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Chapter 1 ~ A Letter
Posted on Monday, 23 August 1999
Elizabeth looked over the miles of countryside that one could view from her bedroom window. Lying against the pillows, she sighed. Elizabeth hated being ill and this was no exception. The beauty of the outdoors beckoned to her but she had to resist. The doctor had told her that she should not move around too much and going to explore the hills and pathways was absolutely forbidden.
"Just when I have my first bit of freedom!" muttered Elizabeth, allowing herself to wallow a while in self-pity.
The Wickhams had left four days ago and now, just as Longbourn had somewhat returned to normal, she had fallen ill. Having had the Wickhams staying with them had meant that she was unable to go for her customary long walks, as she had to stay and help entertain their guests. Or, more truthfully, fawn over Lydia's achievement of getting a husband and behave with civility towards her brother-in-law.
A knock at the door pulled her from her sulky reverie.
"Come in," she called.
"I thought you might like your letters, Miss Elizabeth," said Hill, handing the two missives into Elizabeth's eager hands.
"Thank you, Hill! You are very kind."
Hill left the room and Elizabeth fixed her attention on the letters. One was from Charlotte. The other was in a hand she recognized, but could not place, and the seal was also familiar... Mr. Darcy!
She could not think of any reason for his writing her, and she hoped that now she would have a chance to write and thank him for his kindness towards Lydia. Dropping Charlotte's letter on the bed, she quickly tore open the letter from Mr. Darcy. It read:
Dear Elizabeth,I beg you to forgive any liberties I take in daring to send you this letter, but I must make my sentiments known to you. My love for you has not changed, or if it has, it has only increased in strength.
I dare to believe that you will read this letter and not be angered by it. I want you to know, once and for all, that I love you and I am ever so hopeful that you will be able to return my love.
I should say that Bingley has invited me to come stay with him at Netherfield. Your reaction to this letter determines if I come. Should you write that you return my affections, I will be there as fast as humanly possible. Should I receive no reply, I will know that you do not love me and wish not to see me.
Let me say that I regret all I did to keep Bingley and your sister apart and I hope you can forgive me for my mistaken judgment.
Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth, know that I love you with all my heart and know that my devotion for you will never waver.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth stared at the paper in her hands as a radiant smile spread across her face. She could scarce believe her heart's dearest wish had come true. With an amount of energy that she had not felt for the last two days, Elizabeth jumped out of bed and ran over to her dresser. In a secret compartment she hid the letter from her love. Finding some paper she turned to fetch her shawl, only to have a strong feeling of faintness overcome her. Elizabeth was aware of herself falling and a blackness enveloping her, but not before she felt an severe pain rush through her head as it struck the edge of the dresser in her fall.
Chapter 2 ~ Bitterness
Posted on Tuesday, 24 August 1999
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat brooding in the carriage as it sped down the well-maintained road. For two weeks he had waited and hoped, but no letter from Elizabeth had come to him. Every morning he had searched frantically through the pile of letters on his desk, but nothing from her had come.
Darcy's decision was therefore plain; he had to get away. He had to get away from England; away from his home which no longer bought him pleasure; away from the country that held the one person he could not have. His friends and family no longer bought him pleasure. He had heard nothing from Bingley since he had returned to Netherfield, Darcy had no way of knowing about Elizabeth.
One thought that continued to torture him was that she had not replied to his letter. Darcy had been so sure that she loved him and that she did not write to him hurt his more deeply than even he knew.
Darcy reflected that over the last week he had noticed how his hope faded, and Georgiana observed it too. He knew she felt badly that her advice to him had all come to nothing and she feared greatly that he would go through with his alternative plan. Her fear had been realized when the night before last he had told her he was journeying to America.
For some years he had been aware of the possibilities that such a country would have, but he had never found the right time to go and test his theory. Now was the perfect time, for he saw that the only way to keep himself sane would be to immerse himself in work. America would certainly provide him with plenty.
He tried to push from his mind the cowardly way he had left his family. Georgiana's tears had torn at his heart, almost making him lose his resolve. Darcy's conscience berated him for the hastily written letter to his solicitor asking that the care Georgiana and Pemberley be placed solely in the hands of Colonel Fitzwilliam. His remorse was acute over the letter he had written to his cousin, trying to explain his reasons for acting as he did.
