but with no less anguish in his voice. “Can you look at us? Can you listen to what you’re saying? ‘A pleasure working with me?’ This is not you, Monika! Monika wouldn’t run away. Why are you doing this to us? Why are you doing this to you?”

“Richard, I am tired of playing hide and seek with you.”

“Strange you should feel like that, I got the impression you rather enjoy it.”

“Well, what can I say, first impressions can be misleading,” she trickled out her retort through gritted teeth.

“You hide and I seek, Monika. I cannot go on like this. I am tired, too.”

“Finally. Perfect. We both are tired. Absolutely great!”

“Alright, mock me. Laugh at us. What more do I have to endure to satisfy your requirements?”

“Just one more. The last one. Don’t you see, Richard? I am releasing you! I am leaving. Putting an end to it. Full stop.”

He inhaled deeply. ‘It’s now or never. Tell her’

“Even if you leave, Monika, that won't make me love you less.”

“Excuse me? You what? You love me?” she heard herself ask almost in a foreign language.

“Yes, I love you. Why is that such a surprise? Oh, you think I'm too shallow for love, right? After all, my face is on every magazine, on every screen. I sell desire and ‘love’ every day, I sell myself to every woman, true?”

“Richard, I didn’t…”

“I could not possibly feel love, right? It's just a job for me, a job that pays the big bucks, but only a role, not a real feeling. Isn't that what you think?” Excited, he forged on, not leaving her option to address any appeal. “Well, guess what, the sugar-boy here can act and knows the distinction between a play and real life. Maybe the shallow one is you, for the cowards' way was definitely your choice, not mine.” Raising his voice, he slowly closed in the space that separated them. “You left me, not the other way around, remember? Of course you do, it’s your job to remember. Every little detail. That frightening was it? Making love,” he shouted in her face. “Oh, and don’t tell me it was an accident or an act. We, you and I, made love. Consented L.O.V.E.” he finished with rage.

He was right. For once she was afraid. Of words. Of his feelings, of what she felt or what she could afford to feel. He was forcing her to stop running and do something she had eluded for an inexcusably long time: confront old demons and make a decision.

Oh but it would be so easy to escape, fate tempted her once more. Open the door, step outside, then close it behind you. It would all vanish with a click, her sixth sense told her. So simple… and then the pain would go, be dulled, forgotten; no, not forgotten, but well hidden in a secret corner of her heart. Yes, she could live with that pain, she knew how to live with pain – in time. She needed time.

“Don’t.” She heard him saying.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t even think about it.” He said, leaning dangerously closely to her. His voice was authoritative, as if he knew exactly what was going on in her mind; as if he had suddenly acquired a glimpse into her heart and he had become the judge of right or wrong. As if he knew what was best for her, seeing into the future, being wise... ‘I don’t need a parent,’ she thought and felt her anger rising again, but this time she could not mistake her inner voice that was screaming at her. ‘It’s easier to be angry than scared.’

Then she felt the weight of his palms on her arms. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Don’t leave us. It’s dark and lonely out there. A whole life without you; there is ugliness and death out there.”

No, this could not be Richard. Richard did not speak like that… Richard didn’t know anything about ugliness, loneliness and death. Richard was a sweet smile that would continue to exist even if his heart received a rejection or two. Richard could never let anything affect him so. This was not the man she knew…

“You don’t understand what you’re saying.” She said and tried desperately not to sound defensive; it would not do. But she had lost every command of her tone and reactions some time ago, even though she would not acknowledge it.

“No, it’s you. You feign that you don’t understand who I am and what I feel. But you do, Monika. You know very well. That’s why you’re leaving.”

She wanted to shout, to protest, to tell him that he was hurting her, tormenting her. She wanted to beg him to stop and to let her go. But she only said, “You’re too selfish to think that my life won’t be worth living without you.”

He smiled, half-heartedly, bitterly. “I know it. Because this is what will happen to me if you go.”

Her lips quivered. She tried to retain her strength, to not ask the question that had presented itself, demanding, in her mind, burning it.

“And what if… what if I stay? You think it will be better? You think that it won’t be a hell for us after a while? You think that here will be better than out there?”

“Here, there is love, Monika. It is frightening and it brings loads of pain and sadness, doubts and insecurities. But it is life, Monika. And hope, and warmth. I want to experience these with you. Stay, Monika. I beg you. Stay.”

He held his breath, looking deeply into her eyes. A ‘no’ – he couldn’t take a ‘no.’ He had exposed his soul, his heart. Did he seem controlled to her? How could that be, when all his fears were exposed, right there, before her. Did she think it was easy for him? But she deserved it. She deserved anything he could do and anything he could give. Just as long as she wouldn’t refuse him forever. Just as long as she didn’t turn her back to him. Not a ‘no.’ He didn’t have the strength to meet with a ‘no.’

Her mind was swirling. Had he asked something of her? He was looking so intensely at her and she was so confused… What did he want? But, most importantly, what did she want?

Yielding and resisting. The new against the old, the unknown against the habit. She had never been afraid of challenges, but why was she terrified now? Fear meant cowardice and she was not a coward. Never had been. At least not when physical challenges appeared.

“We will regret this. You will regret this. I am not what you think…”

He had averted his eyes as she began speaking; they returned on her, piercing, demanding. That was not a ‘no,’ was it? She had not left yet. There was hope. Had she been indifferent, she would have gone. Had her heart been untouched, she would have had absolutely no difficulty in laughing at his ridiculous romantic fantasies. Yes, she would have used a term like that. But she hadn’t. She was there, still fighting, still resisting, still doubting, but there. He had no intention of letting her go anywhere now.

“You are the bravest woman I know, Monika.”

She laughed bitterly. “You don’t know me Richard. You just have this idealized picture of me and you stick to it. You have no idea how many times I am afraid, how many…”

He interrupted her. “How many nights you stay awake? How many times you are in deep meditation every day? How you escape the world and try to find security in your room? How many times you disappear and don’t want to be found? You think that I don’t know about this, Monika?”

She was not sure what he was saying. She could not tell if his voice was coming from his mouth or was a mere whisper of her imagination. He could not have known. No one had ever known such details about her. Someone would have to watch, night and day, to learn all these habits of her life. Someone would have to care to understand them.

“But I do know.” He said, and his voice had a distant echo of pleading… Begging her to comprehend his meaning. “And I love you the more for it. This is you – and I love what you are. I can’t pretend that I know your deepest secrets and agonies, I can’t tell you that I always understand you – there are times when you exasperate me, and times when you irritate me, and times when you frighten me. But I love you. Always.”

She stepped back. “I have to digest this. It comes so suddenly. I don’t know what to think… what to believe… We are both hurt and angry…”

He moved closer and drew her to him. “I am not angry,” he whispered. “I am not hurt. Please, Monika, believe in me… Believe in us. We can make it.” Pulling his head back a little, and looking into her eyes, he added, “We love each other way too much to pretend to ignore it.”

Their faces were so close; his eyes were so warm, so intense, so... no, she couldn’t tell that. All her beliefs, all her life experience revolted against the admission. A charming prince – she had never dreamt of one, she had never wanted one. There were no bloody princes, she was well aware of that. Just princes that turned to frogs, and not the opposite. No stupid romances for her, no rescues from the monsters of the world, no delusions about a safe embrace. But his eyes were… ‘No, they are not, Monika! Calm down, exhale, do not let him do this to you! He is an actor… he is performing.’

But he was right! She was scared, she was avoiding, she was a coward, she was refusing to see the truth for what it was. She believed him! His eyes were loving. A simple word, a simple description, but not a simple feeling.

“How can I trust you?” Her voice was low.

“Because I trust you, too. You think that I have power to hurt you, Monika? To break your heart to pieces?”

Her head moved, ever so slightly down and then up, but it was a nod, no mistaking that.

“You have exactly the same power over me, Monika. You can break my heart to pieces. But it’s worth it.”

He was done, there was nothing more he could say. It was difficult for him, too. His breathing was heavy, his heart was pumping; and he was aware of every beat that became almost painful. He remained silent, looking at her, wondering, hoping. She saw him standing, exhausted, anxious and pleading. And she understood. This was not a fairy tale, and he was not a magic hero that would answer all her needs or solve all her problems. He was not promising her a blissful eternity… But she was not a fragile little girl to ask for an earthly paradise.