After a fairly calm crossing, Darcy had arrived in America. Once there, he set up a number of businesses. In the first year of his life in that new country he wrote only once to his sister, on her birthday, telling her very little about himself. Georgiana was not blind. She read between the lines and saw what an unhappy, bitter man her brother had become. What distressed her further was that her brother had given her no information as to how to contact him, not even telling her where he lived. There was much she wanted to tell him: about the Bingleys, her marriage to Colonel Fitzwilliam, that she was to be a mother. But even more than those things... She wanted to explain why Elizabeth had never written.
Four years passed and nothing was heard from Darcy. Those who loved him feared the worst, but the one who loved him most of all didn't, for she had forgotten he existed. One morning, Christmas morning to be exact, a letter from 'The Lost One', as Darcy had been called by his family, arrived. There was nothing said about himself; his letter was filled with business. Business that seemed too good to be true, especially when the Colonel investigated and found no trace of the so-called company; or of the very troublesome, but loved, family member. In that one letter however, a single sentence filled his sister with hope. It said: 'It is possible that I shall be returning in three years.'
Three years passed and no sign of Fitzwilliam Darcy. A total of fifteen years came and went, yet nothing was heard from him. Nothing at all.
Chapter 3 ~ Lady Lizzy
Posted on Friday, 27 August 1999
Jane Bennet Bingley sat in the garden where she was watching her three youngest children play. Looking up at the second story window that overlooked the rose garden, she saw Elizabeth. To someone who didn't know Elizabeth, they would think that the young lady was watching something in a distant field, but Jane knew better. She had become accustomed to that vacant stare, and so had her children, who would always do their best to coax a smile out of 'Lady Lizzy' as they called her. The children did not know that the mysterious woman who lived at Netherfield Park with them was their aunt.
No one in the family really knew what had happened to strong Elizabeth Bennet. They were aware that she hit her head and that was about the extent of their knowledge. What they really knew was what had happened later. She had lost her memory. Slowly over the last fifteen years Elizabeth had regained some of her former self, although she did not walk anymore. Every day, Mr. Bennet came to sit with Elizabeth, an event that always brought 'Lady Lizzy' happiness. She was quiet about expressing it, though; very unlike the Elizabeth Bennet they loved.
It pained Jane and Mr. Bennet that they were only recognized as good, kind friends. Elizabeth didn't know Jane was her sister and she didn't know that Mr. Bennet was her father. Therefore, Mr. Darcy, the man she loved, had been cleared from her memory.
Taking her eyes off of her sister, Jane focused on her children before turning her attention to her journal. Glancing once more at her sister she wrote in the book:
I look at her and think, 'This cannot be Lizzy! This cannot be my lively, witty, animated sister!' She stares into oblivion for hours on end. It is a relief to know that she cheers at the sight of me, but she does not truly remember me. She does not remember the time she fell out of the tree, nor the time she 'fell' in the lake... walked back to the house and received such a scolding from Mama. Elizabeth cannot remember that we once shared that same last name.
It pains me greatly to see how Mama has abandoned her. Though she does not say it, we all know that she is ashamed of Lizzy, as if Lizzy is to blame for the fact that she has no memory. It has been my belief for a while that the reason my sister elects to not move about is that she has no memory of her love of walking. Elizabeth lives in a confusing world; to her, life began 15 years ago when she woke up and knew nothing of herself...
Sighing, Jane stood up and said to her children, Beth, Charles and Janet, "Time to go in!"
"Can we go visit Lady Lizzy, Mama?" Janet asked.
"Yes, can we Mama?" Charles and Beth echoed.
"I will see if she feels well enough."
Jane hated having to conceal the truth from her children, but it was thought best that they not know their connection with 'Lady Lizzy'. The doctor had asked that they try and ease Elizabeth into her memory, a thing that children might not understand and then slip up. However, her oldest child was now thirteen, yet Jane could not bring herself to tell the truth.
Walking up the stairs to 'Lady Lizzy's' quarters, Jane entered the room.
"Elizabeth."
"Yes," Elizabeth answered, still staring out the window.
"The children want to see you. Do you feel well enough?"
Laughing like she used to, and surprising Jane, Elizabeth said, "Jane! Why do you always assume I feel ill? Of course I would love to see them."
For a minute Jane drifted back in time to when that laugh and teasing tone of voice were a part of her everyday life. However, this was encouraging. For the first time in fifteen years, Elizabeth had acted like Elizabeth.
"Jane? ...Jane!"
"Yes!" gasped Jane, surprised out of her reverie. "I'm sorry, what did you ask?"
"I asked if the children were still outside."
"No, they just came in."