This dream, this fairy tale, this chimerical promise of a *happy ending* had become her demon. Knowing only too well the impossibility of that, she had excluded all forms of happiness in her life. She had been unjust to herself, and unfair to both herself and to others… and most of all, to Richard. It was a journey he was promising. With happy moments, and lots of arguments, lots of bumping doors on each other’s faces, lots of jokes, lots of laughter and yes, many moments of quiet reflection and bliss. She had been locked into a jail cell and Richard was giving her freedom, not the other way around. And where would this journey end? How would it find them? Old memories flashed in her mind, old verses came before her.

When setting out upon your way to Ithaca,
wish always that your course be long,
full of adventure, full of lore.
Of the Laestrygones and of the Cyclopes,
of an irate Poseidon never be afraid;
such things along your way you will not find,
if lofty is your thinking, if fine sentiment
in spirit and in body touches you.
Neither Laestrygones nor Cyclopes,
nor wild Poseidon will you ever meet,
unless you bear them in your soul,
unless your soul has raised them up in front of you.

And the answer to her searing questions?
If Ithaca seems then too lean, you have not been deceived.
As wise as you are now become, of such experience,
you will have understood what Ithaca stands for.*
It was time for her to start her journey to her own Ithaca.

But not alone. With Richard.

He read her answer in the glint of her eyes. They had gone a long way that morning, past misunderstanding and reading wrong signs. Beyond any doubt, he knew her answer. He had waited far too long, to touch her, to feel her, to show her what she meant to him. Too much lost time; he would wait no more. He pressed his body against hers. Tightly, with all his power – as if he still feared she would flee. They remained for long moments like this, giving and taking reassurance, holding and comforting. It was many minutes later that his lips could not go on without kissing hers, there, in the middle of a garden, on a frozen, stormy January day. Monika was so lost in his kiss, in re-living what she thought she had lost forever, in living instead of hiding in fear that she didn’t feel anything else but him enveloping her in love.

Gently, she drew back. She wanted to look at him. Richard’s eyes were still closed, his lips still relishing the memory of hers. Suddenly, a snowflake fell on his brow. His eyes shot open, surprised, to meet her smiling ones.

It was snowing. The sky was not grey anymore; cotton white clouds covered it everywhere, as the snowflakes became thicker and thicker, falling on their hair, and their clothes, melting into their hearts. Their souls were dancing, their faces could not help grinning. They were happy.

“Do you believe in fairytales?” He asked.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, no, no. Reality is so much better.” A passionate kiss, that left her mouth begging for more rewarded her answer. “Besides,” she added half-seriously, “happy endings are just endings. I infinitely prefer beginnings.”

She gasped as she felt Richard’s arms lifting her and carrying her to the house. As she cast a final look at the garden, she thought that it was a happy place indeed.

Elizabeth was very nervous as she entered William’s house again. It was his place and she knew that should be reason enough for her to love it; however, at present it could only evoke painful memories. She used to think that she had control over her mind. She flattered herself that she could choose her memories, that she could think of the past only when it gave her pleasure. But at that moment, the images that filled her mind threatened to bring her tears. She looked at the door that she had closed behind her on the night she had left him forever, in utter despair. She would find herself in the room where he had broken her heart; where she had broken his heart. It was necessary to go through this, but she couldn’t help thinking that she had better put it off for another day.

William, looking worryingly at her face as it grew more and more thoughtful, stopped before pushing the door open and drew her to him. Cupping her face with his hands, and caressing her cheeks tenderly, he said:

“Remember what you said this morning, my love. We were blind fools. We needed to go through this, to understand how strong and true what we felt was.”

She nodded, smiling faintly and he continued softly. “You know that there is nothing I regret more than hurting you. I hate to think that I made you be afraid of this house, of my house. Because this is the place where I dreamed of you, where I thought of you, where I first realized that I loved you, where I spent endless hours looking at our photograph from Scotland. You have been in this house, with me, for a long time, Elizabeth. And for the most part, not in sadness. Let’s go in and create more memories – only happy ones.”

Before going in, however, she had to cling to him, she had to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her back; she had to taste his mouth, to caress the nape of his neck, to close her eyes and travel to the sky with him, if only for a few seconds. He understood her need, her agony, and the small doubts still torturing her heart and gave himself to her. He kissed her without caring for air, forgetting time and space, thinking only of her, taking care only for her. He was all hers, for as long as she wanted. They went on and on, easing her doubts, erasing fears and old nightmares until she was ready. Breaking the kiss, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. His mouth trailed a path upwards, teasing her nose and her brow before he inhaled the beautiful aroma of her hair.

“Ready now?”

“Not just ready. Excited and honoured to be in your home again, Mr. Darcy.”

When they reached the hall, voices and laughter were heard from inside. That cold, impersonal aura, that tormenting void that had almost intimidated Elizabeth on her previous visit, simply did not exist anymore. Suddenly, she felt that it was impossible that anything bad could occur there. Warmth, coziness, light, life; this is what William’s house represented now. It now seemed a place only for happy beginnings.

Georgiana and Alex appeared. The couple had been talking about them all morning long. Alex had challenged Georgiana, expressing his certainty that the fierce loyalty and love for her brother would prevail, rendering her reserved and cool to Elizabeth. She had answered that she had a remarkable ability to judge people and that she would be fair enough to the woman who had stolen her brother’s heart. But when Alex asked her if she had completely forgotten her brother’s condition on Christmas Day and if she held Elizabeth responsible for it, she only shrugged her shoulders.

However, when William entered, hand in hand with Elizabeth, his face brighter than she remembered ever witnessing, Georgiana’s remarkable ability to judge people and feelings told her that her brother was happy, and that the only reason for it was Elizabeth Bennet. Then, even the tiny jealousy coming from the realization that she no longer was the most important person in her brother’s life anymore was subdued.

Introductions were made and they all went to the sitting room where coffee and goodies were waiting for them, as well as a wonderful view of the snow by the window next to the fire. Elizabeth feared they would have nothing to talk about, although she never had trouble chatting with people she had just met. However, she suspected that the Darcys had quite an effect on her.

“Elizabeth, I have heard so many things about you; I feel as if I have known you for a long time.” Georgiana suddenly said gravely and Alex swallowed hard.

“Known me, yes.” Elizabeth answered softly. “But as for liking me, I am almost afraid to ask.”

‘Who said that men are more forward than women?’ William wondered, but his instinct told him not to interrupt the exchange between the two women. The face of neither betrayed hostility or maliciousness. He knew that both appreciated sincerity.

Georgiana was surprised by Elizabeth’s reply, but very pleasantly so. Polite conversation was good, but with people so important to her family, she preferred honesty. After a pause, too long for either man’s liking, she smiled and said:

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth, reports were all in your favour.” Alex exhaled and she continued, “But I can also see facts, Elizabeth. I could never possibly dislike someone who has made my brother happy – and reconciled with everything.”

“Hey, I am here, in case you forgot.” William said, trying to lighten the mood, but not helping with the unmistakable coarseness in his voice.

“We know that, Will, but give us a moment please…Your sister and I have just discovered the first thing we have in common.” Elizabeth winked at Georgiana who understood her meaning and said, “We both love you, even though we have given you a hard time or two.”

“More than two.” Elizabeth sighed guiltily.

Before William could speak, Georgiana chimed in. “I have no right to express an opinion, but this comes from my heart, so let me say it, please. You have given so much to William, to this house, to my family, to us all, Elizabeth, without even knowing us. It is only fair that you tormented William a little. So, thank you. For everything.”

William saw the tears in Elizabeth’s eyes, as she mouthed a silent “Thank you,” and felt it absolutely necessary to change the subject.

“Where are Richard and Monika?”

“Oh, them.” Georgiana said slyly. “They have been behaving a bit strangely since this morning. First, Richard woke up at six and Monika at noon.”

“You mean the other way around.” William tried to correct her.

“I meant exactly what I said. Richard was a buddle of nerves until Monika appeared and then they went for a stroll in the garden and they didn’t come back for about an hour.”