"Hmm...Are they allowed to go out again?"
"Yes," answered Jane, mystified.
"Well, then... I should like to go for a short walk and I hope they will accompany me."
About an hour later Elizabeth and the children returned from their walk... run, to find Mr. Bennet in the sitting room talking animatedly with Jane.
"Mr. Bennet!" exclaimed Elizabeth, always happy to see her friend. "It is so good to see you." She embraced him and planted a kiss on his cheek while the children fussed around, waiting to be noticed by their grandfather.
After a small discussion with Jane and Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth announced that she was quite tired and, with that, she made her way upstairs. Shortly after Elizabeth left, Mr. Bennet and Jane talked about the remarkable change and that things were looking hopeful.
Once they had exhausted that topic, Mr. Bennet said, "I think I will go check on Lizzy."
When he entered the chamber, after knocking and being told to come in, Mr. Bennet found that more change had taken place. Elizabeth had abandoned her chair and was sitting in the window seat reading a book.
"How are you, Lizzy?"
"Wonderful. I hope I can take the children out again tomorrow."
"I hope you can too. They seemed to enjoy it just as much as you. Besides, it is good for you to get out of the house."
"Oh, indeed it is. I was very glad to get out of the house. How I have missed walking, Mr. Bennet!"
Elizabeth's father stared at her. This was too wonderful to be true. She had remembered her love of walking, although she did not seem to notice what she had said. Mr. Bennet was very much encouraged.
"Ah... Well Elizabeth, I am sorry to cut this visit short, but I must return to Longbourn. I will see you again tomorrow."
"I shall depend upon it!"
Mr. Bennet lightly kissed her cheek before leaving the room. As the door closed behind him, Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to the dresser beside the door. Elizabeth stared at the dresser and a light of recognition dawned in her eyes.
Chapter 4 ~ Return of All That Was Lost
Netherfield
Shortly after her father left, Jane went up to Elizabeth's room to ask if she would care to join the family for dinner. Little did she know she was about to experience the greatest shock of her life. As she opened the door to her sister's room she found Elizabeth lying on her bed sobbing and something that looked like a letter in her hand.
"Lizzy! What is wrong? Are you hurt?" cried Jane, rushing to her sister.
"Oh Jane!" sobbed Elizabeth, raising her tear-stained face to look at her sister. "Jane, what day is it?"
"July 15."
"And the year?" Elizabeth asked, terror written all over her face.
"1828."
"Good God, this cannot be so!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "What has happened Jane? Surely, this is a joke. I could have sworn... Jane! Where am I?"
"You are at Netherfield, Lizzy. And I am not joking. It is July 15th, 1828."
"Netherfield! How do I come to be at Netherfield? Mr. Bingley has not yet arrived!" yelled Elizabeth.
"Pardon?" asked Jane, her confusion showing plainly.
"Jane! What can have happened?"
Jane thought for a moment, then an idea came to her. "Lizzy, what is the last thing you remember?"
"I remember Lydia and Wickham going to Newcastle, I fell ill, and received this let... Never mind... Jane, how can this be?"
With tears running down her face, Jane embraced her sister and said happily, "Lizzy! Your memory has returned!"
"My memory?"
Jane went on to tell Elizabeth of the past fifteen years. She was so happy that her sister was, in a sense, returned to them, that she failed to notice the look of utter despair that spread across Elizabeth's face. However, when Jane turned around she saw Elizabeth was far from happy with the story.
"Lizzy. You don't look in the least bit happy!"
"How can I be Jane, when my greatest wish has not come true?"
"Your wish?"
"Jane, what has become of Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked urgently, ignoring her sister's question.
"Mr. Darcy..." Jane paused. This was a subject she hated, for it was one that pained her greatly, knowing how worried her husband was about his friend. "Mr. Darcy... He has gone to America."
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth asked, "How long has he been in America?"
"15 years. Lizzy, I will tell you plainly. He left fifteen years ago and ever since then he has hardly remained in contact with his sister."
"Oh no! I have done this to him. He would not have left had I not fallen ill! He would still be here and... he would know I love him!" whispered Elizabeth so quietly that Jane had to strain to hear her sister's words.
"You love him?" cried Jane.
"Yes, I love him with all my heart and all these years he has thought I did not love him. Jane, tell me everything you know about his life after I fell ill."
"All I know is that he left for America about two weeks after your illness began. He has written Georgiana only twice in all those years, the first time was to tell her he had arrived in America. I am not sure when his next letter came, but I know they have not heard from him in quite some time."