“In this weather?” Elizabeth wondered aloud. The snow was pleasing to watch, for sure, but it was really cold outside. Her fingers had nearly frozen while she made the short distance from the car to the door.

“Yes, yes. And okay, Monika is trained, but this coming from our cousin is surprising. Anyway, they went out with sulky faces and no words and when they returned, Richard was carrying Monika.”

“Did they have an accident? Was she hurt?” William asked. He couldn’t imagine any other reason why Monika would allow anyone to lift her.

“Brother, this is exactly what I thought and I went to offer some help…”

“…despite all my attempts to dissuade her…” Alex added.

“All your wise attempts, I might add. I wish I had listened to you. Then I wouldn’t have interrupted a very passionate kiss.”

William and Elizabeth chuckled at her look of mock contrition.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Alex said, embracing her. “They hardly seemed to notice you.”

“Yes, but I have learnt my lesson about couples and their privacy… Which reminds me… Alex, let’s go and allow William to show the house to Elizabeth. Now.”

Monika rested her head on Richard’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Her gaze traveled to the window, and she watched the heavy snow that continued to fall. She considered how cold it should have been outside, but in that room, in Richard’s arms, she couldn’t even recall how it felt to be cold.

She had decided that she could very well live without happiness for the rest of her life – only a couple of hours ago. And now she suspected that the necessity to be near him all the time had become rather vital to her. She could see it now, she would not hide from it any longer. Despite her behaviour of the last weeks, which had been completely out of character, she would not run away from him.

Slowly, she began to understand him. It was difficult to fall in love with a woman like her, but he had. He loved her, and it hurt him to see her in turmoil as much as it pained her to witness his sad face. She comprehended that now. She used to think that love was selfless, that one-sided sacrifice could benefit them both, but she could acknowledge her error at last. Love was a deeply selfish act as well. She had to take good care of him, but also of herself, because her wellbeing mattered to him. It was important for his happiness.

His soft voice brought her out of her reverie. “Making complex thoughts, again?”

She looked at him surprised, and his hand caressed her frowned brow to indicate how he had read her mind. She smiled.

“Yes, very complex. I love you.”

Even though every little corner of Richard’s heart yearned to hear the magic words, he was shocked when she finally mouthed them. He had not seen that coming and was totally unprepared for it.

“Can you repeat it, please?”

She sighed, feigning exasperation: “One moment a genius and the other moment daft. What am I going to do with you?”

“Tell me.”

“I just said it.”

“I want to hear it again.” His hand traveled down her spine.

“Richard…”

He stopped his caresses and moved back to look at her. Their eyes locked, smiling, teasing gazes. They were at ease with each other, content, not afraid of the wonderful intimacy they shared. Their eyes communicated everything that needed to be said. No other reassurances, no words were necessary to prove that they were making similar discoveries and experiencing the same exhilaration. Yet her mouth spoke after all, as if on its own.

“I love you.”

“It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“And this is my room.” William said softly as he showed Elizabeth in, standing closely behind her. She took two steps in and looked around, smiling. A big window on the wall offered a good view of the garden, allowing the light to come in, even on a snowy day. A single painting, of a stormy, dark blue sea hung opposite the window. The room was spacious, with white walls and there was little furniture apart from the large bed. She looked at the bedside, at the pile of newspapers, reports and magazines that lay there, next to the elegant lamp. That room was full of him. His likes and dislikes, his habits, his feelings. Elizabeth felt as if she had been there before.

His arms found their way around her and she rested her head against his neck, sighing contently.

“I should have brought you here from the first night – from the first moment. I knew that you belonged here, Elizabeth. I just knew it.”

“I am glad that I am here, Will.”

Kissing her there, in his room, in the place where he had always been alone with his demons, brought him such an elation he had never hoped for.

“Stay here tonight, Elizabeth.”

She knew she had to oppose that plan, but she found it extremely difficult to remember the reasons why she should.

“Your sister is leaving,” she said with some effort. “You need to talk before she goes. You need to spend some time alone, the two of you.”

“What I need is you, here. Don’t go.”

Their eyes locked again for long moments.

“Stay.” He pleaded.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, he had the feeling she had committed herself to him for far more than one night, that something important had just transpired between them, but he didn’t want to rush her.

“I want to stay, Will. I will leave after lunch, to meet with my family and allow you some time with your sister and afterwards, in the evening…”

“You will return to me.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, I will return to you.”

‘And I will do anything it takes to make you stay with me forever.’ His face, his chin was marked with decision. Elizabeth saw it and it took her less than a second to guess the reason. His determination made her happy.

Despite Georgiana’s protests that he had a job waiting for him, William insisted on accompanying his relatives to the airport the next morning. He knew that their departure would secure him more privacy with Elizabeth, yet he was well aware that he would miss them acutely. During their stay, so many life-changing events had taken place that concerned them all, he felt that the bonds that united them were deeper than ever before. His sister had become his friend, his confidante; his cousin became a man that could be counted on for support. He trusted Alex with Georgiana’s happiness; he trusted that Monika would be the ideal partner for Richard. They had all argued, and doubted one another. But they had been allies and could be united to face those who intended to harm them, whenever such a need would appear.

Georgiana finally felt that she could understand, she could read, even partly, her brother. They had spent an afternoon together that brought them even closer, talking about anything and nothing. Important facts that had changed their lives and trifling things that they had not deemed important to share before. She told him of her fears about the past and dreams for the future. She had heard his reassurances, she had let him soothe her anxieties and she had soothed his. They talked about their childhood and their parents, gathering memories, putting them together, trying to reconstruct the puzzle that made up their past, their existence. He told her whatever he could remember; she told him what she had felt. William told her of his plans for Pemberley, about his determination to make their mother’s vision come true. They had even talked about Wickham and Younge. They were not taboos anymore. Above everything, they had talked of Elizabeth and Alex, the people they both knew would be their companions for the rest of their lives. And in the end, they promised each other to be happy.

When William gave his sister the goodbye kiss, he tried to convey all the affection and gratitude that welled up in his heart. She understood him, and stayed in his tight embrace for long minutes. When the time to leave came, she tenderly kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “It is time to return to mom’s home, Will. With her. Take Elizabeth to Derbyshire.”

He nodded, her meaning slowly registering to him as he patted Richard on the back, shook hands with Alex and embraced Monika, much to her dismay, thanking her once more. He watched everyone go, still accompanied by the echo of his sister’s words. When everyone disappeared from his sight, he turned to leave.

All the way back to his office, Georgiana’s words played again and again in his mind.

“It is time to return… to Derbyshire.”

*ITHACA, by Konstantinos Kavafis.
Ithaca was Odyssey’s homeland, where he managed to return after ten years of adventures in the seas after the campaign in Troy. Kavafis (1863-1933) frequently used ancient themes as symbols in his poems. You can find the whole poem (translated) here: http://cavafis.compupress.gr/kave_17.htm

Note: The idea about whether love is selfish or selfless is not mine… :D The merit goes to LE, who first talked of it (another great idea after midnight ;) ). Monik brought it up at the Fertilizer thread some time ago and I just had to use it!

Chapter 17 ~ Part b

Elizabeth sighed heavily. The cover page did not work. They had tried it again and again and still it did not look good. She stood up and paced up and down her office. She was exhausted. The last two weeks after the press conference had brought such an amount of work that she would have collapsed under the many responsibilities if it had not been for Will. Although he had even more pressing duties than she did, he always tried to spend as much time with her as possible, making her feel relaxed and refreshed. Even when he was not able to be near her, he would call or send a message in one way or another. She was always aware of his warm presence, protecting her but also giving her freedom. Suddenly, the need to hear his voice became too urgent and she reached for the phone without further thought. Before dialing his number however, there was a knock at the door and Charles appeared.

He seemed in a good mood, and Elizabeth did her best to hide her astonishment at his visit. As her momentary confusion deprived her of any ability to greet and talk to him, Charles spoke first, stating the obvious.

“I bet you’re surprised to see me here.”

“Yes, but pleasantly surprised. I hope no problems have arisen in the office… or elsewhere.” It was evident whom she was thinking of.

“No, no. Everything is fine at work…and with Jane. I took your threat that you would kill me if I make her unhappy quite seriously,” he said slyly. Elizabeth chuckled, satisfied with their understanding.

“It was the least I could do for her. She’s given Will a similar warning, as you know.”

“Yes, he’s told me. And he looked quite affected by it. But I don’t blame him after what happened last Christmas.” They both laughed. Charles continued, “I was passing by, returning from hospital, and thought I’d come and talk to you about something.”

“Oh, that.” Elizabeth said weakly and fixed her eyes on the floor. “Is Caroline any better?”

“Well, improved, yes, but her skin is… I had no idea urticaria is such a nasty thing.”

She nodded her head pensively. After a short pause, and still not lifting her eyes to meet his, she asked, “Didn’t she know that she was allergic to strawberries?”

“She never had any. Hated them. But she bought them for Will – to… to reconcile with him, since she was harsh on him after the press conference. And when she saw the two of you together…”

“Yeah, I opened the door, I remember.” Elizabeth sighed at the recollection of that night. She was staying over at William’s house and the doorbell rang in the middle of the night. William suggested they should not open it, but the ringing persisted, and Elizabeth feared that something bad had occurred, so, much to their chagrin, they were forced to get up and see who their visitor was. They tried to look as dignified as possible, but it was completely impossible to recover all their clothing in such a short time. William’s shirt especially was nowhere to be found, so, Elizabeth, wearing her T-shirt and jeans, flushed and with tangled hair went to open the door. She was very surprised to see Caroline greeting her, wearing a super-mini dress with a very low neckline. After the shrew’s declarations that she would give up on Will, as she considered him a ruined man, Elizabeth had hoped they had gotten rid of her. Obviously, Charles’ sister had decided that since the press had not only forgiven the Darcys but also fallen in love with William, she could very well resume her plans for him.

The moment the two women looked at each other, their smiles faded and they both grew pale. Caroline noticed Elizabeth’s state at the same time that Elizabeth realized that the basket Caroline held contained strawberries and a bottle of champagne. They stood mute, staring at each other. William, still without shirt and worried about the weird silence, decided to go and see for himself what was the matter.

Seeing William semi-dressed, for the first and last time in her life, was quite a shock for Caroline Bingley. Not because of his gorgeous body, however, but from the conviction that he was lost to her forever. The William Darcy that she knew and had schemed so much about, would never, never let a random girlfriend open the door of his house – and he would never join her without even trying to hide their… activities. Caroline Bingley had been blind, but even her blindness had limits. Devastated that her well-laid plans had gone to pieces, she ran away before her hatred would lead her to attack Elizabeth.

Upon returning home, in an inexplicable mania to hurt herself, she ate all the hated strawberries and drank half the bottle of champagne. As a result, Charles received a call at 4 a.m. from his sister, who, amidst her curses against the Bennet shrew, asked him to come and take her to the hospital immediately.

Charles and Elizabeth didn’t speak for a while, as images of that night flashed in their minds. In the end, she took a deep breath.

“Look, Charles, I am sorry for everything, but…”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth. I am sorrier than you know – my sister has embarrassed me more than I can tell you. I am only happy that you are still speaking to me after all this mess.”

“You had nothing to do with all this. She is your sister – and we’ll find a way to bear each other’s presence, I promise. And I am really, really sorry for what happened to her. I hated to be the cause of such self-destructive behavior.”

“Let’s say no more about this, shall we?” Charles offered graciously. “It’s a painful subject, but it doesn’t affect our relationship, does it?”

She smiled her approval of his words and he continued, more hesitantly this time. “Besides, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Other than Caroline?”

“Yeah, it’s about Jane.” She thought he sounded guilty.

“But you said that everything is alright.”

“It is. More than alright. It’s perfect.”

“I don’t understand then.” Actually, she started having her suspicions, but it was much more interesting extricating a confession from him.

“Look, Elizabeth.” He paused. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“You and Will seem really happy, and in love. This is why I expect you to understand me. Don’t you feel that he is the ‘one,’ the person that is made for you, that you will love forever no matter what, that you want to be with all the time and whose smile makes you want to smile too?” He asked dreamily.

“Yes, actually that description is very close to my feelings.”

“Good. And don’t you feel certain about you? Don’t you simply know that it is not passing but it will last – because it is wholly different and stronger than you’ve ever felt before?”

“Yes, that’s a good way of putting it.” Elizabeth tried her best not to grin too openly.

“Good. Then you understand me. This is how I feel about Jane.”

“I am happy for you, Charles.” Her quiet reassurance conveyed much emotion that was struggling not to become too evident.

“Thank you,” he answered warmly. They remained silent for a while and then he continued.

“This weekend, we’ll go to Scotland.” His look changed to one of determination.

“Jane told me. We’re leaving for the weekend as well. We’re going to Derbyshire… to Pemberley.”

“Yes, I know.” Charles said quickly, initially wishing to move to the purpose of his visit as soon as possible. But then, changing his mind, as his affection for William prevailed, he felt the urge to tell Elizabeth more about Pemberley. To prepare her… to be certain that she was ready for this. That both she and William could make another step forward. He loved them both too dearly to risk seeing anyone hurt. “It was Anne Darcy’s paradise. Will has never been there since she left them. Nor his father, even though the house belonged to his family for generations – the whole corporation is named after it. Only Georgiana visits occasionally. It’s a big step for him, Elizabeth. All kidding aside, you take good care of my friend, ok?”

She nodded, unable to say anything. She could not explain to Charles how important she considered her upcoming visit to Pemberley – nor could she express her gratitude to him for his loyalty and friendship to Will. Even if she had not come to like him as much as she now did, she would have always held affection for him, just because he cared so much for William. Charles smiled and added, “I will propose to Jane this weekend.”

Elizabeth was not sure if she should show surprise or say that she expected something of the kind, so she decided to remain silent. There was no danger of misunderstanding; Charles could read how pleased she was in the glowing smile of her eyes. “I know we haven’t known each other for long,” he continued, “and we have been happy together for even less time, but it feels right. I feel ready – and I think she is ready as well, to create a family together. To be joined, forever. I will take her to my secret refuge, to the place where I first told her how I felt about her, kneel and beg her to become my wife.”

Elizabeth resorted to teasing, trying to shake off the gravity of the discussion. “I don’t suppose you came here to ask for my blessing.”

“Well, since your father returned to Milos…”

She looked at him incredulously and he burst out laughing. “No, I want to go ring shopping with you.”

She grinned. “We must ask the big boss.”

“The big boss had better consent, because if I turn Jane against him, nothing will save him.”

“You and Will have many things in common,” Elizabeth said. “This wicked sense of humor for example, that you both hide so well… Poor Jane…” she said dramatically, but she could hardly keep her countenance when she added, “Poor me…” And she dialed Will’s number, happy that she would hear his voice at last.

The big boss did consent, so, Charles and Elizabeth went shopping. But their tastes seemed to be disturbingly different. Charles wanted a ring for a queen and Elizabeth dreamed of a ring for a fairy. But even though they obviously had not the same thing in mind, they could agree on turning down various pieces as they simply were not good enough for their darling Jane.

Elizabeth could not help traveling back to the day William had proposed. The whole night just seemed…wrong, but one object was perfect: the engagement ring. She could recall every detail, platinum and stone binding to perfection, strength and tenderness, devotion and promise for the future. Will had chosen it for her. Will knew her. Even now, when they had walked together past every misunderstanding, that particular night could still stir a strange sort of pain and a confusing sense of regret. She tried to dismiss the question that was invading, taking possession of her whole mind, whether she should have accepted his proposal back then or not – whether she had truly lost something back then. She wasn’t afraid of losing him – and she had no fears regarding their future together. However, she was terrified of having killed even the tiniest part of him – the part that had chosen that ring. Because that part was beautiful. A sigh escaped her and she feared that she would cry. She tried to command herself – to move away from her selfish thoughts and focus on Jane. She was there for Jane. Jane’s ring. And it had to be perfect, just like the one that had nearly become hers.