"But who has been looking after Georgiana and Pemberley all these years? He would never abandon his sister, and I can't see him letting his family home fall to ruins."
"Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam married a bout 15 years ago, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is now the owner of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy made sure of that."
"Oh! I am to blame for everything!"
"How can you say that, Lizzy? You didn't know what had happened!"
Looking sadly at her sister, Elizabeth related the story of Mr. Darcy's letter and how she had never been able to tell him of her true feelings.
Pemberley ~ Ten Years Later, 1838
Forty-one year old Georgiana, mother of four and grandmother of two sat in the sitting room with her youngest daughter, Anne. They were discussing the latest fashions in London and the upcoming arrival of William (Georgiana's eldest), his wife (the eldest daughter of the Bingley's), and their children when there was a quiet knock at the door.
"Yes," called Georgiana as her housekeeper, Mrs. Leonard, stepped in the room.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ma'am, but there is a old man downstairs and he will not leave until he has seen you... I think he is a beggar... I have no idea why he came to the main entrance."
"Thank you, Mrs. Leonard. I shall come directly."
Georgiana went downstairs with her housekeeper. After dismissing Mrs. Leonard, she approached the man. "How may I help you, sir?"
A sigh escaped the man, who sat hunched over in a chair. "I thought it would be too much for you to remember me after all these years, Georgie."
"William!" cried Georgiana, looking at her brother who had now stood up.
"Yes, can you ever forgive me for abandoning you like I did?"
Georgiana stood still for a moment, looking at the man before her, trying to find some trace of her brother inside this haggard old man. He looked seventy rather than his fifty-three years. His clothes were far from the fine quality in which she had been used to seeing him and he had grown a beard. She was not used to seeing him with whiskers
"Georgiana?" His voice dragged her away from her observations.
"Oh, William!" She threw her arms around his neck.
It was with a great deal of relief, apologies and explanations that Darcy was reunited with his family. Yet, the one question that he desperately wanted to ask and dreaded, was the one he avoided, and for that Georgiana was relieved. She did not know how she could ever tell him the truth.
That evening, after bathing, shaving, and changing into a nightshirt he borrowed from his brother-in-law (cousin) he tried to sleep, but as he lay in his bed he thought about Elizabeth. It was always at night that her memory came to torture him and this night was no different. He could not drag his mind away from the image that had prompted him to return home.
Darcy had awoken late one night, seven months ago, to find that the darkest corner of his room was filled with a strange light. As he stared at the light, transfixed, he saw it begin to take the shape of a woman. Then, to his shock, Elizabeth's features showed through. She had smiled at him and then quickly the image disappeared. He had not been able to sleep after that and, with fear gripping his heart, he had made preparations to return to England.
Chapter 5 ~ Painful Revelations
The next morning, when Darcy made his way down to the breakfast room, he was introduced to his nephew, William, and William's family. When he was introduced to William's wife, Elizabeth, he was struck by her resemblance to another lady he knew by that name.
"Elizabeth," asked Darcy. "Where are you from?"
Georgiana and her husband exchanged panicked looks.
"I'm from Hertfordshire. My father was a good friend of yours, I believe."
"Who is your father?"
"Charles Bingley."
"And your mother?" Darcy asked, carefully.
"Jane Bennet," answered Elizabeth Fitzwilliam.
"You are not named for her, then."
"No, I am named for my aunt Lizzy. Or 'Lady Lizzy' as my sisters, brother and I called her before we knew she was our aunt."
"Before you knew she was your aunt?"
"Yes. It is rather a long story... I do miss her, though."
"Yes, perhaps we can discuss this another time, Eliza," said Georgiana, trying to save her brother any pain.
"No, no, Georgie," her brother answered. "Why do you miss your aunt?"
"Well... My aunt died seven months ago. Her health had never been strong after what happened to her 25 years ago... Sir, have I said something wrong?"
"Not at all," choked Darcy. "You must excuse me!" With that he hurriedly left the room.
"Mother," asked Elizabeth of Georgiana. "I did say something wrong, didn't I?"
"I'm afraid you did, but it cannot be helped now."
"I am sorry then. I had no idea! Mother, I have just remembered. I have a letter from my Aunt Elizabeth that is addressed to him. My mother asked me to give it to you, so it could be passed on to him... If that was ever possible."
"Really? Oh, Eliza, please... Go get the letter and give it to him as quickly as possible!"