After three hours of close examination, debates on the symbolism of an engagement ring and hidden sighs of the ladies that helped them, Elizabeth and Charles began talking of continuing their quest on another day. As exhausting as such a prospect sounded, they agreed they hadn’t enough strength to go on. However, at that crucial moment, as their gazes wandered for one last search, two simultaneous cries were heard. “This is it!” And it was true; they had found the ring for the queen of fairies. Elizabeth smiled at how a piece of jewelry was designed as if it had always belonged to Jane. Then she laughed at herself, trying not to dive into that sea of emotion and doubt again… It was hard, but the image of Charles, in blissful excitement and happiness was of great help.

He treated her to coffee and a long talk. Elizabeth could not be more certain that Charles could not even compare to Jason, and she felt ashamed of ever having considered them both just as bad. She knew that her sister would be taken care of and be happy, with a man that she had come to love deeply despite misgivings, doubts and resolutions to forget him. Charles Bingley was indeed Jane’s match, no matter how many factors had intervened to prevent everyone from realizing it.

Later that night she was talking to William about her day… But she was nervous, as she could not open herself completely, she could not talk of what had really troubled her; she could not ask him for reassurance this time. Lost in thought, she made many pauses while she talked, and sometimes she hardly made any sense at all, as she began a phrase and stopped in the middle of it. Especially when it came to describing Jane’s ring, she lost the ability to speak, and instantly changed the subject, expressing her delight in Charles’ plans and her confidence in his success. William would have normally considered all of this very strange and he would have probably been worried. But the truth was that he was not himself either and he could not read her as well as he usually did. Elizabeth fell asleep in his arms, against the beating of his heart but she didn’t realize that sleep evaded him. And she didn’t hear him leaving the bed, going to his desk, unlocking a drawer and taking a velvet box out of it. “Pemberley,” he whispered as he gazed at the contents of the box. “At Pemberley.”

Elizabeth first saw Pemberley under the light of the moon. It seemed as if William had delayed their departure from London on purpose, so that she could experience an almost mystifying first of view of it; like the one it had created in the heart of a twelve-year-old boy who had never returned to his mother’s home so as to never be reminded how happy and loved he felt there.

She got out of the car and remained still, fixed. Her right hand rose and she caressed the air, as if she was touching a glass surface that was separating her from it. William gave her time and space to take in the sight. Lights and shades were playing mystifying games before them and his gaze was lost in the paths that began from the spot they were standing and disappeared behind the trees, in the dark. Elizabeth’s eyes could not move from the lake; a dark seductress with silver traces. It seemed as if it breathed, slowly, inaudibly, in an ancient, imposing dignity, as if it covered the secrets of centuries in its silence. Elizabeth felt as if she was bound by a spell there. Trying to find a shelter in some sort of rational thought, she meditated on the size and proportions of her surroundings. But that only increased the beating of her heart. Everything seemed vast there, beyond human measure and understanding.

To call this place home was not easy. It was as difficult as accepting the dark shadows of one’s soul. A wave of tenderness for William invaded her and she stepped, unsteadily at first, towards him. Her fingers lightly caressed his hair – a sign that she was there for him – that she would be with him for all their journeys of the future. Like this long and painful road home. The road towards understanding what Pemberley meant to all the people that had lived and breathed there, to his mother, and what it now meant to him. Unhurriedly, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips for a feather kiss, his eyes not leaving hers. Their gaze was firm, fixed, and intense, asking for an answer. He had to understand what Pemberley meant to her.

She stood solemn, her eyes locked with his for long moments. She saw what his silent question was, but she could not speak. Not just yet.

Her eyes finally wandered to the house again and she softly pulled her hand away from his. Alone, she walked a few steps, while he watched her from behind. She took a deep breath of the cold air – it seemed to be giving her life, filling her lungs, sending the blood pumping all over her body. The song of a single bird reached her. It had a hint of sadness and hope at the same time. Elizabeth waited until the song became fainter and fainter until it stopped. Then she turned to look at William again. She was smiling.

“I love it,” she said simply, “because it is you. ”

He opened his arms to her, so that her body would press against his heart, feeling its every beating. His hand did not leave the small of her back when they entered the house, nor when he introduced her to the housekeeper. They were forced to part only momentarily, when a teary Mrs. Reynolds grabbed her darling little boy and held him in a close embrace.

Tears, smiles and mixed words, cut phrases, little sobs and sighs, but most of all, radiant smiles made a series of small tokens of happiness. It was a homecoming, the sense of a duty fulfilled, of a circle finally being closed, longing and contentment. Mrs. Reynolds’ effusions warmed the place and their hearts. William’s eyes were more eloquent than his mouth, and Elizabeth was trying to allow him some time alone with the housekeeper, but failed miserably in her attempt to stand back a little. She needed his touch as much as he needed hers. He wouldn’t let her stir from his side and she was grateful for that.

They ate little and spoke even less. There were so many stories lingering in every room of the huge house. Real stories that had taken place within its walls or fictional, exaggerated or never fully explained ones. There were recountings of great loves and great disappointments; narrations about the naughtiness of children and the adventurous nature of adults… The house seemed to be full in its silence; full of life and myths. Myths that wanted to be woven again in the memories and the fancy of the present master; tales that waited to be retold to the woman who had captured his heart so completely. But that all had to wait for the morning.

About midnight, William led her to the master’s suite. With their hands entwined and their eyes locked, they passed the threshold. No one had been there for years, and the silence was almost unbearable. They didn’t turn on the lights; the embers of the fireplace, a series of candles and the moon washed them in their warmth instead. Elizabeth, pulling her hand away softly, and dismissing the mad sense of loss that threatened to overwhelm her, moved to the window and stared at the blackness of the night. Blackness, contrasted with the warmth their tarnished reflections on the glass radiated. She saw William coming behind her and drawing her closer to him, as he leaned to place a soft kiss on her neck. She closed her eyes, leaning her head slightly against him. Then she turned to face him as her fingers possessively pulled the nape of his neck closer to her. Everything in her, craved his kiss. A kiss that started slow and tender, comforting like the embers that burnt a little further, but then asked for more. It demanded the entity of her. And Elizabeth gave it.

William woke up to find his arms empty. With the fire still burning, he could see that Elizabeth was nowhere in the room. Moonlight was shining as he got up and put on his clothes to go to her. His movements were unhurried, but certain, as if an inner voice guided him unmistakably. It felt strange, weird, but he knew where she was, beyond any doubt. He went down the stairs quietly and exited the house. His eyes were focused on the lake and the silver reflection of the moon, as he walked his way there. He didn’t try to spot her in the darkness, but his whole mind was full of her. His fingers played with the object he had in his pocket, caressing it softly, feeling the bond between metal and stone, envisioning it once again adorning her hands. After so long a time, it was not a cause for distress anymore. It was a source of hope.

He had been playing the scene that was about to come a million times in his mind, thinking and agonizing about the words he was about to use, fearing that he would do something wrong again, or that he would simply be proven incapable of expressing what was really in his heart. He had spent so much time wondering how he would distinguish the right moment, and imagining everything that could go wrong. He had lived in doubt, but now he was amazed as he experienced an astonishing amount of clarity of spirit and certainty about his actions. He was going to open his soul, exactly as it was, to Elizabeth – and she was going to decide their fate.

A series of trees was all that was separating them now; ‘the final obstacle for them,’ he thought. He stood still, spying for a few moments her half-hidden figure, as she paced slowly along the bank. Then, his need to be near her became so overwhelming that he couldn’t wait any longer. He called her name before he started walking again, lest he would frighten her.

Elizabeth stopped pacing at once, and turned to look for the source of the voice. Their eyes met, and no more words were said, as he closed the distance between them, and stood just before her.

“I woke up and you were not there.”

“I’m sorry, Will. I just needed…”

“I know, Liz,” he said softly. “I was not worried.” He saw that she was about to make some sort of apology, so he spoke before she had the opportunity. “Nor was I sad, because I knew you were not far away. And that you needed to be here, alone.” He smiled. “I’m just beginning to understand you, Elizabeth, and the more I learn about you, the more precious you become to me. Are you ready to listen to me, my love?” His index finger caressed her face.

“I am.” She whispered, almost inaudibly.

“I love you. With everything that exists within me. I never feel lonely because you are always in my thoughts, always in my heart, always in my soul. We are beyond words or logic, Elizabeth. You are a gift that I have no idea what I did to deserve, but that I can never be grateful enough for. Even if I spend the rest of my life telling you what you mean to me, I won’t express even the tiniest portion of it.” He stopped and leaned over her to speak softly in her ear. “You are everything to me.”

Her heart raced, and she wished he would never stop talking. His voice caressed her whole existence, warmed her to her very core; his words were making love to her body and her soul. She felt completely exposed and completely safe. As she lifted her hands and encircled his back, pulling him closer, she whispered to him.

“I love you, Will. You are my life. My whole life.”

He broke the embrace and took both her hands in his. He smiled faintly, but his face retained a serious look. His dark eyes held hers, allowing her to witness the myriad shades of feelings in them as he said: “Marry me, Elizabeth.”

His heart was beating so fast that he feared he could not bear it. A single tear appeared on her face, as their eyes were still locked. With his thumb, he swept the dampened cheek. They could both sense each other’s blood throbbing where they touched. Elizabeth’s lips formed a little smile that spread, slowly, in her eyes, her cheeks, her whole face, her whole body. A smile that spread to his own face too, as he heard her answer.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, William. With you – forever.”

“Forever.” He repeated as he tasted her lips, the mouth that had made him so happy many times and had now given him a new life. A life with her, forever. His touch was gentle and his kiss tender, as if he was afraid she was a precious vision that would vanish. But her touch was solid and her hands grazing his neck persuaded him that she was real; real and his. Breaking their kiss, he reached into his pocket and pulled the velvet box out of it.

“Elizabeth, I…” he stopped, afraid to add even the tiniest shade at that moment of perfect happiness. She waited for him to continue and the look in her eyes told him there were no shades capable of affecting them. With a steady, yet tender voice, he continued. “I know this ring is associated with painful moments, and our beginning should be marked with something new. But, back then, when I bought this, I knew it belonged to you. I have hurt you, and insulted you, but I loved you, Liz. So much that I became afraid and blinded. This ring is you. Do not accept it as an engagement ring if it saddens you, but I wanted you to have it.”

Elizabeth almost forgot to breathe for a moment, as she recalled her previous thoughts. For a moment, she considered it impossible to have her every wish come true. She wanted to cry with joy that she was so generously given a second chance; that despite making so many mistakes, she had not lost even a bit of this love that was so precious. That William loved her in all the ways he used to – and in new ways they invented every day together. She wanted to remind him that she had made mistakes, awful mistakes as well – that she had hurt him and insulted him too and that this ring was not only a token of love, but a token of forgiveness. A compass that kept on telling them that they belonged to each other, when they had lost their way. But she only said:

“No, Will, this is you and me. This is us.” Her fingers grazed it. “This is our engagement ring.”

A look of realization spread over his face, as he understood everything that was left unsaid. He passed the ring onto her finger and then kissed her hand tenderly, but with a flavor of passion. Every moment that passed was intensifying his conviction that this was real, not a mere dream, and happiness spread over him from the realization. Fingers still entwined, she leaned in to kiss him again. The burning mark on his lips slowly built a smoldering desire in his heart. She mouthed a silent “I love you” and all rational thoughts abandoned them both.

Elizabeth opened her eyes to see a group of birds passing over the lake, quickly flying over the horizon. Her eyes traveled along the sky, awash in the colors of the early dawn. She relished the tranquility, the peace of the moment and the beauty of her surroundings. The lake seemed different now; not losing its charming aura, and still inspiring awe by its vastness, but also becoming more transparent, more welcoming. Ready to make the most of the sunshine of the day and of their hearts. Her eyes moved to the man who was holding her tightly in his embrace. She was not surprised to find him awake and looking at her. Her lips brushed against his, just as he was uttering a soft “good morning.”

“It only becomes more and more beautiful, Will.” Elizabeth was not referring only to the landscape.

His only response was a series of kisses that covered her face and hair. They lay there, embraced, whispering to each other, re-living the bliss of the previous night, admiring the ring that had found its destination and was now uniting them for eternity. Many minutes later, he pulled his head slightly back, so he could look at her.

“How was your first night as an engaged woman?”

“As wonderful as my fiancé is,” she answered, leaning in to taste him one more time. “So, how are you, my very own fiancé?”

“It’s a relief to see that you finally became possessive, Liz.” They both chuckled.

“Oh, I have always been. I was just trying to hide it until you had committed yourself.”

“A very good plan. You had great success. You have me completely spellbound, and unable to think of you as less than perfection itself.”

Some time later, as she nestled her head on his shoulder, she heard him let out a chuckle. She looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

“It’s funny…” he said. “This piece of music just pops into my mind… I have been thinking of it all night.”

He had picked up her curiosity. “What piece?”

His mellow voice, wonderful even at such an early hour, sang in a low tone into her ear.

“Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight
Let the memory lead you, open up, enter in
If you find there the meaning of what happiness is
Then a new life will begin”*

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, feeling certain that the memory of the previous night was one of the treasures she would keep and value most for the rest of her life. Moving her hand so she could caress his cheeks and looking deeply into his eyes, she asked softly, “Have you found the meaning of what happiness is?”

His hands moved to graze her cheeks, and he pressed his whole body against hers, simply to relish her touch.

“I am just beginning to, Elizabeth.”

* From the musical “The Cats”

Pre-Epilogue

Posted on Saturday, 15 April 2006

A long corridor. He had to walk it all the way, exposed, under the observation of the stern but ever-stupid faces of the guards. The miserable, pathetic prisoners’ eyes were trying to devour him, a corrupted glint in them at the expectation of a new spectacle.

George J. Wickham, a spectacle! He hated shows and exhibitions. He could only go through with them when he knew it was necessary for the deceit of the masses. He had always derived immense pleasure from the knowledge that he knew more than what he let the world know. It was almost arousing to be adored as the generous god, when he was planning to poison the grateful multitudes in new ways.

His father had done it for the money. A brutal man, however brilliant, whose sole aim in life was to make more money, preferably by treading over others. George Wickham was different. His aim, what gave meaning to his existence, was to tread over others. Making money from it was just a pleasant fringe-benefit.

Yes, killing everything that was good or blissful excited him more than anything else. The night when he had confronted the brave and blindly, infuriatingly idealistic Elizabeth Bennet had been one of his most fascinating experiences, one of his more triumphant victories. She had thought she was strong, yet he had the power to cit that strength from its very root. He had shaken her, he had made her fall – collapse. He had felt it; when she had left, she was a dead woman.

Then, what had happened? How had he found himself under arrest the very next morning after his night of glory, before even one of the faithful members of his faultlessly functional network could find the chance to warn him? Who was this opponent who had managed to disorient, misguide and entrap in one single night years of practice and precautions? Will Darcy? The paper CEO, whom he had so easily been controlling from afar until then? What had transformed him from a clueless victim into something more than an opponent, and what was worse, an opponent who had defeated him?

Wickham continued walking slowly, inwardly counting the steps and ignoring the ironic cheers from the prisoners that the guards hardly tried to check. He thought back on the days of the trial, to understand what had gone so terribly wrong. In the beginning he had thought that Darcy’s big words and declarations would be proven an empty threat; that the proud man would never bear the ridicule against his family and himself, for not having suspected Wickham was weaving his web all those years. Yet, for the first time in his life George was wrong about someone.

Wickham had hired the best lawyers. They had sworn that they would prove him not-guilty in no time – they had even proclaimed the case not to be a particularly challenging one. But they had underestimated the hatred of the public and the press. They had thought that Darcy would not dare go far. Unfortunately for them, not only Darcy, but every paper and TV broadcast in Britain in the next few months continued attacking the man who had become their ‘national monster.’ Wickham, in a moment of despair, insisted on accusing Darcy, trying to drag him to court as well, as he had threatened Elizabeth Bennet that he would do. But this was where his bright lawyers started to falter.

William Darcy was a surprise – the worst surprise of Wickham’s life. He could not be intimidated, and he had the most powerful weapon that Wickham could never use: the truth. Truth against deception. Darcy fearlessly appeared in court and admitted things that would previously embarrass him and everything he was proud of. He said everything he knew and everything he had ignored, accepting his deficiencies as an observer, as a family member, as an employer, as a board member, as CEO; admitting to being deceived by people that he trusted, to having erred deplorably in his judgment. But he showed such an air of dignity that his failings turned into aces for him. He was not a schoolboy making excuses; nor a weak man attempting to cover his mistakes; he was a man who would look back and examine his mistakes so that he would never make them again.