"All right." Elizabeth quickly rose from the table and went to retrieve the letter. She had some trouble finding where her Uncle had disappeared to, but with the help of the housekeeper she found him in the rose garden.
"Mr. Darcy, I have something that I have been asked to give you."
"What is it?" he asked, refusing to remove his gaze from a rosebush. Elizabeth saw there were tears in his eyes.
"It is a letter that was written by my Aunt Lizzy. My aunt and mother hoped that it could be delivered into your hands."
"Leave it there," Darcy indicated the stone bench beside him.
Elizabeth did as she was told and departed from the garden, sensing that her presence would not be welcome.
After Darcy was certain he was alone in the garden he grabbed the letter and ripped into it. There, in her very own hand, Darcy read what he had longed to know:
My dearest love, July 15, 1828I am sure you want nothing to do with me, considering I never answered the letter you sent me fifteen years ago. However, I must tell you of the circumstances that prevented me from telling you that your feelings were fully reciprocated.
I had been ill for two days before I got your letter. You cannot know how it lifted my spirits and gave me such hope! I had only just hidden the letter you sent me in a secret compartment in my dresser, where I hid many things of sentimental value. I turned to get my shawl and the last thing I remember is a horrible shooting pain through my head. I had managed to fall against the dresser, hitting my head.
It was only just today that I realized what happened. I had lost my memory. Therefore, for all these last years I have not known you even existed. All my family and friends were, in a way, gone.
It was not until earlier today that my memory came back to me. I was devastated to learn that I had never sent you a letter telling you of my love. Had I not been hindered by this illness we could have been happy for years by now, but it does no good to dwell on what might have been.
Though no one, not even your own sister, knows where you are, or so Jane tells me, I hope that someday this letter will find its way into your hands. So you may know that it was a cruel twist of fate that kept us apart.
Forever yours,
Elizabeth
Sitting down on the bench, Darcy, for the first time in his adult life, sobbed uncontrollably. He blamed his wounded pride for their separation; had he been patient, he would have waited to find out what had prevented Elizabeth from writing to him.
It only took him a moment to decide what he would do. Moving as fast as his grief would allow, he reached the stables and ordered that a horse be saddled for him. He set off towards Hertfordshire.
He reached his destination, tired and exhausted, but he had made it all the same. Walking through a field, he gathered many of the wildflowers that grew there. He came to the graveyard that held many generations of Bennets. Walking through it, he read:
James Bennet
Loving husband and father
b. June 3, 1763
d. December 10, 1828
Fanny Bennet
Loving wife and mother
b. January 18, 1766
d. November 1, 1829
Mary Bennet
Much loved daughter and sister
Lost to Scarlet Fever
b. July 7, 1794
d. March 23, 1819
Darcy began to think he would not find Elizabeth's grave, but in glancing up, he saw one headstone set apart from the rest. He knew beyond a doubt that there was where she lay for eternity. The placing of her grave seemed to say a lot about her. It spoke of her free spirit and her need for space.
Approaching Elizabeth's final resting place he placed the bouquet of flowers he had picked on the grave.
Elizabeth Bennet
Beloved daughter, sister and aunt
b. April 6, 1793
d. December 30, 1837
It was as he had suspected. The day she had died was the day he had seen her that dark night in his room.
"Oh, Elizabeth. What have I done to you? Had I not sent you that letter you may never have been injured in that way! You could have been my wife... We could have lived happily together with the many children I am sure we would have had." He angrily brushed an unbidden tear from his cheek. "Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth, you know how I feel. You must know me better than anyone else in the world. Therefore I need not tell you what you already know."
Sitting down by the grave, he pulled out her letter, carefully tearing a corner of the paper. He then dug through his pockets, trying to find the pencil he always carried with him. When he found it, he scribbled quickly on the paper before nestling it among the flowers.
Getting up, he whispered, "I know you will wait for me." With that, he turned and walked back the way he came.
Not ten minutes later, Jane came to the graveyard as she did every week. Walking past the graves of her father, mother and Mary, she placed flowers on them. Then she walked to 'Lady Lizzy's' grave; that name had certainly stuck to her sister. Jane was surprised to find there was already a few flowers on the grave, for she knew she had not put them there.
As she stood thinking who could have left the other bouquet, she saw a small piece of paper tucked with the flowers. Pulling it out, she read:
'I prayed for her to be my bride.
I asked for her hand, but it was denied.' *
The End.
*I stole that from the TV series Road To Avonlea. I just had to use it.