Darcy’s gaze met Wickham’s only once, on the first day they met in court. It was as if time stopped, as if the outcome of this silent exchange would determine the turn of things. Many painful seconds passed before anyone moved; but when the tension became unbearable, it was Wickham who had to avert his eyes.

Elizabeth Bennet was his last card. By the time she was called as a witness, Wickham knew that there was little chance of success. But he could hardly control the need for revenge over Darcy, and Elizabeth appeared to be the only way.

He wanted a repeat of the night when he had scared her to death. To make her so vulnerable again was impossible, but he wanted to remind her of her weakness, of the dilemma she could not face; of the prospect of betraying either her conscience or Darcy. Wickham had taught his lawyer to be merciless in his questioning. His eyes would meet hers and they wouldn’t look away until they brought realization and then contrition and then, that void. He was certain of his success. But when the day that Elizabeth would testify came, George Wickham was sad to find that he had misjudged two people, not just Darcy.

She looked at him and she didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t understand what was going on. It was clear that she understood the meaning of his glances. It was not apathy that he witnessed in her eyes, it was something worse; that deplorable pride of having been proven right.

He didn’t give up so easily, nor did his lawyer. But the more they persisted, the more evident it became that Elizabeth Bennet could not be hurt. When memories became particularly painful, when she was obliged to narrate in every detail that night, to repeat Wickham’s threats that had shaken her to her core, she did so with a steady voice, and her gazed fixed somewhere in the room.

Wickham followed her gaze and found that the receptor was none else than William Darcy. He wanted to scream at this distasteful exhibition of old-fashioned, stupid romance that had turned against him, but, unfortunately it was working too well for them. Elizabeth didn’t stammer once, didn’t stumble over her words; she could simply not be intimidated. A look at Darcy, and a small movement of the hands was all it took to find calmness to go through everything.

The pattern she made with her hands drew Wickham’s attention and he tried to understand what signals she was making. But after close examination, he found that it was not a gesture. She was simply touching her finger, on which she wore a ring. That, combined with the look and private smile that only she and Darcy shared in a room full of people, judges, lawyers, and the press gave him all the answers he hadn’t really needed to know.

It was the final stroke. Instead of destroying them both, instead of shattering every prospect of happiness for the rest of their lives, a few months later he was facing a life sentence and they were engaged to be married and refused to be affected by him, whatever he tried. He had no men to give orders to anymore; they had either been arrested, escaped or pretended they had never met him. It was too risky to even admit they even briefly known him. So, Elizabeth and Darcy would go on living their sick love myth and he had no power to stop it. He had confronted them, and chased them, and thought he had won, but they had gotten out of the trial alive. More alive than when they had entered it.

That was his downfall; that was his moment of defeat. The decision of the jury mattered little to him, or at least that was what he had thought at the time. A life sentence did not hurt as much as the knowledge that he was the weak one now, deprived of the means of deceiving or hurting anyone. Humiliation in the eyes of the world did not cost him as much as the thought that he had lost his self-esteem, his pride, his reasons for existence.

He was getting close to his cell. He tried to dismiss every image and thought of those horrid days. But that part of the conversation with Elizabeth on that night, the part he had paid the least attention too, refused to leave his mind in peace.

“But you have succumbed to romantic notions, Mr. Wickham. You are in love with yourself.”

“I simply care about the only person who will never betray me, Miss Bennet.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain, Mr. Wickham. Love is always danger and risk; you always have to be prepared, independent of who the receiver is.”

“You are talking nonsense. I…”

“You love yourself. I suppose it could be understandable, given the psychotic brain you possess. But love, Mr. Wickham, can bring disappointment; and disgust. And believe me, it is far better to feel these things towards another than towards yourself.”

She was right. Admitting it was the most painful thing he had to do. Fear and anger and bitterness, all mixed together. He was helpless; and that enraged and numbed all his senses. He hated William Darcy, he hated Elizabeth Bennet, but they had won and he could not do anything about that. The officer opened the door and ushered him into the cell, locking it behind him, sealing his fate. The hated couple had won because she was right.

It took him a few minutes to realize that he was not alone in his cell. Another prisoner, sitting on the floor, in one corner of the cell with his legs crossed had been staring at him silently from the moment he had entered. Wickham had no wish to make friends with any of these people, these inferior losers. He averted his eyes, and moved to the opposite side.

“Hey, buddy, aren’t you gonna talk to me?” The other man had gotten up and was walking towards him. The light fell on him and showed his large body, tall and fit. He had tiny eyes and very thick black hair. A little beard and many wrinkles, as well as a long nose drew attention to his face. He was a fearsome sight, but Wickham didn’t bother to even look at him. He did notice the American accent though, but he didn’t care to even be surprised.

“The name is Harry. What’s yours?” He continued in the same good-humored voice. If Wickham had turned to look at him, however, he would have witnessed a strange glint in his eyes. George remained still and made no answer.

“This ain’t nice buddy. I’m trying to make a good start and you’re only making me mad.” The man’s voice had lost some of its smoothness, but it was not louder than before.

Wickham smirked. Who the hell did the man think he was that he demand special attention?

“Since you apparently know my name, you know everything you have to about me. Maybe you should try to not make me mad, by talking nonsense,” he said with the haughtiest look he could manage.

“George, you’re as thickheaded as I thought.” The man was not smiling anymore. He was standing behind Wickham and something in his voice made the latter finally turn and look at him. He didn’t like what he saw in those tiny eyes.

“Can you just leave me alone?” George spat with irritation, but unable to completely shake off a hint of worry.

“Sorry, buddy. Not possible. A friend told me not to leave you alone a moment while you’re here.”

Wickham’s limbs suddenly did not seem strong enough to support him. His back touched the wall, as he repeated. “A friend.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling again, but that smile made his face look wilder and more fearsome than before. “A good friend.”

“Darcy!” Wickham shouted through his gritted teeth.

Harry smirked. “Darcy?” He said in contempt. “That blockhead can never understand how useful a friend I can be.”

Wickham was at a loss. All that he was aware of was the sweat that was dampening his brow, as he muttered, “Who then?”

“Younge, buddy. Jason Younge.”

Epilogue ~ Part 1

“It’s a girl! A lovely, little girl.”

Our baby appears in the hands of the doctor. Her cries mix with Elizabeth’s, as she moves her hands towards our daughter in an impatient gesture. Yes, she wants to touch her. Her eyes are wide open, to take in the sight. She is devouring the scene, its every detail, memorizing it. So am I.

My wife’s face is sweaty, and crimson. Her voice is hoarse from screams; dark circles appear under her eyes. But never has she been more beautiful than she is now. Not even on the day of our wedding, when I had feared I would not make it through the ceremony without touching her. Nor the night after, when I could swear she was a nymph, a goddess of seduction.

Here she is – perfect, waiting to hold our daughter. Our daughter. The doctor hands her the baby, assuring us that she is perfectly healthy. Elizabeth’s eyes fill with tears as I sigh with relief. I had momentarily feared that something had gone wrong, even though everyone was reassuring me the whole time; the process took so many hours and my wife was in such evident pain that sometimes it was difficult to stay calm and smile at her. I am glad that I did though. I am glad that I didn’t leave her side for a moment in the past four hours. And there are no words to describe the feeling in my breast as I see her holding the newborn baby.

Our daughter. I see her, tentatively I touch her … She seems so small, so vulnerable, I worry she will break. Suddenly, the breath catches in my throat as I see her nose. A tiny, perfect nose. Then her eyes, tightly shut as she is still crying. My gaze moves to her ears, with their amazing shape. I watch her hands; her fists are clenched. Oh my God! She is a human being; a perfect human being.

There is bustle and noise around us, but neither I nor Elizabeth notice anything but our baby. Elizabeth holds her with slightly shaking hands, close to her bosom. I understand my wife; she is afraid that someone will come and take our daughter and I can plainly see how reluctant she is to part with her yet. I almost hesitate to talk to her; I feel it as a kind of intrusion. But then, she looks up at me and then at the baby. Her face is beaming, her eyes ask me to come near her. I take her hand into mine - how small and weak it looks! - and I bestow a feather kiss on her brow. Our daughter, who had stopped crying for a moment, starts anew. Elizabeth chuckles as I watch her, mesmerized.

My family. These two creatures are my whole life. I want to tell them how much I love them, how deeply, how wholly, how completely committed I am to them, how much I need them, why they are more necessary to me than air itself. But words die in my throat, and all I can come up with is, “Thank you.”

My wife smiles at me, mouthing a silent “Thank you” in response. I want to hug her, to hold her tightly, to lie with her on her bed, but she is so exhausted that I am afraid my mere touch will break her. How can I explain to her how important she is to me? What her gift means to me, to us both? I want to promise myself to her again, to repeat my vows again and again. I remember something I had told her long ago. I whisper the words again.

“I fall in love with you every day, Elizabeth.”

New tears dampen her cheeks. “Isn’t she beautiful?” She asks me impatiently. I look at our baby and I cannot find anything that is not perfect on her.

“She is the most wonderful baby I have ever seen.” I lean over and touch the baby’s tiny hands. “She looks a lot like you,” I whisper.

Elizabeth casts me a doubtful look. But I am not exaggerating. Elizabeth’s warmth and beauty and unique features seem to reflect on our daughter. Our baby is still crying and her face is puffy and swollen, but she is already a picture of Elizabeth to me. My heart reaches for her… I want to kiss away her tears, I want to be always there for her; on the nights when she won’t go to bed, when she wakes up from a nightmare, when she first goes to school, when she first falls in love. I will be a good father. Her father.

But she must be taken from us, the parents who are so completely besotted with her. Elizabeth, trying to prolong the time with her, says.

“We have to name her, Will. We haven’t decided on a name.”

It’s true. We knew it was a girl, but we always referred to her as “our baby” before today. It was beautiful making plans, talking about the future, buying things and decorating the room for “our baby.” But now, we have to choose a name for her, a name that will be her. How can one choose a name for perfection?

“Elizabeth?” I suggest.

She giggles. “No, it will be awkward… Our baby having the same name as me… It will just feel awkward.”

“At least as a middle name?”

She likes the idea, I see that. Her smile comes first, then her nod.

“Ok, I picked the middle, you get to pick the first.”

She thinks for a little while. Her mind is racing – I have seen that expression before and the outcome was always brilliant. As it will be now. I watch her features slowly changing as a mischievous smile appears on her face.

“Aimee.”

I like the sound of it… I repeat it in my mouth, then I look at our daughter. It becomes her. I can already say that the sound reminds me of her. Trying to account for my wife’s inspiration, I keep saying the name again and again. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, French words and meanings make their presence known. “Aimee. Aimée.” My smile widens to a grin of realization. My wife is perfect and has found the most perfect name for our daughter. Beloved.

“So, it is Aimée Elizabeth Darcy?” I ask, lifting my eyebrow, trying to hide how fast my heart is beating at pronouncing the full name of our daughter for the first time. “Beloved Elizabeth Darcy.” I kiss my wife on the lips, as softly as my full heart permits me.

“She is love.” Elizabeth says, happy that I comprehended her meaning. “Our beloved daughter, the baby that came from us, from…”

She wants to say “from our love” but is afraid to sound sultry. I complete the sentence for her and am rewarded with a smile that warms my very heart.

“A beautiful love,” I continue, as the nurse takes little Aimee from her mother’s embrace and gives her to me; I have only a minute before she is taken from me, too. “Beautiful, long denied but most worth the earning love, my darling Aimee,” I whisper to her and then the nurse takes her out of the room. I am ordered to exit as well. A pack of anxious relatives are waiting just outside to learn the news of our family. I gaze into Elizabeth’s eyes, silently promising that we will be together, the three of us, as soon as possible.

We say “I love you” at the same moment.

Epilogue ~ Part 2

It is still dark when I wake up. I want to go back to sleep again, but he is not in bed. His side is still warm, but he is nowhere in the room and I find it impossible to fall asleep again without feeling him next to me. The independent spirit in me laments this proof of my dependence as I get up in search of the whereabouts of my husband. Smiling, I decide where to look first. Our daughter’s room is always our first destination for our late night forays in the house.

I wonder if she has woken up without my realizing it. Since returning to work a few months ago, it has become more difficult to be as alert during the night as I used to be. But it is partly Will’s fault. He gets up as soon as the suspicion of a sound from Aimee’s room hits him, so that I will be able to rest undisturbed. He is taking care of both of us, and thinks nothing of his own fatigue and sleeplessness. I knew that I was marrying the best man in the world when I uttered my vows; I just didn’t know how wonderful that best man would prove himself to be, again and again.

I try to make out what my watch shows in the darkness. It must be around 3 am. I still have enough hours to rest before going to work. I smile as I enter Aimee’s room. My angel is sleeping peacefully, with her hands and legs stretched, occupying as much room of her crib as she can. I want to go and kiss her, but I check myself. She gets really angry when someone disturbs her rest. Will says that at times like that, she reminds him of me and my stubbornness, but I think it is very evident whom she has inherited her cross look and furrow from. I just love it when we accuse each other for every whim of our daughter.

Will isn’t there, but there are traces of him all around. He must have stumbled on the little table next to the crib for it is now turned upside down. Aimee’s toys are not as I left them some hours ago. Someone has been trying very hard to entertain his daughter. I chuckle picturing the scene.

I walk down the staircase, and finally I find him in the living room, sitting in an armchair, with his eyes closed. Under the dim light, I try to make out if he is asleep or not, until the soft tones of music reach me. I have no idea why, but a wave of tenderness for him assaults me. My handsome, my brilliant, my most tender and passionate husband is resting and I find him irresistible. I can’t help myself as I hurry to sit next to him, to be embraced by him.

He opens his eyes and smiles as his arms tighten around me.

“Did I wake you up after all?” He asks, his lips brushing my hair.

I only nuzzle my head against his neck in response. “Aimee woke up?” I ask after a few moments.

He laughs. “Yes, and she was determined to have quite a late-night party.”

“But you can persuade her to do anything you want. She’s crazy about her father.”

“Only when her mother is not present.” He tries to tease, but I know how proud he is of all the proofs of affection our daughter is constantly showing him.

“You know she adores you. At least she took that after me.”

He leans to kiss me and I simply forget what we were talking about. Obviously, he has not.

“You’re not getting away so easily, Liz. She is exactly like you. Who is fond of late-night parties in the first place?”

My lips now meet his, in an attempt to distract him as successfully as he did with me a few moments ago. Judging from his expression, my effort is a good one. His hands travel down my back and I move even closer to him.

The first notes begin and I let out a soft chuckle against his lips. This song always reminds me of us, of him, of me… It is light, with no tragic verses or a moment that reaches a top, but with an amazing clarity and simplicity. It was all so simple from the beginning; so simple and rewarding that we almost didn’t trust our instinct, our hearts, our own eyes. This song reminds me of what utter fools we have been, and how happy we are now. This song makes me smile.

Will has pulled himself away and now stands before me. “Will you dance with me, Mrs. Darcy?”

How can one refuse such a unique proposal? I don’t really care what hour it is and how busy the day will be tomorrow. I want to dance with him. My body trusts him, my waist treasures the feeling of his hands around it, my legs are eager to be guided by him. I let my head fall on his shoulders, inhaling his aroma, touching his skin, listening to the song, as my hands are traveling down his neck and back.

I lose myself to him again, and I can hardly pay attention to the music or the verses; I care only about him. His body is talking to mine, our hearts have met again and are traveling together. I hardly notice that the music has stopped; our bodies are still moving together. I think of how much I love him, I think of all the precious feelings he has awakened in my heart or given birth to. My thoughts turn to whispers. I hardly know what I am telling him, if I am coherent at all, if I make any sense. His hands tighten around me… Can he hear my words? Can he listen to my heart tonight as he has done from the first moment? He speaks, his voice low, soft, caressing; my whole existence relishes hearing it.

“Admitting that I love you,” he whispers in my ear, “was the most liberating thing I’ve done in my life.”

He pulls back and looks into my soul. “My Elizabeth.”

The End